Читать книгу The Edge of Eternity - Amanda Stevens - Страница 8

After weeks of gloomy weather, the sun finally broke over the Olympic Mountains and danced in flames across the steely waters of Puget Sound. There was even a rainbow arching like a mystical doorway over the bay. It was one of those golden, fleeting days that Seattleites celebrate and revere, and it was in that moment of sparkling sunlight and glimmering rainbows that Elizabeth Blackstone decided to divorce her husband.

“How do you think he’ll take it?” her friend and business partner, Frankie Novak, asked, concerned. To take advantage of the glorious weather, they’d strolled from their shop in Pioneer Square to a trendy new restaurant on the waterfront that Frankie had been dying to try. Instead of being seated at one of the coveted tables with a view, however, they’d been led to what Frankie called the second-tier seating area. The tables along the windows overlooking the bay were reserved for the business moguls and the high-tech movers and shakers that dominated Seattle’s economy. An unknown fashion designer and a struggling entrepreneur hardly rated first-tier seating in the city’s hottest new restaurant.

“It won’t come as that much of a surprise,” Elizabeth said in answer to Frankie’s question. “We may still live in the same house, but we’ve been separated for months. Things haven’t been the same since…” Say it, a little voice commanded. Say his name.

Frankie reached over and put her hand over Elizabeth’s. “I know. But divorce is never easy, especially after everything else you’ve been through. Aren’t you…” Now it was Frankie who trailed off uncomfortably.

“Aren’t I what?”

Frankie shrugged. “You and Paul have been married forever. Aren’t you afraid of being alone?”

But I’m already alone, Elizabeth wanted to tell her. Living by herself couldn’t possibly be as lonely as living with a man who no longer loved her. Paul still cared for her in his own way, she supposed, but the passion and closeness had long since been spent.

“I’ll survive,” she said numbly. She always did. Somehow.

Frankie stabbed a prawn in her spinach salad and took a moment to savor the seafood morsel. “Still, you have to wonder what he’s going to say, don’t you?”

“I don’t expect he’ll say much of anything.” Elizabeth toyed with her pear salad. “He’ll probably move out and then he’ll have his lawyer contact my lawyer to negotiate an equitable distribution of the assets.”

“Are you so sure it will be all that equitable?”

Elizabeth glanced up. “What do you mean?”

“Paul has a lot more to lose in a divorce settlement than you do. He’s a rich man, at least on paper. Financial and real-estate holdings, investment deals, retirement and savings accounts, 401(k)s…you think he’s going to want to split all that evenly with you?” Frankie leaned forward. “Look, I know he’s basically a good guy, but divorce can bring out the worst in people. Especially greed. Believe me, I know. My poor sister got taken to the cleaners when she and her husband split up.” Frankie grimaced as she picked up her wineglass. “You need to look out for your own best interests. Take my advice and hire yourself a shark. Because I’ll bet you anything he will.”

“You’re assuming that I want half of everything,” Elizabeth said with a scowl. “I don’t. I’ll take the condo, and he can have the lake house. We’ll each keep our cars, split the savings and the rest is his.”

“And you think he’ll go for that?”

“Why wouldn’t he? It’s more than fair.”

“Fair has nothing to do with it. He’s a man, so his ego is going to get all tangled up in the negotiations, particularly if he doesn’t want this divorce. All I’m saying is that you have to protect yourself.” Frankie sipped her wine. “What about the shop?”

“What about it?”

“Need I remind you that it was Paul who bailed us out last year when we were having cash-flow problems after the Nordstrom deal put us in a bind? What if he decides to call in the loan? The last three quarters have looked good, but we’re in no shape to cough up that kind of capital right now. We’d have to sell.”

“He won’t do that,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Paul isn’t a vengeful person. He’s just…”

“A savvy businessman? A husband scorned? Take it from me, that’s a dangerous combination,” Frankie said. “At least, for us.”

“He won’t call in the loan. He has no interest in the shop, and besides…” Elizabeth glanced down at her barely touched salad. “I’m thinking of selling my partnership anyway.”

Frankie laid down her fork and glared at Elizabeth. “What did you just say?”

Elizabeth sighed. “I didn’t mean to spring it on you like that, but…I’m thinking of moving back to Chicago once the divorce is final.”

“For God’s sakes, why?” Frankie demanded. “Why would you do that? You haven’t lived there since college, and your family has all moved away since then. They’re scattered all over the country. You said so yourself. What’s back in Chicago? All your friends are here in Seattle. Not to mention your business.”

And so were her memories. Elizabeth rubbed her forehead where a headache started to pound. “It’s not definite. Just an idea I’ve been toying with. I need a change, that’s all.”

“You’re getting a divorce. Isn’t that enough of a change?”

Yes, maybe. But maybe what she needed more than a change was a clean break. A new start in a place familiar enough that she wouldn’t feel lost, but one in which memories didn’t lurk around every corner.

But the past would always be with her, no matter where she went. She would always have memories of her son, and that was the way it should be. Elizabeth wanted to remember Damon…the sound of his voice, his laugh, his hurried footfalls on Christmas morning. She wanted to remember everything about him, but more than anything she wanted to be able to look at his picture and say his name without going to pieces.

She wanted to remember Paul, too, but the way he used to be, when they were happy. Not the cold, steely-eyed stranger who had moved out of her bedroom months ago.

The death of their son had affected them both so deeply they were like different people now. For Elizabeth, the changes were more profound than even Dr. Summers knew, because there were some things she couldn’t confide even to her therapist, and certainly not to Paul. Like how she could still sense her son’s presence, so strongly at times that she would find herself calling out his name. Like how when she went for walks, she could feel him beside her, could even smell the unique scent of him, all dirt, sunshine and little boy.

Those moments were private and special and Elizabeth savored them. She didn’t want to share them with anyone, not even Paul, because he wouldn’t understand. He might think that she was losing her grip on reality and have her committed…again.

So, no, she couldn’t tell Paul. She couldn’t tell Frankie or Dr. Summers. She couldn’t tell anyone.

But there were other times, other moments that Elizabeth didn’t savor. Sometimes when she was alone in the apartment, she would hear doors closing and music playing in her dead son’s bedroom. Going inside, she would find toys scattered about as if he’d been hurriedly called away in the middle of a game.

It was during those times that Elizabeth would sense another presence.

Someone who seemed to be watching her.

Someone who had been with her ever since she’d awakened from a coma eighteen months ago.

No, Elizabeth most certainly did not savor those moments. She’d come to dread them. And that was why she’d decided to make some changes in her life. Obviously her subconscious was warning her that she couldn’t continue in the same vein. She had to come to grips with reality. She had to accept what had happened to her son and to her marriage. She had to try and find a way to be at peace again, because trapped in the depths of despair was no way to live.

“Elizabeth?”

She glanced across the table at Frankie. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

“I was just asking if you’re okay. You seemed a million miles away just now.”

“I’m fine.” She blotted her lips on her napkin.

Frankie checked her watch. “We should probably get back. Although Wednesday afternoons are always slow. I don’t suppose there’s any real need to hurry.”

Elizabeth scooted back her chair. “Let me visit the ladies’ room and then I’ll be ready to go.”

“Take your time.” Frankie’s concerned gaze searched Elizabeth’s face. “I’ll pay the check when it comes.”

THE LOW RUMBLE OF VOICES unnerved Elizabeth as she maneuvered her way through the maze of tables to the front of the restaurant. She had that uncomfortable feeling of being watched, but when she turned once to scan the crowded room, no one even seemed aware of her.

It was just her imagination, she decided. The conversation with Frankie had left her understandably anxious. She dreaded telling Paul what she’d decided, but she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. He would probably be relieved, and Elizabeth had to wonder if that was what she dreaded the most.

The lounge area outside the ladies’ room was furnished with an upholstered bench and a pay phone which began to ring as Elizabeth entered through the arched doorway. Pausing, she glanced around to see if anyone hurried to answer it, but when no one came, she ignored it herself and pushed open the door to the ladies’ room.

Turning on the water at one of the sinks, she washed her hands, then moistened a paper towel and held it to her face, wincing at the dark circles under her eyes, the fine lines in her face that hadn’t been there eighteen months ago.

She didn’t look like herself anymore, which was fitting, she supposed. She wasn’t herself. She wasn’t the same Elizabeth Blackstone who had taken her eyes off the road long enough for a drunk driver to swerve into her lane, hitting her vehicle head-on.

The doctors had later told her that it was not uncommon to suffer short-term amnesia following a trauma. She might never remember the details of the crash, but after a while everything had come back to her…Damon buckled into the front seat beside her, screaming a warning because he saw the car first. And then her own scream. The sound of brakes squealing, metal crunching and her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

Later, the sirens. She’d been told that she hadn’t been conscious when the paramedics arrived, but she remembered their voices, their frantic shouts as they used the Jaws of Life to pry her and Damon from the car. She had been floating above it all, conscious on some level but helpless to change the outcome.

When they finally got them free of the twisted metal, she knew when a policeman covered Damon with a sheet. The paramedics were frantically working on her, and she wanted to scream at them to leave her alone and go help her son. But it was too late. Damon was gone. And Elizabeth had wanted to die, too.

She almost had. She’d lingered in a coma for over a week, and when she’d finally awakened, Paul had been standing by her bed. But he wasn’t the same person either. The man at her bedside wasn’t the Paul she had kissed goodbye the morning of the accident. That Paul was lost to her forever, and in his place was a remote, grief-stricken stranger. The same stranger she had been living with for the past year and a half.

The door opened and an attractive redhead came in. She wore a pencil skirt and silk blouse accessorized with a simple gold chain and black high heels, the kind of classy yet sexy outfit that Elizabeth might once have worn for her husband.

Her gaze met Elizabeth’s in the mirror as she took out her lipstick and began to repair her makeup. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“Gorgeous,” Elizabeth agreed.

“It’s the kind of day that makes you glad to be in love,” the woman said with a laugh. “Have a good one,” she called as Elizabeth started out the door.

The moment she came out of the bathroom, the pay phone in the lounge area started to ring again. Once again she paused. When no one came this time, she walked over and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Elizabeth.”

Her whispered name sent a chill up her spine as the blood in her veins turned to ice.

Without thinking, Elizabeth slammed down the phone and spun, expecting to find someone standing behind her. Reaching out for her.

No one was there. But as she stood motionless, the bathroom door opened and the young woman came out. She had her cell phone in one hand, but instead of making a call, she headed back out to the restaurant.

The pay phone started to ring again.

Elizabeth whirled back around and stared at it for a moment, then snatched it up. “Hello?”

“I think I have a wrong number,” a masculine voice said with a sigh. “You’re not Carol, are you?”

“No. This is a pay phone at a restaurant.”

“Sorry to have bothered you.”

“No bother,” she mumbled and hung up.

Whatever had possessed her to answer the phone in the first place? Elizabeth wondered as she walked back to her table. And why had she thought she’d heard her name when she first answered?

Obviously she was hearing things. Slamming doors. Music coming from Damon’s room. And now her name, whispered in a voice that sent another chill up her spine just thinking about it.

Yes, it was definitely time to make a change in her life.

Even though cell phones were taboo in the dining room, Elizabeth could see that Frankie was talking on hers as she approached the table. She quickly ended the call when she saw Elizabeth. “Hey, I was just talking to…” Her words trailed off. “What’s wrong?”

Elizabeth barely heard her. Her attention was focused on one of the tables by the window, where the woman she’d seen in the restroom had just sat down with a dark-haired companion. The woman was laughing and leaning in intimately to hang on his every word. He had his back to Elizabeth, but when he turned to signal the waiter, she recognized his profile. It was Paul.

It’s the kind of day that makes you glad to be in love.

As the woman’s words came back to her, Elizabeth’s heart began to pound in slow, painful beats. She couldn’t seem to move. She stood mesmerized by the sight of her husband with another woman.

Frankie followed her gaze and then gasping slightly, stood and grabbed Elizabeth’s arm. “Come on, honey. Let’s get out of here.”

She kept a firm hold on Elizabeth’s arm as she led her out of the restaurant and then, once they were on the street, she started to swear.

Elizabeth said nothing.

Her tirade finally over, Frankie swiped back her black hair. “Okay, I feel better.” She gave Elizabeth a sympathetic look. “You know I’d like to go in there and give that bastard a piece of my mind, don’t you? But we have to keep things in perspective. It’s not the end of the world. You’re going to divorce him anyway. Granted, he should have let the ink dry on the final decree before he got himself a hot, young girlfriend….” She swore again and clapped a hand to her mouth. “I can’t believe I just said that. I’m sorry, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. The man’s a pig, but show me one who isn’t. Let’s just try to look on the bright side here. If he’s got a girlfriend, he’s not going to want to make waves about the settlement. That gives you leverage. Power.” Frankie’s brown eyes gleamed in the sunlight. “You can stick it to him but good after this.”

She was right, Elizabeth tried to tell herself. She and Paul were getting a divorce, so what did it matter if he was already seeing someone else? He was a young, handsome, successful businessman. Elizabeth hadn’t expected him to be on the market forever. It would have been nice if he’d waited, as Frankie said, until the ink was dry on the divorce papers, but in the long run it didn’t change anything.

So why did she feel so hurt? So utterly devastated and betrayed? Paul had a right to find happiness. They both did.

It’s okay, she kept telling herself over and over. It was going to be okay.

“Let’s just get back to the shop,” Frankie said. “We can talk about it there.”

Elizabeth hesitated. She didn’t want to talk about what she’d just seen. Not yet. It was too fresh. Too confusing. “I think I’ll just walk around for a while. You don’t mind, do you? As you said, Wednesdays are usually pretty slow.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Frankie said. “Wednesdays are dull as dirt, so Karen and I can definitely hold down the fort. It’s just…I hate to leave you alone.”

“I’m fine,” Elizabeth assured her. She even managed to muster up a smile. “I just need some fresh air. I’ll be back in a little while.”

Frankie nodded. “I’ll see you back at the shop. Lizzy…” She reached out and put her hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “It really is going to be okay, you know.”

“I know.”

But it wasn’t okay. No matter how many times Elizabeth tried to tell herself otherwise, her life was never going to be okay again. Her son was dead and her husband was seeing another woman.

As she stared at the restaurant, a breeze from the water drifted through her hair, lifting it as though an invisible hand caressed it.

Shivering uncontrollably, Elizabeth turned and walked away.