The co-owner listed beside my husband’s name was our pastor’s wife.
I honestly thought the county website had mixed two properties together because we’ve known the Hollands almost twenty years. Their oldest son helped build our deck after the tornado damage back in 2017. We sat three pews behind them every Sunday until Pastor Holland retired last winter.
I didn’t even tell my husband what I found right away. I just kept watching him for a few days.
Little things started bothering me after that. He suddenly volunteered to pick up groceries alone. He’d started deleting his call history every night. Twice I noticed him changing shirts before Wednesday Bible study even though he used to complain church people weren’t worth ironing for.
Then last Friday his cardiologist’s office called while he was outside mowing.
The woman asked if “Angela” would still be handling post-surgery transportation after his procedure next month.
I said, “I’m his wife.”
There was this long silence.
Then she apologized quietly and said she must’ve opened the wrong chart.
That night I drove past the house from the property records.
My husband’s truck was there.
So was Pastor Holland’s old Buick.
I sat across the street for almost twenty minutes feeling stupid and too old for this kind of mess. Finally Angela came outside carrying a casserole dish covered in foil like she’d just left somebody’s family dinner.
Then my husband walked out behind her holding a key to the house I didn’t know he owned.