The Nine-Month Marriage Page 18

  Abby peeked in the doorway of Cash’s study to tell him that Mrs. Helm had dinner on the table.

  He was talking on the phone. “Tell you what, Earl,” he said. “You name the figure, and I’ll write the check.”

  Abby pushed the door open and leaned against the door frame, waiting for him to look her way.

  Cash listened for a minute, then chuckled. “But, Earl, I don’t need to see the truck. If you want it, you buy it. I’ll wire you the down, and you pay me back when you can.”

  Earl said something else.

  Cash made a low, amused sound in his throat. “Earl, Earl. I trust your judgment. You want it, you get it. And I’m glad to help you out…. Earl. Listen.” Cash let out a long breath. “All right, all right. I’ll fly on down there tonight.” He chuckled again. “Well, Earl. I’m not Superman, you know?” He grabbed a pencil, scribbled something on a tablet. “You’re in Provo, Earl. I’ll need a few hours to get there.” He scribbled some more, then ripped the page off the tablet and stuck it in a pocket. “I know, I know. But I tell you what. If somebody else snaps it up, we’ll find you another one. I promise we will.” He got up from his big calfskin swivel chair. “All right. Yeah. As soon as I can.” He put the phone down, looked up—and saw Abby. “What?”

  “Dinner,” she said with great care, a numb kind of fury rising inside her. He was leaving again. Because some guy named Earl couldn’t buy a pickup truck by himself.

  Cash forked a hand back through his hair. “Look. Something’s come up. I have to—”

  “Take the Cessna to Provo to look at a pickup truck. I heard.”

  “Abby.” His tone dripped reproach. “It’s a favor. For an old friend.”

  She pasted on a smile over gritted teeth. “We’ll come with you, Tyler and I.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t drag the baby all the way to Provo just to look at a pickup truck.”

  “Watch me.”

  He tossed his pencil on the desk blotter. “All right. What’s the problem?”

  She glared at him. “I’m looking at it.”

  He made a faint groaning sound. “Oh. That’s funny. Really funny.”

  “I don’t think it’s funny. Not at all.” She stepped fully into the room and shut the door behind her, aware in every quivering nerve of her body that this was it. The big battle, the one she’d been avoiding by holding her temper. Well, her temper just wouldn’t be held anymore. She could feel it straining at the leash of her good sense. It would break that leash. Very soon now.

  He watched her close the door and then he sighed wearily. “Abby, let’s not get into it. I have to go.”

  “No, you don’t. You don’t have to go. You can send Earl a nice, big check and he can either buy that pickup or not, his choice.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t understand. It’s not just about money. Earl’s been going through a rough time lately and he could use a friend right now.”

  “Well, I can certainly understand that.”

  “Right,” he muttered.

  “I can, I swear. I’m kind of like Earl, really. Only I could use a husband right now.”

  He came around the big desk. For a moment, she thought he would stride right up to her and confront her eye to eye. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t come that close. He kept several feet of gleaming hardwood floor between them.

  “Abby, you know me. You’ve known me all your life. When a friend needs me, I help him. That’s how I am.”

  She folded her arms under her breasts. “Great. Wonderful. Terrific. But what about your wife and son? What if we need you? Do we have to take a number and wait in line?”

  He scowled at her, then he snorted. “You’re being completely unreasonable. And I don’t have time for it right now.”

  “You never have time. Not in weeks and weeks. And I am fed up.”

  He studied her. “You’re fed up, huh?”

  “Yes. I am.”

  “Well, all right, then. If you’re fed up, you know what to do.”

  The words were cryptic. But she knew exactly what he meant by them. She dropped her arms, all the fight draining from her like water from a sieve.

  “No, Cash,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what to do. That’s the problem.”

  He looked away, then back. Like someone trapped. “Abby…”

  “No. Please. Listen.”

  “Let’s just not—”

  “Please.”

  He fell silent, though he didn’t look happy about it.

  She dragged in a breath and forged on. “I…I want to reach out to you, but you won’t let me. I want to get close to you again, but you’re so far away. Help me, Cash. Tell me. What can I do to work things out with you?”

  He looked at her for the longest time. And then he turned away. He stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at a couple of Remington prints on the far wall.

  “Cash.”

  “Yeah?” He still didn’t look at her.

  She swallowed. “Cash, please….” She took a step toward him.

  He turned back to her then and put up a hand. “Look. Just don’t, okay?”

  “But it’s all…falling apart. We hardly see each other. We never…make love….”

  He winced. “Stop.”

  But she wouldn’t stop. “We had so much last summer and in Boulder. We got along so well. We were happy. At least, I know I was happy. Were you?”

  “Abby—”

  “Just tell me. Were you happy?”

  He lifted one shoulder in sort of a half shrug. “Yeah. All right. I was happy.”

  “So what happened?”

  He went on looking at her, but he didn’t answer her question.

  She felt as if they stood on opposite sides of the world. Somehow, she had to bridge the distance. Though his eyes warned her to keep back, she took a step toward him. And then another.

  When she stood only inches from him, she whispered, “Cash. Please. You said we would talk about this, about us, after the baby came. Well, the baby’s here. The baby’s been here for months. And you just won’t talk.”

  “I don’t think…” His voice faded off.

  “What? You don’t think what?”

  He closed his eyes, tipped his head toward the ceiling. “That there’s much to say.”

  Her anger sparked again. “What do you mean, there’s not much to say? You’re my husband. I’m your wife. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  He looked right at her, and didn’t say a word. “Hell.”

  She threw up her hands. “What? What does that look mean? Talk to me, Cash. I’ve had enough of you sighing and shaking your head and turning away.”

  “You won’t like it if I talk to you.”

  “Do it anyway.”

  “Fine.” He sank to the edge of the desk, his big shoulders slumping. “Abby, I…this isn’t working out. I’m not cut out for marriage. You knew it from the first. We gave it a good try, but—”

  Though she’d demanded that he talk to her, now she couldn’t bear to let him finish. She cut in, “No, we didn’t. We didn’t give it nearly enough of a try. If you’ll only listen to me, you’ll understand that we need to—”

  “Abby, I’m through.”

  “No. That’s not true. Don’t say that. I won’t accept that.”

  “You have to accept it.”

  “No—”

  “Abby, it takes two to make a marriage. And I want out. You asked me, I’m telling you. I want that divorce. There’s no point in waiting until July. You get yourself a decent lawyer. And we’ll get it over with.”

  “But I don’t want it over with. I just want you.”

  “Abby…”

  “No. Wait.” She couldn’t stand it. She’d known this was coming. But now that it was here, she only wanted to stop, to go back to the moment before she’d pushed him to talk to her. “Listen. Let’s just forget this. Let’s just go on as if I hadn’t said anything.”

  He looked at her w
ith such sadness. And pity.

  Shameless now, she couldn’t stop begging. “Please. Listen. Cash, we can make it work. Just give it a chance. You know that we can!”

  He stood from the edge of the desk. “Abby…”

  She threw herself against him, grabbing his shirt in her fists. “Listen. Please. I want to make it work. We have to make it work.” I love you, she thought. But she couldn’t quite say it. It had always been too dangerous to say it. Only once had she dared, on the night when she thought she would die.

  And a lot of good it had done her.

  “Cash…”

  “No.”

  “Don’t tell me no!”

  “Abby, it’s over.”

  She wouldn’t hear it. She refused to hear it. With a low, desperate cry, she surged up—and captured his mouth before he could say any more.

  He froze. And then he moaned.

  She moaned back, in triumph and in hope. Because she could feel it—the shock of connection. The yearning. The hunger between them.

  She pressed herself against him, her hands sliding up to wrap around his neck. And he responded, his mouth devouring hers, his arms like bands of steel around her, his hands roaming her back.

  And then he stiffened. He tore his mouth away.

  She clutched him tighter. “No, please. Please, Cash…”

  But it didn’t help. He took her arms and peeled them away. He looked down at her, his eyes like blue chips of ice.

  “Stop. Just stop.”

  She stared at him for the longest time, into those cold, stranger’s eyes. And then, very calmly, she commanded, “Let go of me.”

  He released her. She stepped back, turned away, tried to collect her shattered wits.

  But all she could think of were the days and days she’d waited and hoped. And for nothing. To have it end like this. Over some old buddy of his and a pickup.

  With him looking so distant and cold. And with her begging him.

  Had all those other women begged him?

  If they had, she was just like them now. And if they hadn’t, she was less than them. Because she hadn’t even managed to salvage her pride.

  Now he was the one approaching her. He came up behind her, gently grasped her shoulders. She shrugged off his touch.

  “Abby,” he said.

  His kindly tone set her teeth on edge.

  “Once you get used to it, you’ll see that it’s for the best. You’ll have your freedom and I’ll have mine. And Tyler will get both of us, just the way we always planned it.”

  The way you planned it, she thought, though she didn’t say it out loud.

  He went on, “You’ll always have whatever you want.”

  Except what I want most: you.

  “I’ll instruct my lawyer to give you anything you ask for.”

  It was too much. She whirled on him. “Forget it. If you won’t be my husband, I don’t need or want anything from you. I can take care of myself just fine.”

  “I’ll always take care of you.”

  “No, you won’t. Because I won’t let you.”

  “Abby, you’re acting like a child.”

  “Right. Call me a child. That’s always your defense against me. I’m a child, and so you don’t have to take me seriously. You don’t have to listen to me. You don’t have to love me like the woman you know I really am!”

  “Abby, settle down.”

  She backed away from him, because if she didn’t, she would have jumped on him—and not to kiss him this time. “Get this. I don’t care about your money. I don’t want your money.”

  “Come on, don’t be like this.”

  “I won’t take a damn penny from you, Cash Bravo. You won’t ease your conscience about me by buying me off.” She backed into the credenza against the wall by the door.

  “Abby, stop it.” He took a careful step toward her. “This is for the best. You’ll see that I’m right as soon as you cool down a little and start to think rationally.”

  “Rationally? Rationally?” She felt behind her, and her fingers closed around the base of something heavy. She picked it up and brought it around so she could see it: a bronze figurine of a cowboy on a rearing horse.

  “Abby, put that thing down.”

  Nothing in the world would have given her greater pleasure than to smash him in the face with it.

  “Abby, come on….”

  She settled for waving it at him, feeling like a fool, hating him almost as much as she loved him. “Out!” She felt the tears rising. She couldn’t stand for him to see them. “Get out of this house.”

  “Abby—”

  “Just get out. Pack a bag and go to Provo.”

  He closed his eyes. Drew in a deep breath. “All right. Fine.” He strode to the door, pulled it open.

  “Don’t come back,” she said.

  He went out the door, closing it quietly behind him. She waited, holding her breath, until she was certain he was really gone. Then, carefully, she set down the bronze statue.

  She gulped and swallowed, making ludicrous choking sounds, trying to hold the blasted tears back. But they wouldn’t be held.

  They spilled down her face. Gulping, sobbing, despising herself for giving in to such weakness, she went to the big desk and dropped into the calfskin swivel chair. She put her arms on the blotter and laid her head down and let the tears have their way.

  Fifteen minutes later, she raised her head and slumped back in the chair. She shuddered. An animal cry tried to get out. She forced it down. With the back of her hand, she wiped her nose. She put both palms flat on the blotter and pushed herself to her feet.

  Not far away, on the side table by a leather love seat, sat a box of tissues. Abby marched over there, grabbed a handful and blew her nose repeatedly. Then she squared her shoulders, smoothed her hair and went out to sit down to dinner alone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  For the next two days, Abby didn’t leave the house. She took care of her baby and ate when Mrs. Helm put the food on the table. She went through the motions of living. And she did not cry again.

  The third day was Saturday, one of Mrs. Helm’s two days off. There was no breakfast on the table. So after giving Tyler his early bottle, Abby went back to bed. She pulled the covers close around her, shut her eyes and dropped into a fitful, unsatisfying sleep.

  The phone rang at nine. She groped on the night stand and found it. “What?”

  “Well. Good morning to you, too.”

  “Mom.”

  “You sound so happy to hear from me.”

  “I was sleeping.”

  “Then it’s time you got up. I’m coming by.”

  “No!”

  A silence, then, “All right. What’s wrong?”

  She didn’t want to think about it. She only wanted to go back to sleep.

  “Abigail.”

  But could she afford to go back to sleep, really?

  “Abigail, I don’t like this.”

  No. She couldn’t.

  Fact: her husband had left her. The marriage that was supposed to have lasted at least a year had barely survived for nine months in the end.

  She had told him she wouldn’t take his money, yet here she lay in his bed, her stomach rumbling because his housekeeper hadn’t come in today to feed her.

  She needed a job, not more sleep.

  “Abigail, I’m coming over there.”

  She shoved back the covers. “Don’t bother. Tyler and I will be over at your place in half an hour. There’s something we have talk about.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this.”

  “You think you don’t like it now, wait until I get there.”

  “Abigail, Abigail,” Edna murmured sadly as she stood at the stove, poaching eggs. “Didn’t I warn you that this would happen? You should have taken better care of that man.”

  Abby, at the table, shifted her son to her other arm. “I did take good care of Cash.”

  Edna took the lid from the pan, lifted
the poaching tray out of the water and turned the two eggs into a cup. “I’m sure you believe you did.”

  Abby pulled in a deep breath and assumed a peacemaking tone. “Let’s not argue about it, Mom. I did the best I could. And I suppose you’re right—it wasn’t good enough.”

  Edna carried the eggs to her daughter, along with a plate of golden brown toast. “Here. Eat. Give me that beautiful boy.” Abby handed Tyler to his grandmother and picked up her spoon. Holding Tyler on one arm, Edna got the coffeepot with her free hand and refilled the two cups on the table. Then she sat and watched her daughter eat.

  Abby looked up from the meal. “Thanks, Mom. These eggs are perfect.”

  “You need your strength.”

  “Amen.”

  Gently, Edna rocked Tyler. “He looks just like his daddy.”

  “Do I need to hear that right now?”

  Edna glanced up from the baby. “It’s not something you’ll ever escape. Face it. You’ll think of that man all your life. Every time you look at this boy.” She leaned toward Abby a little and lowered her voice. “You love him. And you have to find a way to get him back.”

  Abby thought of his cold eyes, of the way she had begged him. “I don’t want him back.”

  Edna retreated to her own chair. “That’s only pride talking.”

  “So? What’s wrong with a woman having a little pride?”

  “It won’t keep you warm in a blizzard.”

  “It’s better than nothing.”

  “Not by much.” She looked sideways at Abby. “I don’t know how you can let him go. He loves you so. I’ll bet his heart is broken.”

  “Mom. Try to get it straight. He left me.”

  “What does that matter? I know he didn’t want to leave you.”

  “Oh. And just how do you know that?”

  “A million ways. The way he looks when you come in the room. The way he lights up when he hears your voice or when I talk about you. I know Cash. After all, I as good as raised him from the time he was ten years old. And I’ve been watching him since the two of you married. He loves you.”

  Abby sipped some coffee, then set the cup down firmly. “Sure he loves me. And he loves you. He loves Nate and Zach and Tess and Jobeth. And some guy named Earl in Provo.”