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A hopeful look crossed his face. "About us?"
"About the divorce. There are things we need to settle. I want this to go smoothly."
“Whoa, now. You don’t really intend to go through with that, do you? You'd better just take a little time to cool off; wait until you've had a chance to get your head straight. You need me, Brook. Even if you won’t admit it. For one thing, how will you support yourself?”
“How will you handle prison, Clark?” Her voice was firm.
“You wouldn’t!” he gasped. “You’re my wife. I’ve told you how sorry I am. And like I told you, you were never, ever supposed to be hurt. You wouldn’t really send me to prison, would you?”
“It depends on how much grief you give me over this divorce. You definitely deserve prison, and that might still be an option. I’m still mulling it around in my mind. Trying to decide if you were as innocent as you make yourself out to be. But as for the divorce, well, I want that over with as soon as possible.”
“Well, since you're threatening me now, I guess there's nothing I can do about it. You've got me backed into a corner. Over the proverbial barrel. You’ll probably take everything I’ve worked so hard for. All gone. Just like that.” His voice dripped with bitterness. “I never pegged you for a gold-digger; but I never figured you’d spread your legs for some stranger either. Hell, I guess it was more than just one, wasn't it? How many were there, Brook? Remind me again, exactly how many men did you do?"
Every word was a blow to Brook. Outrage, anger, and hurt rose in her like bile. She gripped the towel in her hands and tried to speak around the painful lump in her throat. "You bastard. I never realized until this moment how cruel you are."
"I'm cruel? You're the one who wants the divorce, not me."
"Clark, I can't think of anything I want more at this moment than to never be associated with you again." Brook gritted her teeth. "You’re an asshole! Fix your own damn food."
She marched into the kitchen and dumped the food into the sink, where it continued to sizzle for a while, before cooling off and forming a hard glob.
"Brook." Clark stepped inside the doorway, his face contorted with remorse. "I didn't mean any of that. You know I didn't mean it. Listen, why don't you just get away for a few days? Go see your folks; take some time to think it all over? If you still want a divorce after that, I won't fight it. I'll give you whatever you want. But I’m sure you’ll see reason and want to stay with me. Stay where you belong."
"I don't need to think it over. I want out. And since I know it’s not me you’re so worried about, I’ll put your mind at ease. You don’t need to worry about your precious net worth. I only need enough money to get by on until I get a job. Trust me; I don’t want anything of yours. I don’t want any of the money you made by stealing from innocent people,” Brook said. “All I want is to be free of you. That’s it. If you want to keep your freedom; then give me mine. Otherwise, you will lose it all. Everything.”
Chapter 59
“Let’s get you out of this pen for a while,” Lance said to Gilbert, who watched him with hopeful eyes from the other side of the fence. She bounded out, kicked her rear feet high in the air, and tried to romp with her owner. But Lance was preoccupied and Gilbert gave up. She waddled toward the house, looking around as she went.
“She’s not here.”
The words meant nothing to the goat and she wandered around the cabin peering in the windows. Soon she was back at Lance’s side.
“I don’t know if you miss her,” he said as he patted the goat on the neck, “but I sure do. I feel like half of me has been ripped away. You’ll have to be patient with me, girl. It might take me awhile to get back my stride.”
Gilbert nuzzled his pocket, looking for a treat, but Lance didn’t notice as he stared up at the sky above Mt. Hazel.
“I can’t believe I let her go, Gilbert.” He closed his eyes for a long moment. “Just drove her to town and let her walk into that Sherriff’s office. I didn’t even wait for her, just turned Old Reliable around and came home. I must have been out of my mind.”
Lance looked down into Gilbert’s uncomprehending gaze. “Why am I telling you? You’re a goat.”
Lance took a deep breath and turned to his chores with heaviness in his soul while Gilbert followed him, hoping for a treat.
Shortly after lunch, there was a knock at the cabin door.
Brooklyn. She came back. Lance's heart raced as he reached for the knob.
A hiker stood on the porch, squinting at Lance. Lance's spirits dropped. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“You wouldn’t by chance be Sullivan Proctor, would you?” the man asked.
“I would not,” Lance stated firmly, stepping outside.
The man gave Lance a knowing look. "Hmm."
“Who would you be?” Lance asked, suspiciously.
“My name is Danny Norton. My dad owned all this land at one time.”
