She ran back inside the house to her bedroom, opened her jewelry box, and saw the three classic pairs she usuallywore—gold hoops, silver hoops, and diamond studs she’d bought for herself ten years ago when Don had scheduled work on their anniversary. There were other pairs of earrings in the box, and she shuffled through them . . . and spied a pair of gold-beaded hoops, the epitome of nineties style. She had saved these? She thought she’d thrown them out years ago.
Madge picked up one of the earrings, her chest constricting. Don had bought her these on their third date, at a cheap jewelry shop in McCain Mall. She’d worn them until the gold plating had worn off, not because she loved the style but because they were from him.
Memories flooded over her so quickly she lost her breath. The tears in his eyes when he said their vows. His awestruck expression at Harper’s birth. The image of him holding his tiny daughter, his eyes red rimmed as he touched her hand and she gripped his finger. They had been so happy back then. So full of hope. Where had it gone wrong?
Could we start over again?
The image shifted to a faceless woman in Don’s arms. In hisbed. She started to shake, and she threw the earrings across the room. Whatever speck of hope was left in their marriage had died when she discovered the affair.
I’m signing those divorce papers.I’m going to be free.
She settled her nerves and calmly went outside to her car. The storm over the past two days had brought in a warm front, the up-and-down temperatures part and parcel of Arkansas autumns. But the warm air didn’t reach her frigid heart, and the ice wall protecting it was thicker than before. Don had betrayed her. He’d destroyed their marriage. He would have to live with that.
Chapter17
“Are you all right, Harper?”
Harper blinked, then realized she had been staring out the window at the Sunshine Diner instead of paying attention to Bailey, one of the diner’s waitresses. “Oh, I’m fine,” she said, trying to play off that she was anything but fine.
“Do you know what you want to order?”
“A grilled chicken salad.” Over the last two weeks she’d completely gone off the rails with her eating, and she needed to get back on track. “No dressing or roll.”
“Gotcha.”
“Thanks.”
As Bailey walked away, Harper stared at the clock on the wall. Almost 12:30 p.m. Her stomach backflipped. In half an hour, her parents would sign their divorce papers, according to her father. She was tempted to try to call her mother one more time, having made several attempts to reach her since Dad had stopped by on Monday. Over an excellent grilled cheese sandwich—he’d been spot on about his skills—and creamy tomato soup, they’d had a long conversation aboutthe particulars of their jobs, something neither of them had discussed with each other before. Her father was more than a little obsessed with the details of the planes he had flown, but otherwise she’d enjoyed listening about his adventures as a pilot. Before he left, he’d told her how proud he was of her, and that had stuck with her since.
Not hearing from her mother had been frustrating, though it did dawn on Harper that she had been just as evasive with Madge lately.No wonder she doesn’t want to talk to me.
Before Harper left for work this morning, she’d sent both her parents a simple text.
I love you.
A lump formed in her throat. She couldn’t imagine her mom and dad not being married. But in less than an hour, they would be. Her chest was heavy with regret. Maybe she should have brought the two of them together and let them hash things out instead of leaving them alone. Or she could have made time for her mother, at the very least. She wasn’t naive enough to think she could have fixed their relationship, but perhaps some mediating on her part could have helped.
She glanced out the window again, her gaze landing on #6. What was she doing here at the diner while they were going through such a painful time? What kind of daughter was she to leave her hurting parents alone? She picked up her cell and tapped out a short message.
Where are you? I want to be there for both of you.
She set her phone on the table and drummed her fingers against the Formica top, praying one or both would reply. Deep down she knew she was probably too late. She’d been too involved in her own life and problems to take her parents’ issues seriously. The only thing she could do now was wait for one of them to contact her and tell her their marriage was over. Thirty years down the drain with the stroke of a pen. Unreal.
“Harper.”
She glanced up to see Rusty standing near her booth. Her breath involuntarily hitched. He hadn’t shaved and his chin was covered with light-red scruff. ARusty’sGarageball cap covered his short hair, but he wasn’t dressed for work. Instead, he wore a purple-and-black plaid shirt and blue jeans that were a little baggy, hiding his trim physique. Although she was agonizing over her parents, she couldn’t help but notice that he looked amazing. But he didn’t have his usual friendly expression on his handsome face. In fact, he didn’t look all that happy to see her.
She was glad to see him, though. Since Sunday she’d left several messages on his voice mail, but he didn’t call her back. She’d ended up going to the garage and finding out he’d taken a few days off. In a last-ditch effort, yesterday she had stopped by his house. No answer there either. “I’ve been trying to call you,” she said, gesturing for him to sit down across from her.
He didn’t move.
“I’ve been busy.”
Too busy for me?The thought shoved its way to the front of her brain before she could stop it. She didn’t expect him to drop everything when she called, but he could have at least responded that he’d gotten her voice mails.
“I ain’t gonna be able to make it to the auction,” he said. “I got too much work to do. Sorry.”
“Hi, Rusty,” Bailey said as she returned and placed a salad in front of Harper, her gaze bouncing back to him, then to her again. She frowned slightly. “Sure you don’t want dressing?”
