A Message for Julia. Angel Smits
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He was halfway to the front door before she was able to speak. “Why did you even bother coming tonight?” She followed him. “Shushing me isn’t being exactly supportive.”
“Support? Is that all you want from me? Just my support?” He said the last word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. “I went to make sure you didn’t screw up and get fired. And you would have if you’d opened your mouth.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Don’t I? Don’t you?”
Anger and pain crashed through her. “Damn you, Linc. I…I hate you.” The words burst out, driven by the frustration that had built over the past seven months.
He turned back to face her, his hand curling around the doorknob. “That makes two of us.”
He didn’t say any more, but the spark of fury that flashed in his eyes hurt. Something drove her to want to hurt him back. “I’m leaving. I can’t do this anymore.”
“Can’t do what?” He let go of the knob, all six-feet-two inches of him moving to within touching distance. “Keep working at our marriage?”
Julia almost reached out to him, but couldn’t seem to remember how. For months they’d been so distant, she’d forgotten what it felt like to be comfortable with him. An ache grew inside and she just wanted it all to go away.
“I’d say you quit working at it a long time ago.” Linc glared at her. “You didn’t even tell me you’d left your job a month ago!”
“I intended to tell you.”
“Yeah, right.” He moved away again.
“Oh, and you’re any better?” She stomped toward him. “You won’t even discuss going to see a fertility specialist. I want a family, Linc.”
“And I’d be happy just to have a wife at this point.” His breath came in deep gulps. The air in the room crackled with anger. With frustration. With wanting something—anything else.
The hardness in his eyes wasn’t something Julia had ever seen before. He was silent so long that she turned back to the kitchen.
His voice came out so softly, she’d have missed it if she’d gone any farther. “You’ve already left me,” he whispered.
She heard the door open and spun around to watch him disappear into the shadows of the front porch.
His words sounded final. Permanent. Wrong.
But wasn’t that what she wanted, what she needed to get herself and her life back on track? Lifting her chin, Julia stared after him, then turned on her heel and hurried to the bedroom.
She yanked an overnight bag from the closet and shoved a change of clothes, toiletries and little else into it. “Damn you, Linc,” she muttered.
Why didn’t he come back into the house? Was he just going to let her go? She didn’t hear the roar of his truck’s engine, so she knew he was still here.
Fine, if that’s how he wanted it, she’d leave.
She grabbed her purse and her car keys and ran, as best she could with the suitcase in her hand, back to the garage. Her car still pinged, cooling from her trip home. The dome light washed out the open door, almost welcoming. The starter ground painfully and her tires squealed on the pavement.
She tried not to look back. She simply glanced in the rearview mirror, catching a final, fleeting look at the tiny house she loved so much. She tore her gaze away. All her dreams lay back there, shattered and lost.
A sob broke loose from her throat, and Julia let it settle in the night air. Where was she going? What was she supposed to do now? There wasn’t a single person in this godforsaken town she could turn to.
She drove to the edge of town, out near the interstate where a few hotels sat scattered along the worn highway. The Holiday Inn was the first one she reached, and she checked in.
Nothing was ever going to be the same again.
Sunday Afternoon, 5:30 p.m.
LINC DOUBTED THERE had ever been a game of chess played anywhere near the Chess Club. But the picture of a Black Queen chess piece looked cool on the old tavern sign. He stepped inside, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness.
Miners came here after every shift. Since moving here, he’d gotten into the habit of stopping in once or twice a week to meet up with some of the guys. He’d started doing it to try to build relationships. Now, he just needed company.
Art and Luther, old men who’d put in their time at the mines and now enjoyed retirement, sat in their usual seats at the end of the bar. Grant, the owner, stood behind the bar, perpetually polishing glasses. It all felt so normal.
Linc was the one out of kilter. He claimed a barstool and ordered a beer. He’d downed half of it before a hand clapped him on the shoulder.
“Hey, buddy. Where the hell you been?” Mark Thompson, a miner he’d become friends with since he’d started coming here, smiled at him. He and Mark had developed a friendship of sorts, based mainly on their love of football and failure at darts. Mark climbed up on the barstool beside him and ordered a repeat of Linc’s drink.
“Been busy.” Linc had thought he wanted someone to talk to, anything but the silence of the house without Julia, but now he realized that talking was one thing he didn’t want to do.
“Yeah, I heard about what happened at the meeting. Bet your wife is ticked.”
That was putting it mildly. “Yeah.” He took another deep swallow of his beer.
“She’ll get over it. You up for a game?” Mark tilted his head toward the dartboard. Linc just shook his head.
“Too bad. I was in the mood to kick your butt.” Mark drank his own beer with a smile.
They sat in silence for a long while. Linc had just finished his beer when the door opened. His gaze met Mark’s in the mirror. Darlene sauntered in. Mark’s eyes lit up while Linc groaned. He wasn’t up for her and her shenanigans. She knew Mark had a thing for her, and every time Linc came in she played this stupid game of coming on to him. All to make Mark jealous.
“Hey, guys.” She took the stool on the opposite side of Linc. He didn’t even look at her, but watched Mark eyeballing her in the mirror. He should just get up and leave, but going back to the empty house didn’t appeal to him at all.
“Hey, Grant, give me another one.”
“I heard some news.” Darlene leaned over to Linc, staring straight into his eyes. “I hear your wife tore out of your driveway the other night and hasn’t been back since.” She gently rested her hand on his forearm as though to comfort him, but Linc felt she wanted more.
He swallowed hard, but didn’t look at her. He did not need this. Grant set the beer in front of him and he resisted the urge to drain