A Good Yarn Page 0,9

later, she'd felt the children should be her career. Grant had supported her decision. He liked having her home, accessible to him and the children, and appreciated the elegant business dinners she frequently prepared for him and his colleagues.

"Grant?" she'd asked, completely unsuspecting of what was to follow.

He'd looked up and Bethanne had read such pain in his eyes that she sat down on the bed and placed her hand on his shoulder. "What is it?" she'd asked gently.

Grant couldn't seem to speak. He opened his mouth as if to begin, but no words came.

"Mom!" Annie shouted from the bottom of the stairs. "I need you."

Torn between her husband's needs and those of her children, Bethanne vacillated, then squeezed Grant's arm. "I'll be right back." Actually it took ten minutes, and both kids had left the house by the time she returned.

Grant's position was unchanged when she walked into the bedroom, his expression just as bleak.

"Tell me," she'd whispered urgently, her mind whirling as she wondered what could possibly be wrong. Grant had been to see the doctor for a physical the week before; everything seemed fine, but there'd been the routine tests. Perhaps Dr. Lyman had found something and Grant was only now able to tell her. She sat down next to him again, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight.

"It's Valentine's Day," Grant had announced in a voice so hoarse that he didn't sound like himself.

She'd kissed his cheek and felt him stiffen. "Grant, please - tell me what's wrong."

He'd started to weep then, huge sobs that shook his whole body. In the twenty years of their marriage, she could only recall a handful of times that her husband had revealed such deep emotion. "I don't want to hurt you," he cried.

"Just tell me!"

He gripped her shoulders, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh. "You're a good woman, Bethanne, but..." He faltered. "But I don't love you anymore."

At first she could only assume this was a hoax and she giggled. "What do you mean, you don't love me anymore? Grant, we've been married for twenty years. Of course you love me."

He closed his eyes as if he couldn't bear to look at her. "No, I don't. I'm sorry, so sorry, but I've tried. God knows I've tried. I can't carry on with this...this charade any longer."

Bethanne was dumbstruck, staring at Grant. This was the man she'd loved and slept with all these years and suddenly, in the blink of an eye, he'd become a stranger.

"What happened?" she asked uncertainly.

"Please," he begged, "don't make me say it."

"Say what?" At that moment she was more perplexed than angry. Rather than take his words personally, Bethanne immediately went into her problem-solving mode. Whatever was wrong could be fixed, the same way you'd have a broken faucet or a faulty outlet repaired. You just called a plumber or an electrician. Whatever was wrong simply needed the appropriate attention and then everything would go back to working as it always had.

"There's a reason I don't love you anymore," her husband said from between clenched teeth. He tossed aside the comforter and got out of bed. His obvious irritation took her aback.

"Grant, what's gotten into you?"

He climbed into his pants, hiked them up and closed the zipper. "Are you really this dense, or do I need to spell it out?"

In a matter of seconds he'd gone from tears to tyrant. "Spell out what?" she asked, innocently turning up her hands to receive whatever he had to tell her. She was more shocked by his rudeness than by what he was saying.

He paused, one arm in the sleeve of his shirt. He spoke without looking at her and without emotion. "There's someone else."

It hit Bethanne then; she finally understood. "You're having an...affair?" She went numb and her mouth was instantly dry. Her tongue seemed to swell to twice its normal size, making speech impossible. In no way could this be true. She refused to believe it - Grant would never betray her like this. She'd know if he was cheating. Men had affairs in movies and in books. It was the sort of thing that happened to other women, other marriages, not hers. She'd clung to a surreal sense of denial for those first few minutes as he continued to dress for work.

"When? How?" she managed to stutter.

"We met at the office," Grant said. "She's another agent, recently joined the company." He sighed heavily. "I tried to make it work with you and me, but