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When had it all started to go wrong? And why? And then there was the biggest question of all.
What could they have done to change it?
Most of them had answers, even if they didn’t much like them. Chase never had. Try as he would, he’d never really been able to pinpoint when things had started going downhill, or why. As for changing it... how could you change something when you didn’t know what it was that needed changing?
He’d been the best kind of husband he’d known how to be, working his butt off to give Annie a better life. A life she deserved, and now it turned out she’d not only hated all the years of hard work, but she’d also resented them.
A bitter taste filled his mouth.
“What does she think?” he muttered, kicking a pinecone out of the way. “Does she think I enjoyed working like a slave? Does she think I had a good time, busting my backside all day and cracking books half the night?”
Maybe. Annie had just proved that she was capable of thinking damn near anything, when it came to him.
The land was sloping upward. The trees were pressing in from either side, and a cool, salt-scented breeze was blowing into his face. Chase drew it deep into his lungs, lowered his head and trudged on.
At least it was all out in the open, now. Annie had been as remote about their split-up as the sphinx. He couldn’t even remember which of them had said the words first, he or she; he only knew that except for that one awful scene at the end, when Annie had come bursting into his office and seen poor Peggy embarrassing them both—except for that, their separation had been the most civilized thing on record.
No harsh words. No screaming matches. No accusations. Nothing. They had both been polite and proper about the whole thing. His attorney had even joked about it.
“I had a law prof used to say that the only man who never raises his voice during divorce proceedings is a man whose almost-ex-wife’s already slit his throat,” David had said, and Chase had grinned and said that David, with his own strikeout, certainly ought to know.
Chase shook his head. No, Annie hadn’t killed him when she’d thought she’d caught him being unfaithful. She’d waited, and let him suffer for five long years, and now she’d plunged a dagger right into his heart.
It shouldn’t have hurt, not when she wasn’t his wife anymore. Not when she didn’t mean a damn thing to him anymore.
Chase stepped out of the woods. He was standing on a high, rocky cliff overlooking the dark green Pacific.
Who was he kidding? Annie meant everything to him. She always had, and she always would.
* * *
Annie sat on the edge of the circular bed, her hands folded in her lap.
Well, she’d finally gotten everything out of her system. She’d let it all hang out; wasn’t that what the kids used to say? She’d dredged up all the anger and pain she’d thought was long gone and dumped it right into Chase’s lap.
She sighed, fell back against the pillows and put her arm over her eyes.
Who was she kidding? Neither the hurt nor the rage was long gone. They weren’t gone at all. Hardly a week went by that something didn’t make her remember how miserable her marriage had been, how much she’d despised Chase.
It was just a good thing she’d finally gotten it out in the open.
Tears welled in her eyes.
It wasn’t true. Her marriage hadn’t been miserable. Not the first years, anyway. She’d been so crazy in love, so happy, that sometimes she’d had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
And she’d never despised Chase. Heaven knew, that would have made things a lot easier. Then, when she’d finally acknowledged the truth, that he’d outgrown her and that he didn’t love her anymore, it wouldn’t have hurt so badly.
Annie sighed, stood up, and walked to the window wall. The view was spectacular: the deep green water in one direction, and a stand of windblown cypresses stretching off in the other. The ancient trees looked as if they’d been there forever, protecting the house and keeping it safe.
A smile moved across her lips.
That was how she’d always felt about Chase. They’d met so young that there were moments she’d felt as if she’d known him all her life. And her safe haven had always been within his arms.
It had come as a shock to her to learn that other women didn’t feel that way about their husbands. She could still recall sitting on a bench at a little playground years ago. Dawn must have been two, maybe three; she was playing with a bunch of kids and the mothers sat around watching, keeping an eye on things while they chatted about this and that.
Eventually the talk had turned to husbands.
“He drives me nuts,” one woman said, “coming in the door at night like some kind of conquering hero, and I’m supposed to hum a couple of bars of Hail to the Chief while I pull off his shoes, stoke the fire and serve him a meal straight out of Gourmet magazine.”
