She swallowed. She did care, but why did it have to be one or the other?
It was impossible to be here and not be assaulted by memories in every corner. Young, idealistic, full of dreams that in hindsight seemed so simple, so naïve now. He was going to start his own contracting business. She was going to get her degree and write the great American novel. They’d been so full of themselves, so oblivious to the way the world really worked.
“The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive, you know. I do care. I just grew up.”
He spun around from the sink. “Grew up? You went away to college and never came back. You didn’t just spend time and money to get where you are. You also turned your back on our marriage. You sold out.”
The bitterness soaking his words cut into her. “No, I didn’t.” She pushed out her chair and stood too. “I just stopped being a besotted teenager and started living in the real world.” She looked around the sparse house. Had he changed anything since she left? Anything at all? “You might try it some time.”
He laughed then. “Right. You go off to the city and suddenly your world’s the real world and everyone else’s is what, the Stone Age?”
“They don’t call it Backwards Gulch for nothing.” She fired the words back at him. “Look at this place. The furniture’s the same. Your truck’s the same. You probably get up the same time every Sunday morning and go fishing. Am I right?”
“And there’s something wrong with that?” His eyes narrowed, criticizing.
“God, yes!” Couldn’t he see that he was going nowhere staying in this hell hole? Didn’t he ever want more? “I can’t believe I was considering finishing the article here. I mean, my laptop’s all well and good, but I’d have to have Internet, wouldn’t I? And God knows that’s not going to happen.”
“You’re right. There’s no Internet here. And I’m perfectly okay with that.”
“Of course you are.”
“There is technology outside of Denver.”
She sniffed. “Yeah, right. It sure as hell isn’t here. Don’t you ever want more than horses and fishing? What about your dreams? Don’t you have any of those?”
Devin clenched his fingers. He’d known this argument was coming, but he’d be damned if he’d slap her in the face with the truth. Of course he had dreams. And he had wanted more. Most of it he’d achieved and he was damn proud of DMQ. If this cabin was anything, it was an escape from the world he’d learned about very quickly after she’d gone. He liked it this way. Quiet. Simple. Disconnected from the rat race.
But he’d waited a long time for her to make her way back and she needed to figure it out for herself. If she didn’t…it would truly be over. He wasn’t going to beg. But he wasn’t going to let her off easy either. She knew nothing about the man she’d left behind. Knew nothing of what he’d been through since she walked away, or what he’d accomplished. Or how difficult it had been.
“You’ve focused so much on your own ambition that you don’t see anyone else. All you see is what you want to see. You did sell out. I know because I remember your dreams as well as mine.”
She laughed, a bitter, harsh sound that made him want to punish her with another kiss just to wipe the sarcastic grin off her face.
“You mean your dreams of owning your own business, Dev? How you were going to make us rich one day? And look at you. You’re still right here. Exactly where I left you.”
“Don’t turn this on me right now.” He fought to keep his voice level, the words of his own redemption sitting on his tongue. No. Either she didn’t know the truth or she was goading him, and he didn’t like either option. If she was completely oblivious to his success she’d have to work for the truth. By the end of this weekend he’d show her exactly what she’d walked away from. What she could have had and had so blithely thrown away.
“Do you even remember what you wanted back then? What happened to those dreams? What happened to you wanting to be a writer—and don’t tell me you are one because you know that’s not what I mean. You weren’t thinking of journalism when you said it. You wanted to be a novelist. You had plans. We had plans.” He let the words hit their mark before he continued, quieter but no less biting. “Now look at you. Do you care about anything at all?”
“That’s not fair! How dare you judge my life? You know nothing about it!” She stepped forward, crossed her arms across her chest as her dark eyes snapped with fury. “You stayed here like I knew you would. Never changing. Never seeing!”
He gritted his teeth. He saw very well, thank you. He had seen a damn sight more than she knew about. Fury bubbled up as he remembered going through the dark years, wanting her beside him but unable to ask. “Talk about blind! You see what you want to see. So maybe I’m not signing the papers today. Maybe I’m doing you a favor.”
“Me a favor.”
He heard the ripe skepticism and it made him angrier. She knew nothing about him anymore. And that had been her choice. The girl he’d known—loved—would have made an effort to understand. He’d missed her, the girl he’d said he’d spend the rest of his life loving. Cherishing. He had missed her every single day since she’d left him. For a long time he’d pretended he hadn’t, but he was older now. He was too old for self-delusion. But maybe he was deluding himself right now. Maybe that caring, loving girl was gone forever. Maybe she was so caught up in herself, in her quest for glory, that she’d truly left him behind like yesterday’s trash.
He was no one’s trash.
“I grew up too,” he muttered.
“You what?” And her derisive laugh echoed through the house.
It made him almost mad enough to sign the papers right then and there, but he knew he’d regret it. There was more. More he needed to know. He had to protect himself legally. If he’d learned any lesson it was that all agreements needed to be in writing. And if she was pretending, and she did know about DMQ, he needed to guard his assets.
There was also more she needed to see—bits that went beyond dollar signs. But right now he could only see his own frustration ripping away any sense of perspective.
“You know what, Ell? You’re really pissing me off.” He went over to the fridge, took out a canned juice and snapped the top open viciously.
“Then let’s just end this farce of a marriage right now,” she asserted.
“You’d like that.” He nodded. “You’d like to take your snooty hair and pointy little chin and drive back to Denver pleased with yourself that you were right all along.” Maybe it was time for him to tell her exactly what he thought. Maybe it was time to clear the air and let the chips fall where they may. “Here’s the thing, Ella McQuade. And don’t tell me it’s Turner because you were sure as hell proud enough on the day we were married to tell everyone that you were a McQuade now. Do you suppose your leaving was easy for me? Huh? What do you suppose happened? I just read your letter and said, ‘Well, that’s it’ and went on my merry way? I didn’t. It wasn’t easy for me. I’d wanted you since I was old enough to know what sex was and I loved you before that. So why in hell would I make it easy for you now? Huh?”
His fingers trembled around the can as Ella stared at him, clearly shocked into silence.
“I’ve got stock to check on.” He turned away, pulled on a pair of boots at the door and picked up his half-empty can.
“What am I supposed to do?”
He stopped and looked back. There it was. Just a flash, but for the smallest moment she looked unsure, vulnerable, like she had last night when he’d tried to put her to bed and she’d kissed him. There was something. He couldn’t have been wrong about her for all those years. What would it take to bring the real Ella back? Or was she too far gone?
“I think an independent, capable woman like yourself will find something. Oh, and I left you something on the coffee table. You can do with it what you like.”
He banged out of the door and stalked down the lane to the barns.
He went inside to begin the morning routi
ne, slamming through the mindless task of feeding stock and turning them out into the crisp fall morning.
Ella knew nothing about his life. And he’d be damned if he’d tell her.
***
Ella grabbed a paper napkin from the table, balled it up and threw it at the door.
He was singularly the most obstinate, exasperating man on the planet.
He knew nothing about what it had taken for her to put herself through college, the student loans or the jobs she’d had to take to make ends meet in the beginning. She’d worked hard. And she had a good job. She had great friends. She had accomplished that. On her own.
She went to the fridge looking for something that might resemble fruit or yogurt. There was butter and milk, a few condiments and a package of sliced meat. That was it. She sighed, closed the door and rested her forehead on it. Why couldn’t this be easy? Why did he have to fight her every step of the way? She closed her eyes, remembering the feeling of his hands on her breasts last night and how close she’d come to asking him to share the bed. They had all this garbage between them and yet one touch had almost rendered it all irrelevant.
But being with him would have set up another long list of regrets. Wanting him sure didn’t change who she was or who he was. Or who she wanted to be when it was all over.
She wandered to the living room area and stared at the coffee table.
On it was an old electric typewriter, the cord folded neatly with a rubber band holding it together. She went over and ran her fingers along the cold gray frame. Thought of the black keys with white letters, how the indentations in each key felt under the fingers. She sat before it and rested her fingers on home row. Different than any computer keyboard. He’d kept it all this time. It was a side of Devin very different from the side that had yelled at her this morning.
She ran her nail along the space bar, sighing. He’d bought it out of his savings when they were in twelfth grade and had given it to her for Christmas so she could start her first novel. When she’d gone to college, she’d said she’d come back to get it at Thanksgiving. She remembered the morning she drove away from him, her new husband, and how she’d cried all the way up the interstate. They’d agreed on school. And they’d promised that once it was over, they’d really start the life they’d promised in front of the judge at the courthouse. She was going to be a writer. He was going to work for his dad until he could start up his own contracting company. He’d taken part of each paycheck and played the market—she remembered him saying he’d always been good at math and how proud he’d been when he’d made his first money in the market when other boys in school had been playing football and hanging out at the corner store.
The backs of her eyes stung as she realized she’d been the one to throw their perfect life away. She’d been the one who’d broken promises. She’d gone away but she hadn’t come back like they’d agreed. And this morning had shown her how much he hated her for that.
She wiped beneath her eyes. Today she’d run a few errands. And tonight she’d make him see why finalizing the divorce was the best thing for everyone.
Chapter Four
The simple house was built nearly square, set on an average street that was slipping towards shabby. The grass in the surrounding front yards was brown, and the flower pots sitting on the steps of a handful of houses were brittle and dried. Ella pulled into the gravel drive, noticed that the paint was cracked and peeling around the windows but the front porch was a new, blinding white. Compared to several of the properties nearby, Betty Tucker’s was surprisingly well-kept.
Especially for a woman who had recently had a mastectomy and was looking down the barrel of chemotherapy.
When Ella knocked on the door, she didn’t know what to expect. That made her nervous, always had. She’d grown up only a few streets away, in a house even smaller than this one. Two tiny bedrooms, a cramped kitchen, living room and a bathroom where the shower always dripped, no matter how many times her mother had tried to fix it. As she stood on Betty Tucker’s doorstep, the old claustrophobic feelings came back, smothering. The hours she spent home with the door locked, too young to be left alone but there because there was no money for daycare. The times she’d wanted to get out but her mother had needed to work.
Occasionally, her mother had brought home boyfriends. Most of them had been nice men. A few had ignored Ella and considered her in the way. For the most part though, during those times, life had been good. They’d done more things, like swimming in the river in the summer or the odd trip to the movies, and her mother had laughed more. Until the relationship died a slow death and Ella was left to her own devices again.
Then there was the night she’d waited, and waited. The night her mother never came home after falling asleep at the wheel following a double shift at the truck stop out on the highway.
The door opened, and Betty pushed the screen door outward while Ella stepped back, shaken out of the harsh memories. “Ella Turner. Well, this is a surprise.”
Ella tried to smile up at Betty, her lips quivering slightly as she worked to dispel the memories. That was the past. It wasn’t who she was anymore. She was here to do a job, that’s all.
“Good morning, Betty. I’m surprised you remember me.”
“Of course I do. Devin used to talk about you all the time.”
Ella felt her body flush as she remembered his hands on her skin less than twelve hours before. “Devin and I go way back. I hope I’m not bothering you.”
“Come on in. Heard you were at the bar last night. Figured you’d want to talk.”
Ella stepped inside but let the screen door slap behind her as surprise temporarily made her forget to close it properly. “You did?”
“Everyone in the Gulch knows you work for that paper in Denver now.”
They do?
Betty gestured towards a chair and went to the sofa, sitting down heavily. “Lordy, I seem to tire so easily these days. Sit down, please.”
She perched on the edge of the chair, noticing the living room needed updating but that it was devoid of even a speck of dust. “I don’t mean to intrude…”
Betty flapped a hand. “What gets me is I don’t understand why some paper in Denver is interested in little old me.”
Ella let out a breath and smiled. “That’s easy. It’s because you’re being treated unfairly.”
“So’s a lot of folks.”
“Yes, but you’re…” She almost said one of us, and paused. One of us? But Ella wasn’t part of the us anymore. Hadn’t been for a long, long time. “You’re somewhat local. And the community support you’ve received has gotten attention. It’s my job to take that and use it to get the attention of lots of people—including law makers and even the insurance company. But only if you’re comfortable talking.”
“I don’t have anything to hide.”
“May I tape this conversation then? Just to make it easier to remember? Then I won’t have to pause to take notes.” Ella reached inside her bag and withdrew a tiny recorder.
“I don’t know…” Betty paused, her gray eyes suddenly unsure. The relaxed, comfortable woman that had answered the door had disappeared, and now Ella saw what she’d expected. A woman who was afraid. Not necessarily of the tape recorder, though it seemed to be the item that caused the shift. But afraid of the changes life was dealing her. Ella felt a shaft of sympathy. Betty was going through this all alone and with the added worry of money.
“Don’t worry. I promise I won’t use what you say against you in any way. You’re the victim here. I want to help. This just helps me keep things clear.”
“I don’t want to give the insurance people any more ammunition, that’s all.”
Ella tried to smile reassuringly. “They can’t use the truth against you, and I promise I won’t twist what you say. You have my word.”
“I guess it’s all right then.”
Ella clicked the record button and put the recorder on the small coffee table so Betty could se
e it running. She felt a wistful sentimentality knowing Betty trusted her so easily even though they were relative strangers. And yet Devin, who had known her since they were children, didn’t trust her at all.
“Why don’t you take me through what’s happened since you were diagnosed, Betty. That’s a good place to start.”
Betty stared at the recorder and rubbed her lips together. Ella smiled, understanding the older woman simply needed to be put at ease. “I grew up two streets away. I remember you working at the drugstore in Durango.” Ella pushed aside the memory of slipping in to buy Tylenol and Band-Aids for her mother’s blisters. “Are you still there?”
Betty swallowed. “Yes, I’m still there. Not so much lately though.”
“I expect you had to take some time off to recover from the surgery.”
“Yes, I did.” Betty’s shoulders relaxed and she sat back on the sofa, looking into Ella’s face rather than at the recorder. “Only as much as I had to. I have to keep working. Bills to pay.”
“Bills like ordinary house bills?”
“Yeah, them too. And medical bills.”
Ella crossed her legs and relaxed. “Because your insurance won’t cover your treatment?”
The ice broken, Betty related her struggle. Her very basic insurance didn’t cover cancer treatments, and since she was already diagnosed they wouldn’t take on extra coverage either. “I’ve got a lawyer working on it, but he said it could be weeks tied up in red tape. Or longer. And each week that passes, the odds work more and more against me.”
A lawyer? Ella wrinkled her brow. That was a surprise. “If you don’t mind me asking, how is it you have managed to afford a lawyer when things are so tight?”
Betty smiled then, a ray of sun through the stress of illness. It wiped the tiredness from her eyes and Ella realized that Betty wasn’t as old as she’d thought. She couldn’t have been past fifty. She was a woman who had a lot of life left to live. If the cancer didn’t get her first.
Sold to the Highest Bidder Page 5