Jude blinked at the screen and tuned in to her mother's voice. "No, nothing important. h.e.l.lo, Mother. How are you?"

"I'm very well." Linda Murray's voice was cultured and smooth, and just a little cool. "Your father and I are about to take advantage of the end of the semester. We're going to New York for a few days to attend an exhibit at the Whitney and see a play."

"That's nice." It made her smile, thinking how much her parents enjoyed each other's company. A perfect meeting of minds. "You'll enjoy that."

"Very much. You're welcome to fly in and join us if you like, if you've had enough of country living."

A perfect meeting of minds, Jude thought again. And she'd never quite been able to mesh with that lovely unity. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm fine. I really love it here."

"Do you?" There was faint surprise in the tone. "You always took after your grandmother, who sends her love, by the way."

"Send mine right back to her."

"You're not finding the cottage a bit too rustic?"

Jude thought of her initial reaction-no microwave, no electric can opener-and grinned to herself. "I have everything I need. There are flowers blooming outside the windows. And I'm starting to recognize some of the birds."

"That's nice. You do sound rested. I hope you're planning on spending some time in Dublin while you're there. They're supposed to have marvelous galleries. And of course you'll want to see Trinity College."

"As a matter of fact, I'm going to Dublin for the day next week."

"Good. Good. A little respite in the country is all well and good, but you don't want your mind to stagnate."

Jude opened her mouth, shut it again, then took a long breath. "I'm working on my paper now, as a matter of fact. I'm finding no end of material here. And I'm learning to garden."

"Really? That's a lovely hobby. You sound happy, Jude. I'm so glad to hear it. It's been too long since you sounded happy."

Jude closed her eyes and felt the burgeoning resentment fade away. "I know you've been worried about me, and I'm sorry. I really am happy. I suppose I just needed to get away for a while."

"I'll admit both your father and I were concerned. You seemed so listless and dissatisfied."

"I suppose I was both."

"The divorce was hard on you. I understand that, better

I think, than you knew. It was so sudden and so final, and it took all of us by surprise."

"It certainly took me by surprise," Jude said dryly. "It shouldn't have. Wouldn't have if I'd been paying attention."

"Perhaps not," Linda said, and Jude winced at her mother's easy agreement. "But that doesn't change the fact that William wasn't the man any of us thought he was. And that's one of the reasons I called, Jude. I felt it would be better if you heard this from me rather than through the gossip mill or some letter from an acquaintance."

"What is it?" Something inside her belly clenched. "Is it about William? Is he ill?"

"No, quite the contrary. He appears to be thriving."

Jude gaped at the sudden and undisguised bitterness in her mother's voice. "Well, that's fine."

"You have a more forgiving nature than I do," Linda snapped back. "I'd prefer it if he'd contract some rare debilitating disease or at least go bald and develop a facial twitch."

Stunned as much by the uncharacteristic violence in her mother's voice as by the sentiment, Jude burst out laughing. "That's terrible! I love it! But I had no idea you felt that way about him."

"Your father and I did our best to maintain a polite front, to make things easier for you. It couldn't have been comfortable for you, facing your mutual friends and colleagues. You remained dignified. We were proud of you."

Dignity, Jude mused. Yes, they'd always found pride in her dignity. So how could she have disappointed them by going into wild rages or having public snits? "I appreciate that."

"I think it showed enormous strength, the way you held your head up. And I can only imagine how much it cost you to do so. I suppose leaving your position at the university and going away like this was necessary. To rebuild."

"I didn't think you understood."

"Of course we did, Jude. He hurt you."

As simple as that, Jude realized and felt her eyes sting. Why hadn't she trusted her family to stand behind her? "I thought you blamed me."

"Why in the world would we blame you? Honestly, your father actually threatened to strike William. It's so rare for that Irish blood to surface, and it took quite some doing to calm him down again."

Jude tried to imagine her dignified father plowing into the dignified William. But it would not compute. "I can't tell you how much better that makes me feel."

"I never said anything because you seemed so determined to keep it all civilized. And I hope this doesn't upset you, but I don't want you to hear it from some other source."

Jude's belly seized up again. "What is it?"

"William and his new wife are taking advantage of semester's end as well. They're going to the West Indies for a couple of weeks. Of all places. William is cheerfully telling anyone who'll listen that they want this exotic holiday before they have to settle in. Jude, they're expecting a baby in October."

Whatever had clutched in her belly sank, dropped through clean to her toes. "I see."

"The man's acting like a fool about it. He actually has a copy of the sonogram and is showing it off like a family photo. He bought her this gaudy emerald ring to celebrate. He's behaving as if she's the first woman to conceive."

"I'm sure he's just very happy."

"I'm glad you can take it well. For myself, I'm infuriated. We have several mutual friends and this, well, glee of his, is very awkward in social situations. You'd think he would show more tact."

Linda paused, obviously to get her temper under control. When she spoke again, it was gently. "He wasn't worth a moment of your time, Jude. I'm sorry I didn't realize that before you married him."

"So am I," she murmured. "Please don't worry about it, Mother. It's history. I'm just sorry it's embarra.s.sing for you."

"Oh, I can manage. As I said, I didn't want you to hear it from someone else. I can see now I needn't have been concerned that you'd be upset or hurt again. Honestly, I wasn't sure you were completely over him. I'm relieved you're so sensible. As always."

"Yes, sensible Jude," she said, even as something hot lodged in her throat. "Absolutely. In fact, be sure to give him my best wishes the next time you see him."

"I'll do that. I really am glad you're happy, Jude. Your father or I will be in touch once we're back from New York."

"Good. Have a wonderful time. Give Father my love."

"I will."

When she hung up, Jude felt paralyzed. Frozen. Her skin was chilled, her blood frigid. All the warmth and pleasure, the simple delight that had carried over from the morning iced up in what she a.s.sumed was despair.

William flying off to some charming island in the West Indies with his pretty new wife. Sliding into sparkling blue water, strolling along sugar-white sand under a full moon with hands clasped and eyes dreamy.