Danielle Steel - The Ranch

“I left the office twenty minutes ago, while you were playing,” he said unkindly, but he smiled as he said it. “We're leaving for London in three days.” It was almost two weeks earlier than he'd planned.

“That's a lot earlier than you said, not just a few days,” she chided him, but she felt punished again, and abandoned. There was no real reason why she couldn't stay in London with him. But he had long since made it clear to her that that was out of the question. He didn't want her there while he was working. It was yet another way he kept his distance from her, to punish her for her transgressions.

“I'll see you when you come over with Alyssa,” he said, as though reading what was in her head. But two days in three months was hardly sufficient to sustain a marriage, particularly when there was no real reason for her not to be there, except that he didn't want her, which was the only reason that would keep her away from London. After her trip with Alyssa she would spend the rest of the summer in New York alone. And for a crazy moment, she thought of flying to California for a few days to visit Tanya. She had nothing else to do, and most of her boards and charities would be on hiatus for the summer. It was a thought, at least, although she knew full well she'd probably never do it.

A moment later, Bill disappeared into the bathroom and came out in his pajamas. He didn't even seem to notice her, or the dress she wore, or how pretty she looked. It was as though she had stopped being a woman for him the moment their son died.

She went into the bathroom after that, and slowly took the Valentino dress off, and with it went the illusion of her being either attractive or independent. She came out in her dressing gown, and Bill had his back to her again, and she saw that he was reading some papers. And before she could stop herself, it was as though a force deep inside her made her confront him. She spoke very clearly and very quietly in the room, and even she was surprised by her own words, but not as startled as he was.

“I'm not going to do this forever, Bill.” She stood there for a moment after she said it, and slowly he turned and looked at her, holding his glasses in his hand with a look of amazement.

“What exactly does that mean?” He was the trial attorney at his most daunting, but she refused to be intimidated by him this time. The things Tanya had said had given her courage.

“It means exactly what I just said. I am not going to live like this forever. I can't do it. You never speak to me. You act as though I don't exist. You ignore me, you shun me, you reject me, and now you're going to London for three months, or two at least, and you expect me to be satisfied with a two-day visit. This isn't a marriage anymore. It is slavery, and people must have been a lot nicer to their slaves than you are.”

It was the most outrageous thing she had ever said to him, certainly in the past year, and he did not look pleased with what he was hearing. “Do you think I'm going over for pleasure? You seem to have forgotten I'll be working.” His tone was glacial.

“You seem to have forgotten we're married.” He knew exactly what she meant, and she did not need to explain it further.

“This has been a very difficult year. For both of us,” They had recently passed the anniversary of Todd's death, and that had only seemed to make it harder.

“I feel as though we died with him,” Mary Stuart said sadly as she looked at her husband, but she was relieved that they were at least speaking. “And our marriage with us.”

“That's not necessarily true. I think we both need time,” he said, but she could see that he wasn't being honest, neither with her nor himself. He thought it was all going to fix itself one day, and Mary Stuart could have told him it wasn't. It was going to take a lot more now than just waiting.

“It's been a year, Bill,” she reminded him, wondering how far he would be willing to be pushed. She suspected not much farther.

“I'm aware of that,” he said, and then there was silence. “I'm aware of many things. I did not know, however, that you were planning on issuing ultimatums.” He was not pleased by any means with her opening statement.

“It wasn't intended as that. It was information. Even if I wanted to do this indefinitely, I don't think I could.”

“You can do anything you want to.”

“Then maybe I don't want to. I don't want to be treated like a piece of furniture for the rest of my life. This isn't a marriage, it's a nightmare.” It was the first time she had told him. And this time he said nothing, he simply turned his back on her again, put his glasses back on, and concentrated on his reading. “I can't believe you're going to ignore me again after what I just said to you.”

He spoke to her with his back to her, and it was hard to remember, watching him, that there had been warmth or love or laughter between them. It was harder still to believe that she had been deeply in love with him, and he was the father of their children. “I have nothing more to say to you,” he said, as he read on. “I've heard your statement, and I have no further comment.” He was being unbelievable, and she couldn't help wondering if he was so frightened and in so much pain that he was simply frozen. But whatever it was, and however it had come, she had finally faced the fact that she couldn't stand it for much longer.

She went to bed, and he turned off the light, and he never turned back to her again, or said another word to her, and she lay in bed that night in the dark for a long time thinking of Tanya and the people she had met at Felicia's party. Even at forty-four, there was a life out there for her, and people who were willing to talk to her, and show a little interest. It was as though Tanya had opened a window for her, and she had dared to look outside for the first time in ages. It was all very intriguing, and she had no idea what to do now. And after hearing what she had said to him that night, neither did her husband. They were trapped on opposite sides of what had become the Grand Canyon, and had once been their marriage.

For the next three days, Bill and Mary Stuart's paths rarely seemed to cross. He worked until nearly midnight every night, and it was beginning to feel as though he lived at the office. But Mary Stuart was used to it now. She had been more or less alone all year, and this really wasn't any different. The only change in the past week was that she no longer had to cook dinner. She was getting thinner as a result, and in the past Bill would have worried about her, but as things were now, he didn't even notice.

And on the day before he was scheduled to leave, Mary Stuart called him at the office, to see if he wanted her to pack for London. She assumed he would, as he had never packed for himself before, but he said he was coming home that afternoon to do it.

“Are you sure?” She was surprised, it was as though she didn't know him anymore. Nothing he did, or wanted from her, was the same as it once had been. But their son had died, and as far as he was concerned, it was her fault, or at least that was her reading of the situation. And as far as she was concerned, they were no longer the same people. “I don't mind packing for you.” It seemed the least she could do, and it would keep her busy. She was still trying to absorb the fact that her husband was leaving for two or three months. It had only just that day really hit her. With the exception of her trip with Alyssa, she was going to be alone for the entire summer. And in some ways, it scared her. It underlined the distance between them that he didn't want her staying with him in London. He claimed it would be too boring for her, and it would distract him. But in years past, there would never have been a moment's doubt about her going. “I don't mind packing for you,” she said again on the phone, but he insisted that he needed to pick his clothes himself, as he wanted to be very careful about what he wore in court in London.

“I'll be home at four,” he explained, sounding pressed. Leaving his office for several months was complicated, and there were a million details to think of. He was taking one of his assistants with him, and had she been younger and more attractive than she was, Mary Stuart would have come to the obvious conclusion. As it was, she was a heavyset, intelligent, but very unattractive woman in her early sixties.

“Do you want dinner at home, or would you rather go out tonight?” Mary Stuart asked, feeling depressed, but trying to make it sound festive. It was as though there was no pretense between them anymore, not even the illusion of closeness, and it somehow seemed more acute now that he was leaving.

“I'll just grab something out of the fridge,” he said absently, “don't go to any trouble.” They had both come to hate their awkward, silent dinners, and she had been relieved when he preferred staying at the office, and working late. And as a result, they had both gotten thinner.

“I'll get something cold at William Poll or Fraser Morris,” she said, and went out to do some errands. She had to buy a book she knew he wanted for the plane, and pick up all of his dry cleaning. And as she hurried east toward Lexington she was suddenly glad that she was leaving in a few weeks. Despite the chasm between them now, it was going to be incredibly lonely without him.

She picked up some dinner at William Poll, got the book and some magazines, some candy and gum, and she had all of his clean shirts hanging in his dressing room for him when he got home from the office at four-thirty. And he went straight to his packing, without saying a word to her. He was busy taking suitcases out of storage bins high above his closet. And she didn't see him again until seven o'clock when he appeared in the kitchen. He was still wearing his starched white shirt from work, but he had taken his tie off, and his hair was a little ruffled. It made him look young suddenly, and the painful part of it was that he looked so much like Todd now, but she tried valiantly to ignore it.