Читать книгу Marriage in Jeopardy - Anna Adams - Страница 10

EVELYN WAS CHOPPING tomatoes for a salad when a scream rode up her spine. She dropped the knife. Her hand, jerking, shoved the tomatoes across the counter. She flew down the hall and up the narrow stairs.

At the door to Josh’s room, she paused. Lydia might want privacy. Hell, no. She’d screamed. No one would ever find Evelyn negligent again.

“Lydia?” Tapping twice, she opened the door at the same time. “Are you awake, honey?”

“Come in.”

Already in, Evelyn stopped dead. Covered in sweat that curled her blond hair, Lydia turned from the closet beside Josh’s desk, her hand sliding off the doorknob to tremble at her thigh. Her pale face and shadowed eyes made Evelyn desperate to do something. Anything.

“How bad do I look?” Lydia asked.

“Well.” Evelyn didn’t want to frighten her. “I hope you’re feeling some better. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I thought I’d lost my clothes.” She opened the closet and pulled out a clean T-shirt, her face flushing as if she’d made up an excuse. “Josh must have put them away.”

“You didn’t scream over a shirt.”

Lydia froze. “I screamed? You heard me?”

“Yes.” Trying to laugh, Evelyn pushed Lydia’s moist hair away from her face. “That’s the way screaming works. Do you have a fever?”

“Don’t suggest that in front of Josh.” Lydia’s quick smile apologized for her terseness. “He’ll worry.”

Evelyn sank against the bed, pushing her hands down her own faded jeans. “What a relief. Bart and I wondered if something was wrong between you.”

Lydia stared too hard at her shirt. “We’re both sad.”

“I mean I’ve been worried before. Josh has a compulsion to save the world. It’s my fault, of course, and his father’s, so I shouldn’t say anything, but where does that leave you?”

Lydia shook out her shirt, her expression an order to butt out. “I need to change.”

The old Evelyn would have backed down. The new Evelyn wasn’t so different after all. “Go in the bathroom and wash your face, too. I’ll make the bed. You’re sure about the fever?”

Lydia started toward the door, but stopped. “Look,” she said. “Josh hasn’t done anything. I fell asleep, and every time I fall asleep, I dream I haven’t lost the baby. Then comes a moment when I know I have.”

The lump in Evelyn’s throat refused to go down. “None of this is your fault, and Josh won’t hate you for it.” She grabbed the comforter and fluffed it hard enough to almost remove the batting.

Lydia tossed her shirt on the bed and pulled Evelyn close. “Josh doesn’t know what to do with his feelings and neither do I. I’m starting to think it’s an everyday, take-stock-of-where-you-stand process.” Her hand was tender on the top of Evelyn’s head.

“Josh loves you. Don’t forget that.”

“He loves you, too, but he lets his relationships slide, and I kept waiting around for our marriage to get better. I’m not content to coast anymore.”

“You and I are in the same place, and Josh is about to find himself at a disadvantage.” Evelyn piled the comforter on the desk chair. “I wanted you here because I love you and I needed to take care of you, but I have an ulterior motive. I’ve missed my son. I’m going to find a way to make him believe in us again.”

Lydia looked askance, which gave Evelyn her first doubt. “What?”

“I’m not sure Josh is easy to force.”

“He’s here.”

“Because we were both desperate to get away.”

“Then you’ll remain desperate. I’m not above scheming to get my son back in my life.”

“What does Bart think?” Lydia asked it with pity in her voice, as if she were hoping Bart could make Evelyn come to her senses. Dread tried to rush in, but Evelyn turned it back.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be fine. Now, I’ll make this bed. You freshen up and come sit with me if you feel able while I start supper.”

They sidestepped each other. Evelyn raced around the bed plumping and straightening. Fear of losing a son would light a fire under any woman.

Lydia shut the bathroom door, and a moment later, the water began to run. Evelyn finished the bed and then turned to Josh’s open bag. Jeans and sweaters, neatly stacked, just begged to be put away.

Except that her son would consider her intrusive if she took care of his personal things. She set the bag on a shelf halfway down the closet wall and closed the door. Then she tidied the room, ending by picking up a copy of Tom Sawyer from the desk. Bart’s father had given him that book. She pressed it to her face, taking solace in the musty smell of the rough, old-fashioned cloth binding.

“Where’s Josh?”

Evelyn jumped, but then quickly stashed the book on the shelf above the desk. “He had phone calls. Last I saw him, he was strolling the headland with his cell phone glued to his ear.”

“Working. What a bolt from the blue.” Lydia grasped the door to hold herself up.

“Are you all right?” As concerned about Lydia’s indignation as her lack of balance, Evelyn took her arm. “Let me help you down the stairs.”

“I’m fine. Really—and I shouldn’t have said anything.”

They headed downstairs. Over the front door, a small fanlight let in sunshine, mottled by hundred-year-old glass. How many times had she felt as if she was searching for her own future when she’d tried to see through that glass?

Evelyn couldn’t bear to look at Lydia. “He’s not out there making appointments in the city.” She finally realized her son had always taken another tack to solve his problems. Business had come before family but not anymore. “I’d bet he’s canceling everything that would take him back to that office. He’ll be here until you’re ready to go back.”

“That could be forever, Evelyn.”

“CANCEL THAT CONFERENCE, Brenda, and make sure we get continuances on the rest of my cases.” Josh cupped his hand over his free ear as late autumn wind kicked through the sea grass, rustling it in loud whispers. A storm was coming in on clouds that seemed to have blown up in the blue-gray sky.