Bella shook her head again, moving toward the driver’s side door.
Just good-bye. That’s it. Don’t leave without saying good-bye.
Bella opened the door.
Fiona wrapped her hands around Bella’s arm and pleaded, Please, tell him good-bye. He deserves that!
Bella shivered and looked down at her arm.
Please, Bella, just tell Prentice good-bye.
Bella hesitated, shook her arm and Fiona saw with great relief, headed back to the house.
Fiona’s eyes rolled skyward and she said a hearty thank you.
Then she darted after Bella.
Floating horizontally over her head, Fiona watched Bella write the note.
I’m sorry, Prentice. This can’t work. No good will come of it. I’m so sorry.
Good-bye, Isabella
Fiona would have written different words like, I’ve loved you for twenty years, and, You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and, Don’t be a jackass and let me go this time. But she didn’t have a say (well, she did, she shouted her opinion, Bella just didn’t listen to her).
Fiona watched Bella turn to the door but she hesitated, did a stutter step, stopped and turned back.
Then she made coffee, all but switching on the pot, including sprinkling the ground coffee with cinnamon.
She went back to the note and added a PS and then propped it against the coffee machine.
Then she took in a deep breath, looked around the house, a single tear slid down her cheek and she gracefully walked out the door.
Fiona floated to the note and read the postscript.
PS: The coffee’s made, just flip the switch and there’s Danish in the breadbox.
Reading it, Fiona burst into silent, ghostly laughter.
* * * * *
Fiona waited (impatiently) watching while her husband slept the morning away.
Then she watched as he woke, instantly reaching out to an empty bed.
Then he came up on an elbow, his eyes narrowing on the bed. He sat up and looked to the bathroom.
The door was open.
His eyes fell on the nightstand. Bella’s things were gone. Fiona saw that he noted that immediately.
He got out of bed and stalked na**d to the wardrobe.
Empty.
He strode angrily to the bathroom, pulling the chord for the light, yanking back the glass door to the tub (even though he could see through the glass, for goodness sake).
Then he went back to the bedroom, tugged on his jeans and stopped, gazing around, jaw tight, fury pounding off of him.