“Dave is how I know your husband continued his infidelities,” Dante continued, “He and your husband were made from the same mold. The pair often trolled the bars together, knew each other’s girlfriends, and covered for each other with “the wifey” as he put it in his thoughts.”
Mary sighed at this news and continued walking. She wasn’t terribly surprised by the information, but also wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do with it. Should she be furious and confront Dave? Why? What did it matter? Joe was dead.
“He continues to philander here in Texas,” Dante said grimly. “And Carol is aware of it. That is part of the reason she wants to move back to Winnipeg. Dave uses the campground as his own personal hunting grounds. He has affairs with many of the women who camp here, married or not. He also has had the occasional fling with workers.”
Mary’s mouth tightened and her heart went out to Carol, but again, she didn’t know what to do about it. If, as he said, Carol knew . . . well, she wouldn’t want to add to her humiliation and bring up the subject with her. They’d only discussed the subject of Joe’s infidelities once, years ago, after the car accident that had led to her not being able to have children. Mary had almost left Joe then, but . . .
“Carol believes you stayed with Joe because you could not have children,” Dante said quietly. “She believes you felt no other man would want a woman who couldn’t give him children.”
“Children are important to most men,” she said quietly. “But that wasn’t the only reason. He made a mistake, but no one is perfect.”
He was silent for a minute and then said uncertainly, “Are the pictures in the RV of your husband’s children with other women?”
Mary’s mouth tightened. She hated being reminded of the children he’d had with other women. She knew they existed, but not how many. “No. They’re our adopted children. We adopted a boy and a girl. Both grown now with children of their own.”
“I see. But Joe had children of his own without you?” he asked, not letting the subject go.
Mary opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t want to talk about that subject, but then sighed and said, “He traveled a lot for work when we were younger. It was at a time when we were having marital problems. Sometimes he was away for months in foreign countries negotiating this deal or that one. He was lonely and took up with other women.”
“I would never be unfaithful to you Mary,” he said solemnly. “No matter how long we were apart.”
The words surprised a short laugh from her and she shook her head. “Dante, you’re far too young for me. Save proclamations like that for someone your own age.”
“I am older than I look,” he said solemnly.
Relieved to see that they’d reached the end of the lane and were approaching the RV, Mary smiled at him and said dryly, “So you’ve said. But, sweetheart, if you’re over twenty-five or twenty-six I’ll eat my hat.”
“I am well over twenty-five but would never make you eat anything you did not want to, especially a hat.”
Mary raised her eyebrows, then just shook her head and led Bailey to the picnic table to collect her double dish. She carried it to the RV and quickly unlocked and opened the door. Bailey immediately tried to rush up the stairs, but Mary stopped her with a sharp, “Stay.”
Bailey sat then and waited for Mary to mount the stairs before following her into the RV. Mary wasn’t very good at consistency, but according to the dog training books she’d resorted to lately, she should have made the dog wait for Dante to enter as well, but the leash made that difficult. Pausing next to the table, Mary set the dish on it, then bent to undo Bailey’s leash as Dante followed them in.
“I am serious, Mary. I am much older than I look,” he insisted, pulling the RV door closed behind them.
Something about the tone of his voice made Mary glance warily his way as she finished removing Bailey’s leash and straightened. He had sounded determined. He looked determined too. She wasn’t sure what that determination was about, but it made her nervous, so she simply slipped past him to hang the leash from the hook next to the door and waited for him to continue.
“Come, sit,” Dante suggested when she turned back.
Mary watched him take a seat at the dinette booth, but grabbed Bailey’s dish, rinsed it out at the sink and filled both sides with water. She set it on the floor by the table for the dog, then settled at the dinette across from Dante, sliding further in and petting Bailey when the shepherd jumped up to lie on the bench seat next to her. “Okay, I’m sitting.”
Dante nodded, and then paused briefly as if considering how to start, before saying, “Mary, my people are different.”
“Your people?” she queried uncertainly, her gaze sliding over his dark hair and olive skin. That and his accent had made her assume that he was Italian. But Indians had darker skin and black hair, they also had sharp cheekbones as he did and often referred to their tribe as their people. Tilting her head, she asked, “Are you Indian?”
“No. Atlantean.”
“Huh?” Mary peered at him blankly. “You mean from Atlanta, Georgia?”
“No,” he said with a small smile, and then reached across to take her hands gently in his. “You’ve heard of Atlantis?”
“Atlantis?” she repeated slowly. “That place that supposedly existed and sank into the ocean or something like forever ago. That Atlantis?”
“Yes.” Dante smiled as if pleased she knew that much. “That Atlantis. My ancestors were from there.”
“Riiiiight,” she said slowly. “And who told you that?”
“My grandfather Nicodemus told me.”
Mary nodded slowly, and then shook her head. Grandparents told their grandkids all sorts of delightful tales to entertain them, or to make themselves seem more interesting than they really were. Most kids grew up and realized they should take those tales with a grain of salt. Dante obviously hadn’t and still believed them. Poor schmuck, she thought.
“He told Tomasso and me all about Atlantis,” Dante went on. “About the tall buildings built from a white stone found only there. About the creeping vines that quickly grew to cover the buildings, helping to insulate them from the heat. He said that every summer they would sprout beautiful flowers, much like the flowers we call azaleas today, but larger.”
“Dante,” she said gently, “Even if Atlantis existed, your grandfather couldn’t possibly know what it looked like. No one knows if it even really existed, let alone what it looked like.”
“He does know. He lived there,” Dante countered quietly.
“Ah, sweetheart,” she murmured pityingly. “Surely you know Atlantis is supposed to have collapsed into the sea or whatever ages ago?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then your grandfather couldn’t possibly—”
“My people are different,” he interrupted, repeating his earlier words. “They were advanced technologically, Mary. They were isolated from the rest of the world and had created transportation before the rest of the world even came up with the wheel. And scientifically they were advanced beyond where the rest of the world is even today.”
“Dante,” she said on a sigh, trying to pull her hands free of his, but he held on.
“Please, just let me tell you,” he insisted quietly. “It will sound incredible and unbelievable and I know this, but let me just tell you anyway.”
She hesitated, but then relented and nodded, her posture relaxing. What harm could there be in letting him tell her the stories his grandfather had told him? “All right. Go ahead.”
“Thank you,” he said, his lips lifting in a charming smile.
It made Mary want to try to snatch her hands away again. He was so damned beautiful, it was almost painful to peer at him. No one should be that good-looking. Or smell this good, she thought grimly as his scent wafted to her, setting her hormones buzzing. Images from her interrupted dreams last night started sliding through her mind: him leaning over her, his naked chest so wide and beautiful, his hair dropping around their faces like a curtain as he kissed her. His hands moving over her body, pushing her T-shirt up to caress her . . .