The Battered Heiress Blues - By Laurie Van Dermark Page 0,41

day, I’m certain that my father enticed him, like the devil, offering water to a man burning in hell. He probably made Henry feel that he wouldn’t be worthy of me until he had made something of himself. I’ve never understood why Henry couldn’t see himself through my eyes.

Now, sitting on the upper veranda, having watched his car drive away- my heart was heavy. My eyes were full of tears. I could lie to Henry, but not to myself. I knew in losing him, I lost the best part of me. He brought that out. Sure, I could wake up and move through each day unscathed, but moving forward meant learning who I was without him. I knew that I would have to become my biggest fan again- to fall in love with my own singular qualities.

I had the night alone to dwell on his departure. Kate returned in the morning. She wanted to know what happened, word for word, but I felt it best to honor Henry by not assigning blame. She assured me that our split was temporary and that cooler heads would prevail, but I had my doubts. She didn’t hear the things that we said to one another. Words tend to take on a life of their own. I couldn’t forgive him for implying I facilitated Connor’s death and I’m certain my finger pointing made him less apt to apologize. We were at an impasse.

I urged Kate to stay out of our fight and she reluctantly agreed. I didn’t want to lose a lover and a best friend in one week. As much as she loved me, Henry was her brother- her blood. The less I shared with her the better.

10

Three weeks had passed with no communication. I’d kept my sadness under wraps fairly well, putting on a cheery face when others were around. If Kate was speaking to Henry, she wasn’t letting me in on it. Maybe this was at his request or maybe she was being merciful to me. Either way, there was a hole in my heart that I couldn’t seem to fill with shopping or redecorating.

I tried to keep busy in an effort to distract myself from the overwhelming sense of loss I was feeling. I took on the task of cleaning the house from top to bottom, scrubbing the old hardwood floors on my hands and knees, while continuously replaying our argument over and over again in my mind as I scrubbed. The What ifs began to creep into my thoughts: What if I didn’t say this or that?; What if I said I love you back and left it at that?; and What if I didn’t place blame at his feet- the man that always stood by me? When I was alone, my game face disappeared. I discovered that the hurt was hiding just under the surface, available to me at a moment’s notice.

I finally halted my assault on the wood, long enough to have a good cry and a loud scream. One scream turned into another and I found myself at my bedside table looking at the man in charge of my misery. Before I had time to make a better decision, the frame flew out of my hand and hit the dresser mirror. I pulled the picture out from under the broken glass and tried to tear it, but something within me couldn’t do it. Hope was still lurking around. I hate hope.

Kate had been spending every other weekend with Gabe, when Mattie was away at his mom’s house. My home was feeling more like a bed and breakfast, but I didn’t mind. Sure, I was a tiny bit jealous. They were happy. Their conversations were precious. They had chemistry. I had sour grapes. I was working on my attitude.

Four weeks passed and no cards or calls. I started calling Henry’s home phone when I knew that he’d be at work, just to hear his voice. I never left a message and hoped that he wasn’t checking his caller ID. We were playing chicken. I wouldn’t be the first to surrender. This was all a test.

Kate was undergoing a test of her own. Gabe’s mom had come down to spend the month with him and Mattie. She was worried about making a good impression, but I knew that Kate was a hard person not to like. As it turned out, she could have been on the FBI most wanted list and Momma Martin would have still adored her.