Miss Julia Paints the Town by Ann B. Ross

all afternoon.”
    That rocked me back on my heels. I stared at her as a white haze blurred my vision. “How do you know?”
    â€œBecause I’ve been driving by to see if Leonard’s car is there. And it’s not,” she said triumphantly, “but Sam’s car is. I told you, Julia, I told you that woman is up to no good.”
    Not wanting to give her the satisfaction of being right, I made an effort to appear unruffled. “I’m sorry, LuAnne, but I just can’t get bent out of shape over that. I’m sure there’s a good explanation, and Sam’ll tell me all about it. Just as soon as he gets home.”
    â€œFor your sake, Julia, I hope so. Now I’ve got to go.”
    And go she did, leaving me feeling as bereft as an orphaned child. Sam had been with Helen all afternoon? Maybe all day? With no time to call, no time for lunch, no thought of me? My heart felt as if a huge hand was squeezing it, and I almost had to sit down.
    But at the thought of Helen, whom I’d been defending every time I turned around, I took myself in hand and marched out to the kitchen.
    â€œLillian, I have to run out for a minute. I won’t be gone long.” I grabbed my car keys and headed out the door.
    Lillian stopped pouring beans into a bowl and called after me. “This supper ’bout ready. What I gonna do with it?”
    â€œDip it up,” I called back. “I’ll be back.”
    As I drove the few blocks to Helen’s, I felt myself trembling inside. I knew that checking up on Sam was beneath me, but I had to see for myself. LuAnne could’ve been mistaken, especially since she was in a state herself. Maybe it was somebody else’s car, maybe she just wanted to shake me up, maybe any number of things, but I had to find out for sure.
    Lord, I nearly drove into a mailbox. Sam’s car was parked in Helen’s drive, right up against the garage, as big as you please, with no effort made to conceal it. I knew it was his, and not one like it, because there was the Tarheel sticker on the rear bumper.
    The next thing I knew I was speeding away, fearful that Helen or Sam would see me. Pulling to the side of the street a few blocks away to gather myself, I wondered why I was the one feeling guilty. I held the wheel with shaking hands, my head bowed and my chest aching with a pain I’d never before felt. There was a good explanation; there had to be.
    I kept telling myself that until I was blue in the face. And I almost believed it. Sam would tell me all about it when he came home, then I’d laugh at myself for ever doubting him. For that reason, I would just die if he found out that I had been checking up on him, sneaking around trying to catch him in a compromising position. And with Helen, of all people!
    Gradually, I began to calm myself down. Sam had never before given me a moment’s worry, even though he’d been halfway around the world and back without me. He’d always been open and aboveboard even when he was practicing law, which was a marvel in and of itself. He was a faithful husband, I assured myself, and I would not, absolutely would not, turn on him with suspicions and accusations.
    So I determined to keep my own counsel unless and until I became convinced that he was doing something he shouldn’t. Then I would be as suspicious as I needed to be. For now, though, I had talked myself into believing that Sam was worthy of trust, and so was Helen. LuAnne had only been trying to make trouble. Misery loves company, you know.
    I drove home slowly and carefully, still shaken but determined to bide my time until Sam told me the full story. Jealousy is a terrible emotion, twisting everything you know to be true into half and semi and partial truths. I simply was not going to fall prey to it, regardless of Sam’s car being in another woman’s driveway.
    But why hadn’t he returned my calls? Why had he been out of touch all