A Good Yarn (Blossom Street #2)(80)

As she climbed onto the bus, Courtney saw Annie with the two discontented girls from the cafeteria. They stood in a tight circle talking. No one was smiling.

“You getting on or not?” the guy behind Courtney asked when she paused on the steps.

“Sorry,” she murmured, hurrying into the bus. As she took her seat, she looked out the side window and saw Andrew talking to Melanie. He had his arm around her waist and she was gazing up at him with wide-eyed wonder. It was enough to make Courtney puke. Leaning against the window, she closed her eyes. She’d do her best to get through this year; there was no other alternative.

She had no expectations and apparently no friends.

CHAPTER 34

ELISE BEAUMONT

Elise’s disillusion came soon after school started for her grandsons. She’d expected it all along, knew Maverick wouldn’t be able to stay away from gambling. The entire time he’d been in Seattle she’d been waiting, listening, expecting the worst. If she was surprised by anything, it was that Maverick had held out as long as he did. She learned the truth the day her book club met.

“Your father said he’d be by to drive me to the library this afternoon,” Elise told Aurora after she’d waited as long as she could. Until now, Maverick had always been punctual. She’d known it was a mistake to rely on him, but it had been too hard to resist. Now she had to scurry in order to make the book club meeting.

“I’m sure he has a perfectly good explanation,” her daughter said, ever eager to defend her father.

Still the niggling doubts had begun to form. Maverick mysteriously disappeared for several hours once a week. He swore he hadn’t been gambling, but he hadn’t felt inclined to enlighten her as to where he spent his time, either. She hadn’t pressed him; she knew it was because she was afraid of what she’d find out.

Elise had other worries, too. Aurora had been acting differently toward Maverick. She hadn’t been able to put her finger on exactly how the father-daughter relationship had changed, but it had. She’d noticed it a few weeks ago—whispered conversations, intercepted glances, a sense of confidences shared. Elise felt excluded, although she tried not to.

Aurora offered to drive her, but Elise declined. “I’ll take the bus. It’s not a problem,” Elise murmured. Her daughter was right about Maverick. He probably did have a credible excuse, only Elise supposed that was exactly what it would be. An excuse. A lie…

“I’m sure Dad’ll be there to pick you up,” Aurora said as she walked Elise to the front door.

She nodded, but she suspected otherwise. During the bus trip, she tried—unsuccessfully—to forget her fears. She got off automatically and transferred to the second bus. After all these years of traveling by Metro, Elise knew the schedules as well as her own address.

She arrived late, and the meeting itself was a blur. By the time the group broke up, she knew it had been pointless to attend. She hadn’t been able to concentrate, and contributed little to the discussion.

Her doubts and suspicions regarding Maverick were simply impossible to ignore. She knew his history, and yet she’d so badly wanted to believe him that she’d played a dangerous game of pretend. Loving him again had come so easy—too easy.

On the short walk to the bus stop, she passed a number of card rooms. She passed them whenever she took this route but had never before felt even the slightest inclination to glance inside. But now the need to find Maverick consumed her. She wanted to burst into these places, slamming open the doors, hoping to catch him in his lie. But through sheer willpower, she resisted. That was a degrading thing she’d done early in their marriage, dragging their infant daughter into bowling alleys and taverns, looking for Maverick. Praying she’d find him before he lost the money they needed for rent.

The memories bombarded her, and when she stepped off the bus late that afternoon, she was emotionally exhausted. She wasn’t surprised to see Maverick’s car parked in front of the house. She made a decision then: she couldn’t do this anymore.

He didn’t meet her eyes when she walked in the door, which was another sure sign he’d been up to no good.

“Hello,” she said stiffly.

“Elise.” He cast a look toward their daughter, who promptly left the room. “I figure you and I should talk. I apologize for not being here to take you to your readers’ group.” He paused for a few seconds. “I’m sorry.”

“Yes, I knew you probably would be,” she said, setting her purse on the small table in the hallway. Her throat was dry as she walked into the kitchen and took a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator. Hand trembling, she reached for a glass.

“I’m hoping we can talk about this,” he said, standing not more than two feet behind her. When she glanced around, she saw that he’d folded his hands like a repentant child.

She shrugged as if it was of no importance. Compared to missing their daughter’s childhood—missing their entire marriage, for that matter—this was minor.

“You were counting on me,” he said.

“The bus was fine.”

“Come on, Elise.” He held out his hands. “I hate it when you’re angry with me. I’m not a grade-school child who’s come to you about an overdue book. I’m your husband.”

“Ex-husband,” she reminded him.