Азия в моем сердце. 88 историй о силе путешествий и людях, которые оставляют свой след в душе. Юлия Пятницына
did you know it was Barbara?” She leaped on the name as if it were evidence. “I didn’t tell you who called.”
“She did. Eventually. When she realized I wasn’t going to rebound into her arms after all. You could say the only pleasure she got out of her little escapade was knowing that she’d killed our marriage.”
Something else burst out of her then, maybe the most important thing of all. She didn’t know, but it rose to the surface and exploded. “You were never home. We didn’t have a marriage, we had an occasional affair!”
He froze. Despite herself she looked at him and saw his face shutter as if it had turned to steel.
“I see,” he said quietly. “I won’t bother you again.”
She listened to him leave, standing frozen herself. Where had that come from? Was it as true as it had felt when it burst out of her? Had she been harboring that kind of resentment without knowing it?
She realized she was trembling and forced herself to move stiffly to the kitchen. She hadn’t had supper yet, and the tension and anger had drained her. She had to eat. She had to carry on. Her life was here now, among family and friends, not in some big city where she’d felt so lonely sometimes when Luke was away. She never really felt lonely anymore.
But looking back, she remembered how badly she had ached every time he left on another trip. She’d never gotten used to it. So maybe she’d been a fool to marry him in the first place. His absences had been built in, but she’d faced them with so much confidence, sure she could handle them.
Time had proved her wrong. Whether he had cheated or not, they had probably been doomed anyway.
She managed to make a chicken sandwich on melba rye bread, then poured herself fresh coffee before sitting at the kitchen table. As she lifted the sandwich, she realized she was still shaking.
She needed someone. Someone to talk to and let her vent. Twisting on her seat, she reached for the wall phone and called Diane. Her best buddy. The one who shared both good times and bad.
Diane said she’d be right over. Help was on the way.
* * *
Jack crawled out of the attic, content. The man was an ex who had cheated on her. No threat there. And tomorrow or the next day, Bri would call him to get rid of the raccoon. How long it took him to catch the animal would depend on whether he could afford to stay away for a few days or a week. Once he “caught” the animal, he couldn’t risk making noise up here for a while. Time would tell.
In the meantime, he was sure he could let her talk to her best friend without listening in. Diane would be on his side, after all, wanting only what was best for Bri.
Jack closed up the attic, checked to make sure it was safe, then shinnied down the tree. Amazing what you could learn just by listening. He hoped that soon he’d have a chance to comfort Bri.
But first, maybe, it would be best to ensure that her ex didn’t hang around for long. Better safe than sorry.
* * *
Luke climbed into his truck and nearly skidded on the snow and ice as he pulled away. Had he been out of his ever-loving mind? What had made him think she would listen to him? She certainly hadn’t listened to him when he’d denied her accusations the first time.
Damn, she still had those witchy green eyes, that heart-shaped face, although it had lost some of its softness to the years. Chiseled cheekbones showed now. But her brown hair still looked as silky as ever. In short, except for the chaos between them, he’d still think she was the most beautiful woman on the planet.
But he’d seen inside that woman, and what he’d found there hadn’t been all that beautiful. Not toward the end. Not when she’d refused to trust him or his honesty.
And what was that crap about him being gone all the time? She’d known that before they married. She’d refused his every attempt to get her to travel with him because she wanted to keep nursing. Her job had mattered more to her than being with him. That was a two-way street.
So how dare she throw that up at him? Especially at this late date?
He’d almost convinced himself yet again that the marriage had been a huge mistake by the time he got back to the crusty motel on the edge of town. He’d spent time in worse accommodations over the years, and with fewer amenities, as construction manager for DEL Inc. He barely noticed his surroundings as he entered the room, paused to wash his face, then set out again for the truck stop across the highway.
He needed to eat. He hadn’t eaten during his entire trip to this godforsaken town in the middle of nowhere. Nerves about seeing Bri again? Maybe.
The part of him that never stopped working had already scanned the town. Turning this place into a tourist resort was going to take some big bucks. The basics of the charm were there, but they needed a whole lot of touching up to make this the kind of place people with money would want to spend a few weeks skiing and hiking. Yeah, they would put a lot of good stuff out at the resort, but people often wanted to wander into town.
Conard City spoke of older times. That would help. Some sprucing up would seal its charm, make people feel they’d come to a place out of time. But boy, it was going to take some sprucing.
But first he had to get the lay of the land up in the mountains, figure out if they’d run into a few surprises about how much it would cost to build the place and put in the kinds of slopes that would appeal to everyone from the beginner to the pro. The designers had given him a rudimentary plan, but now he had to look over the actual site and see how much could actually become reality. And if it would be worth it.
He half hoped it wouldn’t be. Then he could leave and be sure he’d never see Bri again.
Just what the hell had he expected, anyway? The woman had always been stubborn, she clearly hadn’t trusted him and she’d divorced him. A sane man wouldn’t have returned for a second round.
But he knew what he had wanted. Their marriage was dust, but it still chapped him that she had believed those lies about him. It wasn’t enough to know in his own mind that he’d never cheated, he wanted—no, needed—Bri to know it, too. Somehow that mattered and had never stopped mattering.
Somehow it all still mattered, he thought grimly as he settled into a booth in the overbright truck stop diner. Three years since the divorce. Even longer if he counted back to when he’d first realized the relationship was crumbling. Shouldn’t he be over it all by now?
But maybe when you’d invested that many hopes and dreams into a person and a relationship, cutting loose wasn’t easy. God knew, he’d never wanted the divorce. He just hadn’t had the heart to fight her anymore.
Setting her free hadn’t been easy. It had been necessary.
A week later, Bri was in the locker room, ditching her scrubs for street clothes. She was feeling good, all things considered. Apart from an uneasy awareness that Luke was probably still around somewhere, she hadn’t seen him. A mercy. She felt she had stuffed all the painful genies back into the bottle, and that life had pretty much returned to normal.
That normalcy had been hard-won, and she welcomed its return. Even though her marriage had been running into trouble before the never-to-be-forgotten phone call from Barbara, that hadn’t made it any easier to break the ties. Anyone who thought divorce was easy had clearly never been through one.
She sighed, pushing the memories away once again. She was here now, reasonably content with her life and enjoying her job. No need to hash over the dead things in her life. Looking forward had always been her salvation.
After she had dumped all over Diane, however, her best friend had left her with a question that she was trying to ignore: Why do you still care so much?
Ah, heck, she thought, closing her locker. Why indeed?