by Noelle Adams
But she was sure the man she’d known for so long was still inside him somewhere. Maybe, by the end of the week, she could find him again—at least enough of him to get this divorce.
***
That evening, Cassandra was washing dishes with her mother and trying not to feel discouraged.
It was hard not to feel like a failure—when her one attempt at marriage had ended so miserably and her husband wouldn’t even let it die.
“Give him a few days,” her mother said gently, wiping a plate dry with careful precision. “He’ll come around.”
Cassandra had given up wondering how her mother could always read her mind. “He’s had more than three years.”
“Yes, but you weren’t pressing the issue then. He didn’t have to think about it, so I’m sure he didn’t. Now you’ve forced the issue. He’s thinking about it. He’ll come around.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“Then you talk to your lawyer and make it happen anyway.”
“I can’t believe Silas would be such a…a…” In deference to her mother’s sensibilities, Cassandra reworded her original thought. “Such a jerk.”
“He’s hurt.”
“I didn’t hurt him on purpose.”
“I know. But he’s always been super-sensitive, underneath all that rough exterior. When he’s hurt, he throws up walls around it, and he doesn’t know how to let them down now.”
“I can’t believe you’re on his side.”
“I’m not on his side. Of course, I’m on yours. But you know him even better than I do. You know he wouldn’t be doing this just to be a jackass.” Her mother gave Cassandra a sly, little smile, as if to acknowledge her daring language. “He’s very hurt, but he doesn’t have a bad heart. Give him a couple of days, and he’ll soften enough to agree.”
“I just want it over.”
Her mother slanted a quick look over at her. “Do you?”
Cassandra was feeling overly emotional, so she took a deep breath before she replied. “I wanted the marriage to work, but it didn’t. It can’t. So now the best thing is for it to be over.”
“You still love him.”
“Of course I still love him. That’s not the point. It’s not good for me to just let it drag on this way. I’ve let it go on too long as it is. I’ve got to take care of it so I can get started again on my life. I’ve got to.”
“I know you do. But fresh starts don’t always look exactly the way we think. You’ve always expected the world to match the picture in your head, but it just won’t.”
“That’s for sure. All I know is there’s no way to start again on my life until the marriage ends.”
“I understand.”
Cassandra narrowed her eyes at her mother as she finished washing the lasts of the silverware, but her mother’s face showed no expression.
Something was going on in her mom’s mind, but she wasn’t going to reveal it right now.
That was okay. Her mother could think what she wanted. Cassandra knew what was best. And it was going to happen before this week was over.
Tuesday
The next day, Cassandra drove back out to Silas’s cabin.
She went first thing in the morning, hoping to catch him before he started to work and not wanting to delay long enough to get nervous and change her mind about going.
She honked her horn as she drove up, to give him warning of her approach. When she parked the car, she walked over toward the workshop, but the door was open and no sounds of working came from inside.
He must not have started for the day yet.
She knocked on the door to the cabin and heard a grunt in response—not from inside but from around the back, where she knew there was a bench that Silas liked to sit on.
As she rounded the corner, she saw him sitting there, drinking coffee and staring out into the woods that surrounded the property.
If he’d showered today, there was no way to tell. His dark hair and beard were uncombed, and he wore the same jeans he’d worn the day before. His T-shirt looked different, so that was something.
He didn’t greet her, so she just walked over to sit beside him on the bench.
“There’s coffee,” he said after a minute.
“I’m fine.” She had no idea what to say. When they were married, they’d sometimes gone hours without talking, and it hadn’t been awkward at all. Silas had never been a big talker. He’d always been more of a doer. But in the past, at least up until the last several months they’d been together, she’d usually known what he was thinking, and she had no idea now.
In proof of this, Silas said without warning, “I’m sorry about yesterday.”
She gasped, so shocked by this declaration that her spine stiffened. “You are?”
“Yeah.” He cut his eyes over to her face briefly. “You don’t have to look so floored. I’m not always an ass, you know.”
She almost smiled. This sounded much more like the Silas she knew. “I know.”
“I’ve thought about it,” he went on, staring off at the woods now. “And you’re right. I can’t trap you in this marriage, if you don’t want it anymore. If you don’t love me, then you don’t love me.”
She opened her mouth to object, since his words were so far from the truth, but then she closed it again. She could hardly go around telling him how much she loved him, when he’d made it nearly impossible for her to do so anymore.
“So I’ll agree to the divorce,” Silas went on. “On one condition.”
“What condition?” Her voice wobbled slightly, since the idea of ending their marriage in reality—no more delay or qualifications—struck her hard in the heart.
“You come out to see me every day this week, like you said you would. At the end of the week, I’ll agree to the divorce.”
She gaped at him. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“But why?”
“Why does it matter? That’s what I want. I won’t put up any sort of fight at the end of the week to the divorce, and we’ll be able to get it done quickly.”
She stared at him, trying to read the expression in his gray eyes, but they were hooded, absolutely unreadable. “I just have to come out every day this week to see you?”
“Yes. And stay at least an hour.”
“What am I supposed to do here?”
“Whatever you want.”
“I thought you were a recluse and didn’t want to see anyone.”
“That never applied to you.”
She studied him closely and saw the faintest flicker of expression in his eyes. She gasped. “You think I’ll change my mind.”
“I have no idea what you’ll do.”
“You think I’ll see you every day this week and not want the divorce after all! Silas, it’s been three years. I think I know what I want.”
“That’s your decision.”
“You’re crazy.”
“It’s entirely possible.” He was almost, almost smiling, like he’d won some sort of victory she couldn’t fathom.
For no good reason, her heart was pounding wildly and her cheeks had flushed. She’d thought that spark in Silas had died, but evidently it hadn’t.
He was challenging her.
She’d always been up to the challenge.
“Fine,” she said. “It’s a deal. I’ll come out every day this week and stay at least an hour. On Sunday, you have to agree to the divorce.”
“Done.” He held out his hand. It was big and strong and callused, and she felt a shiver as he closed his fingers around hers.
He used to touch her all over with those hands. Nothing had ever felt so good. Now, even the feel of his warm palm against hers made her shudder.
When he didn’t release her hand, she forced herself to pull hers out of his grip.
She had no idea what to say. It felt like he was watching her out of the corner of his eyes, but every time she checked, he was just staring out at the woods.
�
�So I guess the hour a day starts today?” she asked at last.
“Yeah.”
She gazed at him for a long time, trying to read his expression, and she felt the strongest sense of familiarity, of homecoming, as he slanted her a dry look.
There had always been so much going on in his mind and heart, so much hidden by the gruff stoicism and heavy beard. He used to let her see it. She missed that so much.
There had never been anyone like Silas in the world, and that obviously hadn’t changed.
When she realized she was softening, she told herself to be reasonable. She could have some fond feelings for him still. She could realize he was a decent man beneath the roughness. But they’d already more than proved that they couldn’t live together.
She remembered begging him to open up to her, share his feelings with her, a few months before she’d left. Night after night, he’d turned his back on her or just walk out and leave her alone. She couldn’t deal with that again.
She had to think of the rest of her life—not just the good parts of their history.
“If I’m going to stay that long,” she managed to say in a natural voice, “then maybe I’ll take you up on that coffee.”
Without speaking, Silas got up and disappeared through the backdoor to the cabin. He emerged with a mug they’d bought several years ago at a craft fair, filled with hot, black coffee.
Cassandra usually drank her coffee black, and she doubted Silas had any milk or half-and-half to add to it anyway.
She sipped the coffee, deciding she’d leave the burden of conversation with him. When they’d been married, she’d usually initiated the conversations, drawing him out and making it easier for him to open up. She was naturally more of a talker than him, and she’d felt it was her special duty.
But Silas was the one who’d insisted on her spending this time with him, so he could roust himself out of his silence on his own.
They sat for a few minutes before he said, “Tell me about New York.”
She blinked. He’d spit out the sentence like he’d had to force himself to say it. He was really out of practice. She could have made it easier for him by starting a casual conversation, but she didn’t. “What about it?”
“You like it?”
She shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“You always wanted to go there, live there. I’d of thought it would be more than okay.”
“It’s been pretty good.”
“Don’t they like your work?”
She made a face. “Some people do. You know how hard it is to make any sort of dent in the art world.” She sighed. “I’m just not good enough.”
“That’s not true.”
She gave him a little smile, since the gruff words were obviously sincere. He’d always believed in her, more than anyone else. “Yeah, it is. I’m good, but not good enough for a national or international market. I should probably stick to something more local. They always liked my paintings around here.”
His dark eyebrows drew together, and he studied her for a full minute before he finally asked, “Does that mean you’re thinking about coming home?”
“I don’t know.” She closed her eyes and leaned back, torn between a deep disappointment that her dreams just weren’t going to come true and a relief that she could be back where she felt at home. “I was stupid to think I could make it. I’m just like every other failed artist, actor or musician—believing they’ll be the one who can break through.”
“It could still happen.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She cleared her throat. “The new owners of Eden Manor want me to paint a mural on the dining room ceiling. I’m excited about that possibility.”
“That’s great.” From the timbre of his voice, she could tell he meant it. “That’ll get seen and maybe get you new business.”
“Yeah. That’s what I mean about thinking locally—or regionally. It might be a more…attainable goal.”
“If it’s not what you want, then you should keep trying in New York.”
“Eh.” She flipped her hands open in a gesture of surrender. “I guess I have no idea what I want. I feel like I’m at a crossroads, but I’m not sure which direction to go.”
Silas didn’t speak for a long stretch of time. Then, “That’s why you want to end things with me.”
“I just want…I want to feel settled again. And I don’t right now. I haven’t in a long time.”
He nodded slowly. “I get that.”
“Do you?”
Meeting her eyes, he murmured, “I haven’t been settled either. Nothing was right after you left.”
“It wasn’t right before I left either.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
She didn’t know what to say, so she followed his example and didn’t say anything. She felt more exhausted than ever but for the first time like there was light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe there was some way out of this three-year quagmire she’d been trapped in.
Silas got up to refill their coffee cups, and they both sipped in silence, staring out at the familiar trees and listening to the riotous chirping of the birds as they foraged for their morning feast.
“I hear your business is going well,” Cassandra said at last. “Everyone wants you to work for them. Vanessa said there’s a huge waiting list for your work. I saw her the other day at Marco’s.”
Silas grunted.
“And your stuff is still popular at the craft fairs and stores.”
He just grunted again.
“I think the fact that you’re basically a hermit helps to give your work added appeal.” She gave him a little smile, to make it clear she wasn’t serious.
His mouth twitched just slightly and he looked away. “Maybe you should try it.”
“Become a hermit?”
“Move out here with me.”
Her heart jumped, and she wondered if he was serious. After all this time, did he really want her to move back in with him? She knew he didn’t want the marriage to end, but she figured that was just him being stubborn. They couldn’t live together. It just didn’t work.
“It might give your paintings some added cachet,” he added.
She chuckled, a little nervously. “Right. I’m going to move out here to a one-room cabin with barely working plumbing and no air conditioning. If you really want me to consider it, you’re going to have to sweeten the pot.”
“I can sweeten it,” he said, a hoarse texture to his voice that was very familiar.
She gasped as a hot flash washed over her. She decided she was safer not replying to that particular comment.
She and Silas had always had attraction going for them, and that obviously hadn’t changed. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been sharing an attraction with any other women in the years they’d been separated.
He was allowed, just like she was. That had been one of the terms of her agreeing to stay married to him when they split.
As if he’d read her mind, Silas asked abruptly, “You been seeing anyone?”
Her whole body tensed briefly. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I want to know.”
She didn’t reply. She hadn’t been dating anyone—she still felt ridiculously guilty about it, being still married to Silas—but she wasn’t sure she wanted him to know that.
“Is that a yes?”
“That’s a ‘it’s none of your business.’”
He grunted.
“What about you?”
He gave a faint sneer. “Who am I going to see? I never leave this cabin.”
“So you haven’t dated at all in three years?” She couldn’t quite hide the astonishment in her tone.
“Is that so impossible?”
“I don’t know—but it’s a little strange for a healthy, virile man.”
“Not if he’s turned off by the whole world.”
She thought about that and decided he was right. He didn’t even want to talk to people.
He definitely wouldn’t want to expose himself enough to let anyone else share his bed.
She couldn’t help but be pleased by this knowledge, although she was afraid it might say something shallow about herself.
Besides, his lifestyle probably had only a little to do with losing her. It almost certainly had mostly to do with the fact that he’d felt emasculated by his inability to father children. That fact had interfered with their sex life since that horrible appointment with the doctor.
That day had changed everything, maybe even more than Carl dying so suddenly.
She felt sick and sad by the memory, so her jittery excitement died a sudden death.
“What did you just think about?” Silas demanded, evidently reading her face.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I can lie if I want to.”
She heard him let out a deep sigh, a sound that exactly matched her own mood. They sat in silence for another several minutes until she glanced at her watch.
“It’s been an hour,” she said, standing up, relieved about making an escape.
Silas had always made her feel too much, too intensely. It might be easier to just not have him in her life.
He stood up too. “You’ll come tomorrow?”
“Yes. That was the agreement.”
“What time?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to see what my schedule looks like.”
“Okay.”
She checked his face but couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
She walked away, wondering what he was hoping to accomplish by this strange scheme, and also feeling a little bit of anticipation at the idea of seeing him again.
She really needed to get herself together and get her priorities in order. She wanted to get a fresh start on her life. It would be good if she could settle things with Silas, but getting all these newly awakened feelings for him wasn’t going to do anyone any good at all.
Tomorrow she’d do better.
***
That afternoon, she drove out to Eden Manor to look at the ceiling of the dining room.