The Good Provider (8 page)

William nodded. “Ocho hated me, called me a leech. He tried to convince Bianca that I was screwing her out of money that was rightfully hers. I’m fairly certain she never believed that.” He shook his head as if to dislodge the memory. “So, what caused your pain, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“The E.R. doctor took an X-ray. He thought he saw some spots on my liver, which really freaked me out. My family practitioner ran tests and ruled out liver cancer, thank God. They finally narrowed it down to either my gallbladder or an ulcer. Since the pain went away on its own, I decided not to do any more invasive testing. My mother used to say that the body heals itself.” She shrugged. “We’ll see.”

She looked upward and took a deep breath. “The point of this much-too-involved story is that my trip to the E.R. was a wake-up call. I decided I didn’t want to live a half life anymore. I deserve more. So do my girls. Bruce moved out in early September, and I’m ready for this to be over. My lawyer is supposed to present my final settlement offer to Bruce in the morning. Simple. Fair. Generous sharing of time with our daughters.”

“Good.”

“The only problem is, Bruce won’t sign the divorce papers. He’s somehow managed to convince himself that we’re going to get back together. I fully expect him to go ballistic, which is why we’re on our way to Sentinel Pass. I don’t want him to make an impulsive, irrational decision that we’ll all regret later.”

“Do you think your life is in danger?”

She polished off the last of her cold cocoa—she found it sweet but hard to swallow, like a lot of things in her life the past few years.

“Bruce’s family is Italian. I know this will probably sound cliché, like something out of
The Sopranos,
but Bruce has always claimed to have
connections.
” She made air quotes. “When his brother and sister-in-law were having problems a few years ago, I remember Bruce saying she’d better clean up her act or he was going to have to call someone. I took that as code for hiring a hit man. I decided I’d rather be paranoid than a sitting duck.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it, then, with obvious reluctance, asked, “Why didn’t you leave sooner?”

She’d asked herself the same question a million times, if not more. “Because it wasn’t always terrible. At first, I was so busy making my husband’s career my life’s work that I didn’t realize I’d lost myself in the process. When Hailey started school, I figured I’d go back to work. But Bruce wouldn’t hear of it. He said that between him and his family, they had enough clout to get me fired from any job.”

William rubbed his hands on the tops of his thighs, as if itching to put them around someone’s neck—probably Bruce’s. “After Bianca died, I did some research about spousal abuse. What I realize now that I didn’t even think about then is that anytime anyone limits your choices, they have wronged you.”

“Wow. That’s very profound. And true. Have you thought about writing a book or making a movie about her life? It might help someone in her situation. Or maybe even someone like me.”

He smiled for the first time. “I started out as a book editor in New York. I learned early on that as much as I love books, I’m not a writer. I don’t have the patience. But I did float the idea past a couple of writer friends. Do you know Shane Reynard and Jenna Murphy?”

She shook her head. She recognized the names but hadn’t met any of the people associated with transforming her grandfather’s rustic little town into a household name.

“Shane’s coproducer of
Sentinel Passtime
and Jenna is head writer. They’re considering introducing a storyline that involves spousal abuse into the show next season.”

“Really? Congratulations—you made something positive come out of something really awful. I hope I’m that successful where my daughters are concerned. Whenever things get tough and there are more bills than money, I wonder if what I’m doing is worth it. But then I think of Miranda and Hailey. There’s no way I want them to grow up believing that repression and bullying is normal or okay.”

He started to say something but a sudden, worried, “Mommy?” sounded from the other room.

Daria jumped up. “Right here, sweetheart,” she called, mouthing a silent “Bye” as she dashed back to her own room.

She closed and locked the door as if to keep all their dark, weighty confessions from dogging her heels. She needed a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow was going to be intense. Tomorrow, Bruce would hear from Daria’s attorney and be faced with a once-and-for-all line in the sand.

She needed this divorce to be a done deal. Now. So she could start living again.

He liked the way she put Lucas’s welfare ahead of her own worries. “I don’t believe so. His chief concern was not being able to get you to your grandfather’s, but I assured him we’d take off as planned. The weather report is clear, and we’ll have a good tailwind so we should make great time.”

“Good,” she said, glancing at her daughters. “Grandpa Cal called this morning. He was worried about us.”

A slight quiver in her voice told William there was more to that comment, but he didn’t press her. He had a faint headache, probably brought on by a poor night’s sleep. He’d shared things with her he had no business sharing. Bianca Del Torres, for heaven’s sake. He never talked about that painful time in his life. Too much heartache, not to mention a trip down guilt alley.

“If you don’t mind breakfast on the run, we’ll grab something on the way to the airport,” he said as their taxi pulled into sight. “Here we go. Ladies first. And, ah, yes, the birdhouse,” he said taking the gift bag from Daria’s outstretched hand. “We can’t forget that.”

The lengthy line at the town’s closest drive-through breakfast lane added at least five bucks to the meter, but the choice of meals seemed to please Hailey.

“Look, Mommy, a wiggle game.”

William had no idea what that was, but he couldn’t look because he was busy balancing the cardboard carrier holding their drinks on his lap. He did manage to lower the window a couple of inches. The aroma of fast food was not one of his favorites.

“Thank you,” he heard Daria say softly.

They were a mile or so from the airport when Hailey sighed elaborately and said, “I like this place. Can we come back someday, Mommy?”

William spotted Miranda, who was sitting directly behind the driver, roll her eyes dramatically. “You say that about every place we’ve ever been. You don’t know anything about this town. And look at all the snow. You’ve never lived in snow. You’d probably hate it.”

“Would not.”

“Would, too.”

Daria shushed them. “Stop it, you two.” Her voice was brittle and she sounded even more exhausted than William. “Hailey, love, we should make an effort to come here again. The mountains are really pretty. Miranda, please…”

Miranda gave Hailey a little shove and turned her face toward the door.

William faced forward again, wishing he had a free hand to rub the knot in his neck. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck to ease the tense muscles. He’d tossed and turned so many times during the night he woke up feeling as though he’d run a marathon. And his early morning call from Notty hadn’t helped.

“Something wrong with your neck?” Daria asked.

He looked in the taxi’s side mirror and could see a tiny-size image of her. “I usually bring my own pillow when I travel. The ones at that hotel were like sleeping on a puffy rock.”

Miranda let out a loud guffaw. “When Hugh Grant was on
Oprah
he said he never went anywhere without his own pillow. He said that made him old.”

He is old.
Older than me, he almost answered. Instead, with as much dignity as possible, he told her, “Actually, offering a menu of pillow choices—firm, memory foam, hypo-allergenic, et cetera—is not uncommon at five-star hotels.”

“So, our hotel was like a one-star?” she asked.

Their driver, who was probably in his midtwenties, snickered in a start and stop way, like a cat working up a hairball.

“Miranda,” her mother interrupted, “that in-room coffee didn’t agree with me. Could we ride in peace, please?”

That explained her paleness, William thought. He sat forward enough to actually turn and look at her. “You don’t have a fever, do you? Or a sore throat?”

“Are you sick, Mommy?” Hailey cried, reaching for her mother’s hand.

Daria gave William a cross look. A mind-your-own-business look. “I’m fine, honey. My tummy’s a little upset, that’s all.”

William turned back around, distracted by the low hum of his phone. Balancing the tray of drinks on his knees, he reached in the pocket of his jacket. Libby. “Hi, Libby, what’s up?”

“Where are you guys? I just got off the phone with Cal. He said you got waylaid by weather, but he couldn’t remember the name of the town. Is everything okay?”

“We decided to sit out a storm that’s now long gone. We’re on our way to the airport as we speak.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear you’ll be there soon. Cal sounded pretty upset. I think he’s heard from Daria’s ex-husband.”

In the mirror, he saw Daria sit forward, concern clearly visible on her face. “Hang on, Lib. I’m going to hand the phone to Daria. I’m just the pilot, remember?”

Libby’s laughing, “In your dreams,” was the last thing he heard as he held the phone over his shoulder. Daria took it from his fingers with great care. Her touch sent a tangible vibration along his arm and through his body. Interesting. Dangerous.

No, he decided, crazy.

The last thing either of them needed was him thinking he was physically attracted to Daria—even if she had been the real source of his restless night.

Daria didn’t know Libby well—Bruce hadn’t liked any of Daria’s relatives, including her grandfather’s extended family. But everyone knew Libby’s story, thanks to the TV show based on Libby’s modern-day fairy-tale romance with Hollywood charmer Cooper Lindstrom.

“Hi, Daria. I’m so glad you’re on your way again—I think Cal had a rough night. Apparently, Bruce isn’t very happy with the situation and he aimed some of his fury Cal’s way.”

Daria’s stomach writhed and contracted, sending a flood of acid up her esophagus. She was half afraid she’d need to stop the taxi so she could throw up. Last night’s spicy pizza, more than the coffee, was probably the culprit.

“Thanks for being there for Cal, Libby. I talked to him before we left the hotel. He seemed okay, but I could sense he was upset about something. He probably didn’t want me to worry.”

“No one’s blaming you, Daria. I just didn’t want you going in blind when you got to Cal’s.”

“Thank you,” she repeated numbly as the taxi pulled up to the airport. “I’ll call when we get to Sentinel Pass to let you know we’re safe.”

She practically threw the phone over William’s shoulder and had her door open before the cab came to a complete stop. As quickly as her shaky fingers would allow, she undid her seat belt and got out, gulping in deep breaths of cold, fresh air.

William’s door opened a few seconds later. “Would you mind…?” he asked, handing her the cardboard drink tray.

He leaned in to pay the driver, then shouldered her bag and his own after helping the girls with their backpacks. He wasn’t a father, but he certainly acted the part well, she decided.

“Are we ready?” he asked. “Our plane awaits.”

Between Libby’s call and the dozen or so text messages Bruce had left on her phone that morning, Daria felt as though she might be verging on a breakdown. She ordered herself to stay strong. And focused. One step in front of the other. But her head ached and her stomach was on its own damn roller coaster. She might have curled up in a comforting little catatonic ball on the tarmac if William hadn’t gently, respectfully walked her through the motions.

He hustled them aboard the plane, instructing the girls to eat while he made all the necessary checks. Daria remembered snapping her seat belt then closing her eyes—for a minute—to collect her thoughts.

When she opened her eyes, the plane was in the air. Looking out her window, she saw a thick white blanket of clouds far, far below them. Her mouth was dry and she was exceedingly thirsty. The cup of coffee she’d ordered from the fast food menu was sitting in the cup holder in the seat across from her. The thought of cold coffee made her queasy again, so she grabbed the bottle of water she’d slipped into her purse and took a sip.

Her stomach made a complaining sound audible even over the hum of the engines. Food. She needed food. A white bag with its easily identifiable logo was in arm’s reach. She opened it and looked inside. By the number of choices available she could only guess that William had decided against sampling any of the items he’d purchased.

She didn’t blame him. She wasn’t a fan of fast food, either, but the granola bars she’d brought from home yesterday were long gone. She selected an English muffin and egg duo that looked fairly edible.

“Mom? You’re awake. Are you feeling better?”

Daria leaned sideways to look at Miranda. The two girls had switched sides of the airplane, for some reason. She finished chewing and nodded. “Much. I didn’t sleep very well last night. What are you watching?”

Miranda held up the case of a recently released DVD. It didn’t belong to them, so Daria had to assume William had provided it. “Nice. You wanted to see that one, didn’t you?”

She nodded. “It’s good. Hailey’s watching the new Disney movie. We’re going to switch when she’s done.
If
we have time before we get to Great-Grandpa’s. William said we’re cruising on a tailwind and making good time.”

Daria heard an apology in her daughter’s tone. Miranda had her father’s temper, but she didn’t stew and sulk for days the way Bruce did. Miranda was quick to forgive, like Daria.

“Do you need anything, sweetie?”

Miranda shook her head. “No. I’m good. Sorry for earlier.” Then she put her headphones on and focused her attention back on the DVD.

Daria finished her not-terribly appetizing meal with a swig of cold coffee and then got up to check on Hailey. The little girl was curled around her new bear, sound asleep, the movie still playing. Daria hit the pause button, but left her exactly as she was.

“Where’s your bear?” she asked Miranda, hoping it got packed. She’d been so frazzled this morning she hadn’t made her usual final sweep through the hotel room.

“In my backpack. I’m not a baby, Mom. I can’t be seen carrying a stuffed animal. Jeesch.” She rolled her eyes and continued to watch her movie.

Jeesch, Mom, are you the dumbest person on the planet or what?

She worked her way to the front of the plane, intending to ask William about their remaining flight time. The plane hit a little air pocket and she stumbled slightly, falling against his seat. He looked around sharply. “Hey, sleeping beauty, how are you feeling?”

“Better. Thanks.”

“Have a seat,” he said, pointing to the copilot’s chair.

“Really?”

He nodded. “Please.”

She had to shimmy sideways and sort of drop into the cockpit, but once she was seated, she felt very comfortable. “This is nice. What a view.” After fastening her seat belt, she leaned forward and looked around. Her pulse sped up, but she wasn’t sure if she should blame the wide open sky or her proximity to William, who looked movie-star handsome and every bit the pilot.

“Are the girls okay?”

“Perfect. Miranda’s watching a movie she’s been dying to see, and Hailey is sleeping with her new bear as her pillow. Couldn’t ask for more.”

“Maybe you should start.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He fiddled with the controls a moment then removed one side of his earphones and looked at her. “I hope I’m not out of line here, but is it safe to assume you heard from your ex this morning?”

“A flurry of texts and a voice message from last night. I think he might have been drunk. I listened to it while the girls were getting ready. He’s very upset.”

Last night’s message had been tearful and rambling, punctuated by name-calling and spikes of temper as he listed all the ways she’d wronged him over the years, including emasculating him in bed.

“Judging by your appearance this morning, it’s apparent that communicating with him on any level isn’t good for your health and well-being. Maybe you should cut yourself some slack and let your lawyer handle that side of things.”

“Easier said than done, I’m afraid. But that’s the plan,” she said, glancing at her watch, which was still set on California time. She kept her voice low, not certain if the cabin noise was enough to keep their conversation private. “My lawyer is supposed to be meeting with him about now. I’m hoping when the dust settles I’ll have my life back, with a fair and equitable property settlement and sensible custody arrangement. That’s not asking too much, is it?”

“Not at all,” he confirmed.

“How soon will we be there?” She studied all the gauges in front of her. The plane was even more high-tech than she’d imagined. “Libby’s call made me a little worried about Grandpa. There’s no chance Bruce could beat us there, is there?”

“None. I figured you might be worried about that, and I checked in with Cal before we took off. I suggested he unplug his phone. He said he’d already turned off his recorder and was screening calls. Smart fellow.”

Daria had warned her grandfather to expect the worst from Bruce if she and the girls came to stay with him, but Cal had pooh-poohed her worries. “I’ve lived through bad times. The low spots in life are there to make you appreciate the high spots, and you’ll have plenty of those once you get started fresh.”

A fresh start. Exactly what she wanted. And, if she read William’s hint correctly, exactly what she had every right to demand for herself. Her friend Julie had said the same thing that night in the E.R. “If not now, when? Life doesn’t come with any guarantees, Daria. My mom has this embroidered doily thing that says ‘The best gift a father can give his children is to love their mother.’ Well, in my opinion, the best gift a mother can give her daughters is to love herself.”