"Jonathan, I want to apologize -"
"I suppose I should -"
We spoke simultaneously and stopped. Apprehensive, I waited for him to continue.
"You first." He smiled stiffly.
"I wanted to say I'm sorry. I didn't mean or plan for anything to happen between me and Paul, and I don't believe he did either. It was a mistake, made worse by your witnessing it."
"Then you're not…?"
"No."
His expression seemed, right away, less acrimonious. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry about Saturday evening. My mother was right. I should not have sprung my proposal on you like I did. I hope you'll forgive me."
"Of course." I smiled, feeling relieved. The tension evaporated. I could talk to him. He would listen and not overreact.
Connie brought our salads and gave me a small wink. She was one of Aunt Vi's weekly bunco card group. No doubt she knew why Jonathan and I were here. I had the distinct impression she was offering subtle support. I was touched, and smiled a thank you at her.
Jonathan started on his salad and missed the whole exchange. Just as well. He would have thought the familiarity improper. After only one bite he put his fork down and patted his lips with his napkin.
"I expect the sheriff will have everything cleared up by the end of the month."
"I hope so."
"So I made reservations for us at the Hilton in Tahoe -"
Relief evaporated and tension leapt back in. "Jonathan, no."
He pulled his chin in and frowned. "I thought -"
The shake of my head stopped him. "It won't work – you and me."
"It is Paul, then." He flattened his hand on the table with enough force to rattle the glassware. It didn't take a genius to figure out he thought I'd lied to him. I was half tempted to run with it, but I couldn't.
"This has nothing to do with Paul. This is about us. Only us. I'm sorry, but I can't ever be what you want and need -"
"Thea, don't be foolish. You need me right now. And I know if you work at it a little you can be exactly the wife, uh, woman I need."
"No."
"There's some pretty frightening people keeping their eyes on you and you aren't being careful. You need me. This is no time to pretend you can handle things on your own. Thea…" He reached across the table to touch my cheek, but I pulled back. His eyes widened slightly. "Your bruise – it's not as bad as I thought it'd be."
Then he shrugged.
The gesture hit me like the idiot-slap that follows a revelation. My insides went icy and still. Never mind the fact he assumed I was his to boss around. Never mind the fact he just noticed my bruises and didn't seem bothered. Never mind he didn't seem to notice my shock.
I never mentioned my injuries to him.
Someone else had.
He barreled right along, self-important as ever. "You really are naïve. Let me handle things. Work at your little business, ride your horse, and stop – stop all this fussing. Valerie's not a problem you should worry about. I'm taking care of you now." His blink was slow and satisfied.
"You! It was you. You told Frederick Parsons who my attorney was. You discussed me with him."
"What difference does it make?"
"What difference?" People at nearby tables glanced in our direction. I lowered my voice. "Where were you Saturday afternoon after you left my aunt and uncle's place?"
"I went home, of course." His eyes tightened. "What are you implying, Thea?"
"Just answer me."
"I don't think I have to be accountable to that tone of voice."
"No, you don't have to be accountable to me at all. It's over between us, Jonathan. Finished."
"You don't mean that."
"How much more direct do I have to be? I don't want you in my life."
A muscle worked in his jaw, and the fingers that attempted to caress my face a moment before closed in a fist. "You're under pressure right now. I'm sure once you think about it you'll see I'm right."
"Once I think about it, I'll wonder why it took me so long to break up with you." I picked my purse up off the floor and stood. "And please, don't do me any more favors." I turned and bolted for the door, barely missing a collision with William, who managed to dance out of my way without dropping the plates of food he carried. I spun toward him.
"That's my dinner, isn't it?" I snatched both plates from his hands before he could speak. "Jonathan will have them both." I marched back to where he remained frozen halfway out of his seat. "You can have my dinner too." I smiled sweetly and tipped the grilled salmon with hollandaise and asparagus down the front of his suit and into his lap, stacked the plates on top of his salad, and swept out of the restaurant, past a still stunned William.
Three women having dinner near the bar stood and applauded.
Once in my car, I sat and stared, unseeing, out the window. That bastard. How could I have been such an idiot? Well, no more.
Although I couldn't be certain he'd had anything to do with Valerie's death, I was positive he'd been talking to Frederick Parsons, maybe he was even involved with him and Joey. He certainly orchestrated some of what had been happening to me. Jonathan scared the hell out of me – tried to scare the hell out of me so I'd run to him. Thank God I figured out what he was like before it was too late, before I caved in and married him. He'd manipulated me for the last time.
As I turned the key in the ignition, insight clocked me between the eyes for the second time. The indignation Jonathan provoked in me shed understanding on Paul's wrath. He thought I had manipulated him, and he'd probably played that game before. In fact, I was sure of it. I groaned and thumped my forehead against the steering wheel. Why else would he have rebelled so strongly as a teenager? No way would he ever trust me now. I was poison. The hope Aunt Vi had conjured vanished like the illusion it was, but the remaining hollowness was real.
Within the sadness of that truth was a seed of something important I'd gained: the knowledge of a potential for far more depth and passion to a relationship than what I'd experienced with Jonathan. Now that I'd glimpsed it, I wouldn't settle for less. I just wished it hadn't been necessary to be clubbed over the head with the lesson.
I took a couple of deep breaths, and my stomach complained. The grocery store was on my way home. I'd grab something for dinner, and replenish the supplies my sister had pilfered from my pantry.
As I stood in the checkout line chatting with one of my neighbors, Donna Orr-Block walked into the store. Instead of her usual business attire she had on sweat pants and her softball jersey. She must have just come from a game or practice. I waved. She wheeled her cart over and joined our conversation – and lingered after I paid the cashier.
"I meant to give you a call," Donna said, her gaze darting to my bruised jaw for at least the fourth time.
"Horse accident," I said, knowing she wouldn't ask. She nodded. "Did I miss something on your taxes?"
"No, not at all. I wanted to thank you for being so alert and, um, I wanted to explain." She put her purse in her basket and straightened the hem of her shirt.
"That's okay." I watched her with interest, never having seen her stall for time to think.
She raised her chin. "It was such a stupid move on my part – that whole investment – I never should have agreed to it." She glanced around. No one was within earshot. "Now that Valerie's dead, well, I feel bad about some of the things I said. I'm sure Peggy told you."
"She told me a little." So, it was embarrassment that chased off her usual directness. "But you have nothing to apologize for. Valerie was pretty nasty to you."
She smiled, looking a bit less like she was facing the firing squad. "That's true. It was an unpleasant lesson to learn. It's myself I should have been angry with, not Valerie."