Becoming Mrs. Lewis(68)

“Where will you go?”

“Back to England,” I said.

“You can’t take Bill’s boys away . . .” Her voice trailed off, already knowing that this wasn’t true. I could and would take them away from him.

“Yes, I can.”


Jack:

Dear Joy,

We miss you here. If you could have seen Warnie negate Tollers at our meeting yesterday you would have roared with the laughter of approval. And you must see the garden where you advised Paxford on the flower bed—it is arriving in full fanfare. I am sorry for your troubles there. I hope you can find some peace soon. Please let us know if you plan to return—we’d like that very much. I am praying for you and I hope you are doing the same for us.

Joy:

I dream of long walks on the moors, of warm fires in the common room, and thick beers at the pub. I reminisce about the golden air and long walks, about Shotover Hill and its view of Oxfordshire. Here spring has brought the sloggy earth to life, and there is delight in that. My pears and apples, my vegetables and flowers have been born again. I’ve made jam and canned the beans. I miss everything there—including you and Warnie.

All my love,

Joy


On an early-spring morning in late March, I started for the garden to take note of the daffodil buds that were beginning to poke their shy faces from below the earth. If they had survived the winter, I could also, even thrive the same as their yellow-gold goodness.

“Joy.” Renee’s voice called to me as I reached the edge of the garden.

I turned to her. We’d found ways to avoid seeing each other in the house, but now she was calling for me. I stood still, waited for her to reach me.

“I came to tell you that I’m leaving.” Her eyes and lips were set with determination. “A friend has given me a place to live in Miami. Bill will put Rosemary and Bobby in a boarding school near here, and then when I’m settled he will send the kids to me.” She took in a long, deep breath. “I’ve told Bill I want him to join me.”

“Okay, Renee.” I nodded.

She waited, but I didn’t know for what. I had nothing left to say to her, or to Bill. I saved all my best words for my work, for my children, for Jack and for Warnie, and for my prayers.





CHAPTER 31


My mirror says. A woman gets destroyed

In little ways, by the slow little years

“SONNET XII,” JOY DAVIDMAN



“Joy!” Bill’s voice called out from the top of the stairs only two weeks after Renee moved out. I came from the kitchen, wiping my hands on a dish towel, and glanced up. There he stood in a ridiculous get-up meant for a carnival—a pair of wide-leg pants and a shirt with flames of red paint leaping from his waist.

I shuddered. Renee was gone, and now he needed me.

But this is what it had come to: repulsion.

He descended the stairs and stood before me with a huge smile. “Poogle, I’ve had a revelation.” He paused for effect. “We can fix this. Make a go of it. We can start over, now that it’s just the four of us again. I’ve found a little work, and you’re writing. Let’s give it a try.” He reached his arms out for me.

I stepped backward with such speed that I tripped over a basket, righting myself and looking at him with confusion. “No.”

“We can do it. I know we can.”

He tilted his head for me to follow him into the living room, where we sat facing each other on the threadbare couch. Topsy saw a chance to join us and get warm; he bounded up between us. I buried my hand in his dirty fur, the stench of skunk on my hands preferable to Bill’s touch.

“Please, Joy. I can’t stand for you to leave here and take our sons. I’ll do anything you want as long as you stay here and don’t take them from me.”

“Love cannot be had or felt with willpower,” I said. “Remember what you wrote to me?” I shook my head, feeling the low-grade ache in my temples that hadn’t left in weeks. “If we had any money at all, you’d have been gone to Miami with your lover by now. I know that. And the boys are terrified of your rages anyway. No, Bill. I won’t stay.”

“They aren’t scared of me.” His face blanched, and for one moment I felt sad for him.

“Yes, they are, Bill. Maybe by taking them away they’ll remember only the good things about you.”

“Listen to me, Poogle. I’ve written to Renee. I’ve told her that I want to make a go of it here. We have a family. There is still enough love between us to make it work. I believe that.”

“Love?” I scoffed. “No, Bill. There isn’t any love left between us. And what about Renee? You made her a promise. Are you going to break that too?”

He shrugged. “Things change. That was back when I was neurotic and you were gone. How can you expect a dynamic personality like mine not to change his mind now and again?” He attempted a flirty look, a wink.

I shuddered in disgust. “Poor Renee.”

Anger twitched beneath his muscles as I stood to leave.

“Do not walk away from me,” he warned.

Enough damage had been done, and I wouldn’t allow myself to listen to one more word of rebuke. It was all enough.

And yet, even as I left our living room and opened the front door to escape to the orchard, I could recognize one thing—Bill was the father of my boys. There was no room for reconciliation today, maybe not for many days to come. But the old pull to appease didn’t die easily. It was only courage that carried me forward now.