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Becoming Mrs. Lewis(99)

Author:Patti Callahan

“Yes,” I said and sipped my tea. “I obviously live in an artistic dream world as I raise our children, write, and work.” I pointed at the paper. “It gets worse, if you can believe it.”

“I don’t know if it can.” His eyes shifted down to the paper.

While Jack read my divorce decree, I watched two red robins settle on my bird feeder and peck away at the seeds.

“And then there’s this.” Jack’s free hand slapped the edge of the chair. “‘The defendant feels that her artistic career is much more important than her domestic career, life, and duty to her husband and family.’” His hand was so tight on the document it began to crumple beneath his fingers. “How did you live with this? It is degrading.”

“Yes, it is and it was. But I’m here now, Jack. Right here.”

His cheeks grew redder, his mouth tighter. “Joy. He states here that he begged you to live happily with him and the children but that you refused to do so.”

“Well then, there it is,” I said, lifting my teacup. “Now who lives in a dream world?”

“This is such drivel and so smarmy. All wind and piss.”

I leaned forward, my hands on my knees. “I should have done the filing, and then I could have lodged my complaints. But I know he’s missing his sons, and I’m sure he’s lashing out at me.” I exhaled and felt the tension twist below my belly. “I don’t think I can trust his child support and alimony unless I hire my own lawyer to ensure he makes good on it.”

“Then you must.” Jack lifted his teacup, a dainty flowered one I’d found at the flea market, but he didn’t take a sip before setting it back down. A swallow spun above him as if circling in curiosity and then flew off.

“And these accusations,” I said. “It’s all because I was once such a submissive and acquiescing wife.” I tapped my finger on the divorce decree. “He doesn’t think I have it in me to fight, or he’s forgotten. But I won’t buckle under his rhetoric. I’ve done it for far too long. I feel as if I’ve jumped into a time machine and I’m back there, and Bill is drunk and the boys are cowering. I feel myself shriveling and scared, nervous and hopeless. I never want to feel that way again.”

“You shan’t,” he said and almost, God help me, almost took my hand. But he didn’t. He leaned back and lit his cigarette, a motion so familiar. “You have the strength, Joy. You always have. I don’t know anyone stronger.” His words carried such force that I believed him. He folded the divorce decree and handed it back to me. “As I said, rubbish.”

“Yes,” I said. “But freedom . . . a blessed release.”

“Freedom,” he echoed, and beamed at me as if we’d just decided to jump into the pond on the first day of spring, a mischievous look. “Think of your new life, Joy. Courage has brought you to a new place.”

“My sons and me.”

“Speaking of your sons, talk to me about Davy and Douglas. How was your visit to Surrey yesterday?”

A new energy rushed through me. “Simply wonderful,” I said. “I saw them play cricket and I met some more of their teachers. Davy is getting personal tutoring in math. It’s honestly more than I could have hoped for. Someday I’ll pay you back.”

Jack stood and held out his hand to lift me to stand. “Let’s take a walk. A slow bimble to the park? It’s finally warming.”

I allowed him to pull me to stand, and then he released my hand. The dull ache in my left hip sent me to quickly sit again. It was one of my favorite things to do—walk with him, ambling slowly through gardens, but I couldn’t. “Jack, I’m so sorry. My hips are acting up again. I have no idea why. Rheumatism, they say. I’m hoping it will clear whenever the everlasting rain leaves us.”

“There is no need for apology.” He smiled. “It’s nice to sit still for a while.”

“I’ll make us more tea and bring out the stories we started to read yesterday.”

“No need for stories today, Joy. If we want to read some jolly good fiction we could just reread the divorce decree.” He laughed that hearty laugh and patted his breast before removing his pipe.

I laughed in return so fully that we both bent forward to clasp our knees, leaning toward each other face-to-face. It was there we paused, close, only inches. It would only take one of us to close the gap, and finally our lips would touch. But for now, it was only our smiles that met across the inches of space between us.