been sober the longest in his life.”
“Some good from the bad then.” He kept his focus on her, realized she wasn’t going to tell him any more.
“I suppose, though it took me a couple of hours in the shower to get rid of all that dust. It’s not a place I’d recommend as a holiday spot even though it is beautiful.” Callie grinned at him, blue eyes dancing with fun. “It sure cured me of camping, though. I don’t think I ever want to sleep in a tent again.”
“That’s something to be thankful for.” He grinned back, remembering the first few months they’d been married. How many weekends had he left work early, packed up their sleeping bags and that ratty tent she loved? He’d trekked behind her up and down the mountain for miles until she found exactly the right place to make camp so they could sleep in the outdoors.
“I think I’m too old to sleep on the ground again.”
“Me, too.” She giggled.
The laughter died away until only silence hung between them.
“I’m sorry that I hurt you, Max,” she whispered, her voice so faint he had to lean in to hear. “I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just—I can’t stay married to you anymore.”
“Why?” He needed something to silence the desperate whisper in his heart. What they’d shared couldn’t be beyond repair. He wouldn’t accept that. “What was it I did that was so terrible you had to run away, and keep running?”
“It wasn’t you!” She stared at him, her eyes huge in her heart-shaped face. “Of course it wasn’t you. It was me. It is me. I’m an embarrassment to you, a nuisance, the proverbial square peg in a round hole.”
“Callie, that’s not true.”
“Of course it is.” She shook her head, her face rueful. “Did you think I didn’t notice how many times you had to apologize for me to your friends, your employees, your family?”
“I didn’t apologize for you!” She made it sound like he’d been ashamed of her. That had never been true.
“You did, Max.” She nodded her head, curls tumbling down over one eye. She shoved them out of the way. “That time I tried to bring a casserole to the church potluck—don’t you remember? ‘Callie didn’t realize,’ you told them.”
“Well you didn’t, but that was my fault for not explaining that it was supposed to be a dessert potluck.” He couldn’t fathom the cause of the despair flooding her face. “What was wrong with saying that?”
“Nothing. Except that you had to keep saying it. Over and over. ‘Excuse Callie.’ ‘Sorry, Callie didn’t understand.’ ‘Poor dumb Callie.’” She laughed but it caught in her throat and sounded more like a sob.
“I never said—”
“I became an embarrassment to myself. Especially with your church friends. I didn’t fit in with them, Max, no matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t share their stories the way you could. I never went to their youth meetings, their parties. I wasn’t part of their group. I even failed at trying to entertain them.”
He remembered the New Year’s Eve party she’d begged to host, the elaborate preparations she’d gone to, how flat and lifeless it had seemed.
“So maybe we should have met new people.”
“We did, remember? I still blew it and you were still embarrassed so don’t pretend.” Her blue eyes hardened. “I’m not the kind of person who impresses people like the ones you know, Max. We should have realized from the start that my ability as a chameleon only extends to my work.”
“That’s not—”
“I can’t pretend to be the person you need anymore,” she told him, her voice brimming with a desperation he’d never heard before. “I can’t be your wife. That’s what I figured out in the Outback. That’s why I had the papers drawn up as soon as I got back. I knew I had to do it.”
“But we made a commitment, Callie. We’re married. You can’t just walk away from that!” Max felt like he was slipping and couldn’t regain his footing. “You can’t just stop being married.”
“I already have. That’s why you got those papers.”
“Really?” Her flat tones infuriated him. “Why now? What’s the rush? Is there someone else?”
“Don’t be stupid.” She offered him a glance of pity. “In the Outback I had a lot of time to look at what I’d made of my life, what I’d done to yours. You need to be married to someone like one of your friends, Max. Someone who knows how things work in your circle, who’s used to your way of doing things.”
“It’s nice to know you’ve decided that for both of us,” he snapped, saw the icy frost over her eyes. Or maybe it was tears. “What about what I want?” he asked quietly.
“You already told me what you don’t want.” The words bit into him with a pain he couldn’t avoid. They were his words. “You don’t want a wife who does what I do, you don’t want to be married to someone who might have to leave on a moment’s notice and can’t guarantee when she’ll return. You want the kind of life I can’t live.”
“Can’t or won’t?” He tilted her chin so he could see into her eyes.
She met his gaze. Just for an instant he thought he saw a glimmer of the person he’d fallen in love with three years ago, the girl with no past, no family, but who threw herself into love wholeheartedly.
The girl he now knew he’d never really known at all.
Callie pulled out of his grasp, rose. “I’ll go make some dinner. I guess we missed lunch.”
He let her go, watched through the window as she mucked about in the galley. As usual, she was focused on the moment, intent on her work. But he couldn’t help wondering—did she ever think about that day?
“It’s ready,” she told him, huffing a little under the weight of the huge tray she carried up the stairs.
Max took it from her, set it on the table. Callie laid two mismatched placemats across from each other, then carefully arranged the place settings on them. He’d specifically equipped his vessel with two complete sets of tableware, one for more formal occasions, which she’d chosen to place in front of him, one plainer set, which she’d selected for herself. He opened his mouth to ask why, quickly clamped it shut. One thing he’d learned—Callie’s actions were never random.
Callie always had a reason for her behavior. Only now Max was beginning to realize that most of the time he’d never bothered to find out what her reasons were. The different dishes were meant to point out the differences between them.
He sat silent. Now was hardly the time to argue. It would only emphasize her belief that she didn’t fit—as she’d claimed—into his life.
Shouldn’t that be their life?
Chagrin chewed at him as he recalled the many accommodations she’d made to fit into his life—and the few he’d made to fit his life to hers.
“Aren’t
