Found: Her Long-Lost Husband

She shook her head. He still didn’t get it. “You know, Dad, I’ve never considered myself to be very much like you. Everyone has always told me I’m the picture of Mother, soft-spoken and delicately built. For a while, I started to believe that I needed to be cared for, looked after. But you know what? I inherited some of your steel after all. I’ll give you until the end of the week to reconsider the promotion. I won’t take no for an answer this time.”

He issued an oath. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”

Her smile was sad. “I know you don’t, but I do.”

Early the next morning, Claire sat alone at a table in Café Connections, an Internet coffeehouse within walking distance of her apartment. Her life certainly was in chaos, which she recognized and accepted as a necessary first step to true change. Recognizing and accepting, of course, weren’t the same as liking. She’d spent a sleepless night trying to figure out how to tidy up the current mess so she could move on. She sipped a cup of French roast and considered her options.

“I won’t take no for an answer.”

She’d told her father that yesterday. Maybe she should have said the same thing to Ethan when they’d spoken earlier in the week. Despite offering an apology, nothing between them felt remotely resolved. In fact, quite the opposite.

She needed encouragement. She needed advice. And so she booted up her laptop, logged on to the Internet and wrote an e-mail to Simone and Belle.

Lots to report in the past week here…

She summarized the meeting with her father and then the conversation with Ethan.

We spoke on the telephone—and before you say anything, Belle, he refused to meet with me, so he left me little choice but to do my groveling over the phone. I said I was sorry. He didn’t appear moved by the apology. The exchange was relatively brief.

She sipped her coffee, recalling that there had been a time when they’d been able to talk for hours.

And not all that polite.

Just as there was a time when he’d been solicitous, gentlemanly.

Claire glanced out of the window for a moment, watching the traffic speed by and the pedestrians file past. They all seemed to know where they were going.

I don’t feel any better, she confided. I don’t feel like I’ve resolved anything. In fact, I realized as I spoke with Ethan that I’m still a little bitter that he took that damned check from my father.

And she was.

She remembered seeing it in his hand, a pale green slip of paper that had sealed their fate. Ethan hadn’t refused it or torn it to bits as she’d expected him to, had wanted him to. The dollar amount had been visible, and though it was a princely sum, her only thought had been: is that all I’m worth?

“Things are easily taken care of in your world, aren’t they?” he had the nerve to say, sounding angry.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Are you going to stand there and tell me you planned to stay married to me?”

The truth was she hadn’t been sure…not until the previous night when he’d made love to her with such tender conviction. Her face heated and she was too embarrassed, felt too exposed to share that thought with him. He apparently took her flaming cheeks to mean something else.

“Claire.” Her father was at the door to their hotel suite, holding it open, impatient to be on his way. “We need to leave. Now. You’re Mother is waiting.”

“Better go, kitten.” Ethan’s lips twisted as he used her father’s nickname for her. He knew, of course, how much she despised it. “No need to keep slumming now that you’ve made your point.”

Claire didn’t understand what he’d meant by that nasty comment, but her father ushered her out before she could ask. On the flight home, she was so confused. What did she want to happen now? What exactly had she expected to happen between her and Ethan after their hasty nuptials? She hadn’t thought that far ahead.

Later, when it had become clear she would never see Ethan again, she’d felt disappointed, disillusioned. Finally, all that had remained was shame and regret for her behavior. Apparently anger had been hiding in there as well.

She wrote:

So, what do you guys think? Do I try again? And, if so, how do you suggest I go about it?

Send.

She sipped her coffee and waited for a response. Belle would be done for the day at the television studio, her London morning talk show long off air. As for Simone, she’d probably be kicking back in her Melbourne apartment after a long day at work at the magazine.