"Hey there," Richard says, leaning in for a kiss. He notices the Chinese take-out bag on the counter. "Did you save me some dinner?"
"How many times have I asked you to please leave your dirty work boots in the garage?" Winona snaps.
"Nice to see you, too," he says, stooping to take the boots off. He opens the door and sets them just outside. "Better?"
"It would've been better if you'd done that in the first place," she says. "Sherie was just here today and now the kitchen floor is already dirty." It was dirty anyway, since Willa spilled her milk at dinner, but she doesn't tell him that.
He reaches into the fridge for a can of Coke. Popping the top he looks at her. "Bad day?"
Her whole body is buzzing with the urge to start a fight, but she stops and takes a breath. "I'm just out of sorts," she says.
"Why? Did something happen at work?"
She shrugs. "No, it's nothing in particular." Except that I've stopped screwing my ex-husband and I'm sad and frustrated and missing him and right now just looking at you makes me want to punch the wall. She takes another deep breath.
He opens the fridge again, finding the cardboard containers and opening one to check the contents. "Kung Pao Chicken?"
"Yes. And there's some shrimp with broccoli and fried rice left, too."
He busies himself getting a plate and dishing up the leftovers.
"Why don't you go take a bath, or read? I'll tuck Willa in." He slides the plate into the microwave and pushes the button. "Besides, I've almost got Click Clack Moo memorized." He grins at her.
Damn. Why does he have to be so nice when all she wants is a reason - it doesn't even have to be a good one – to have a knock-down-drag-out-go-sleep-on-the-couch fight?
"Willa's already had her bath. She's playing on the iPad in her room."
She'd yelled at her daughter when she spilled the milk, and the child had crumpled into tears. It's not her usual response and Winona wonders if Willa could feel the tension between her and Raylan when he'd dropped her off earlier. Feeling guilty, she'd put some of her own expensive bubble bath in Willa's tub and let the little girl play until the water was cool and her fingers and toes were wrinkly, then given her extra time on the iPad.
Now she puts the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and dries her hands. "I guess a bath might feel good." At least it will get me away from you for a little while, before I say something I'll regret later – or not.
"Go." He kisses her cheek as the microwave dings.
In the tub, she tries to read the book for book club. Laurel at the office cajoled her into joining, and she likes the other women well enough, but this book is about a wife who's cheating on her husband and the subject hits a bit too close to home. Winona thinks she might just skip the meeting this month. She tosses the book onto the floor and sinks down into the water, closing her eyes.
She's not a good person. No matter how this plays out, someone is hurt. Maybe everyone. Even Willa. Especially Willa. She wallows in self-loathing for a few minutes. Then she fumes. This all could have been avoided if Raylan had just come to one of the counseling sessions she'd scheduled. If he had, maybe they'd still be together. But then, what if she'd had more patience and persistence, waited him out? He's changed so much as Willa's grown. A tear makes its way down her cheek but she brushes it away angrily. If she starts now, she won't stop and she'll have to make something up to tell Richard, or blame PMS and she blamed that last week.
There's a rap at the door and Richard comes in. In one hand, he holds a glass of wine, in the other, his cell phone. "It's your mother," he says. "When you didn't answer yours, she called mine. Sorry. But I brought reinforcements."
She shrugs and reaches up. Richard hands her the wine first, and she takes a big swallow before reaching up again for the phone.
"Hi, Mama."
As usual her mother starts right in. "You need to stop by St. Stephen's tomorrow and sign Willa up for First Communion classes," she says. "I tried to do it today but it has to be a parent." She huffs a breath. "I told them that I was her grandmother and the rule was ridiculous, but they wouldn't budge."
"Okay," Winona says. "I'll get to it later this week."
"Oh, no! It has to be tomorrow, Winona. If she isn't signed up, she won't get in Father Theo's class and she'll be stuck with one of the nuns. They don't like the pretty girls."
"Oh, Mama, that's ridiculous." She's not even sure she wants Willa in First Communion classes, but she's in no condition emotionally to have that argument.
"It's not, I'm telling you. My friend Joyce volunteers and she said there are only four spaces left in Father Theo's class. And those nuns are simply awful to the little girls. Oh, please tell me you'll stop tomorrow on your way home from work."
She's no working tomorrow afternoon, but she doesn't tell her mother. Margery would want to make a day of it, lunch and shopping, and Winona doesn't have the energy for her mother right now.
"Alright, I'll stop tomorrow." She takes another gulp of wine; relishing the warm rush it gives her and the way it makes her mother's voice fade into background noise.
"Thank you, dear." Her mother pauses. "You sound tired. Are you getting enough sleep? Are you still running so much? I hope you're eating more than that awful kale salad you served me the last time I was over. You're too thin. Is Richard still working those horrible hours? Isn't that project done yet?"
As usual, her mother asks questions and barrels on, voicing her opinion without waiting for answers. It's exhausting just listening to her.
"I am really tired, Mama. It's been a long day. Can we talk tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow is bridge night, but the girls all seem to lose steam earlier and earlier. I should be home by nine."
"Okay, I'll call you. G'night, Mama."
"Good night, Dear. Get some sleep and kiss that granddaughter of mine for me."
Winona clicks off and drops the cell phone onto the rug, swallowing the last of the wine as she sinks deeper into the water.
-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-
"I know what you're gonna say," Raylan starts as Dan slams the office door. "But I..."
"Jesus, Raylan! The guy has a black eye, two chipped teeth, and a four-inch gash in his head where he hit the pavement when you shoved him out of the car. I guess I should just be happy you didn't shoot him!"
"I didn't shove him that hard," Raylan mutters. "Guy's an asshole."
"If being an asshole were a crime, you and I wouldn't be having this conversation."
Raylan screws up his face. "You callin' me an asshole?"
"If the expletive fits." Dan paces by the window. "This isn't like you lately. What were you thinking?" He sighs. "In today's climate law enforcement is under a microscope. All it's gonna take is some tourist's cell phone video and your face is all over the news and your career is over – probably mine, too. What's gotten into you?" He slaps a file folder on the desk and opens it.
"Last week you rammed a suspect's car and threatened to set him on fire. Then you pulled on that fugitive's 83-year-old landlady..."
"She wasn't a landlady, she was that punk's grandmother and she knew she was harborin' a fugitive. Plus..." He points a finger. "She had a gun."
"It was a pellet gun, Raylan. And now this. If he files assault charges or goes to the media..."
"He won't."
"You'd better hope not." Dan turns his back and the reprimand is over. Raylan adjusts the hat and walks back out into the office. Sutter glances up, but the others all pretend not to have been watching.
He slaps the hat down and sits at his desk and stares at the computer screen. Dammit. Even though it isn't noon yet, the only thing keeping him from heading out to go on a bender is knowing that he has Willa tomorrow night. He enjoys their time together too much to be hung over.
"Maybe you should get out of here."
He looks up to see Munõz standing by his desk. The man needs a haircut, his too-small suit jacket is rumpled, and there's a spot on his tie. His wardrobe makes Raylan look like a snazzy dresser.
"I gotta go pick up a warrant at Judge Mitchell's private office. Wanna ride shotgun?"
Wordlessly he slides the hat back on and follows the shorter deputy to the elevators.
"Look," Munõz says as he eases the car out into late afternoon traffic. "It's none of my business, but I gotta tell you...we heard tales before you came back down from Kentucky. I mean, everyone knew about Tommy Bucks, but we heard what a renegade you were up there - that whole thing with the Detroit mob, and then the Crowes? No one was looking forward to working with you again – 'cept maybe Sutter, but he can be a wild card, too."
He casts a sideways glance at Raylan before going on. "For the most part, you've been a pleasant surprise. Had a rough month or two when your marriage went south..."
"We weren't married." Maybe I shoulda asked. Maybe we'd've stayed together if we'd taken that step. At least maybe she wouldn'ta wanted a third divorce under her belt.
Munõz shrugs. "Whatever, anyway, you got that kid - we all understood that. But the last couple of weeks? I know you aren't a talker, and the chief has a tighter asshole than usual what with all the crap coming down from D.C., so I sure as hell wouldn't tell him anything. But I like you, man, and I've had three wives and six kids and there's not much you could say that'd surprise me. Anyone can tell something's eatin' at you and it's nothin' that's happened in the office. So spill."
"Thanks for the offer," Raylan says, squinting into the sun streaming through the side window. "But I'll pass."
What am I s'posed to say? I was screwing my married ex-wife but we've stopped and that's a probably a good thing, but I feel shitty about it.
"Suit yourself." Munõz shrugs.
He pulls up in front of a familiar building and Raylan curses himself for this ride-along. Aw, hell. This is where Winona works. He gets out of the car, slamming the door hard enough to earn a questioning look from his fellow deputy. She only works part time. What are the chances of running into her?
Pretty good, as it turns out.
"Hold the door!" Munõz reaches out and grabs it and she slides in, hiking her purse to her shoulder and clutching a stack of files against her chest. She thanks him, not immediately seeing Raylan in the corner.
"Oh," she says, when she notices him. Her eyes widen. "Raylan."
"Hey," he returns. They stare at each other for a moment then drop their gaze. The navy wrap dress she's wearing shows off all her curves and Raylan can't help looking.
"I'm Ric Munõz," Ric says, holding out his hand. "I work with Raylan. You're his ex, right? Willa's mom?"
She nods and takes his hand. "Winona."
"Nice to meet you." His eyes shift to Raylan and back. "You've got quite a girl there. She's got this one wrapped around her finger." He hooks a thumb at Raylan.
That brings a smile from Winona. "She does."
The elevator seems to move extremely slowly. Winona shifts her weight from one foot to the other in her heels, her eyes raised to the advancing numbers as they light up.
"Willa has a game tomorrow at 4," she says as the door opens on her floor. "Do you just want to meet us there?"
"That'll work."
"Good. Nice to meet you." She flashes that smile at Munõz again, and exits, Raylan's eyes on her until the door slides shut.
"So," Ric looks at him. "That's the problem."
-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-
At St. Stephen's she has to walk through the vestibule to get to the parish office. Joyce, the secretary smiles when she gives her Willa's name.
"Oh, your mother will be so glad you stopped in," she says. "She was worried about Willa being in the second class with Sister Rebecca. I told her she was perfectly lovely, but you know your mother."
Winona returns the smile and nods. "I do. When are the classes?"
"Father Theo's is on Sundays, after mass. Father Mac doesn't do these classes anymore. One of the benefits of being semi-retired."
"That should work. If I can't bring her, Mama or Richard can."
"Is that her father, Richard?" Joyce pauses with her hands above the computer keys.
"No, Richard's my husband, her step-father. Raylan is her father."
"Full name?"
"Raylan Givens."
"No middle?"
Winona thinks. Raylan told her once, but it was so long ago. She bites her lip. "Earl." I think. Or maybe it's Eugene. All she knows is that it started with an 'E' and Raylan hated it.
"Is he Catholic?"
"No."
"Religious afflilation?"
She shrugs. "None, really."
They'd had that in common when they first met. She'd left her mother's Catholicism behind in Kentucky, and Raylan didn't profess anything beyond a belief that folks did awful things in the name of God and the hope that there would be some form of eternal punishment for the kind of people he worked so hard to put away.
Now she isn't sure what either one of them believes.
"Alright." Joyce finishes typing, hits a button on the printer, and hands Winona a schedule. "And remember, if she misses more than three of the sessions, she has to start over."
Why am I even doing this? Because I don't want a fight with Mama.
She sighs. "Thank you." She slides the paper into the side pocket of her hobo bag.
"Tell your mother hello for me," Joyce says.
Walking back through the narthex, Winona stops to glance into the sanctuary. It's a little past two and she still has to pick up Willa and get home to change them both before the game, but the sun is streaming in the stained glass windows and it looks so peaceful inside that before she realizes it she's sitting in a pew, her hands folded in her lap. She hasn't spent much time in a church since she was a kid, and even then her mother's piety was sporadic. For Margery it had been more about show, and she'd made sure Winona and Gayle were baptized, communed, and confirmed - and she had the pictures to prove it. But there was no real emphasis on attending mass or practicing the faith.
Now, Gayle and Dan attended the Baptist church where he grew up and Winona didn't go anywhere, unless Richard or her mother insisted. Raylan's distrust of organized religion must've rubbed off on her. Still, this place is calming, and she feels something loosen inside her.
She takes a few deep breaths. Seeing Raylan in the elevator today was a surprise. She's used to having time to steel herself for their meetings so that she can temper the feelings that spring to the surface, but today she didn't have that chance. Her heart beat faster just looking at him and she felt the familiar pull. She's gone and fallen in love with him all over again.
"I've really made a mess of things again." She doesn't realize she's spoken out loud until the voice answers.
"Most of us do, at one time or another. I think He understands."
She starts at the voice, looking up to see Father Theo. The middle-aged priest is tall, well over six feet, with dark brown hair and a close-cropped beard. He's new to the parish in the last year and with Winona's attendance being infrequent at best, she's only met him once or twice before.
"I'm sorry," She says, pushing to her feet.
"Oh, no." He waves her back down. "That's why the sanctuary is open. We want people to come in. God wants people to come in."
She gives a wry smile. "If he sees everything, I'm not so sure he wants me here."
The priest laughs. "Of course he does. When we make a mistake, a loving father always wants us to come home. And believe me, there's nothing you've done that can't be mended and forgiven."
She's not so sure about that, but she stays quiet.
"I'll let you alone," Father Theo says. "But if you ever need a listening ear, that's my job." He lays a hand on her shoulder briefly, and leaves.