"I want a divorce." Some might fault her timing, but it needed to be said, and the sooner the better.

Jerry looked as if she'd pulled out a handgun, aimed, and fired. He opened his mouth and closed it twice. "A divorce?" he echoed, exhaling sharply. "You want a divorce."

"Don't try to tell me this is a surprise. What did you think? That I enjoy living with this constant tension, with this continual battle of wills? We're both miserable, and I can see no reason to continue with this farce of a marriage."

He blinked as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Sharon realized her words had been abrupt and harsh. "You don't know how much this saddens me, Jerry," she whispered, lowering her gaze to her clenched hands. "It isn't that I blame you or even myself, but we aren't the same people we used to be. Things change. People change." and harsh. "You don't know how much this saddens me, Jerry," she whispered, lowering her gaze to her clenched hands. "It isn't that I blame you or even myself, but we aren't the same people we used to be. Things change. People change."

"If this has to do with my having lunch with Maggie..."

"It doesn't," she a.s.sured him, realizing he was looking for something to pinpoint.

"That's not it?" He furrowed his brow. "But I thought, I mean, I realize it must have been a shock..."

"We haven't made love in months." She laughed shortly, a bit hysterically. "We don't even sleep together any longer. You cook your meals, I cook mine." As far as she could see, it was only a matter of time before he reached the same conclusion. "We seem to be constantly at odds. It isn't that you've done anything wrong, or that I haven't been a good wife."

"You want this, Sharon?"

She didn't. Had never dreamed that this calamity would befall them. She'd a.s.sumed their marriage was safe. They'd lived, loved, and grieved together, but somewhere along the way they'd stopped trying, stopped communicating. He had an entire life that had nothing to do with her, and the same applied to her.

That this would happen to them now was one of life's cruel jokes; only she wasn't laughing, and neither was Jerry. She hadn't reached the decision lightly. This was quite possibly the most difficult thing she'd ever done, with the exception of burying her daughter. lightly. This was quite possibly the most difficult thing she'd ever done, with the exception of burying her daughter.

"I know you've tried to make this work," she said, avoiding his question. "So have I."

"Is a divorce what you want?" he asked again, a bit louder.

She remembered the way her heart had leapt when she saw that he'd come for her, and she buried that small shred of joy in the deepest part of her soul.

"Do you?" he pressed, his gaze holding hers.

"Yes," she whispered brokenly.

Jerry sagged against the back of the chair. "I never thought this would happen to us."

"Me either," she admitted sadly.

"Do you have an attorney yet?"

She shook her head. "I want this to be as amicable as possible."

He nodded. "It'll take work on both our parts."

It hurt that he was so d.a.m.ned agreeable. While it was true she was the one who'd asked for the divorce, she'd hoped he'd fight to save their marriage. Her pride would have preferred for him to put up some resistance, even if it was only token. After a forty-year investment one would think he'd want to try harder.

At first she'd prayed he wouldn't. It would be easier on both of them if he accepted her decision calmly. The reality of that was quite different. Sharon was grateful she was seated. His fine-if-this-is-what-you-want att.i.tude left her feeling as if the rug had been pulled out from under her. Her emotions spiraled downward, crashing, taking what remained of her pride.

"We had some good years." If he wouldn't mention those, she would.

"Some great years and some not so great."

She wondered if he was remembering the year Pamela had died, or if his mind was dwelling on the last twelve months, when they didn't seem to have anything in common any longer.

"Do you want to break the news to the kids now?" Jerry asked.

He made it sound as though they should run to the phone and call their sons and announce it with great ceremony. Sharon dreaded telling her sons more than she did Jerry. They were both responsible adults, but it would hit them hard, rock their foundation, and she'd have liked to spare them that.

"I'd prefer to wait until after Christmas," she said, hoping he was agreeable to that. She could see no reason to ruin everyone else's holiday.

He nodded. "All right, if that's what you want."

After weeks of not having a civil word to say to her, he'd become amicable overnight. She bit her tongue to keep from saying so.

"It's going to come as something of a shock to Clay and Neal," her husband murmured, saying what she'd been thinking moments earlier.

Although she'd been the one to request the divorce, it came as a shock to her as well.

A terrible sadness settled over her. The last time she'd experienced anything this heavy, this debilitating, had been shortly after the news of Pamela's car accident. As it had then, it felt now as if her heart would never heal.

"Would you mind terribly if I stayed and spent Christmas with Seth and the twins?" Before she could answer, he rushed to add as if he needed to convince her, "Seeing that I'm already here and all."

The tightness in her throat made it difficult to answer with words, so she nodded.

"We can get along that long, can't we?"

"I'm sure we can," Sharon managed. "If we're both on our best behavior."

The silence was back, less strained this time. Having reached an agreement, even one that set the terms of the dissolution of their marriage, produced a certain accord. The irony of it didn't escape Sharon.

With some hesitation Seth stepped into the room and glanced from one to the other. "Is everything okay between you two, or do you need more time?"

"Everything's fine," Jerry lied, answering for them both. Sharon was grateful he did; she wasn't sure she could have sounded nearly as convincing.

"You'll be staying on for the holidays, then?" Seth directed the question to Jerry.

"If it's not a problem?"

"None. It'll be good to have you."

Unable to deal with the small talk, Sharon stood abruptly. "I've had a full day. I hope you'll both excuse me." She faked a yawn. "I can't believe how tired I am."

"Sure, honey," Jerry said, sounding as if there weren't a thing wrong with the world.

"By all means, Sharon," Seth added. "Thanks for all your help with the twins' costumes."

"It was a pleasure."

"Sit down," Jerry invited his son-in-law, "and tell me how everything's going with you and the kids."

Sharon managed a smile as she slipped past her son-in-law and down the hallway to the guest bedroom. The voices of the two men faded as she closed the bedroom door.

Jerry was by far the better actor. It helped that Seth and her husband were such good friends. The two could easily talk the night away.

Sharon slumped onto the side of the mattress. Her lower lip trembled and she bit into it hard, until she sampled the sweet taste and knew she'd drawn blood. With her eyes closed she rocked gently, her arms cradling her stomach. She felt alone and afraid. The future without Jerry frightened her almost as much as the future with him.

A divorce was what she wanted, what she'd asked for. She should be pleased that Jerry had been so willing, so agreeable. He could have made it difficult, but he too seemed to want out of a marriage that had suddenly turned sour. made it difficult, but he too seemed to want out of a marriage that had suddenly turned sour.

Sharon couldn't blame him. Even when they tried to make the marriage work, they were both miserable. He had his own ideas of what their lives should be like now that he'd retired, and she had hers. How sad that their visions no longer matched.

How sad indeed.

Brushing the hair from her face, she gathered a reserved measure of energy and undressed. The nightdress Mrs. Merkle had loaned her was three sizes too large. The flannel gown hung on her like an empty potato sack. It was by far the most unflattering piece of apparel she'd ever worn.

With her thoughts tangled and dark, she removed her makeup and cleaned her teeth, then sat up in bed, reading. When someone knocked politely, her gaze flew to the door.

"Yes?"

Jerry stood in the doorway, a suitcase in each hand. "Seth has to be in the office early tomorrow morning," he said, walking into the room. He closed the door, and the latch clicked softly as it connected.

Sharon's reading gla.s.ses slid down the bridge of her nose. Surely Jerry didn't intend to sleep with her. She opened her mouth to say as much when she realized that he had no choice. Consequently neither did she.

Jerry must have read the look in her eyes because he said, "We slept together for nearly forty years. I imagine we can do so for a couple more weeks, don't you?" years. I imagine we can do so for a couple more weeks, don't you?"

"I'm sure we can," she answered crisply.

"In fact, I think we should make the most of this time."

She didn't like the implication and tugged the blankets more closely around her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "How do you mean?"

He grinned as if he found her actions amusing. "With Judd and Jason. It'll probably be the last time we'll spend time with them together."

"You're right." That too was a sad realization. The twins were the glue that had held them together for the last four years. Neither of them had realized it at the time, but the truth couldn't be ignored in light of what had happened since the children had gone back to live with their father.

Jerry sat on the edge of the bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip. His back was to her. "I want you to know that I'll make everything as financially comfortable for you as I can."

"I know you will," she whispered.

"You've been a good wife to me, Sharon. I can't tell you how sorry I am that it has to end like this."

If this was the time for confessions, she had a few of her own. "I apologize for the childish way I behaved the last few weeks."

"Yeah, well, you weren't the only one." He unb.u.t.toned his shirt. "With effort we should be able to make it through the holidays without embarra.s.sing ourselves."

"We should," she agreed. She closed her novel and set it aside, removed her gla.s.ses, and lay down, her hands clenching the blanket. Her eyes focused on the ceiling while Jerry undressed and pulled back the covers. She held her breath as he slipped between the sheets. A moment later the room went dark.

"Good night, Sharon."

"Good night."

Jerry rolled onto his side. Sharon lay, her head cradled by the thick feather pillow, and stared sightlessly into the darkness.

This was quite possibly the most tragic moment of her life.

Within moments her husband snored softly at her side.

Chapter 20

The tongue must be heavy indeed, for so few people can hold it.-Mrs. Miracle

Harriett Foster decided she didn't see near enough of her niece. Jayne did try, but between work and children, the young mother simply didn't have time for extended family. The only way to visit with Jayne and her household was to stop off unexpectedly and unannounced. With anyone else, she would have considered such behavior the height of bad manners, but this was family. One had a responsibility to family, however burdensome.

Early Sat.u.r.day afternoon, Harriett parked her car outside Jayne's house and made her way up the sidewalk. Harriett had few close friends. She found the women in church to be an unfriendly lot. Her closest friend, quite naturally, had been Abigail, her sister and Jayne's mother. G.o.d rest dear, dear Abigail's soul. Harriett viewed it as her G.o.d-given duty to take over the role as mother to her niece and grandmother to Jayne's two children. It was the way Abigail would have wanted it. lot. Her closest friend, quite naturally, had been Abigail, her sister and Jayne's mother. G.o.d rest dear, dear Abigail's soul. Harriett viewed it as her G.o.d-given duty to take over the role as mother to her niece and grandmother to Jayne's two children. It was the way Abigail would have wanted it.

She pressed the doorbell, and when there wasn't an immediate response she tried again, and then a third time. Finally she walked over to the window. Jayne's car was in the driveway-she had to be in the house somewhere.

Harriet placed her hand against the gla.s.s to kill the glare and peered inside. She could see nothing.

Just when she was prepared to leave, the front door opened.

"h.e.l.lo, Aunt Harriett."

"Jayne, my dear, I was about to give up on you. I'm so pleased I didn't."

"I...I was in the laundry room."

"You probably didn't hear the doorbell over the dryer," Harriett said, which explained why her niece hadn't answered the door right away. "We haven't had much of a chance to talk lately, and I thought I'd stop in for tea."

"Tea," Jayne repeated slowly. "Well, actually the girls haven't been feeling well. A touch of the flu. They're both napping. It's unusual to get them both down at the same time, and I was hoping-"

"Then I couldn't have come at a more opportune time." She stepped past Jayne and moved directly into the house.

If she sensed any hesitation in her niece, the condition of the house explained everything. The living room carpet was littered with toys. The Christmas tree leaned to one side, and the decorations looked to be mostly handmade, ones the children had crafted in school, which made the scrawny tree even more unattractive. Her own Christmas tree was a showpiece. The decorations had been carefully collected over the years and were of the finest quality.

Harriett's home had never been this untidy. Poor Jayne was embarra.s.sed, as well she should be. There was no excuse for such a mess. A clean home was akin to G.o.dliness. Although she couldn't recall the precise Bible verse, she was sure that was scriptural.

"I'll make the tea," Harriett announced when Jayne hesitated. By all that was right, she should say something to her niece about the condition of her home; but Jayne had mentioned the girls weren't feeling well. With a job outside the home, the poor woman should be given a bit of slack.

Harriett wasn't often indulgent, but she was sure G.o.d would be equally charitable with her niece. If she weren't already so involved with her many efforts at the church, she would offer to come help Jayne with the household ch.o.r.es. But one could take on only so much.