“And then his son showed up at your door,” Dante said quietly.
Mary nodded and fell silent as the pain of that discovery washed over her anew. She loved her children and had considered them her own from the minute they’d been placed in her arms, but in that moment, looking at the young carbon copy of her husband . . . Mary thought she might have killed Joe if he’d been home at the time. But she knew without a doubt that after she’d heard what else the boy had to say, she definitely would have killed her husband had he been there.
Eleven
Dante glanced toward Mary with a frown. She’d quite suddenly gone silent, and considering the topic, he was concerned about her. After another moment passed in silence, he said gently, “You must have been very hurt.”
“Hurt?” she asked dryly, and then snorted. “I was freaking furious.”
Dante’s eyes widened and he glanced quickly her way, taking note of her anger now just at the memory. She was nearly vibrating in her seat with it. Shifting his gaze back to the road, he cleared his throat and asked, “Because the boy was proof Joe was continuing to have affairs?”
“No,” she assured him. “Not about the affairs. I didn’t give a rat’s ass about the affairs by that point. I had been completely asexual since the miscarriage, shutting down that part of myself. What I cared about was his children. I was furious that he’d had them, and paradoxically, furious that he hadn’t been a part of their lives or taken any responsibility, even monetarily, for their existence.”
“Ah,” Dante murmured, and wasn’t sure what to say to that.
Another moment of silence passed and then she announced, “I left him that afternoon. I packed up the kids and checked into a motel and made an appointment with a divorce lawyer, all by dinner.” She swallowed and then admitted, “But I never went to see the lawyer.”
“Why?” Dante asked at once, and when she didn’t answer right away, glanced over to see that she was peering out the window at the passing scenery. Her expression was closed and he shifted his gaze back to the road, simply waiting.
After a moment, she sighed and said, “Carol came to see me at the motel. We were good friends even then. Dave and Joe often traveled together, and we were each other’s support when they were gone. So, of course, I called her with the crushing news of Joe’s betrayal. She came rushing to the motel and we talked and cried for hours. She thought I should leave him, of course,” Mary added wryly. “And then she gave me the number of a therapist her sister had been trying to get her to go see. She had no interest in counseling, but if I wanted the number . . .”
“Surprisingly, I did. I knew I was angry and had contributed at least somewhat to things, and I didn’t want to carry that anger and self-destructive streak on out of the marriage and into any future relationships. So, I called this therapist. Her name was Linda and she just happened to have a cancellation the next morning, so I went to see her. It was the best call I ever made.”
“Really?” he asked, and couldn’t hide the doubt he was feeling on the subject. She had stayed with Joe, after all, something he thought was just wrong after everything the man had done. He would have thought a good therapist would have insisted she leave, not convince her to stay.
“Yes, really,” Mary assured him solemnly, and then explained, “Linda listened patiently to my tale of woe about my marriage. How he’d convinced me not to go on to further my education. How he’d cheated on me. How he’d refused to face me, forcing me to drive madly off and crash, and how he, how he, how he . . .” She let her voice trail off and then he heard her sigh and she said, “And then Linda asked if I’d even been in the marriage.”
“What?” he asked with confusion, casting another glance her way.
She smiled at his expression and admitted, “That was my reaction, but then she said that the way I told the story, I hadn’t made a single decision or choice. Linda said I was taking the victim’s role. That, yes, Joe had suggested I didn’t need an education, but was it possible it was because he’d realized that I was unsettled about what to take and perhaps a little afraid and so had tried to make my decision easier by giving me the option to be a housewife? If I’d really wanted that education to fall back on, wouldn’t I have spoken up about it and insisted? Even if only to take part-time courses to see what I liked? After all, as I’d told her, he was making good money, and I wasn’t pregnant for the first three years of our marriage. I could have taken courses until we were blessed with that baby if I’d really wanted to. Wouldn’t he have allowed that?”
Mary paused and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her raise her coffee cup for a sip. After swallowing, she continued. “I had to admit that yes, he probably would have been fine with that. And she said, so, I hadn’t really been interested or wanted a degree. He hadn’t forced me not to go on to further my education.”