Читать книгу Rachel's Hope - Carole Page Gift - Страница 13

Three days after David had gone striding out of their apartment, suitcase in hand and jaw set, Rachel broke out of her self-imposed mourning. It was a balmy, sun-washed day, and she needed to get out.

Not that she could escape the scorching recriminations, the self-pity, blaming herself one moment for her impulsiveness, resenting David the next for actually walking out at her insistence. As if that’s what she wanted, his going. Was it? Who knew? All she knew at the moment, on this breezy, clear day in early November, was that she had to get out of herself, out of the house, away. So she and Marlene drove to Laguna Beach to spend the day.

Laguna was one of their favorite places. Somehow the endless clusters of quaint, colorful buildings perched on the hillsides and the little network of streets had managed to escape that steely, glazed look that had become the characteristic of so much of Southern California. Rachel was tired of the endless stark, cold ribbons of freeway twisting and turning, jutting in and out, stripping the landscape of any natural grace.

Laguna Beach was different. The buildings were clever and original. They looked as if they had a history to them, as if many people had given parts of their personalities to these structures. The colorful little shops were crowded with artists’ paintings—lovely seascapes, beautiful landscapes, portraits and still lifes.

Many artists came here hoping to sell their work, the trained and untrained alike. Rachel adored their paintings, the meticulous portraits of old men from the sea, children in soft, airy dresses, and the tiny, finely crafted canvases of fruit—a single apple or a pear, stark against an ebony background.

Throughout the afternoon, Rachel knew Marlene was bursting with unasked questions. Marlene said nothing but cast frequent sidelong glances at Rachel, no doubt to determine the state of her emotions. Marlene was too kind to bombard her with probing queries about David’s sudden move out of their condo. On the phone the morning after David left, Rachel had spilled out the story in brief choked snatches, leaving it to Marlene to fill in the blanks.

“He’s gone and that’s all there is to it, Marlene,” Rachel had told her friend that morning. “And I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I just can’t.”

So that was it. Rachel had said no more.

But now Rachel felt better. Relaxed by the pleasant day at Laguna and with her emotions lulled by gentle sea breezes, she felt capable of discussing with some degree of objectivity her present circumstances. She told Marlene everything that came to her mind as they drove home that evening, finishing with “Yesterday I called a lawyer over in north Long Beach. I had a long talk with him and he suggested I come in for an appointment.”

“You’re not really going, are you?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Does that mean you’re thinking about getting a divorce?”

Rachel struggled to keep her tone neutral. “I have to consider it. I just didn’t realize how things are these days, with the divorce laws and all. The lawyer told me that under California law it’s not a divorce anymore. It’s a dissolution. All you have to say is that you have irreconcilable differences, and that’s it, you can have your divorce. It’s just about that easy. You merely have to wait six months, for what he called the interlocutory period, then the whole thing is done with.” Rachel’s voice wavered with ill-disguised emotion. “What do you think of that?”

“It sounds ghastly to me,” said Marlene, feigning a shudder. She was driving, and they were on the freeway now, in the fast lane, going sixty-five. Marlene liked to drive and could handle a car as well as anyone. She could drive anywhere, for hours at a time, and not get tired or nervous. When she and Rachel went anywhere, Rachel always let her drive.

“The whole thing sounds awful to me, too,” Rachel admitted with a flat little smile, actually more grimace than smile. She recalled the lawyer’s voice, smooth and silky, unconcerned. “While I was talking to the lawyer I thought I must be out of my mind. Here I was talking about David and myself with some stranger like it was nothing at all.

“Anyhow, he said with the laws like they are these days, there’s less recrimination and guilt. He kept using those words, recrimination and guilt There’s no blaming anyone, he said. He claims that makes it all a lot easier.”

Rachel paused and sighed audibly. The sigh seemed to go all the way through her, somehow snatching her strength, leaving her tired. “There’s nothing easy about tearing up a whole part of your life and throwing it away,” she said. “He made it sound as easy as wrapping up the garbage and taking it out”

“I just hope you don’t go and do anything on impulse, Rachel,” warned Marlene. “Divorce, that should be a last resort.”

“Well, the lawyer said you have to pay at least half the fee as soon as you start divorce proceedings. I guess a lot of people get halfway through and change their minds, so the lawyer would be out a lot, I suppose, if he didn’t have you pay at the start. Anyway, I don’t want to do anything until I’m absolutely sure.”

Marlene’s voice took on a cautionary note. “I was just wondering—have you prayed about all this, Rachel?”

Rachel mindlessly twisted her purse strap around her index finger. “Everything’s happened so fast I haven’t had much chance to pray,” she admitted lamely. She didn’t want to confess that at the moment the thought of praying left her with a terrified, strangled sensation. “I won’t do anything without praying about it first,” she assured Marlene, her voice rising a degree, “so don’t worry about that.” But how could she convince Marlene when she couldn’t even convince herself?

Marlene looked over at her, her round face clouding. “It’s just that…well, I have this feeling about you, Rachel.”

“What? What feeling?”

“I don’t know. You’re putting me on the spot—I can’t explain it”

They were on the off-ramp now, heading for home. The traffic was starting to thicken. It was after four in the afternoon. Rachel heard a car horn honking, but it was back on the freeway somewhere. At the end of the off-ramp they had to wait for a signal, one of those endless, ubiquitous lights. Rachel switched on the radio and pushed the tuning button, catching snatches of music, most of it rock or country. One station was playing “You Light Up My Life.” The young singer belted out the refrains with a haunting, heart-tugging pathos that stirred Rachel’s own pain, but she left it on anyway.

“Almost home,” said Marlene, a surface brightness to her voice. Then, softly, “How’s Brian taking all of this?”

The inquiry hit a vulnerable spot. Rachel winced in spite of herself. “Brian’s terribly upset,” she answered, turning down the radio. “He doesn’t say much, but I know he doesn’t understand what’s happening. He never used to be close to his dad, really, but lately they were hitting it off well together. I have this feeling, Marlene, that Brian resents me now—maybe David and me both. I don’t know.”

“It’s bound to be hard on him, Rachel.”

“Well, what about me?” Rachel countered. It was as if a great torrent of outrage had suddenly burst upon her, spilling its juices over all the sane and proper emotions she thought were expected of her.

“What about me, anyway?” she repeated, her voice shrill. “I have prayed for years, Marlene, you know that. For years I’ve prayed that David would come to Christ and that we’d finally have some unity in our family. For years I’ve gone to church alone and tried to bring up Brian in the church, in spite of his father’s influence. Do you think David has ever for one moment bent my way? I kept on and took it all—the loneliness and the lack of communication—because I thought someday David would share my faith and things would be different. But now, now he’s seeing some girl, some ditsy secretary from work. Maybe he’s in love with her, I don’t know. So what’s left, Marlene? What’s left of anything?”

“You said David wants to try again.”

“Oh, I know,” said Rachel, raking her fingers through her long, silken hair. She felt the futility tighten her lips. Anger was making her face feel unnatural, her very features distorted. She could only imagine what the bitterness was doing to her heart. “I know David said we could try again, but I can’t see what good it would do. What’s going to make things any better as long as he has feelings for that girl?”

“Doesn’t it say in the Bible that if a woman has an unbelieving husband and he wishes to stay with her, she shouldn’t make him go?” asked Marlene evenly. “Doesn’t it say she should stay with him, Rachel?”

“I never read that.” Rachel replied, frowning. “I never saw that passage anywhere as far as I can remember.” She snapped off the radio with a decisive flick of the wrist, suddenly having no desire at all to hear the final verse of “You Light Up My Life.”