He slumped forward. How had he forgotten about her bulldozing behavior, especially when it came to money? “Maggie, what are you talking about? I just got out of the hospital.”
“Come on, I’ve stayed in this place long enough. It’s hickville. There’re no suitable hotels around here.”
“Maggie!”
“What? If you’re suggesting we stay here, I can’t do it.”
The heavy pressure of his wife’s worry about looking perfect, always satisfying the invisible critics, double-checking her appearance and then complaining the diet pills didn’t work—it all came crashing down on him. He understood now. Everything was always image with her. And with Camille, it was superstition. He was glad he didn’t live his life confined by rules of superstition or image. He scrutinized his ex-wife. She wore tight white jeans and a flattering pink blouse. Then his gaze rose upward to where a frown etched into her face. What was he doing with this woman who had betrayed him? She controlled him like a yo-yo. What was he teaching his son? Darlene was right!
“Maggie,” he said, “I’ve got a question that I’d like you to answer.”
“What?”
“You said you were in Paris. Is that where all the money went? And if that is true, why did you call me from a Los Angeles number? Are you just living it up?”
“No, I used frequent flier miles and borrowed my girlfriend’s cell. She’s from Los Angeles.”
“I can’t believe you. I never could. This sucks,” Jackson said.
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Maggie. It’s over.”
“But don’t you want to—”
“No. You know, the funny thing is I thought I was happy with you all those years, and maybe I was. But you’re not happy with me. You’re always trying to make me into something I’m not.”
Her face flushed. “What are you talking about?”
“That whole issue of me being predictable. A lot of women would find that attractive. It’s not a fault.”
“I know. I miss it. Really, I do!” Her eyes filled with tears, but he couldn’t be sure if they were fake—and he wasn’t living like that anymore. He’d been wrong in wanting her back. She would only break his heart again.
“I can’t trust you anymore, Mag,” he said softly. “It’s gone. I’m sorry. I can’t do it.”
“Jackson, you’re throwing us away?” She clutched his shirt. “I love you. We have a son together.”
He tried not to listen to her words, to push them aside. They didn’t mean anything. They were just words after all, even those about his son. Because after all these years, he knew Maggie. And how could he stay married to someone he couldn’t trust? He needed to get away from her—now. He hobbled around to get his suitcase out of the backseat of Maggie’s car, and as he drew it out, the letterhead of his credit union caught his attention.
“What’s this?” he asked, picking up several papers from the floor of the car, scanning it. Blood swooshed through his head. “Austin’s trust is empty. Do you know anything about this?”
Maggie leaned near him, trying to grab the papers. Unsuccessful, she climbed out of the car and walked around to the cement sidewalk. She stretched to get the papers from him, but he held them out of her reach.
“What’s the meaning of this? Austin’s trust shouldn’t be empty!” He knew he was yelling, and people in the parking lot were glancing his way. He didn’t care. He wanted an answer, and he wanted it now.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this.” She stopped trying to grab the papers. “There’s just never been enough time to go into all the details. You see, this whole thing is kind of complicated . . .”
“I’m waiting,” he said. “There’s plenty of time right now.”
She cleared her throat. “Do you want to go to the hospital cafeteria to talk about it? We could grab a cup of hot chocolate?”
“Maggie, tell me what you’ve done.”
“Nothing bad, I promise. I invested Austin’s trust in this incredible deal.”
“What?” He adjusted his crutches. “How could you? You needed my signature to do that.”
“It was a really good deal, Jaxy.”
He looked at the date on the papers. “You did this when I was in the hospital with my mom.”
“It’s a sure thing,” Maggie continued as though he hadn’t said anything. “We’re going to double his money.”
“Don’t you think that should be Austin’s choice?”
“Yeah, yeah. He’ll thank us for doing this. You’ll see.” She smoothed back some hair that had blown into her eyes.
“Us?” Jackson shook his head. “I had nothing to do with this. His trust is empty. He needs that money to go to school. Like soon—in a couple of weeks. Did you ever think about that? Did you? What’s he going to say when all his money is gone, stolen by his mother who is supposed to protect him? This will crush him.”
“I know,” she said weakly. “That’s why I was hoping you’d lend me the money to cover what I’ve taken out. Just until the deal comes through. Austin’s in such a delicate state right now from all our fighting. I’m worried this will push him over the edge.”
“Why don’t you just take it out of the investment?”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Just can’t.”
A sick sensation pierced his stomach. “There is no investment, is there?”
“Yes, there—”
“Stop.” He held up a hand. “I can’t trust you, and I can’t trust anything that comes out of your mouth. I don’t know why I am even standing here listening to this.” He turned carefully on his crutches and headed back to the waiting room.
She called after him, “But what about our son? You’re not going to tell him that his money is gone and he can’t go to college, are you? Jackson, you can’t do that. It would ruin him. At least lend him the money.”
Jackson manipulated his crutches until he couldn’t see her green eyes. “You just don’t get it, do you? I haven’t been earning much, so I don’t have money just floating around. I wish I did.”
“Then will you take out a loan? Please, Jaxy. We have to do something about this. We can’t just sit back and do nothing while our son’s life is ruined.”
“You are, not we. You chose to do this.” He was finished talking to her. Any more chatter would amount to no good. He wobbled into the hospital and looked out the glass doors just in time to see Maggie throw his suitcase into the gutter.
Chapter Twelve
Camille woke knowing Jackson should be heading back to Island Park. He’d be released from the hospital, and what would be more romantic than enjoying God’s favorite country with your beautiful wife? Nausea stirred her stomach, and the depression that had crept up on her during the drive to the cabin now proliferated inside her soul. She had to rid herself of all thoughts of him, her, them. “Darlene,” she called up the stairs. “Let’s go to Yellowstone. There’s so much I want to see.”
After quelching protests from Darlene, Camille focused her attention on packing her purse for the day trip. Then she drove up the twisting dirt road leading away from the cabin, thick branches brushing the car as Darlene sat quietly at her side. In the stillness, images of him, her, them trickled in again, flushing her with embarrassment. She had served as the bridge that carried Jackson and Maggie back to each other. A simple, trodden-on, but needed, bridge. Without her, Jackson wouldn’t have had his rebound, and Maggie wouldn’t have had her jealousy stirred.
“What would you like to see today?” she asked Darlene in a fake cheerful voice. To add to the act, she smiled, a tight-lipped crack of a grin, which she hoped showed motherly love.
Darlene shrugged.
“Then we’re going to see the Madison River. I read about it last night. Did you know Lewis and Clark named it?”
“I didn’t,” Darlene said with a bored tone.
“Yep, they named it in the earlier eighteen hundreds after James Madiso
n. He wasn’t the president at that time. He was the Secretary of State.”
Darlene yawned. “He probably had some political scheme going with Lewis and Clark, and that was their way of paying the soon-to-be president for scratching their back.”
“That could be.” Camille relaxed as the discussion bloomed into a healthy flow. She continued with her travelogue. “After the Madison River, which we’ll see as we enter, I want to go to Firehole Falls. I hear it’s quite a sight.”
“We should see Old Faithful too, so we can say we did.”
“This should be fun. Just us girls.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“What?” Camille asked.
“Jackson seemed like a nice guy, and he turned out to be such a jerk. I mean, Austin told me, but a part of me didn’t want to believe. You guys seemed to get along so well.”
That one comment shattered the illusion Camille had tried so hard to construct. Lifting her arms to the steering wheel and pressing the gas pedal with her foot suddenly became a burdensome challenge. “He’s hurt,” Camille told her. “That kind of loss . . . it’s really hard.” She didn’t blame him. Not really.
The sun journeyed high in the sky, casting golden rays over the land. Mother and daughter watched the Madison River snake around the countryside with brown cattails dotting the banks. Camille pulled to the side of the road, consulted the map, then headed for Firehole.
“There’s a lot of lodge pine around here,” Darlene said.
This statement gave Camille the perfect excuse to bring up something she’d wanted to discuss. “You know, Darlene, I’ve noticed since we got here that you’re most passionate when you’re talking about wildlife and forest preservation. You have a genuine interest, and you should learn more about what you like.” Camille hesitated before rushing on. “That’s why I sent off to that Yellowstone school for an application and information.”
“What—”
“You told me the reason you dislike school is because you hate being told what you should learn.”
“Going to the Yellowstone school isn’t going to change that.” Darlene crossed her arms over her chest.
“It would. Those classes are a lot more hands-on than your typical class. That should grant you the freedom you want.” She stopped talking and waited. Darlene didn’t say a word. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“What do you think? I’m sure there are lots of jobs you could do. Working for the government, being a teacher.”
“I’m not you, Mom.”
“Of course not. I would never want you to be.”
“That’s not true,” Darlene muttered.
Startled, Camille looked over at her. Her daughter’s face was filled with anger and, under that, hurt. “If you didn’t want me to be you, you wouldn’t be pushing so hard to get me to college. Choosing not to go to college isn’t a crime. It’s not like I’ve chosen to get high on drugs or kill someone. If you don’t see me as you, then why do you worry so much that I’m going to make the same mistakes as you? Why do you go tense and quiet every time a boy’s around? I know what you’re thinking. I’m not stupid. I know you’re comparing every date I bring home to Dad. You’re always wondering if I fall for this guy or that guy, are they going to hurt me like Dad hurt you. I know all these things, Mom, without you ever having to say a word. You’re good, Mom. Real good in getting your thoughts across. I’m not perfect and I’ll make mistakes. Heck, I might even marry the wrong guy and end up divorced, but it’s my life and it’s my choice to take those risks.”
“But—” Camille tried to interrupt.
“Mom, I know you’re going to say divorce is awful. And you’re right, but it’s not the end. You have proven that. You showed me what a strong woman does when faced with a difficult situation. You face the fight head-on.”
Camille thought about what Darlene said. Her baby was growing up, and maybe it was time to let her go just a little. Her thoughts weren’t interrupted until Darlene pointed at a sign leading to the Firehole.
Camille breathed deeply when she climbed out of the car. She walked over the dirt path going to the falls. Rocks jutted from the mountain grandeur as the white rapids tumbled off the ledge, and the roar of the water filled the chilly area, the fresh air full of mist. So beautiful. This whole land was bursting with wonder—and Lewis and Clark missed it because they didn’t want to go the distance. This thought, the principle of it, echoed through her, stewing until she realized she hadn’t gone the distance either. She had failed to do that with Adam. His parting complaint had been he didn’t know her. They were two strangers instead of lovers, and the distance between them had grown over the years.
She watched the tumbling water as it leapt over the ledge. Darlene was wrong about her. She’d never faced difficult situations head-on. How many times had she not taken the plunge and exposed her feelings? Countless. Would her relationship with Adam have been different if she had opened up? She hated the truth behind that question because she knew it would have made a huge difference. She climbed a boulder alongside the embankment and sat. This was the first time she’d ever considered that she had any fault in their marriage. There were probably more things she’d done, but she didn’t have the courage to admit what they were. She wiped the tears slipping down her cheeks. Then she realized that if her relationship with Jackson had worked out, she would be guilty of keeping him and Maggie from going the distance. They still had willing hearts. They could still make it. They needed to make it. It was the right thing.
* * *
Jackson had the taxi make one stop at Camille’s cabin before having the driver take him to his cabin. The ride was one hefty fare, but it was worth every cent to get away from Maggie. Besides, he needed to clear his head and consider what to do next. Painfully, he struggled to get in his back door. Austin was nowhere to be seen. Jackson hadn’t been able to get hold of him on his cell phone, but the friends he’d called said they had lent Austin a vehicle and believed he was heading back to Island Park. Thankfully, the taxi driver had taken Jackson’s suitcase and placed it on the porch.
The snow had melted for the most part, but the smell of more snow hung in the air around him. He had planned to spend the winter months cross-country skiing, snowmobiling, and taking pictures for the magazine. Now, with his leg zapped, those plans floated away. If he couldn’t get out, life would be miserable.
A flash of Camille’s smile popped into his mind. Maybe if she hadn’t run back to her home, they could spend some time together. Maybe she’d forgive him for being such an idiot about Maggie. Then he remembered Darlene’s accusations and the painful hurt that laced through her words when she’d spoken of Maggie. Maybe it was already too late for them.
He unlocked the door and swung himself in. He needed to rest.
* * *
The Britains pulled into their driveway late that evening. The trek home had been quiet but enjoyable, although both were soaked from another surprise snowstorm. They were out of the car when Camille noticed a paper taped to the cabin door, flapping in the wind. Darlene rushed past her, straight for the paper. “It’s stapled and is addressed to you,” her daughter said, handing it to her.
Camille took it, then fussed with her keys to get inside. She proceeded to make a fire like Jackson had taught her. Small flames quivered before they jumped to life.
“Open the letter,” Darlene said.
Camille swallowed. The penmanship was small. It read:
Dear Camille,
I’ve made a terrible mistake going with Maggie. Will you ever forgive me? If so please come and visit me at my cabin. I’d like to renew our friendship.
Jackson
She read the note two more times, then wadded it up and threw it in the fire. Was Maggie telling the truth that she, Camille, was preventing them from fixing their relationship? Those kisses she’d seen them share in the hospital when no one else was around seemed to support Maggie’s claim. But Jackson’s note didn’t m
ake it sound like that at all.
* * *
Excruciating agony stopped Jackson from doing anything except collapsing onto the nearest couch in the living room. He stayed there, not moving, except for unconscious twitches, which caused sharp intakes of breath. He had grown hungry hours before but lacked the willingness to inflict himself with the suffering necessary to prepare a bite to eat. He opted to wait for his son to return. The wait grew increasing more frustrating the later it became. At 10:13 p.m. the door made the much-wanted clicking sound. “Hey, buddy,” Jackson called out. “What took you so long to get here?”
Austin shut the door and busied himself shedding his coat and boots. “Why does it matter?”
“Well I’m stuck here on the couch, as you can see, and it would be nice to eat sometime.”
“What? I thought Mom was taking care of you. Isn’t that her job? I thought you two were . . .”
Jackson shook his head.
“Why?”
“I couldn’t go there again with her,” Jackson said. “Grab me some food and let’s talk.”
“But Dad—” Austin went to the cupboard, snatched a box of Triscuits, and tossed it. The crackers landed an inch away from the couch. Jackson winced as he stretched down to grab the box. He pointed to the chair straight across from him.
“Why?”
Jackson gave him the father-stare-down until Austin relented and sat.
“In order for there to be a marriage, there must be trust, and that’s gone,” he told his son.
“Mom came back. She wants to change.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“No.” Austin seemed to shrink. “Are you going to start seeing that Camille lady?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You shouldn’t have been dating her while you were hoping to get back with Mom. That’s probably what messed everything up.” There was a note of resentment in his voice.
“Camille has nothing to do with it. This is between your mother and me.”
“Well, you sure jumped at the opportunity to be alone with Camille.”
The Superstitious Romance Page 17
