Andy and Beth were planted in front of the television, staring with rapt attention at a cartoon.
“Hey, kiddos.” Julia crouched down to their level. “You guys be good for Miranda, okay?”
“Will you be home tomorrow?” Beth asked, sliding her gaze away from the set.
“Not tomorrow, but the day after, and then we’ll have fun making Thanksgiving dinner. Okay?”
“Me, too?” Andy wasn’t going to be left out, but his eyes remained glued to his program.
“You, too, sweetie. Now both of you give me a big hug and a kiss.”
The tap of a horn outside drew her to the door.
“Damn,” she muttered. The familiar knot of tension settled into place in her stomach. Of course he’d show up, try to throw her off her game, aware she didn’t want to deal with him today. “How the hell did this happen?”
Rather than the dark sedan the car service used, Charles’s grey Lincoln sat impatiently in the driveway. In a moment, he got out of the car, slammed the door, and stomped up to the front porch.
Julia pulled the door open. “What are you doing here? I’m leaving in a few minutes. The car service is due any time.”
“I canceled them. It’s raining. I came to talk you out of this ridiculous trip with bad weather closing in, and discuss ending this sham of a divorce.”
Not today. Please not today. She would not let him get to her. Cause her to fall apart.
“I can’t believe you took this on yourself to do,” she told him. “It’s too late to call them back. I’ll have to make other arrangements. Damn.”
“I forbid you to go.”
Flat, cold words, as if what he said was law. For a moment the uncertainty she fought every day flared inside her but she tamped it down.
“Charles.” She curled her hands into fists. “I’m going. You no longer have the right to tell me what I can and can’t do. And there is nothing to discuss about the divorce except when you’re finally going to sign those papers.” She turned to go into the kitchen. “Never mind. I’ll see if Claire can take me.”
“Julia.” He used a tone of controlled patience, one she’d grown to hate so desperately. “You are the most irritating woman. Fine. If you insist on going despite everything, I’ll take you. But I think it’s ridiculous to take chances when we have dinner coming up on Thursday.”
Yes, of course. Dinner was the most important thing.
At that moment, the twins rushed into the foyer from the family room. At the sight of their father, however, they stopped so suddenly they bumped into each other. Smiles faded from their faces, replaced by looks of uncertainty.
“Julia.” Charles stood in his perfectly tailored black suit and midnight blue topcoat, not a crease in sight, not a wrinkle, not a smudge. Everything was as perfect as the day it came from the tailor. His mouth was set in a thin line as he observed the children, staring at him. “Must they run around the house like common animals?”
“They’re just being children, Charles.” She ground her teeth. “I should think you’d be glad to see them.”
Charles’s cold attitude where the twins were concerned bothered the hell out of her, but now was not the time to begin an argument, one she had no chance of winning. She’d discovered the hard way in the Patterson family, expressions of emotion were strictly forbidden. No wonder he’d grown up to be the way he was.
Miranda, eyeing the situation, gathered the twins and ushered them into the kitchen, soothing and distracting them.
“Are you ready?” A muscle jumped in Charles’s cheek. “I’d like to get going. It’s raining and the traffic will be a mess.”
“Yes, I am.” Julia picked up her purse, briefcase, computer, and warm duffel coat. The weather report for Boston was snow, snow, and more snow. “If you’ll get the suitcase, we can leave.”
She hurried to the car and buckled herself into the passenger seat. A dull ache began to build behind her eyes, the result of the tension always in the air between them. Leaning her head back, she prayed for a moment of quiet peace. Raindrops spattered against the windshield, a waterfall parted by the regular motion of the windshield wipers. A good representation of her life, a curtain falling, parting momentarily, then dropping back in place like a shroud.
She felt the anger vibrating from Charles as he navigated the wet streets and traffic. In the nearly ten years of their marriage, he’d become steadily more dictatorial, more autocratic, more controlling. Vulnerable and insecure, she’d allowed it for far too long, losing herself until she no longer had an identity of her own. She’d finally found the courage to break away, but things turned as nasty as she’d expected.
Telling Charles she was divorcing him had been her most difficult task yet. Worse, because he’d fought her at every turn, assuming as an attorney he’d hold the upper hand and emerge the victor. Lucky for her, Claire had found her a shark who could draw blood.
“Once more, Julia, you have made an irresponsible decision.” Charles’s words interrupted her thoughts now, tiny pin pricks bringing her back to the present. “I don’t know why you have to go away during this particular week. You know my parents have very definite ideas about Thanksgiving dinner.”
Yes, she certainly did. More than she wanted to. She should have just told him they could have it at their house but it was one more argument she hadn’t wanted at the time.
“Charles, I’ll be back Wednesday afternoon.” She forced herself to bite back her automatic retort. “Miranda is doing the grocery shopping, she’ll have the table set by Wednesday night and everything ready for me to finish cooking Thursday morning. I’m only doing this for the children anyway, so don’t push me or there won’t be any dinner at all.”
“May I remind you of the generous monthly stipend your attorney screwed me out of? There are certain conditions for you to continue receiving it.”
“As if I could stop you,” she snapped.
“My parents like to eat Thanksgiving dinner at three,” he reminded her. “It’s a tradition. Nothing should disrupt that.”
“God forbid we should ever break with tradition,” Julia muttered under her breath.
“What did you say?” Charles cast a sideways glance at her.
“I said don’t worry, I’d never break with tradition. Dinner will be on the table exactly at three.”
Charles made no comment, his attention at the moment riveted on steering through the traffic with precise moves. “I don’t know why Claire couldn’t have gone instead.” A note of petulance tinged his words.
“Claire is doing the Thanksgiving Festival starting Friday, as you well know.” Julia was irritated. This wasn’t the first argument they’d had about this. “They have no children. This way I can spend the long weekend with the twins.”
“I’d rather you didn’t work at all and stayed home where you belong.”
“I will not have this discussion with you again at this particular moment.” She fisted her hands to hold her temper in check. “Your choices are no longer a factor in my life. I’m sick of the whole thing.”
“No more than I am. Julia, I’m tired of waiting for you to come to your senses and call off this ridiculous divorce activity.”
Slap, slap, slap. The windshield wipers were a metronome keeping time to the throbbing in her head.
“It’s not