The Saint's Wife (2 page)

Chapter Three

“Have you talked to her?”

David hesitated. He paced back and forth in front of the motel bed, crushing a wad of gum between his teeth as he held his cell phone to his ear.

On the other end, something drummed with a familiar rhythm—Chris’s fingertips on his glass-topped desk, no doubt. Several tiers of employees had been conditioned to break out in a sweat when he started doing that. He didn’t make David nervous—they’d long ago established precisely how little shit David would take from Chris—but he was irritated after meeting with Joanna and didn’t relish the idea of telling his dying friend that his wife was digging her heels in.

“I went by the house and talked to her, yeah.”

More tapping. Slower now—code that Chris’s patience was fraying. “And?”

“And…” David pressed his gum against the roof of his mouth. “I think she’s still processing it. She seemed pretty shocked.”

Chris released a sharp breath, and the tapping halted. “Shocked, hell. This wasn’t exactly a surprise.”

David bit back a reminder that Chris himself had been in shock for the last few days. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“If I can take it in, then so can she,” Chris growled. “Try again. You know how she is. Sometimes it takes a while to get through to her.”

David pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose. Chris had said himself that Joanna was more stubborn than he was, and that spoke volumes. After all, the doctors joked—sort of—that Chris had gone into remission the second time because even stage three kidney cancer was no match for his bullheadedness.

And somehow, David was supposed to persuade a woman even more bullheaded than Chris to come home when she clearly had no inclination to do so. If Chris’s diagnosis couldn’t lure her home, then—

“David, please,” Chris said quietly.

David’s stomach dropped. “That’s all?”

“The specialist said…” Chris fell silent for a full minute. Then he sighed, probably shaking his head and rolling his eyes at the audacity of the universe. “Six months, tops. Probably…probably less.”

David exhaled through his nose, pretending he didn’t feel the lump in his throat. They’d been friends since kindergarten. He’d known they’d be friends for life, but even during the first round of cancer, he hadn’t believed they’d run out of time. Not yet.

He coughed. “That’s with treatment?”

“Yeah. The immunotherapy might help, but…” Another heavy sigh. “It doesn’t look good.”

Shit. The lump was undeniable now. They weren’t even forty yet. This was bullshit.

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Me too.” Chris paused. “Will you talk to her again? Please?”

David cleared his throat. “Yeah, I will.”

“Thanks, David.”

“Any time.”

They ended the call. David dropped his phone on the bed and continued pacing, chewing his gum to keep from grinding his teeth. The last thing he wanted was to be in Joanna’s presence again. If he got in the car right now, he could make it back to Seattle before too late, and then he could be at work on Monday. After all, there was no telling how much time Chris had. They needed to start making arrangements to shift his responsibilities within the company to David and their employees.

And, damn it, David wanted to spend time with his friend before…before this was over. Trying to drag that ungrateful shrew back to Seattle was not how he wanted to spend what little time was left. For that matter, this was his weekend to have his daughter. Alexandra had been willing to switch with him so he could have Tiffany next weekend, but still. If he didn’t already resent Joanna for how she was treating Chris, he did for keeping him away from his little girl.

But this was about Chris, not him, and Chris desperately wanted his wife by his side. Tomorrow, David would go back to the cabin and try his damnedest to persuade her to come home. From there, it was up to the couple—David had only agreed to this because Chris could no longer travel even this far, and Joanna wasn’t responding to e-mails or phone calls. Hell, she didn’t even respond to finding out her husband wanted her back because
he was dying
.

Oh, fuck this.

David snatched his phone and keys off the bed and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He drove through the rain to the familiar muddy road and the long driveway, and parked beside the spot where Chris always parked.

He took the porch steps two at a time and knocked on the door hard enough to make his knuckles smart.

To his surprise, her silhouette appeared on the other side of the frosted glass. Joanna opened the door and glared up at him. “I guess your handler doesn’t want you to give up, does he?”

David narrowed his eyes. “This is serious, Joanna.”

She flew across the threshold and was suddenly right in his face, eyes on fire with fury. “You don’t think I understand that?”

“If—If you do, then why the hell are you still here?”

Her lips pulled tight. “If you have to ask me that, then you don’t know a damned thing about my marriage.”

He glared down at her. “I know that the man
you
vowed to love in sickness and in health is sick, scared and running out of time, and the only thing he wants is for—”

“Is for his favorite little bauble to be there so he has a trophy wife right to the end?” she hissed.

David drew away, staring back at her in disbelief. For a long moment, they locked eyes, but neither spoke.

Then she fidgeted, hugging herself tight. Her voice was surprisingly soft when she broke the silence. “How is he doing? I mean, obviously the cancer’s back, but…”

David shifted uncomfortably. “He, uh, he looked pretty good yesterday. He’s lost weight recently, though.”

She flinched. “He didn’t have much to lose in the first place.”

“I know. That’s why he wants to see you.” David struggled to keep his voice even, not to mention gentle. “The doctors say he has a few months. Six at most.”

Another flinch.

“Anything could happen now.” David swallowed. “Please, Joanna. He wants to see you.”

Her shoulders dropped. “I don’t suppose it’s occurred to you to ask why I’m so resistant to go home to my husband when he’s dying.”

David chewed the inside of his cheek, wishing he hadn’t left his gum in the car again. “I know things are rough between you two.”

“Rough?” She laughed dryly. “That ship sailed a long time ago.”

Grinding his teeth, David thumbed the place his wedding ring used to be. “He’s a good man, Joanna. He deserves better than—”

“Save it,” she snapped.

He took a breath and was ready to let fly, but the way she lifted her chin to glare at him let the porch light illuminate her eyes and the hint of redness around their edges. He released that breath, then slowly drew another. “Listen, let’s sit down and talk. This seems too big to handle in a doorway.”

Joanna scowled. He braced for the dismissal—and the door slamming in his face—but then her shoulders sagged. “Fine.” She stood aside. “Come in.”

In the foyer, they faced each other again, but he wasn’t sure what to say now.

She shifted her weight. “Can I, um, get you a cup of coffee or something?”

Well, at least that would give him time to think. “You know, I think I will take a cup this time. Thanks.”

Joanna broke eye contact and headed into the kitchen, gesturing for him to follow. As he did, he tried not to take in their surroundings. He’d helped Chris remodel this place, gutting the hideous living room and kitchen and replacing them with something more rustic and charming. Joanna hadn’t been impressed by the new look, but she must’ve gotten used to it if she’d been living here for the past few months.

While Joanna poured coffee into two mugs, David noticed a bottle of Cuervo Gold on the table. There was a glass beside it, but he couldn’t tell if it had been used recently. The chair had been pulled out, as if someone had been sitting there and forgotten to push the chair back in after getting up.

He glanced at Joanna’s back. Was that why her eyes were red? No, it couldn’t be. She was far too steady on her feet. He didn’t smell any alcohol on her or in the room.

And suddenly that tequila was a hell of a lot more tempting than the coffee.

Joanna turned around and handed him a cup. She’d known him long enough to know he took it black, so she didn’t offer any cream or sugar. To his surprise, she was drinking hers black too—she’d always been the type to, as Chris often remarked, pollute her coffee until it was unfit for human consumption.

They drank quietly for a moment.

Finally, David set the cup down. “So, what are you planning on doing?”

She looked at him over the rim of her cup as she took a sip. Lowering the mug, she said, “I’m not really sure what I can do.” Her eyes added,
Besides coming home.

He resisted the urge to sigh impatiently. “So you’re just going to stay down here? Wait for someone to call you and tell you he’s gone?”

Her full-body flinch surprised him. She lowered her gaze, thumbing the handle on her coffee cup. “This isn’t as simple as you might think.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No, it isn’t.” She looked at him through her lashes. “My marriage is over. If you can’t see that, then you’re even more blind than I thought.”

“For God’s sake, Joanna. If you were that unhappy, why didn’t you divorce him?”

Her features hardened. “Is that what you think I should do now?” She set the coffee cup down hard enough to make him jump. “Divorce my terminally ill husband?”

“Now? No. Of course not. But if you were miserable, why didn’t you
leave
him instead of just running away from him?” He raised an eyebrow. “Besides the obvious difference in financial repercussions?”

Her eyes widened. “Are you suggesting…”

“Prove me wrong.”

She pressed her lips together, her arms tightening across her chest.

Anger surged inside him.
That’s what I thought.
“Just—”

“I want to show you something.” She didn’t give him a chance to agree or protest before she brushed past him.

He followed her up the stairs and down the hall to one of the back bedrooms.

As she pushed open the door, she said over her shoulder, “You want to know what I’ve been doing since I came here?”

David said nothing as he followed her into the room.

She picked up a thick book off the desk and held it out to him.

He hesitated. Then he took it. “
Fundamentals of Business Management & Strategies
?”

“And
Business Essentials
.” She read off the others as she went through the stack. “
Economics: A New Approach
.
Principles of Algebra
.”

He eyed the book in his hand, then the ones on the desk. And the laptop perched beside them. The pens. Notebooks. Rubber-banded stacks of index cards. Several loose leaf pages covered in notes. “You’re…”

“Studying.” She held out her hand, and as he gave the book back, added, “For my bachelor’s degree.”

“Your…” He looked at the textbook, then back at her. “I don’t understand. Your husband’s estate is on par with the GDP of some
countries
.”

“I don’t give a damn about the money.” She tossed the book onto her desk. “The only identity I’ve had for the last fifteen years is Chris McQuaid’s wife. I’m not even my own person anymore. I’m just…someone’s wife. A goddamned trophy wife, for that matter.”

“But it isn’t like you’ll have to work.”

“What do you expect me to do when he’s gone? Sit around and spend someone else’s money?” She shook her head. “I need something that’s
mine
.”

He raised an eyebrow. “With an education financed by your husband?”

Joanna set her jaw. “I’ve been married to that son of a bitch for my entire adult life. I’ve stood there and looked pretty just like he told me to, worked my ass off to make sure my body looks the way he thinks it should, and lost touch with every single one of my friends because he decided I didn’t need those people in my life.” When she met his eyes again, there was a faint shine in hers. “Are you really going to begrudge me spending a few thousand dollars of his fortune so my life can actually be mine again?”

David couldn’t hold her gaze and looked at the books again. Then he straightened a bit. “You’ve been working on this awhile.”

“Yes. I started a year or so before I came down here.”

“So you…” He faced her again. “You started this before the cancer came back?”

She nodded slowly.

“And if the cancer hadn’t come back?”

Joanna studied him. “Are you trying to get me to admit that I started this degree so I could leave him when I finished it?”

David shifted his weight and, after a moment, nodded.

“You’re right.” She shrugged, the gesture somehow managing to be tense and indifferent at the same time. “Once I graduated and found a job…” She set her shoulders back. “Yes, I was going to leave him.”

Fury twisted in David’s stomach.

Before he could speak, though, she said, “The blunt truth is that I wanted to leave Chris a few years ago, before the cancer hit the first time. But I couldn’t for a few reasons, and one of those was because I didn’t know what to do on my own. I haven’t had a job since high school.” She clenched her jaw. “The second time he got sick, I took a long, hard look at who I was and what I was doing, and realized I had nothing. Nothing but Chris’s house, Chris’s money, Chris’s—”

“Chris,” he snapped. “You had Chris.”

“Yes, I did. But I have no identity beyond him, and I’m miserable with him.” She looked at the desk, then shook her head. “I really don’t know why I thought this would work.” She gestured at the books and papers. “There was…there was no point.” She met his gaze again. “The thing is, even if I hadn’t done this, I couldn’t have left him, because ever since he got sick, he’s been a saint in everyone’s eyes. Chris McQuaid can do no wrong, and where does that leave me?”

David swallowed. He pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, seriously regretting his lack of gum right then. “Look, it’s not my place to tell you one way or the other if you should’ve divorced him, but the fact is, he’s sick now. He’s dying, Joanna.”