Chapter Thirty-Six

Stephanie POV

I didn't go to work the following day. I was on the fence about Zoë going to daycare, but I drove her there in the end. I pulled her carer outside to let her know what happened and asked her to call me if Zoë became distressed. I had tried to probe delicately to see if Zoë had seen or heard anything but concluded that she had fallen asleep quickly after going to her room. I thought getting her back into her routine would help maintain a sense of normalcy for her.

I returned to the pool house and flopped onto my bed. I didn't bother changing my clothes, though I did kick off my shoes. Tank knocked on the door a short while after I got home. I let him in and sank onto the couch, waiting for him to talk.

"Hey, Steph. How are you feeling this morning?" he asked solicitously.

I shrugged. "I don't know. How am I supposed to be feeling? I didn't sleep well."

He pulled me into his side and stroked his large hand up and down my arm. "I don't think there's only one way you should feel. I'd imagine you're a little conflicted."

I chuckled wryly. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Whenever one of the men from Rangeman comes back from a combat zone or a mission, he often needs to see someone to help him reacclimate to civilian society and cope with PTSD. I think you'd benefit from seeing him."

I frowned. "I'm not a soldier, though."

"Steph, you've been through something traumatic and life-changing. I'd be surprised if you weren't affected. At least think about it, okay?"

"I will."

"Have you talked to his other wife?" he asked.

"No. The police were going to call her to tell her about Richard. I thought that would be best."

He nodded. "Probably right."

We talked for a few more minutes before Tank excused himself to get some sleep. I thought a lot about what he said about the psychologist and Debra. After lunch, I decided to call her. I knew the police would contact her to tell her about Richard, but I wanted to talk to her too.

After a few distant rings, I was about to hang up when she answered. "Hello?" she asked.

I took a deep breath and said, "Hi. Debra? It's Stephanie."

"What do you want?" she asked. Her tone was somewhere between anger and sadness.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you. I just wanted to reach out and see if you were okay," I said hesitantly.

"No, I'm not okay. But I don't want to talk to you now." The next thing I heard was silence, followed by the dial tone.

I called his parents and brother next. Those phone calls were tough. His mom sobbed down the line, and I could hear the gruffness in his dad's voice. They were lovely people who lived in Maryland. His dad was a retired postal worker, and his mom was a retired teacher. Judging by that phone call, they weren't aware of the divorce. They didn't seem to know anything about his double life, and I wasn't going to enlighten them now. They'd find out eventually, I was sure, but not today.

Calling my parents was not much better. My dad didn't say much. He just offered a quick "My condolences." I knew he probably thought good riddance but didn't voice his opinion. My mom cried like it was her son and not like it was the man who had been disrespecting and betraying her daughter for their entire relationship. I started feeling angry and made an excuse to hang up. My dad promised to let Grandma Mazur know when she returned from, ironically enough, a funeral at Stiva's.

Over the next few days, I kept Zoë's routine as best as possible and tried to keep my mood up too. She started having nightmares when she slept but didn't appear to remember anything in the morning. I talked to her carer at daycare, and she assured me Zoë seemed fine during the day. After the third day at home, I returned to work. Staying at home by myself wasn't helping.

As an office employee, I didn't have to wear the cargo pants and tee shirt uniform, but they still wanted me to dress in black. I wore a pair of flowy black trousers and a black button-down shirt. I wore black boots, carefully styled my hair, and put on my makeup. Zoë and I went to the main house and found Tank enjoying a quick breakfast. We said hello, and I made Zoë some oatmeal and cut up some strawberries. After I sprinkled some blueberries on her oatmeal and poured her a cup of milk, I set her up at the table across from Tank. I had just made tea and toast for myself; I just wasn't hungry.

Over the past few days, Tank had visited me in the pool house every morning and evening. On one of those visits, he just held me while I cried. Finally, yesterday evening, I asked him for the number of his psychologist, and I planned on asking my new psychologist for a number for someone to see Zoë, too. Even though she didn't see anything at the apartment, she was still affected by losing her dad. She knew what dead meant; she understood when Rex died that he would never, could never, come back. And she knew that's what it meant now with her daddy. I could barely handle it, so I decided a professional to help Zoë cope with her feelings would be necessary. At least then, there was a chance she could grow up happy and healthy.

I had health insurance. When Tank and Ranger hired me, Tank explained that they usually had a ninety-day waiting period, but they had had it waived for me because I'm family. I never felt more grateful for that; besides a small deductible, all our visits would be covered.

After dropping off Zoë at daycare, I continued to the Rangeman building. When I arrived on the fifth floor, Lester pulled me into a hug, holding me tightly. "I'm so sorry, Beautiful."

"Thank you," I whispered back. I didn't know what else to say when someone told me how sorry they felt for my loss. It was a loss, but he was a massive asshole too. I never wanted to see him again, but I didn't want him dead. I felt like a fraud accepting people's best wishes, but I couldn't wave them off like it was nothing.

I accepted condolences from the rest of the men in the control room, then went to my cubicle and fired up my laptop. A couple of hours later, my phone rang.

The coroner had finished with the body and wanted to know where I wanted the body to be taken as the deceased's next of kin. I hadn't thought that far ahead, so he said he could contact a funeral home on my behalf and gave me the number. I thanked him and hung up, stricken that I had forgotten to deal with this too.

After lunch, I called the funeral home. They confirmed they had been in touch with the coroner and that Richard's body was coming. He gently suggested cremation due to the 'condition of the deceased,' and I agreed. We discussed the memorial arrangements, and he made more suggestions, all of which I accepted.

I quickly wrote an obituary and kept it neutral without any flowery bullshit about him being a wonderful husband and father. I filled out the online form to submit the obit and submitted my credit card information to pay for it. The obituary had the relevant information for the memorial service, which should take care of anyone wanting to come. Right? Ugh, I had no idea. No one close to me had ever died before.

I plugged in a Google search on what to do when someone died and found a checklist. I printed it off and started checking off the items already accomplished. There were still many more steps to go, however. I set it aside and got back to work. I kept my head focused on the research until lunchtime when I took a quick break to eat. I didn't feel hungry, but after one sniff of Ella's jambalaya, I eagerly scooped it into a bowl.

After lunch, I wrote an email about Richard's memorial on my laptop. I would send it to everyone I felt should know about the details. I even found a template to make it a little more formal. I had no idea why I was going through so much trouble. A large part of me just wanted to call his mother to pick up the ashes when they were ready, but I was mostly doing this for my daughter. I know he loved her, and he was mostly good with her when he was around. But she loved him. And that made it worth it.

I had been avoiding Ranger since we returned from New York. Not because I had to, because I didn't anymore, but because I felt guilty about how much I liked him. He had texted me a few times and called a couple more, but I hadn't answered any of them. Now that I was in the building, I couldn't avoid him anymore, and he caught up with me just before four o'clock.

"Hey, Babe," he said.

"Hi, Ranger," I replied.

"How are you today?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I'm okay, I think."

We lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Finally, he said, "you'll let me know if I can do anything?"

I nodded, and he walked away.

Fitting the occasion, it was drizzling on the day of the memorial. I had driven to New York with Tank and Zoë, and Jeanne Ellen managed to take a break from her job to meet us there for a few hours. Some of the other Rangemen I was friendly with at work, including Ranger himself, had also come, and I was thankful for the support.

I greeted everyone who came and acted as a proper hostess, for once grateful to my mom for pounding proper etiquette into my brain. Having something like that to focus on helped keep me from dwelling on all the problems I had before Richard's death.

I asked his brother Robert to deliver the eulogy, and he agreed. I didn't think I could do it and not mention all the horrible things he had done to me, up to and including the very last horrible thing he did. During Robert's tribute, I recalled the last phone call I had with Debra.

I called her to tell her about the memorial service, and we talked for a few minutes. It wasn't a repeat of the phone call the day after Richard's death, for which I was grateful. Ultimately, she decided not to attend the memorial, as she didn't want to face the curious attendees wondering who she was. I offered her some of his ashes, but she declined. When I offered them to his mom, she was confused about why I didn't want them. I told her I kept a small portion to placate her but wanted her to have the rest.

I was sandwiched between Jeanne Ellen and Zoë during the service, and each kept a tight grip on my hands.

My parents and grandmother were sitting in the row behind us. My father and Grandma Mazur gave me a big hug when they arrived. My mom had a handkerchief in her hand and was sniffling throughout the service. I get that she liked him; why wouldn't she like a handsome, successful lawyer who was also the father of one of her granddaughters? The only thing is, he wasn't a lawyer, had two wives and two extra kids no one knew about, and made a porn site featuring sex videos of me! She spent a lot of time with Richard's mom too. I saw his mom shooting me dirty looks after she spoke with my mom, and I wondered what my mom had told her. I asked her not to mention the divorce, but I suspect the cat was out of the bag.

His mother pulled me aside and hissed, "you were divorcing my son?"

I sighed. "This isn't the time or place to get into it. Can I call you tonight?"

"No! We're going back to Maryland tonight. Please talk to me now. What was going on? Do you know why he did this to himself?"

"Let's talk after the service." She agreed to that, and I sat down.

After the service, I said goodbye to Gigi, who had to return to work. I asked Tank to watch Zoë, and he agreed, so I went outside to talk to Janet, Richard's mom.

"Tell me what's going on," she demanded.

"It's bad. Are you sure you want to know? Don't you just want to mourn your son as you knew him?" I pleaded. I really didn't want to shatter this woman's memory of her son.

"No, I need to know."

"Richard cheated on me with Athena, our nanny. After that, I left New York and went to Trenton to stay with my sister and her husband. While there, I discovered he had a second wife in Connecticut and twin sons with her. Then I discovered he had been making videos of us making love and uploading them where others could pay to watch them. Finally, I learned he failed the Bar exam three times and worked as a paralegal. He was arrested and in jail. The police told me he posted his own bail with the help of a bondsman. And I'm sorry to lay all this on you because every time I discovered something new, it was another blow, and I realized I didn't know my husband at all."

She stared at me in shock and finally said, "he had two more kids with another woman?"

I nodded. "I've been in touch with her. If you like, I can let her know you'd like to meet her and their boys."

"Please. I'd like to meet them. But I'm so sorry, dear. I had no idea my Richard had been putting you through all that. I would never have condoned that behaviour, and you know his father and I didn't raise our son that way."

I smiled sadly. "I know, Janet, and thank you."

"I hope you will still let us be in Zoë's and your lives?" she asked uncertainly.

"Absolutely, of course," I assured her. "Give me some time, and I'll call you, okay?"

She hugged me tightly and patted my back. When she left, I went back to my little group. That went a lot better than I thought it would.

We drove back to Trenton and parked in the garage at Rangeman. I hugged each of the men who came with us to New York, thanking them for accompanying me.

I switched to my vehicle, and after I buckled Zoë in, I said goodbye to Tank. He was going to stay here until his shift started. Ranger came over before I left and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. "I'll see you tomorrow, Babe." I nodded and maneuvered out of the parking lot, and drove home.

Later that evening, after Zoë was in bed, I poured myself a glass of wine and stretched out on the couch. Tomorrow, I will call the psychologist and make an appointment. Hopefully, I can arrange one for Zoë soon. I was tired of my mixed emotions. I was tired of feeling guilty for moments of happiness since last weekend's events. I was tired of pretending to be a mourning widow and feeling guilty when I didn't feel like that.

I wanted to move on with my life.