11
Isabel flew across the marble floor, but the man had only caught a shoulder, and Ren was already back on his feet, every muscle in his body focused on annihilation. She shot an incredulous look at his assailant. “Are you out of your mind?”
Ren made a leap for him just as the words the man had spoken sank into Isabel’s brain. “Ren, stop! Don’t hit him.”
He already had the man by the throat. “Give me one good reason.”
“It’s Harry Briggs. You can’t kill him unless Tracy says so.”
His grip eased, but he didn’t let go, and fury still glimmered in his eyes. “Do you want to explain that punch before or after I take you apart?”
She had to give Briggs credit for standing his ground in the face of what could be a very painful death. “Where is she, you son of a bitch?”
“No place where you can touch her.”
“You made her miserable once. You’re not going to do it again.”
“Dad!”
Ren quickly released his hold as Jeremy rushed in. The boy dropped the broken roof tile he’d been carrying and flung himself into his father’s arms, the sulky expression he wore most of the time vanishing.
“Jeremy.” Briggs drew him close, sinking his hands into his son’s hair and closing his eyes for a moment.
Ren rubbed his shoulder and watched.
Despite the foolhardy punch he’d thrown, Harry Briggs didn’t look too dangerous. He stood a few inches shorter than Ren, with a slim build and pleasant, regular features. As Isabel studied him, she sensed a neat freak like herself, except this one had fallen into a bad spell. His straight, conservatively cut brown hair hadn’t been near a comb recently, and he needed a shave. Behind his wire-rimmed glasses, his eyes were tired, and he’d worn his rumpled khakis and tan polo shirt a day too long. He didn’t look like a philanderer, but that wasn’t exactly something you could see on a person’s face. He also seemed to be one of the least likely men on earth to be married to a dazzler like Tracy.
As he rubbed his son’s shoulders, she noticed a serviceable watch and a plain gold wedding band. “Have you been taking care of everybody?” he asked Jeremy.
“I guess.”
“We need to talk, buddy, but I have to see your mother first.”
“She’s down at the pool with the brats.”
Harry tilted his head toward the front door. “See if I put any dings in the car while I was driving down here, will you? There were some gravel roads.”
Jeremy looked troubled. “You won’t leave or anything without me, will you?”
Once again Harry touched his son’s hair. “Don’t worry, pal. Everything’s going to be fine.”
As the boy set off, Isabel noticed that Harry hadn’t answered his question. When Jeremy was out of earshot, he turned his attention back to Ren, and all the softness he’d displayed to the boy vanished. “Where’s the pool?”
The heat of Ren’s anger seemed to have burned off, although she suspected it could reignite at any moment. “Maybe you’d better cool down first.”
“Never mind. I’ll find her myself.” Harry stalked past them.
Ren picked up the piece of broken roof tile Jeremy had dropped, stared at it for a moment, then gave a martyr’s sigh. “We can’t leave him alone with her.”
Isabel patted his arm. “Life’s never simple.”
Tracy saw Harry coming. Her heart did an instinctive skip-hop before it settled into the pit of her stomach. She’d known he’d show up sooner or later. She just hadn’t expected him to find her so quickly.
“Daddy!” The girls came flying out of the water. Connor squealed when he spotted him, and his fat diaper bobbled from side to side as he rushed to greet his favorite person in the world, not knowing that same person hadn’t wanted him to be born.
Harry somehow managed to scoop up all three. He was particular about his clothes, but not when it came to the kids, and he didn’t seem to mind getting wet. The girls lavished him with sloppy kisses. Connor knocked his glasses askew. Tracy’s heart ached as she watched him return their kisses and offer them the same single-minded attention he’d given her in the days when they’d still been in love.
Ren appeared. It didn’t hurt to look at him the way it did to look at Harry. This older Ren was tougher and smarter than the boy who’d taught her how to smoke a joint, but he was also more
cynical. She couldn’t imagine how this business with Karli Swenson had affected him.
Isabel came to his side looking cool and capable in her sleeveless blouse, biscuit-colored slacks, and straw hat. Her boundless competence would have been intimidating if she weren’t so kind. The kids had adored her on sight, generally a good sign of a person’s character. Just like every other woman who stepped into Ren’s orbit, she was fascinated by him, but unlike the others, she was fighting it. Tracy gave her high marks for trying, even if she didn’t stand a chance, not when Ren’s desire was so obvious. In the end she wouldn’t be able to resist him, which was a shame, because a fling wouldn’t be enough for her. She was the kind of woman who wanted all the things Ren didn’t have to give, and he’d eat her up before she realized it. Not just in a good way either.
It was less agonizing to feel sorry for Isabel than herself, but Harry was here now, and she could only hold off her pain for so long. Who are you? she wanted to ask. Where is the sweet, tender man I fell in love with?
She hoisted herself out of her chair, 158 pounds of beached whale. Fifteen more pounds and she’d outweigh her husband. “Girls, take Connor and go find Signora Anna. She said she was making cookies.”
The girls clung tighter to their father and glared at her resentfully. From their point of view she was the wicked witch who’d taken them away from him. A hard, tight knot stuck in her throat.
“Go on,” he said to the girls, still not looking at her. “I’ll come in and see you soon.”
They didn’t give him trouble like they gave her, and she wasn’t surprised when they took Connor and set off toward the house. “You shouldn’t have come here,” she said when they were gone.
He finally looked at her, but his eyes were as cold as a stranger’s. “You didn’t leave me any choice.”
This was the man she’d shared her life with, the man she’d believed would always love her. They used to stay in bed all weekend, talking and making love. She remembered the joy they’d shared when Jeremy and the girls were born. She remembered the family outings, the holidays, the laughter, the quiet times. Then she’d gotten pregnant with Connor, and things had begun to change. But even though Harry hadn’t wanted more children, he’d still fallen in love with their youngest son the moment he’d slipped from her body. At first she’d been certain he’d fall in love with this one, too. Now she knew different.
“We talked about it, and we agreed. No more kids.”
“I didn’t get pregnant by myself, Harry.”
“Don’t you dare blame this on me. I wanted a vasectomy, remember? But you threw a fit, so I backed off. My mistake.”
She cupped her hand over his mistake and rubbed the taut skin.
“Would you like me to help you pack,” he said levelly, “or do you want to do it yourself?”
He was as remote as a distant planet. Even after all these months she couldn’t get used to his coldness. She remembered the day he’d told her that his company wanted him to go to Switzerland and oversee an important acquisition. Not only did it mean the promotion he’d been working toward, but it would also give him an opportunity to do the kind of work he was best at.
Unfortunately, her pregnancy stood in his way. He’d be gone from August through November, and the baby was due at the end of October. Since Harry Briggs always did the right thing, he said he was turning down the job. But she’d refused to let him be a martyr, and she told him she was packing up the kids and coming with him. Women had babies in Switzerland, didn’t they? She’d have hers there, too.
It had been a mistake from the beginni
ng. She’d hoped their time away from home would bring them close again and mend the hurts, but it had only driven them further apart. The apartment the company had found was too small for a large family. The kids had no one to play with, and as the weeks passed, their misbehavior escalated. She planned weekend excursions—EuroDisney, boat trips down the Rhine River, cable-car rides—but she ended up taking the children by herself, because Harry worked constantly. He was gone nights, Saturdays, even sometimes on Sunday. Still, she hadn’t fallen apart until two days ago, when she’d caught him at a restaurant with another woman.
“Do you want me to help you pack?” he repeated, in the overly patient voice he used when he was reprimanding one of the children.
“I’m not leaving, Harry, so I don’t need to pack.”
“Yes you do. You’re not staying here.” No emotion registered on his face. She heard no pain in his voice, no caring, nothing but the cold, flat statement of a man compelled to do his duty.
“Watch me.”
Ren was standing just behind Harry, and he frowned. She knew he didn’t want her here, but if he said a word about it in front of Harry, she’d never forgive him.
Harry’s eyes stayed on her even as he addressed Ren. “I’m surprised you want her. Setting aside the fact that she’s seven and a half months pregnant, she’s just as spoiled and irrational now as she was when you were married to her.”
“As opposed to being a controlling, cheating bastard?” she shot back.
A muscle twitched in the side of his jaw. “Very well. I’ll pack the children’s things myself. Feel free to stay as long as you like. The kids and I will do fine without you.”
Her ears rang, and her breath caught on a hiss. “If you think for one minute that you’re going to walk off with my children . . .”
“That’s exactly what I think.”
“Over my dead body.”
“I can’t imagine why you’d object. You’ve done nothing but complain about them since we arrived in Zurich.”
The injustice nearly choked her. “I never get a break! I’m with them all day and all night. And all weekend while you’re cuddled up with your anorexic girlfriend!”
Her anger didn’t even make him flinch. “It was your choice to come with me, not mine.”
“Go to hell.”
“If that’s the way you want it, I’m leaving. I’ll take the four children we have. You can keep the new one.”
Tracy felt as if he’d slapped her. This is it, she thought. This is the darkest moment of my life.
She heard Isabel make a quiet sound of distress. Ren, her old childhood friend, stepped forward. “You’re not taking anybody anywhere, pal.”
Harry’s jaw set in the stubborn line Tracy had seen so often. He knew that Ren could flatten him without even breathing hard, but he was Harry, and he turned toward the house anyway.
Ren began to move. Tracy started to cry out, but Isabel got to it first. “Both of you, stop right there!”
Isabel sounded like every authority figure Tracy had spent her childhood rebelling against, but she’d never been more grateful for anyone’s interference.
“Ren, please step aside. Harry, come back here, would you? Tracy, you need to sit down.”
“Who are you?” Harry said, cold and hostile.
“I’m Isabel Favor.”
Tracy wasn’t clear exactly how Isabel made it happen, but Ren moved aside, Harry walked back toward the pool, and Tracy sank down at one of the tables.
Isabel took another step forward, speaking softly but firmly. “The two of you need to stop trading insults and start talking about what matters.”
“I don’t believe that either of us asked for your opinion,” Harry said, prickly as hell.
“I am,” Tracy heard herself say. “I’m asking.”
“I’m not,” Harry retorted.
“Then I’ll speak on behalf of your children.” Isabel projected a confidence that Tracy envied. “Although I’m not an expert on child behavior, I think I can safely say that what the two of you are doing is going to damage five small lives in ways you can’t even imagine.”
“Parents get divorced all the time,” Harry retorted, “and their kids turn out fine.”
Pain shot into the very depths of Tracy’s heart. Divorce. As bad as it had gotten, neither of them had ever spoken that word, not until now. But what had she expected? She’d left, hadn’t she? Still, she’d never imagined this. She’d just wanted to get Harry’s attention. She’d wanted to cut through that layer of ice that had formed a block around him so thick she didn’t know how else to chisel through it.
Harry no longer looked quite as detached, but it was hard to tell what he was feeling. He kept his emotions neatly tucked away until it was convenient for him to deal with them. She, on the other hand, hung hers out for the world to see.
“People do get divorced,” Isabel said. “And sometimes it’s unavoidable. But when five children are involved, don’t you think parents need to suck it up and do their best to figure out how they can stay together? I know it may seem tempting right now, but you both forfeited your chance to run off and follow your bliss a long time ago.”
“That’s not what this is about,” Tracy retorted.
If anything, Isabel’s expression grew more sympathetic. “Do you hit each other? Is there physical abuse?”
“Of course not,” Harry snapped.
“No. Harry won’t even set a mousetrap.”
“Is either of you abusive to your children?”
“No!” they said together.
“Then everything else can be solved.”
Tracy’s bitterness rose to the surface. “The problems we have are too big to be solved. Betrayal. Adultery.”
“Immaturity. Paranoia,” Harry countered. “And problem-
solving requires logic. That leaves Tracy out.”
“It also requires some knowledge of human emotions, and Harry hasn’t felt an emotion in years.”
“Are you listening to yourselves?” Isabel’s gentle shake of the head left Tracy feeling faintly ashamed. “You’re both adults, and it’s obvious you love your children. If your marriage isn’t working the way you want it to, then fix it. Don’t run away from it.”
“It’s too late for that,” Tracy said.
Isabel’s expression remained sympathetic. “Right now you can’t afford a disposable relationship. You have sacred responsibilities, and no amount of wounded pride justifies walking away from them. Only the most selfish and immature parents would use beautiful children as weapons in a power struggle.”
Harry had never been called immature in his life, and he looked as though he’d swallowed a mouthful of guppies. Tracy had more experience, so it didn’t sting quite so badly.
Isabel bore in. “It’s time to transfer your energy from arguing to figuring out how you’re going to live together.”
“Ignoring the fact that you are completely out of line,” Harry said, “what kind of life would it be to grow up with parents who can’t stand living together?”
His words made Tracy want to cry. He was bailing out on her. Harry Briggs, the most hardworking, stubborn, decent man she’d ever known, was bailing out.
“You can live together,” Isabel said firmly. “You just have to figure out how you’re going to do it.” She zeroed in on Harry. “You have some priorities to sort out, I think. Call up the people you work with and tell them you won’t be in for a few days.”
“You’re wasting your breath,” Tracy said. “Harry never misses work.”
Isabel ignored her. “There are plenty of bedrooms in the villa, Mr. Briggs. Pick one and unpack.”
Ren’s eyebrows shot up. “Hey!”
Isabel ignored Ren’s protest. “Tracy, you need some time to yourself. Why don’t you take a drive? Harry, your children have missed you. You can spend the afternoon with them.”
Harry was indignant. “Wait a minute. I’m not going to—”
“Oh, yes,
you are.” Physically, Isabel might be the smallest person beside that pool, but she was angry now, and that made her formidable. “You’ll do this because you’re decent and because your children need you. And if that’s not good enough”—she bore down on him—“you’ll do it because I’m telling you to.” She held his eyes for what must have seemed like forever, then turned and marched away. Ren, who hated emotional upheaval nearly as much as Harry did, couldn’t follow her fast enough.
Harry swore under his breath. Being alone with him was more than Tracy could tolerate right now, and she rushed toward the house. Isabel was right. She needed to be by herself for a while.
Church bells rang in the distance, and Tracy’s heart felt so bruised it was hard to breathe. What happened to us, Harry? Our love was supposed to last forever.
But forever seemed to have passed them by.
Ren followed Isabel as she swept through the villa’s garden and down the slope toward the vineyard. The soft bounce of her hair beneath her straw hat was at odds with her purposeful stride. Ren wasn’t normally attracted to warrior goddesses, but nothing about his attraction to her had been normal from the beginning.
Why couldn’t an ordinary woman have rented that farmhouse? A good-time woman who understood that sex, was just sex, and didn’t have squirrelly ideas about how everybody in the world should live their lives. Most of all, a woman who didn’t pray when she was with him. Today he’d received the distinct impression she was actually praying for him, and what kind of crap was that to have to put up with from a woman you wanted for sex?
He pulled up next to her. “I just saw the Four Cornerstones in action, didn’t I?”
“They’re both wounded right now, but they have to get over it. Personal responsibility is at the heart of any well-lived life.”
“Remind me never to piss you off. Oh, wait, I already did that.” He resisted the urge to destroy that silly hat. Women like Isabel shouldn’t wear hats. They should go about the world bareheaded, with a sword in one hand, a shield in the other, and a chorus of angels singing the “Hallelujah Chorus” behind them. “Was it my imagination or did you really call those little monsters from hell ‘beautiful children’?”
Breathing Room Page 13