Chương 8
His mouth twisted.
“That’s fair.”
“I’m not trying to be fair.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. I want to say cruel things to you. I want your life to hurt. I’m embarrassed by how much I want that.”
Daniel nodded.
“You’re allowed.”
“Don’t give me permission.”
He looked away.
Claire touched her wedding ring.
“I spoke to an attorney.”
His eyes returned.
“Okay.”
“She needs records.”
“I’ll provide them.”
“Everything.”
“Yes.”
“Financial too.”
He hesitated.
Claire saw it.
“What?”
“There are things that will look bad.”
“You’re going to have to retire that phrase.”
“I made some transfers years ago from an account Rebecca and I shared into my business.”
“Were they legal?”
“She knew about them.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Yes. As far as I know.”
“As far as you know.”
“I had accountants.”
“Good for the accountants.”
Daniel exhaled.
“Claire, I’m not hiding criminal activity.”
“You understand I no longer accept your assessment of what counts as hiding.”
“Yes.”
She studied him.
“Did you marry me because you thought Rebecca would eventually sign?”
“Yes.”
“Did the judge know?”
“No.”
“Your brother?”
Daniel did not answer.
Claire felt a new fracture.
“Did Peter know?”
“He knew Rebecca and I weren’t divorced.”
Claire stared.
“He came to our wedding.”
“I told him it would be resolved.”
“He stood beside you.”
“I know.”
“He hugged me.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that as if knowledge is a punishment.”
Daniel’s voice hardened for the first time.
“What do you want me to say?”
“There you are.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re angry.”
“Yes, Claire. I’m angry. At myself. At Rebecca. At this entire mess.”
“At me?”
“No.”
“You sound angry at me.”
“I’m angry because there is nothing I can say that doesn’t make this worse.”
“That is not my fault.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“But you want relief.”
He stood abruptly and walked to the porch railing.
Not fast.
Not threatening.
Just unable to sit.
Claire watched his shoulders.
After a while he said, “I have spent nine years expecting this day.”
That landed harder than she expected.
“Nine?”
“Since I told you Rebecca was dead.”
Claire said nothing.
“Every time the phone rang from a number I didn’t recognize, I wondered. Every time we ran into somebody from my old life, I wondered. Every time you asked about wills, taxes, insurance, I wondered.”
“And you still did nothing.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Daniel looked at her.
“Because every year I had more to lose.”
Claire nodded slowly.
There it was.
The engine of the whole thing.
Not a genius scheme.
Not blackmail.
Not secret passion.
Accumulated cowardice.
The lie had grown because the truth became more expensive each day.
“Go,” she said.
“Claire.”
“Please.”
He looked at her for several seconds.
Then left.
The next week was full of humiliations too small to appear in any dramatic account of a marriage ending.
Claire changed the emergency contact at work.
She moved her paycheck.
She had to explain to the dentist’s office that bills should no longer be sent through Daniel’s insurance until she knew whether she was actually entitled to use it.
She changed the garage code and then changed it back after Dana told her not to interfere with Daniel’s access to jointly owned property without an agreement.
Daniel collected more clothes while Claire was at work.
He left the kitchen cleaner than he found it.
That irritated her.
Peter called.
Claire watched his name ring for nearly a minute before answering.
“Hi.”
“Claire.”
Daniel’s older brother sounded as though he had not slept.
She waited.
“I owe you an apology.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Peter was not accustomed to being agreed with so efficiently.
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
“I believed Daniel when he said it would be handled.”
“At my wedding?”
“Yes.”
“You understood your brother was already married.”
“Yes.”
“And you watched him marry me.”
Peter swallowed audibly.
“I told him not to.”
“But you came.”
“He’s my brother.”
Claire looked at the stack of documents on her dining table.
“That sentence has excused a lot of things.”
“I know.”
“Did your wife know?”
“No.”
Claire believed him.
Then hated that she still had instincts about truth.
“Why didn’t you tell me afterward?”
“I thought it was done.”
“Did you ask?”
“At first.”
“And then?”
“He stopped answering clearly. I stopped asking.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Another person choosing comfort.
“Did you believe Rebecca was dead?”
“No.”
“How did you manage conversations with me?”
Peter’s voice cracked slightly.
“Badly.”
“You sent us a Christmas card every year.”
“I know.”
“You wrote ‘to my favorite newlyweds’ on one.”
“I’m sorry.”
Claire pressed her thumb against the edge of the table until it hurt.
“Do not contact me for a while.”
“I understand.”
“No. You understand the sentence. That’s all.”
She hung up.
At the office, Nia found Claire in the material library holding two nearly identical flooring samples.
“You’ve been looking at those for ten minutes.”
Claire glanced down.
“One has eight percent more recycled content.”
“Is that what’s happening?”
Claire looked at her.
Nia was thirty-two, sharp, funny, and one of the few people at work who could ask personal questions without making them sound like theft.
“My marriage is... having a problem.”
Nia nodded.
“Do you need me to cover Pittsburgh?”
Claire almost cried from the mercy of a practical question.
“Maybe Thursday.”
“Done.”
“Don’t you want to know?”
“Not unless you want me to.”
Claire put down the samples.
“My husband’s first wife isn’t dead.”
Nia stared.
Then blinked.
“Okay.”
“She’s also still his wife.”
Nia sat on the sample table.
“Okay.”
Claire laughed.
“I slapped him in a restaurant.”
“Okay is doing a lot of work today.”
Claire covered her face.
Nia said, “Do you want a hug or administrative support?”
“Administrative support.”
“Excellent. I hate hugging in the material library.”
Claire laughed harder.
It hurt.
But it was the first real laugh since the steakhouse.
May you like
Rebecca and Claire met twelve days later.
Not because either wanted friendship.
