Isabel jerked the bedding aside and turned on the lamp. Her sneakers lay on their sides by the closet. She stepped into them without bothering to tie the laces. Then she pulled a sweatshirt over her pajamas and opened the door.
Silence blanketed the dark hall. Ben and Tony needed sleep. After waiting a few seconds to make sure she hadn’t disturbed them, she hurried down the curving stairs, snatched her coat out of the closet and then reached for the front door, her only thought, escape.
She glanced down at her clothing. The knife her husband and sister had slipped into her back was no one else’s business. Wandering the neighborhood in her jammies would expose her and Ben, maybe even her parents, to ridicule and questions.
She turned, instead, toward the kitchen. When she opened the back door, the cold sucked the breath out of her lungs, but it felt better than smothering in her sister’s home. If she didn’t get fresh air, she’d need CPR.
Isabel stepped onto the deck and sank in snow that crept around the edges of her shoes. It felt good. She was alive if the cold could hurt.
But it really hurt. Damn. Suddenly she was also swearing at Will and Faith. And then at Ben for convincing her to stay.
Snowflakes wet her cheeks. She ran down the deck stairs and trekked through drifts to the gazebo where she and her sister had shared coffee, tea, secrets and each important milestone in Tony’s life.
Last winter Faith had danced with her son in his first snow. He’d laughed as bits of ice bounced off his soft skin, and Faith had kissed each wet spot. Isabel gritted her teeth. Tony had lost a loving mother.
Faith’s happiness that day had pricked at all Isabel’s doubts. She’d trusted her sister enough to confide her worst fear—that Will might have found another woman.
Isabel hunched into her coat on the swing Will and Ben had hung from the ceiling. Her breath painted the air in front of her face. She exhaled again and watched the mist widen and then dissipate.
Faith had said she was being foolish. Her less-than-comforting response had hurt, but Faith had been right. No woman could have been more foolish or gullible.
“You’ll freeze.”
She jumped. “I didn’t hear you, Ben.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’d take a lot more than a guy in the dark to scare me tonight.” She pulled one knee to her chest. “I’m spoiling for a fight.”
“Yeah.” He sat beside her, jostling the swing. “I’d like to punch someone, too.” He’d positioned spotlights around the yard, and their dim light colored his face pale blue.
“I’m sorry you had to find out with a note,” she said. “I’m not sure I’d ever have found the courage to tell you, but I’m sorry you had to read about it.”
“I knew something was wrong, but I never guessed anything about Will.” He shrugged and the whole swing rocked. “I was lucky. Faith left the note in her makeup drawer. Amelia and George might have found it. They arrived the night of the accident.” He pushed his hands into his coat pockets. “Fortunately, I answered the phone when the mortician called about bringing her stuff.”
“Good God.”
“It was pretty awful.” His silence echoed with pain. “Why did you wait so long to come?”
She stared into the dark, not wanting to answer, but how could he think worse of her? “I considered not coming at all.”
“Really?”
She had shocked him.
“But Mom and Dad would have guessed something had come between Faith and me.”
“And you wouldn’t hurt them.” He stopped the swing with his feet.
“You needn’t sound suspicious.”
“I’ll be glad when your mother and father come over tomorrow and you don’t tell them immediately.”
“You hope that’s the way it goes?” His doubts almost made her laugh. “You have to be kidding. If I wasn’t able to tell you—when you were living the lie that changed me into a cynic—how could I tell my mom? She might feel better, but Tony would lose the last stable figure he’s known.”
“His father.”
“His father, Ben. I agree with you.”
The silence told her he doubted her. Just about the time she was getting angry, he nudged her elbow with his. “What are you going to do about the house?”
She pushed the swing back. “I don’t think Will filed for divorce, and I was too busy finding a job. If the place still belongs to me, I’ll sell it.” She glanced his way. “Meanwhile, you have to decide if you want Will’s half of our assets for Tony.”
“Not a chance. I don’t want anything from that bastard.”
Cold crept through her coat and her pajamas. “What if Tony needs the money when he’s older? We’re not talking a simple piggy bank. This is a lot of capital.”
“Give it to Leah. If the truth comes out, she can decide whether she should help her grandson.”
“I’m serious about not trusting Leah. I could turn over everything Will and I owned together and she’d still look for any crumbs I might have forgotten. She married into a mainline Philadelphia family, and she’ll protect her name with her last breath. The more money to bolster her position, the better. You can’t trust her finer qualities, Ben. You definitely shouldn’t make Tony beholden to her.”
“I won’t touch a penny Will ever made—especially not for my son. I provide for Tony.”
Isabel opened her mouth to suggest he wait until he wasn’t so angry, but it was pointless. She didn’t need his permission to ask her lawyer about creating a trust fund for Tony. “After I get out from under all this, I’m heading back to Middleburg. I love the horses and the trees and the farms. I’m not important enough to matter. No one looks at me with pity. No one expects me to be Mrs. Will Barker.”
“We’ll talk about your plans after you sell the house.”
His domineering note struck a nerve. Will had always tried to steer their lives toward the image he wanted.
“You’re upset.” She tried to start out gently. “And I’ve made it worse by talking about Will, but trying to push me around won’t change anything for you.”
The swing went forward and back. The metal chains sang a high-pitched, mournful tune until Ben stopped their motion.
“Don’t talk about leaving now.” He pushed the swing again, hard. “Please.”
That “please” obviously cost him. She softened. “I won’t.” But was she falling into old habits? Trying to please a man whose gruff tone threatened to withhold affection? She gripped her armrest. “As long as you realize I’m no longer Will’s amenable little wife. I was afraid he’d leave me, I guess, but I’d rather be left than play those kinds of games.”
He turned to her. A stranger behind Ben’s face who gave nothing away. Where was her old friend, loving, lovable, demonstrative Ben? “Thank you,” he said.
She was right to doubt him. He wanted her here for some reason. She didn’t understand, and she assumed it was going to hurt someday, but he might be correct about Tony needing familiar faces.
Ice crept between her collar and her neck. She shivered. From the snow? Or from doubts about Ben?
She turned toward the house, drawn to the faint glow of a night-light Faith had always left on in Tony’s room.
Face it. In Ben’s shoes she’d lie to keep