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"Birdie left you?"
"The marriage went to shit slowly. Im not even sure when. I think it started with me, though, when I lost football. All I could think about was what Id lost. Id gotten married so young; I never got to be the young hot shot of my imaginations. You know, the superstar who slept with a different woman every night. I wanted that. " He sighed. "For years, I dreamed about going back in time and making a different choice. I guess, after a while, all that dreaming of somewhere else became a goal; it ruined our marriage. Maybe a part of me even blamed her for tying me down. I dont know. All I know is that I was desperate to be someone again. Then this job came along, and I got it all back. " He smiled bitterly. "For the first time in my whole adult life, Im free, rich, and famous. I can do anything I want. Hell, Im sleeping with a beautiful woman half my age, and she doesnt care that I dont love her. Its what I always dreamed of. And I hate it. I miss Birdie all the time. "
"Have you told her?"
He looked up. "Im afraid its too late. "
Warren took a sip of his drink. "Ive never met a woman whod stay with me for twenty-four years. Whod get me off dope and forgive my screwups. If I found a woman like that, Jacko, Id never let her go. "
"What if she tells me its too late?" He paused. "What if she doesnt love me anymore?"
Warren looked at him. "Then you arent gonna have a movie ending, my friend. Sometimes, a bad choice can haunt you forever. "
TWENTY-SEVEN
The drive home from the gallery seemed to take forever.
Elizabeth had failed.
The realization was like a canker sore; no matter how much it hurt, you couldnt leave it alone.
She felt Anita looking at her from the passenger seat, staring worriedly every now and then, but fortunately, her stepmother kept her opinions to herself. This was not the time for one of those pumped-up pep talks. Elizabeth had listened to plenty of those in the last few months, from Meghann and Anita and Daniel. Shed listened to her friends and let herself believe.
And here she was. Forty-six years old and a failure.
She turned onto Stormwatch Lane and drove home. When shed parked the car, she turned to Anita and forced a tired smile. "Thanks for everything today. It meant a lot to me that you were there. "
Anita looked stricken. "Birdie, I dont know what to say. "
"Dont say anything. Please. It was bad enough to live through. I cant talk about it, too. "
Anita nodded. If there was one thing bred into southern women, it was the ability to politely ignore unpleasantness. "Ill go cook us a nice dinner. "
"Im not very hungry. I think Ill go soak in a hot bath. " She almost sat there a second too long, looking at her stepmother. She felt the first hairline crack in her composure. If she wasnt careful, shed break like old porcelain, and that wouldnt help anyone. She reached for the car door and shoved it open, then hurried toward her beloved house.
It welcomed her with soft lights and sweet scents and safety.
She drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. When she heard Anita come up behind her, she bolted upstairs and shut the bedroom door behind her. She went to the window, trying to draw comfort from her view, but night came early this time of year, and there was nothing but darkness beyond the glass.
She ran a bath and poured a capful of almond-scented oil into the water. She let the tub fill past the point of caution, knowing water would spill over when she climbed in. So, she would clean up the mess. That, at least, was something she did well.
She undressed and lowered herself into the nearly scalding water. Sure enough, it splashed onto the tile floor. Heat enveloped her; steamed up toward her face. The sweet, cloying scent of almonds filled the tiny bathroom.
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
Images of the endless day tumbled through her mind. Customers buying sculptures and lithographs and photographs and other artists paintings . . . walking past her work.
She wished she could cry, but it wasnt that kind of hurt. She felt numb. A prisoner whod dared to believe in parole and then been sent back to her cell, unforgiven.
The worst of it was shed believed in herself. Shed known better, and yet still shed stumbled into that quicksand and been caught. Shed believed, shed dared, shed dreamed.
And shed failed.
Her work wasnt good enough. That much was clear.
What now? Shed walked away from every good thing shed ever built so that she could find herself.
Well, shed found a woman whose greatest gift lay in helping others, in loving people and supporting their dreams. As she sat in the hot water, she asked herself why that hadnt been enough.
