The Exception To The Rule

  The Exception to the Rule

  Beth Rinyu

  This book is a work of fiction, the characters, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2012 by Beth Rinyu

  First Printing, 2012

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN-13: 978-0615739229

  ISBN-10: 0615739229

  I’d like to thank my family, friends and co-workers who helped to keep me motivated through this whole process…..you guys know who you are!

  Prologue

  November 1981

  My mother’s beautiful blonde hair was draped over her shoulders as we cuddled together under my Strawberry Shortcake bedspread. She was reading me a story from my favorite book filled with fairy tales. The stories always included a handsome prince and a damsel in distress that would overcome any obstacle and fall in love. Of course at five-years-old, before life proves otherwise, you really believe that this could happen. This had become our routine whenever my dad was working the night shift.

  “And they lived happily ever after….” My mother’s voice was soft and gentle. I leaned my head on her shoulder and felt so at ease as I breathed in her freshly shampooed hair.

  “Do they always live happily ever after Mommy?” I asked.

  “Yes, they do,” she smiled down at me with her warm brown eyes.

  “Do you think someday I could be a princess and find a prince?” I asked.

  She pushed my hair out of my face and smiled. Her perfect porcelain complexion accented her lips that were still ruby red, even without makeup. I looked up at her in admiration and thought – I have the prettiest mom in the world. “Oh Kat, you’re already a princess and yes, someday you will find a very handsome prince and live happily ever after.” She kissed me on the forehead and hugged me tightly before turning off the lamp on the nightstand. She pulled me closer as I closed my eyes and listened to the blustering wind howling outside my bedroom window.

  “I love you so much Mommy.”

  “I love you too sweetie, more than anything in this world.”

  “More than you loved your mommy and daddy?” I asked.

  “Yes, more than anything,” she said.

  “Well, I don’t think I will ever love anyone more than you or Daddy,” I said.

  “When you get older and have children you will see – it’s a love like you’ve never known.” I could almost see her smile even in the darkness.

  I nuzzled closer to her and petted her long silky hair. “Good night Mommy.”

  “Good night sweet girl…..”

  Chapter 1

  June 2004

  It was my boyfriend Jake’s thirtieth birthday and I had planned on taking him out for a nice romantic dinner, something we hadn’t done in a long time, since we had both become so busy with our careers. So I was ecstatic when my last patient canceled, allowing me to slip out of work a little earlier than usual.

  Jake and I met five years ago and had been together ever since. We were semi-living together. I spent most of my nights at his house, making sure I slept at home a couple of nights a week to appease my dad, who was very old-fashioned in his way of thinking and didn’t believe in living together before marriage. He seemed to totally overlook the fact that I was a grown woman. In his eyes, I was still his little girl. But, in his defense I was his only child. My mother passed away when I was eight-years-old, so it had been just me and him for the past twenty years.

  I hated to see my dad upset and never wanted to disappoint him. Every time we would get on the subject of my living arrangement, he would call me Katrina. I knew that when he used my full name he was either trying to be funny, or he was displeased over something. Otherwise, he called me Kat, like everyone else.

  I had Jake’s present in the back of my car. I wanted to drop it off at his house so it would be waiting for him when he came home from work. Jake was an up-and-coming lawyer at a big law firm in Philadelphia and a workaholic. He commuted well over an hour each day. So I was pleasantly surprised to see his shiny new Lexus in the driveway already.

  I admired the landscaping job that the two of us had diligently worked on all weekend as I made my way to the front porch. The humming of the refrigerator was the only sound I heard as I entered the house. I placed his gift on the kitchen table and quickly peeked into the living room—there was no sign of him. I wanted to surprise him so I tiptoed up the stairs. I looked in one of the spare bedrooms, which he used as an office, thinking I would find him there but it was empty. I walked further down the hall to his bedroom, where the door was half-closed. I slowly opened it. I had to do a double take even though I didn’t want to. My stomach clenched as if someone had just punched me and the instant build-up of tears began to burn my eyes. Jake was in bed with another woman. Jake looked up, quickly pushing away the girl who was on top of him.

  “Kat!” he yelled, running after me and trying to put his pants on at the same time. I ignored him as I ran down the steps two at a time. I couldn’t get out the front door fast enough. I gagged as the stinging bile rose to the back of my throat. I could taste the sourness of my lunch from earlier today. I made it out the door just in time to throw up in the forsythia bush. I cringed as I felt his hand on my back trying to comfort me.

  “Don’t touch me!” I shouted as I pushed him away. I quickly got into my car.

  “Kat, please, don’t go, can we just talk?” he pleaded.

  I wasn’t hearing anything; I just wanted to get as far away from him as I possibly could. I slammed on the gas and backed out of the driveway. I sped down the street and drove for some time before pulling over; finally feeling like there was enough distance between us. I put my car in park and began to sob hysterically. How could he have done this to me? I had dedicated the last five years of my life to him. Just a few weeks ago we were talking about getting engaged.

  As the weeks passed, I focused all my energy into my work, trying my best to get the image of that dreaded day out of my head. I wondered if she was the first woman that he had cheated on me with or if that was just the first time he got caught. I felt a heaviness in my chest just thinking about it. I had lost all respect for him and even more importantly—trust. I was now content with the commitment that I had made months ago to go on a nine-month medical mission in Africa. This was so out of character for me. I was normally such a homebody, but I now felt a sense of urgency to get away from Jake’s “I’m sorry” flowers, phone calls, and emails, and everything else that reminded me of him.

  Before I knew it, the big day was here and I would leave for my journey in just a few short hours. I had been procrastinating about picking up the last of my things from Jake’s house. I couldn’t put it off any longer. I strategically planned it so he would be at work and I wouldn’t have to see him. My plan was foiled when I pulled up to his house and saw his car in the driveway.

  I had just finished my morning run and knew that I probably looked a mess. I looked in my rearview mirror adjusting my thick wavy hair into a more presentable ponytail. I didn’t have any makeup on and was thankful that I had just hit the beach a few days ago, which gave my face a healthy suntanned glow.

  Jake opened the door before I even made it to the front porch. “Good morning,” he said, acting as if everything was normal between us. I tried my best not to look at him but couldn’t help myself. He still looked so handsome with his wavy dirty blond hair and hazel eyes. “Do you want some coffe
e?” he asked.

  “No, just my boxes.”

  “I miss our morning runs,” he said, noticing my running attire.

  “Jake, can you please just get my boxes so I can go?”

  “Can we just talk for a minute? You’re leaving for nine months and you haven’t talked to me in weeks. I think we really need to talk about what happened, Kat.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about; you cheated on me, we broke up – the end,” I tried to sound as emotionless as possible but inside my heart ached.

  “That was a mistake and it will never happen again - I love you. I’ve been miserable without you these past weeks.” He placed his hand on my arm and pressed his forehead against mine. “Will you please give me another chance to prove to you how much I love you?” He sounded like he was pleading one of his cases.

  I still loved him but I knew I had to remain true to myself and not give in. “No,” I said, removing his hand from my arm. I quickly grabbed my two boxes from the kitchen table. I took his house key from my key ring and threw it on the kitchen counter.

  “Kat, please,” he called as I struggled to get the front door open.

  I threw the boxes in my trunk as he followed behind me.

  “So that’s it—you’re just going to leave without even talking to me?” he asked.

  “What do you want me to say, Jake? That I’m humiliated, that you hurt me more than anyone has in my life, or that I can never trust you again?”

  “I’m sorry, Kat.”

  “Yeah, I am too. Sorry that I actually thought you were the one for me.” I slammed my car door and drove off. Within minutes of driving away, all of the tears that I had been holding in were flowing down my face.

  I pulled into my driveway and stared at my dad’s perfectly manicured lawn. This had been the place that I had called home for my entire life. I looked in my rearview mirror and wiped the last of the tears from my big brown eyes. I didn’t want to have to explain to my dad that I was shedding more tears over Jake. I dodged the automatic sprinklers as I made my way to the front porch. I walked into the house carrying my boxes and hollered into the kitchen. “Be right there, Dad.”

  “Hurry up, breakfast is almost ready,” he said.

  I went into my bedroom and placed the boxes on the floor. I tried to pull it together as I sat on my bed and studied every inch of my room, the place where I had gone for the past twenty-eight years, whether it was getting over a broken heart, being sent here for punishment, or to pull all-nighters cramming for exams. The bright yellow walls accented by my denim blue comforter, my blue throw pillows and blue lamp gave my room a calming effect. I remembered all the different colors that my walls had been throughout the years. My dad had the unfortunate task of painting them every time I went through a new phase. There was only one picture that had withstood all of my different stages. It was that of a little ballerina. It had been given to me by my mother when I first started taking dance lessons at three-years-old. My love of dance continued until college, when I had to make a choice between that or a career in medicine. I had a better shot at becoming a great doctor than a world famous dancer, so I decided to hang up my ballet slippers for a stethoscope.

  I could no longer ignore the smell of bacon and eggs coming from the kitchen. My feet hit the hardwood floor and I made my way down the long hallway. I took in every portrait that lined the walls, as if it were my first time looking at them. First was a picture of my mom and dad when they had first started dating. Next was their wedding picture, you could feel how in love they were just looking at it. The one that always caught my eye was one of my mother and me. It was taken the Christmas right after I turned eight-years-old. I wore two pigtails in my thick, unruly hair and a Mickey Mouse sweatshirt. What was left of my mother’s once thick and beautiful long blond hair was hidden under a hat. The paleness of her skin was enhanced by the dark circles under her eyes. All of the chemo and radiation had taken its toll on her already petite frame. I probably weighed more than her in that photo. But through it all she always had that same angelic smile on her face; always trying to stay strong for everyone else. As I grew older, I imagined how many times she must have secretly cried herself to sleep. She kept her spirits up until the end—and the day that picture was taken had been no exception. That turned out to be the last photograph of my mother and me. Three weeks later, she lost her long fight with breast cancer at only thirty-four -years-old. I kept the memory of that day etched in my mind forever. Whenever I began to miss her I would think back to that day and feel like we were right there together again, sitting under that Christmas tree.

  I took a deep breath before heading into the kitchen where my dad was making his famous omelets. This had become our Sunday morning tradition ever since I could remember, so I was pleasantly surprised to be having this on a Thursday.

  “Kat, please tell me you weren’t crying over him again,” Dad said.

  Anthony Vallia, my dad, was old-school Italian. He had a strong belief in hard work and commitment to getting what you wanted in life. These were qualities that he instilled in me very well. He was a newly retired police officer who had dedicated his life to me and my education – in short, he was my hero. He was always afraid that I would miss out on things that other girls my age got to experience with their moms. He did a great job making sure that I didn’t, by fulfilling both roles.

  He was tall, rugged and very well built, taking care to keep in shape by hitting the gym each day. He was the type of man who could jump into a cowboy movie and take over the lead. He had dark brown hair, which now had just a touch of gray around the edges. I was always envious of his hazel eyes with flecks of gold. But I felt a little more special whenever someone would remark about how much my eyes looked like my mom’s.

  “I’m fine, Dad,” I said as I poured myself a cup of coffee, realizing how much weight he had lost. I immediately became angry with myself for becoming too busy with work and pining over Jake to recognize this.

  “Swiss or cheddar?” he asked.

  “Swiss and you may want to put some extra in yours,” I answered, taking a sip of my coffee. “What’s with the supermodel skinny look—have you been hitting the gym a little more?” I asked, trying to mask my concern with laughter.

  He looked down at himself. “Hey, the ladies like the lean look.”

  “Well, don’t lose any more or you’ll disappear.” I walked over to the stove to flip the bacon.

  He tapped my hand lightly, signaling to get away from his culinary masterpiece. “Well, you’re one to talk, you can afford to put some meat on your bones too, kid.”

  I decided to drop the subject because I wasn’t going to get anywhere. Another trait of his that he passed down to me was stubbornness. Unfortunately he had just a tad more in him, which never allowed me to win any argument, unless he let me.

  I sat down at the table waiting for my omelet to be done. I was sensing a new appreciation for my home and what it was going to mean to be away from it for so long. Most people can’t wait to move away from their hometown and make their mark in the world. I guess I was a lot different. Sure, I wanted to make something of myself. I felt like I had already done that by accomplishing my lifelong dream of becoming a pediatrician. I was well aware of how fortunate I was to be doing something that I absolutely loved for a living. I was thankful every day to my father and the sacrifices he made to make sure that I achieved this. I couldn’t ever imagine myself living anywhere but the tiny little bayside town that I grew up in, just outside of Cape May, New Jersey. It was a secret little gem with some of the most beautiful sunsets that not many people knew about, keeping the summer crowds to a minimum. My parents had stumbled upon the place by accident when they had first gotten married. They were vacationing in Cape May and decided to go out for a drive. One wrong turn and my mother was hooked. They bought a one-story, three-bedroom, fixer-upper just before I was born. They restored it into something out of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine.

  I wa
s excited about leaving but through the excitement there was still some apprehension. Being in a remote village in Nigeria where sickness prevailed was hardly a dream vacation and to be leaving the country for nine months was drastic for me. I wasn’t much of a traveler and this would be the first time that I was even leaving the East Coast.

  “These are my best omelets yet.” Dad said placing the plate in front of me.

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” I said as I took the first bite. “I’ve had better,” I joked.

  He smiled and lightly smacked my arm with the dishtowel he had hanging on his shoulder.

  “Nine months will fly by, Kat,” Dad said as if he was sensing my apprehension about leaving. “Besides, it will give you a chance to forget about that bum.” My dad, who once treated Jake as a son, now despised him for what he had done to me.

  “Oh, come on, Dad, you were the one who practically had me walking down the aisle with that bum.”

  “That was before I knew he was a bad guy,” he said as he buttered his toast, not missing a beat. I nearly spit my coffee out, laughing at his police mentality. “He wasn’t the one, you will know the one, and once you find him nobody will ever be able to replace him.” The conversation was quickly becoming more serious.

  For him I knew my mother was the one. They grew up in the same neighborhood and had known each other their whole lives. By the time high school came around he didn’t see her as the shy, pig-tailed, freckle-faced girl and she didn’t see him as the scrawny awkward boy always getting in trouble for being the class clown. They married a few years after high school graduation and the rest was history. I often wondered why he never had any interest in finding anyone new. Even though he dated from time to time he was never serious about anyone. I sometimes wondered if I was the reason why. But he always seemed so content with the way things were. Ironically, I was the one who wanted him to find someone.