by Lin Stepp
After her letter, he changed the activities of the children before he completed the final painting. She made a good point. Still, he razzed her back in a letter by saying she’d better examine her own drawings with the same critical lens.
“Your little dancers are always ballerinas and your fairies are always girls,” he told her. “Boys dance, too, and there are male fairies, as well as male elves and gnomes.”
She accepted his criticism with good grace and soon sent him back some designs with boys at the barre in a dance studio and with male fairy folk peeping out of a hole in the base of a giant poplar tree.
“We saw a tree just like this when we were hiking this spring,” she wrote him. “It made me think fairies might live there. Do you remember?”
Yes, he remembered. He remembered everything, God help him. And being away from her like this was tearing him apart.
Charlotte came out on the porch with Dean. “What are you thinking about looking so pensive?” she asked. “As if I couldn’t guess. Lord, Boyce, why don’t you just go up there to New York City and get her. Her divorce is going to be final next week on July 7th. I know she misses you, too. Whenever I talk to her about you, and push at her with some questions a little, her voice gets all misty and choked up sounding. I can tell she’s unhappy deep down.”
She settled into the porch swing beside her husband. “Dean, don’t you think Boyce just ought to go up there and get her?”
“Might be a good idea,” drawled Dean, in his laid back way. “Just go bundle her up in a gunny sack, throw her in the car, and bring her on back down here. The old timey way.”
“Oh, thanks a lot.” Charlotte punched his arm. “I meant to do it romantic, Dean. Go up there and take flowers and say sweet things and sweep her off her feet.”
Boyce shook his head at them in amusement.
“Well how come you’re waiting like you are?” pressed Charlotte. “I don’t understand why you couldn’t have gone up to see her, called her, kept yourself more before her face all this time. ‘Absence doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder,’ you know. Sometimes it’s ‘out of sight, out of mind’!”
“It’s what she wanted right now.” Boyce winced at the thought that Charlotte’s words might well be the truth.
Dean scratched his head. “Women don’t always know what they want,” he observed lazily. “With all that’s happened to that girl, maybe she don’t know what she needs most. Maybe she’s just confused. It always struck me as odd that you haven’t talked to her, that you haven’t been up there. She’s a pretty woman, Boyce. Somebody else might come along and snatch her up.”
Boyce felt an agonizing wrench in his heart at Dean’s words. That was his own ongoing fear and nightmare being voiced.
“You know, Jenna’s been going out to lunch a lot with this Jason Brantley she works for.” Charlotte plunged the knife in deeper. “Once they went to an art show, too. She talks about him all the time and I found out he’s single.” She emphasized the last word. “She says they’re just friends, but it seems to me a man seeing a woman right often outside of the office is being a little bit more than friendly.”
“That don’t sound good.” Dean agreed. He glanced over to catch Boyce’s eyes and then amended his words kindly. “Of course, it might not mean nothing, either.”
“It’s been a risk,” Boyce said at last. “To let her do this the way she wanted to. I agreed because I believed, and I still do, that she needed some time to come into her own. To realize who she was, to get strong and confident. To establish some independence. She’d been almost like what those books describe as co-dependent. I thought she needed a space to see who she was on her own. I didn’t want to rush her back into another relationship just to have a relationship.”
“I don’t think that’s how it would have been,” Charlotte argued, still stubbornly holding to her stance.
“Well, Boyce has gotta do what he thinks is right,” Dean said, trying to play the middleman. “We’ve gotta respect that, Charlotte.”
Dean sat up suddenly, dropping his feet to the porch floor and stopping the movement of the swing. It startled Patrick. “You know, I just thought of something. It might not have helped Jenna’s divorce any if Boyce had been up there buzzing around. Right now, all the wrong has been on Elliott’s side. If anyone had seen Boyce at Jenna’s, or seen them out and about, they might have tried to make something out of it, tried to make Jenna look bad. What’s that legal term they use?”
“Grounds, I think. It might have given Elliott grounds for a counter suit or worse,” Boyce answered him. “Actually, I’d thought of that, too, all along. Elliott Howell is probably the type that would have looked for something he could trump up against Jenna if he could find it. He’d like to play himself into the role of the victim if he could. I didn’t want to give him any ammunition for that, even a bullet to try to shoot at her. Right now, it’s all on him. Jenna is clean and innocent going into court.”
“Lord, I didn’t even think of that.” Charlotte put a hand up to her mouth. “And that snake Elliott would be just the type to have her followed and would probably be looking at every little thing she does. In fact, once I teased Jenna about whether she was going out on any dates yet, and she said there would be no dating for her until after she divorced. She has probably been thinking about that, too.”
Charlotte paused, thoughtfully, another idea passing through her mind now. “You know, Jenna mentioned that Jason asked to take her out to dinner to celebrate after the divorce is finalized. I bet that’s why she hasn’t gone out with him yet.”
Dean shoved at her playfully. “Aw, Charlotte,” he drawled. “That was a right insensitive thing of you to say in front of Boyce. There’s no cause for you to put more worried thoughts into the man’s mind than are probably already there right now.” He shook his head. “Why, I’d have been about half crazy if you’d been up in New York with all those slick, city men back before we married. This whole thing is hard enough for Boyce without you adding fuel to the fire. We ought to be trying to cheer Boyce up through this.” He sent an encouraging smile Boyce’s way.
Boyce made an effort to smile back. He thought to himself that if they tried to cheer him up much more tonight, he’d just go shoot himself!
He artfully changed the subject to talk about the gallery. Charlotte had returned to work two days a week now. Her mother and Dean’s mother traded keeping the children those days. They liked having the little ones for a day each week, and Charlotte liked making a little money of her own and getting out in the public.
“I heard Sam Oliver is much better now,” Dean put in a little later. “And that he’s coming down to the mountains to stay at his place for a while this summer.”
Charlotte smiled at that. “Yeah, Jenna’s bringing him down in late July for a whole week. She just told me yesterday it’s all final. She said that guy Henry – the one who takes care of Sam - is coming with them to help make it easier for Sam. Jenna talked him into coming along. Told him he’d love Tennessee.”
She leaned over to pick a honeysuckle bloom off the bush by the porch. “Won’t that be nice for Sam to see everyone again and to see his place?”
Dean slapped his knee. “Well, shoot fire. Won’t that be nice for Boyce? He’ll get to be with Jenna again if they don’t work out something sooner. And she’ll be legally split up by that time. Boyce can stake a real claim then.” He grinned at Boyce encouragingly.
Charlotte glared at him. “Well I’m sure Jenna would love to hear herself talked about like a claim to be staked out,” she snapped. “You men! Women don’t like to be talked about like that. And Boyce, don’t you dare say anything like that around Jenna, you hear? It’ll tick her off real bad.”
“I’ll be careful,” promised Boyce, laughing inwardly to even think of what Jenna would say if he dared to try a line like that with her. However, his heart did leap to learn she planned to come soon. Late July was only a month away. She’d written that she plan
ned to bring Sam later in the summer if he would agree to the trip, but it felt good to know the trip was firmly scheduled now.
Of course, it wouldn’t be the same with Sam and Henry staying at the cabin with Jenna. She would be cooking and tending to Sam while she visited. And she would be seeing that Sam got around to the family, friends, and old sights he wanted to see again. Boyce might get precious little time with her alone.
As he drove home from Charlotte and Dean’s, he wondered if it would be better - or worse for him - after she came to visit with Sam and then went back to New York again. He would have to start aching and missing her all over again. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if it might only make it worse for him to see her.
Boyce sat morosely in front of the fireplace later and considered the situation again. Maybe he should just play it light and friendly with her when she came back? If he touched her and held her it would only make it harder on him when she left again. Dadgumit, it was awful to dread and want something at the same time. He yearned and feared to see her face. He ached and feared to touch her again. The thought of more love and passion was a torment to dream of. But Boyce did dream, as he sat in front of the small fire he’d built to take the chill off the night air. His thoughts, like the fire, were not chilly at all.
Chapter 21
In New York, a week later, Jenna and Carla sprawled comfortably in Jenna’s living room - celebrating Jenna’s divorce. John had been up earlier, too, after the three friends shared dinner together, and now Carla lingered a little longer to talk.
“Do you want some more wine?” Carla got up to pour a small portion of wine into her glass and then held the bottle up in question to Jenna.
“Maybe a bit.” Jenna pushed her glass closer for Carla to reach. They were finishing out the last of a sweet, white Riesling left over from dinner.
Carla lifted her glass toward Jenna after she poured. “Well, here’s to J. C. Martin.” She grinned. “ And to the last of Mrs. Jenna Howell. And, thank goodness, to the last of Elliott Howell, too.”
Jenna sighed, frowning at her wine glass moodily. “It seems awful to toast to something like this.”
“Why?” countered Carla. “People toast to the end of a bad event or a war, and they toast to the beginning of a new era or a new year. What’s the difference?”
“Nothing, I guess,” answered Jenna quietly.
“I hope you’re not getting maudlin about this,” Carla said to her, settling back into the sofa. “You know this is a good thing for you. I realize no one ever really likes to get divorced, but, in your case, honey, it was the right thing to do. And the court session proved a brief one since there wasn’t a trial - and since the attorneys had already agreed on everything ahead of time. It wasn’t really unpleasant or anything.”
She paused, slanting Jenna a thoughtful look. “You’re not upset about this, are you?”
“I don’t know.” Jenna looked down at her hands. “ Not really. I know it was the right thing. It’s just such an anticlimactic moment in a way. It’s been the first thing in my mind for months, my biggest worry and fear, and now it’s finally over. It doesn’t seem real yet.”
“It’s real.” Carla tucked a sofa cushion behind her back. “It’s genuine and you’ve got the papers. That steely look on Elliott’s face told me he knew it was real.” She laughed. “He hated to think he lost. I really think he believed you’d change your mind before it got to the last minute. He certainly had your mother call you often enough.”
Carla sat her wine glass down on the table. “I still can’t believe how often Elliott kept conveniently running into you when you were out – working on you all this time to change your mind. New York is supposed to be a big place where you never see anyone twice. But I think you ran into Elliott once too often for it to be a total coincidence. It began to feel like a stalker movie.” She giggled over that.
Jenna’s mouth quirked in a smile. “Actually, he hired a detective and had me followed, Carla. That’s how he knew how to find me. The detective discovered the consistent routines in my week and Elliott zeroed in on those as a way to see me.”
“You’re kidding?” Carla exclaimed, her mouth popping open in surprise. “How did you find that out?”
Jenna shivered. “Elliott let it slip the last time I saw him two days ago,” she answered. “He showed up at Paludi’s, the little café where I eat lunch every week before I meet Jason Brantley at Park Press.”
“What happened?” demanded Carla.
“Elliott wandered over to my table, like it was a pleasant coincidence, and asked if he could join me for lunch.”
“And you said yes?” Carla’s voice was incredulous.
“It was a public place.” Jenna bristled. “I felt safe. Also, Frank Paludi, the owner of the shop, likes me. I’m a regular customer. He was keeping an eye on things.”
“So tell,” Carla prompted. “What happened?”
Jenna toyed with her wine glass. “The usual. Elliott played nice, working hard to charm me, giving me compliments. I almost started to relax.”
She shook her head. “Then he leaned forward and asked, ‘Are you sure we’re doing the right thing, Jenna – going through with this divorce? We’ve both changed and matured while we’ve been apart. Our marriage would be different if we got back together now. Don’t you think we should give it another try so we’ll never look back and regret we acted in haste?’”
“That snake. What did you say?” Carla made a face.
“I said no, of course. I agreed it might be true we both had changed. I told him I certainly had changed – become a stronger person, felt good about myself and my life now.” She paused a minute before continuing.
“Elliott suggested I might be lonely and struggle with finances as a divorcee.” Jenna rolled her eyes. “He really enjoyed emphasizing that last word, Carla. It irritated him when I told him I actually enjoyed living on my own and wasn’t having trouble with finances. He didn’t like it one bit, either, when I explained Park Press had put me on salary and given me the opportunity to expand my design work into several new areas.”
Carla snorted. “That hardly surprises me.”
Jenna stopped to take a breath. “Amazingly, I felt rather calm. I chatted on about how satisfying my work was, how much I enjoyed it and what it meant to me. I didn’t care whether he liked hearing it or not, Carla.”
“How did Elliott handle this new and improved Jenna?” Carla giggled.
“The more I talked, the angrier Elliott became. I could see that flush of red begin to rise up his neck.” She frowned. “It was obvious he resented me being happy, disliked me being productive. Finally, he interrupted me and got ugly. He said sarcastically he was certainly glad my work was going well, because I had made so many problems for him that his work at Abercrombie had suffered.”
Carla interrupted, grinning. “Yeah, I heard word seeped into Elliott’s company about what he did to Sam. He dumped Lena, too, and she decided to talk. A lot. John said Abercrombie’s president, Dean Harkness, did not like the negative press.” She paused. “Do you think they’ll fire him?”
Jenna shook her head. “No. But Elliott said Harkness is sending him over to Paris for a year until things cool down here. Naturally, Elliott blamed me for this, and he claimed it was my fault that he’s having to move out of his apartment. He had a few choice words to say about Sam, too. Stuff about Sam blackmailing him and about Henry being an animal that needed to be put down. It started to get unpleasant.”
“You should have gotten up and walked out, Jenna,” Carla crossed her arms in irritation. “You shouldn’t have listened to that!”
“No, I wanted to listen, Carla.” Jenna took a breath. “It didn’t hurt me, anymore, and it sort of fascinated me in a way to see that. It used to be so painful when Elliott blamed me for things in his life or when he tried to belittle me. I’d feel guilty. This time I just felt sorry for him. Isn’t that great?”
She looked ove
r at Carla with a small smile. “I actually interrupted him and said, ‘Listen, Elliott - all of these things that happened are your fault and not mine.’”
Carla gave a little whoop and patted Jenna on the back. “Good for you! How did Elliott handle that?”
Jenna winced. “He reached across the table and grabbed my arm. He said, ‘Don’t get uppity with me, Jenna. You’re nothing, do you hear? I’ve had a detective following you. I know things about you. I know where you go and what you do. I can find ways to hurt you. I can end your silly little job if I want to. You’d better wake up before this divorce goes through and find a way to stop these proceedings. You belong to me and I want it to stay that way.’”
“That creep! How dare he!” Carla exclaimed. “What did you do then?”
“Frank Paludi came over to our table. He said, ‘Anything wrong here?’ and just looked pointedly at Elliott and at his grip on my arm. Elliott finally let me go then and left. But I still have the bruises.” She pulled up her sleeve and showed Carla her arm.
“That man should really be arrested for the things he does.” Carla scowled in anger. “And you should have showed the judge your arm in court, Jenna.”
Jenna disagreed. “No, I was getting what I wanted in court. This doesn’t matter.” She looked at the fading bruises on her arm. “In fact, this just helped me to see what kind of man Elliott is. I’m truly amazed I was so lacking in discernment before. I guess I just saw what I wanted to see.”
“I don’t think so,” said Carla. “As you’ve said yourself so often, Elliott is a master at falseness and deception. You didn’t realize he was playing a part; you thought he was genuine.”
“But you weren’t fooled, were you, Carla?” Jenna looked directly into her eyes.