The View from Alameda Island - Robyn Carr Page 0,42

better man. People might assume that, especially if they met Beau.

It was almost August and so far the split hadn’t been too traumatic. It seemed as though she was thoroughly prepared for everything Brad would do. He was dragging his feet on providing support payments while they were separated. He had steadfastly refused to help Cassie with law school and she had bravely said, “Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll get loans while we figure things out. Most law students are up to their eyebrows in loans anyway.” Lacey was still angry with her and while it made Lauren sad, she was doing pretty well at letting that be Lacey’s prerogative.

She did not cry late at night. Instead she sometimes shuddered to think what her life would be had she stayed any longer.

After he hung the shelves, she and Beau decided to walk down to a local restaurant for drinks and sliders, which would be a great dinner for both of them. They talked about their work weeks, their kids, their divorces. Michael was slowly coming around, Beau said. Pamela was spending a little more time with her sons these days. “I’m so jaded, I think it’s all about stopping this divorce because she doesn’t have anything better going on. I wish I wasn’t that way. I want to believe it’s genuine love for the boys...”

“And Lacey said she might move home—she’s thinking about it. Probably to comfort her poor father from the evil witch who left him and will rob him blind. You’re not the only jaded one.”

It seemed they couldn’t avoid the topic of divorce for long but that wasn’t the only thing that came up. They talked about their childhoods, high school and college. They both grew up without luxuries, but they had friends and good times.

“Except, I grew up without a father. My grandparents were alive then, so I did have family,” Lauren said.

“I don’t know what I would have done without my dad,” Beau said. “Four kids. Two boys and two girls and we lived in two and a half bedrooms. My dad worked all the time, job after job. When we weren’t in school, my brother and I went with him. My mother cleaned houses and my sisters helped her when they could, but you know what? My parents were always good-natured, always. They have always had this deep sense of gratitude for what they did have. They were grateful for health, for family, for the energy to work. God, did they work.”

“That explains you,” she said.

“How do you figure?”

“The way you’ve managed to keep your boys out of the conflict, keep your home and family together even when your wife left you. And left you and left you...”

“What about you? Where do you get your stamina? What drives you?”

“Well, undeniably my daughters. I’m sure I follow in my mother’s footsteps, if a little awkwardly.”

“Now why would you say that?”

“My mom was abandoned by her husband. She never heard from him again, didn’t know if he was dead or alive and didn’t care. Holding body and soul together was a constant challenge for her. But even as hard as it was for her to be a single mother, she never would have put up with Brad’s meanness and she was very vocal about that. My mother was pretty and poised and strong and smart. She was killed in a car accident two years ago—she was seventy-one and vivacious. Compared to my mother and sister, I’m a wimp. I’m not proud of the fact that I let myself be bullied for so many years.”

“Listen, we do our best,” Beau said. “I’m strong and like to think I’m smart, but I was bullied, too, by Pam. I didn’t fight back and used the excuse that we don’t fight girls.”

They talked about what their favorite college courses had been, what they planned to do with their new lives. “Breathe,” Lauren said. “Walk down the street for breakfast, sometimes for dinner. Have a book club again. I belonged to a book club years ago and I loved it, loved the women in it, but it became too much for my schedule and I had to give it up.”

Beau told her about his real history with Tim, going back to grade school, and some of the trouble they got into when they were on the loose. They both went to Catholic school, of course, but Beau was on a scholarship. They put a frog in Sister Theresa’s desk only to find