Fortunately for her, Tyler’s name wasn’t even on the money market account, though half of it was still legally his. She wasn’t even sure he knew it existed. Again and again, she had tried to engage him in money matters, set up a budget with him, plan for the future with him. But his single focus always seemed to be how quickly he could spend whatever they made. She had opened the money market account to protect some of their savings. Now it would be her safety net.
“I’d like to move thirty-two thousand dollars,” she told the officer.
The woman’s stubby fingers moved quickly across the computer keypad. “Let’s see here.” She clicked a few more buttons. “Okay, let me get just a little more information.”
Grace was tired of giving information. She was tired of questions. “Sure. Whatever you need.”
The officer worked quickly. In less than twenty minutes Grace had the little bit she owned in this world tucked away and was back in the car, headed for her house.
Tyler had texted her that morning before she left for Zach’s office to pick up the papers. His flight left at two, and he wanted to see her before then.
It was the opportunity she had prayed for, laid out before her like a gift. She would meet him right after noon, giving him little time to process before his flight, which she knew Tyler wouldn’t miss. He loved being an athlete, a performer. He would want to salvage his career more than his marriage—though, ironically, he was willing to risk both with his drinking.
The closer she got to the house, the faster her heart beat. Maybe he’d cancel his trip. Maybe he’d do something crazy or even violent. Maybe there would be a horrible confrontation. Or worse, maybe he wouldn’t even care. But all she could do was what she had planned.
She eased her way onto their street and stretched her head forward to see if she could spot his SUV. He was home just as he’d said he would be. And Rachel, as promised, sat in her car in front of the house next door.
Grace pulled into the driveway behind the Mercedes. She felt her pulse really take off. If heartbeats could be visible, she was certain Rachel would see hers from here.
Rachel met her at the edge of the front walk. “How are you doing?”
She held her free hand in front of her, and they watched it shake.
Rachel grabbed the hand and pressed it between her own. “I would have gone with you this morning.”
Grace nodded. “I know you would. But there are certain things I need to do alone.”
Rachel released her hand. “I understand. So I’m going to sit right here on the front steps like Zach suggested. And you need to stay in the foyer, okay? Keep the door open. Let him know I’m here. Help keep it calmer.”
Grace was grateful for all the reminders, though she had rehearsed this moment in her head more times than she had greeted morning viewers. “I know.”
They trudged toward the house at a dirgelike pace, cicadas crunching beneath their feet. Rachel shuddered. “Those things deserve to die.”
Grace didn’t respond.
“This feels like a funeral too,” Rachel whispered.
“It is, Rachel. Unfortunately it is.”
Grace gripped the manila envelope more tightly as they reached the steps. She rang the doorbell. Then she and Rachel waited—for what, she wasn’t sure, but waiting was all they had left to do. Through the window on the door, she saw Tyler’s flustered face come into view. His awkward smile at seeing Grace faded when he caught sight of Rachel, but by the time he opened the door, he had plastered on his familiar, for-the-public grin.
“Gracie. Babe. It’s so good to see you.” He reached out and wrapped his arms around her. She felt every muscle in her body stiffen as tightly as Miss Daisy’s did when Grace tried to pick her up. Rigor-mortis stiff.
“Come in. Come in.” He released her and tugged her arm. “I’m so glad you got here before I left town. I’ve wanted to talk to you all week.” His words emerged fast and coated with awareness that he was onstage.
“I’m going to stay out here,” Rachel said as Tyler and Grace moved into the foyer.
Tyler turned toward her quickly. “Rachel, that’s ridiculous. You know our home is your home.”
Rachel’s face held solemnity and compassion at the same time. But her words were firm. “No, I’m just going to sit out here on the porch.” She looked at Grace. “I’ll be right here.”
Grace felt fear begin to trickle up her spine. She nodded. Tyler shrugged and started to close the door.
“No, keep that open.” Grace’s words came out louder than she had intended and slightly more panicked. Maintain control, her mind whispered. No tears. No fear. “I want the door to stay open.” These words were different. Calmer. Steadier.
“Sure. Yeah. Whatever you want.” It was evident he knew she wasn’t here just to talk, but he didn’t seem upset. “Hey, I got you something,” he said. “Let me run and get it.”
He disappeared down the hall, and in a moment he was back with a box. He held it out to her. She’d know that brown box with the gold monogram anywhere. Boxes like that held expensive handbags. She had five of them already.
Expensive gifts were the consolation prizes Tyler offered her—either as repentance offerings or as excuses for the expensive items he’d bought himself. Or maybe somewhere down inside, they were his way of extending the love he had determined he was incapable of giving in other ways. But no matter the reason, she didn’t need or want another bag.
She took the box from his hands and set it on the long, carved table that stretched against the wall beside her. Then she held out the manila envelope in her hand. “This is for you.”
He eyed it for a moment. He didn’t reach for it, just looked. “What is it?”
For a moment, as he stood there, she wanted to pull it back. Run from the house and forget any of this had happened. Because once he opened that envelope, once he saw the heading “Original Petition for Divorce,” this would all be real.
She stuck the envelope out farther. “Take it.”
The muscles in his jaw twitched. They always did that when he was deciding how angry he was about to get. He snatched the envelope from her hand and opened the gold-toned clasp. He pulled the papers from the envelope, and his eyes darted across the top page. Then he slammed the whole stack down on the table. Grace resisted the urge to jump. But she did hear movement on the front porch and saw him look past her. Whatever Rachel did out there caused him to tamp his rage down to a sullen seething.
“So this is it, Grace? You wait until I’m—what?” He looked at his watch. “Thirty minutes from having to leave for very important meetings regarding my career, and then you blindside me with divorce papers. You don’t call all week. You don’t answer my e-mails. You don’t respond to my texts. You don’t say one word to me, just show up on the doorstep with these papers. Don’t I deserve the common courtesy of a conversation with my wife before she goes off and files for divorce?”
Her words came out the way she had practiced, self-assured and calm, though she felt anything but calm inside. “You’ve had ten years of conversation.”
He let out a mocking laugh. “I’ve had ten years of a mistake is what I’ve had.” His voice wasn’t as controlled as it usually was. “This was always a mistake.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way. As I told you before, it was never a mistake to me.”
He snatched the papers again. “How can you say that? How can you walk in here with divorce papers and then say this wasn’t a mistake? If it wasn’t a mistake, why would you walk away from it?”
She had wondered how quickly he would try to make it her fault. “I’m not walking away from my marriage. I’m walking away from you. I’m walking away from a man who keeps choosing something he values more than me. I’m walking away from deception. I’m walking away from a man who looked at me a week ago and said he wanted to be left alone to be the man he is. A man who was convinced that his marriage was a mistake. But let me tell you one thing. This may be all y
ou’re willing to be, all you choose to be. But I will never—and please hear me when I say this—I will never believe it is all you are capable of being.
“So that is what I am walking away from. I believe in this marriage. Even years down the road, I will believe in all that this marriage could be and should be. But I’m walking away from you, from what you have chosen to make it. Not because I don’t believe in you, but because I am no longer willing to be the only one in this marriage who does.”
He didn’t hesitate. He never hesitated. He always had a response. It had taken her a week to figure out how to say what she had just said. “Well, you can perch yourself on your high horse if you want to, Grace, but you are giving up. That’s all there is to it. I would never have left you.”
She didn’t remind him that he’d told her to get out. She just nodded. “I know. You would have let me stay here forever. You would have let me die here because that would be easier than confronting who you have become. You’re desperate for me to stay because I’ve spent all these years rescuing you. But I’m not going to do it. Today I am deciding for myself that Grace Shepherd is not going to die here.”
She started for the door and then turned around. “When you get back, you’ll need to find a new place to live. I’ll e-mail you what I feel is an agreeable separation of property, and we can discuss it after your trip. And, Tyler . . .” Her voice wavered. She swallowed hard at the lump that had all but stopped her airflow. “I hope that at some point, healing can come for both of us. Because God knows I am just as broken as you are in so many ways. And my ultimate prayer is that one day we can try again, even have the marriage we were created to have.”
He looked at her, the lines on his face as hard as the steel of her resolve. “If we divorce, I can assure you I will never be back. There will be no remarriage. No anything. We will be done.”
He wanted her to react. She could tell by the look on his face. He knew how much she loved him. He knew that was his ultimate card. Grace imagined what was going through his head: Tell her you will never be back and she’ll quit this madness. Tell her that if she leaves it this way, whatever she is wishing for, praying for, believing for is nothing but a cruel joke and a wasted effort.
She finally spoke. “I have no other choice. This has to end. This marriage, what it has become—this marriage is over.” With that, she walked from the house and closed the door behind her. Rachel stood quickly. Side by side, their steps unhurried, they made their way to the cars.
Rachel stretched an arm around Grace’s shoulder. “You did good, baby girl.”
Grace let out a long exhale.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
“Want to come back to the house?”
Grace tucked her fingers underneath the car door handle and pulled. The door opened quietly. She turned toward Rachel. Her friend’s dark eyes held all the compassion and depth that thirteen years of friendship brought. Grace shook her head. “No, I think I’m going to spend a little time alone.”
Rachel studied her. “You sure? We can go get ice cream. Chocolate. And sweet tea. Do whatever it is people do after giving their spouse divorce papers. We can go do that.”
A soft laugh escaped Grace’s lips. “Thank you. No, I just need to be by myself for a while. I’ll let him catch his plane. Then I’ll come over to your place and grab Miss Daisy, and I’ll spend the night here.”
She could tell Rachel’s resignation was hard to offer. “Okay. But call me. I mean it. If he says one word to you. Or if you have a breakdown. Or need ice cream. Please promise you’ll call.”
“I promise. But I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t need to sleep here alone.”
“I want to sleep here alone. This is my life now. I have to go in there alone eventually. Might as well start tonight.”
Tears glittered on Rachel’s long black eyelashes. “You’re a stronger woman than I am, Grace. In every way.”
Grace shook her head rapidly. “No. I’m just doing what I have to do.”
Rachel grabbed her and squeezed tightly, the embrace communicating unquestionable loyalty and love. When she let go, Grace climbed into her car and closed the door.
A few blocks down, she pulled into the parking lot of Landmark Booksellers, Franklin’s quaint downtown bookstore. She watched as Tyler’s Mercedes passed by in the direction of the airport. And what came out of her after that shocked her. The wails were as loud as the thirteen-year cicadas that screamed from the trees. Her body doubled over the steering wheel.
For the last four days, only she had lived with the knowledge that their ten-year marriage was over. Now they both knew. And if pain could break hearts, she was certain hers had just ripped in two.
Scarlett Jo stood by the front counter of Puckett’s Grocery and Restaurant. She’d been looking forward to her lunch with Elise, partly because she hadn’t been to Puckett’s in a while—and she loved Puckett’s. What started out as a little country store back in the fifties had turned into a local favorite. Some of the South’s best songwriters and musicians used it as a showcase in the evenings. But even when there was no live music, people came for the relaxed atmosphere and the wonderful food—Southern cuisine at its finest.
And oh, that cobbler. Puckett’s had the best blueberry cobbler in town. Scarlett Jo knew that for a fact. She knew where the best food was all over the Nashville area. Especially desserts—Scarlett Jo specialized in those. Dotson’s made the best chocolate pies. Merridee’s was the source for wonderful coffee cakes and cinnamon rolls and those fabulous caramel pecan rounds. Amerigo had the best tiramisu. Loveless Cafe featured delectable homemade biscuits you could slather with peach preserves, while Dalts had the best chocolate malt cake you’d ever put in your mouth. She could go on and on. If you were looking for any kind of sweet treat, Scarlett Jo Newberry could tell you where to go.
She looked down at her watch. Elise McAdams was ten minutes late for their eleven o’clock lunch date. Scarlett Jo shrugged. Might as well grab a table so she could get something to drink as she waited. She ordered sweet tea in a Mason jar because they would do that here if you asked. She always asked. That was how her granny had served tea, and it was her favorite way to drink it.
After another five minutes she went ahead and ordered blueberry cobbler with ice cream. That would be her appetizer. She hadn’t had any fruit with breakfast, and this would cover at least one of her fruit servings for the day, plus some dairy. If she decided she wanted another cobbler after lunch—and she might just decide to do that—then she’d be covered for another couple of servings. A giggle slipped out when she thought of that. Sometimes she cracked her own self up.
The window next to her table gave her a great view of the Franklin lunch rush. She caught sight of Elise as she stepped from her car, phone attached to her head, deep in conversation. Elise’s wide turquoise necklace bounced as she walked toward the door, still talking. She spotted Scarlett Jo when she came in and waved, quickly said good-bye to the person on the other end, and collapsed in a chair as if she had lived nine lives before noon.
“Whew.” Elise set her yellow handbag on the table. “What a morning. I was at the church all morning. Then I forgot our babysitter has to leave early today, so it looks like I won’t be able to stay long at all. I’m really sorry, Scarlett Jo. I can’t believe school is out already, and I’m not used to our summer schedule yet. You know what I mean? Arranging childcare drives me crazy sometimes.”
“Oh, sugar.” Scarlett Jo flipped a hand at her. “You’d better be careful. These years will fly by quicker than you can blink. My Jack was two years old yesterday. Now he’s taller than me and shaving. Happens before you know it. I mean, when I saw your Hank the other day, I couldn’t believe how much he’d grown.”
Elise smiled. It was hard for any woman not to smile at the thought of her children, unless she had just spent the entire summer with them. “I know. He and Hailey both seem to be changing overnight.”<
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“And these are such sweet years. Get ready, though. For teenagers you’re going to need extra sugar. In fact, considering the way this day is shaping up for you, you might want to start with dessert, too, just to make it through.”
Elise looked at the cobbler bowl, then up at Scarlett Jo. “Oh, I’m good. I had some toast for breakfast.”
Scarlett Jo shook her head. “What is it about women today? Nobody eats. People look at food as if it has a disease or something. But God made food to be eaten. He made bodies to require it. You are a stick, Elise. You need to eat. Now, if it’s money—if the church isn’t paying you enough to eat . . .”
Elise let out a nervous laugh and held up her hand. “No, seriously, I’m not hungry. And trust me. I eat. I eat all that I want.”
Scarlett Jo pushed her spoon through the velvety ice cream and crust into the thick fruit filling. She put the entire spoonful in her mouth and chewed slowly, smiling as she did. She wanted Elise to know what she was missing. It worked. She could have sworn that at one point the other woman licked her lips.
She set her fork down. “So shoot straight, Elise. What’s up?”
Elise’s face showed that she hadn’t expected Scarlett Jo’s forthrightness. She moved her long dark hair across her shoulder and placed her hands on her purse as if she might need to get out quicker than she thought. Her brow furrowed, revealing the lines around her eyes. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Scarlett Jo.”
Scarlett Jo took a long drink of her tea. “Well, this is how I see it. When you have a friendship with someone and then all of a sudden that friend begins to avoid you, it’s either one of two things. One, they might have had a big life change that they are having to adjust to, like a move, a new marriage, a new baby, a new job. Or two, they are avoiding you because they’re doing something they shouldn’t be doing. So I’m thinking, you haven’t moved, there’s no new baby, there’s no new job, there’s no new marriage, yet you’ve fallen off the face of the earth. You don’t stay around after church. You haven’t called to get together in months. And I had to all but drag you here today. My best conclusion is that something is up. So what is it?”
Secrets over Sweet Tea Page 13