Gemma White loved to make love in the morning. When the
sheets were warm from lazy limbs, when muscles were rested
and revived, when the day was yet a possibility. Morning
lovemaking was an act reserved for the lucky few—new lovers
who ignored the impulse to sneak out in the middle of the
night, live-in lovers who still enjoyed waking up together,
and married lovers wise enough to take advantage of a time
when both partners' bodies were primed for passion.
Gemma smiled and rolled over, sliding a loving hand toward
Jason's side of the bed. But when her fingers encountered
cold emptiness, her eyes flew open and reality descended
with a crash.
Jason was gone.
The desire that had pooled in her belly ebbed as sadness,
temporarily banished by the cleansing arm of sleep, swamped
her chest. The humiliation and shock of his departure
hadn't lessoned over the past few weeks and, if anything,
had become more embedded in her heart, like sets of bicycle
tracks through fresh mud that had dried into an ugly,
permanent cast.
Would mornings ever feel right again?
The wail of the phone pierced the air. She closed her eyes,
cursing the person on the other end for intruding on her
moment of misery. After four teeth-rattling rings, the
phone fell silent…then started up again. Resigned, she
swung her legs over the edge of the bed and reached for the
handset.
"Hello?" she murmured into the mouthpiece.
"Are you up?" her best friend Sue demanded.
"Yes."
"Literally out of bed and walking around?"
Gemma pushed to her feet. "Absolutely."
"What's on the agenda today?"
"Um…" Gemma turned on a light and glanced around the
cluttered bedroom. Dirty clothes occupied every surface.
The floor was littered with at least two boxes of tissues
crumpled into balls. "I thought I might… clean."
"Good. You want everything to look great in case you have
company."
"Are you coming to Tampa?" Gemma asked, panicked. She
wasn't ready to deal with the full frontal assault of Sue's
personality. Her friend would roll into town from
Tallahassee like a tank, armed with endless pep talks. But
Gemma was too raw, too exposed, to deal with her failed
marriage so matter-of-factly, over cups of frothy coffee
and shoe shopping. She needed time to reorient herself.
"I can't get away from work right now," Sue said. "I meant
in case Jason stops by."
Gemma tightened her grip on the phone. "Have you seen him?
Is he coming here?"
"No, I haven't seen him. But in case he does drop by, you
and the house need to look your best."
As if the divorce hadn't fazed Gemma. It was, after all,
antifeminist to behave as if her husband's desertion had
devastated her. Where was her pride?
"Have you told your parents yet?"
"No."
"What are you waiting for?"
"The divorce isn't final… yet."
"Gemma, you're stalling."
"It will break their hearts—Jason is like a son to them."
"Considering Jason's position in the governor's office,
it's bound to hit the local papers soon. Is that how you
want them to find out?"
"No." But neither did she want her mother pecking her to
death with worry. "I'll tell them… soon."
"Did you find a job?"
Another dilemma. Unemployment was not so unusual for the
wife of the state attorney general, but not so realistic
for a divorcée with no alimony. "Not yet," Gemma admitted.
A noise outside drew her to the picture window overlooking
the side yard. She nudged aside the filmy white curtain and
looked down into the overgrown lawn of the empty house next
door. A tall man with shiny dark hair was using a mallet to
dislodge a faded For Sale sign that had been posted on the
lawn for all of the two years that she and Jason had lived
here.
"Have you even looked for a job?" Sue prodded.
"I will…today."
"Okay." Sue's disbelieving response vibrated over the
line. "Gemma, you have to pull yourself together."
"I know, and I will. I just need some time to absorb my new
reality." She pushed hair out of her eyes. From his tool
belt, she gathered the stranger was a workman, hired, no
doubt, by the new owner to fix up the place. She felt a
spurt of relief for the sagging Spanish house whose exotic
lines she'd always admired. But when the man lifted his
dark gaze to her second-floor window, she dropped the
curtain and stepped back, her face stinging.
The man had probably thought her house was empty. How many
rubber-banded newspapers were piled on the front porch? Had
weeds overtaken the brilliant birds-of-paradise and ginger
flowers in the planting beds? Tending to the exotic plants
that thrived in the lush Florida humidity had always been
her favorite pastime. But since the final court appearance
last week, she'd found it unnecessary to move beyond the
front door.
"I'm sure any of the nonprofit agencies that you've helped
to raise money for would be happy to hire you in some
capacity."
"Probably. But I don't want to take advantage of my
relationship with Jason."
"There's nothing wrong with using his name to get the job.
You'll prove yourself once you get there."
Gemma understood the practicality of her friend's advice,
but something inside her revolted at the idea of using
Jason's connections. "I don't want to be in a position
where I'd have to feel grateful to Jason, or be around
people who might expect me to ask him for favors."
"I have some business contacts in Tampa. I could make some
calls," Sue offered cheerfully.
Right—Sue's business associates would be clamoring to hire
a thirty-two-year-old with an unused degree in art history.
She'd save herself and her lobbyist friend the
embarrassment of asking. "Thanks anyway. I'll find
something on my own."
"Okay," Sue said warily. "Have a good day. I'll call you
later."
Gemma returned the receiver with a sigh. She had no right
to be irritated with her friend. Sue was only trying to
help in a situation that had rocked both of them to the
core. Sue felt betrayed by Jason, too. She had introduced
Gemma and Jason when the girls were seniors at Covington
Women's College in Jacksonville and Jason was in law school
at the University of Florida in nearby Gainesville. Sue had
preened as her two friends had dated, fallen in love,
graduated, married and evolved into an influential
political couple.
I introduced them, she'd gushed to onlookers as camera
bulbs flashed at their lavish wedding and over the years at
every political appointment and election leading up to
Jason being sworn in as state attorney general. When Gemma
had called her, blubbering about a divorce, Sue hadn't
believed her at first. Like Gemma, she couldn't conceive of
Jason turning his back on their ten-year marriage with no
warning and no remorse, as if it were simply one of the
hundreds of decisions he had to make daily.
If there were fifty ways to leave your lover, he had surely
chosen one of the most cruel. He'd asked Gemma to pack a
suitcase for him for a last-minute trip and bring it by his
office. Then after ensuring she had packed his favorite
ties and shoes, he'd turned to her and said, "This isn't
working for me anymore. I want a divorce."
Gemma remembered laughing at the comment. Jason had always
exhibited a quirky sense of humor. But he'd leveled his
pale blue eyes on her with an expression that she'd since
realized was pity. "I'm moving to Tallahassee alone, Gemma.
It's over."
It's over. As if he was referring to a television show or a
song that had run its course.
A banging sound next door jarred her from her circular
thoughts. Gemma wiped at the perspiration on her neck,
realizing suddenly that she was sticky all over, that the
air in the room was stifling. A check of the thermostat
revealed that yet something else had gone wrong when she
wasn't looking. She'd have to call a repair service.
She went from room to room on the top floor to open
windows, releasing heat that had risen in the house. The
bedroom that Jason had turned into his office looked as if
it had been violated, stripped of furniture and decorated
with cobwebs in strange places. From the walls sprang naked
cables that had once provided power to fuel his busy life.
It was exactly the way she felt. Unplugged and unwanted.
When she returned to her bedroom to slide open the side
window, she chanced a glance at the house next door,
startled when the peeling shutters on the round window
twenty feet across from hers were thrown open and the dark-
haired man she'd seen earlier appeared. She distantly
registered the fact that she was wearing only a thin tank
top and no bra, but she was rooted to the hardwood floor
when his gaze landed on her. He inclined his head in a
polite nod.
Gemma managed a shaky smile, but he was already gone, like
the breeze.
Feeling sideswiped, her smile dissolved into an embarrassed
little frown. A glance up at the sky had her shielding her
eyes in mild surprise. In contradiction to the gloom
hovering over her inside, it was a beautiful early spring
day outside. The sun was everywhere.
She'd thought she'd be living in Tallahassee by now,
settling into anew home close to Jason's new office,
socializing in the governor's circle and generally being
the helpmate that she'd learned to be… looking good,
speaking well.
Being ignored.
The thought slid into her mind unbidden, and instantly she
resisted it. She had been an integral part of Jason's life,
had helped him achieve his dreams—their dreams. She had
been relevant. Perhaps Jason had fallen out of love with
her, but he hadn't ignored her.
Otherwise, how could she have been happy?
Frowning, Gemma turned away from the window and padded
downstairs in search of something cool to drink. The
kitchen was dark and hummed with electric white noise as
the refrigerator labored to stay cool. The pungent smell of
overripe fruit hung in the air. From a wire basket, Gemma
picked a pear to munch on, then rummaged in the fridge,
past Jason's Red Bulls, for a bottle of tea.
While she drank and waited for the caffeine to kick in,
Gemma mentally sifted through the things that had
unraveled, things she needed to tend to. Sue was right
about one thing—she had to find a job. She was more
fortunate than most divorcées in the sense that in lieu of
alimony Jason had paid off the house and her car, and left
her with a small savings account. But she didn't want to
squander what money she had, and the house and car wouldn't
run on their own.
Besides, a job would help her to…rebuild. Reclaim. Renew.
Her future could be waiting for her in the Help Wanted ads.
She pulled on shorts and a T-shirt, and swept her hair back
into a ponytail. Then she unlocked the front door and
walked barefoot out onto the covered porch. The light gray
painted wood planks were gritty beneath the soles of her
feet, the two chairs sitting next to a small table full of
leaves and yard debris. Scooping up the rolled newspapers,
she turned and tossed them inside. Then she surveyed the
weedy, neglected yard that would have to wait until she
addressed other items on her mounting to-do list.
How quickly things could go from neat and orderly to
utterly out of control.
She walked to the mailbox and, at the curb, turned to take
in the house next door. The faded yellow, two-story stucco
structure with the red tiled roof and wrought-iron details
was one of the last houses in the older, eclectic
neighborhood to be rescued. She thought she remembered
hearing that the house had been tied up in court, something
to do with probate. If properly restored, it would be
glorious, she decided, much more interesting than the
sturdy but standard home that she and Jason had settled
into.
The dark-haired handyman was nowhere to be seen, but his
presence was evident. The For Sale sign was gone and two
ladders leaned against the front of the house. A pressure
washer and other equipment sat near the front door. She
smiled, relieved that the house would finally receive the
attention it deserved.
Her mailbox, labeled "Jason and Gemma White, 131 Petal
Lagoon"—another artifact of the marriage to correct— was
stuffed full of high-tech catalogues and news magazines
that Jason liked to read. It was taking a while for his
forwarding address to trickle down. She loaded her arm with
the mail and flipped through it idly as she made her way
back to the porch steps. Her hand stopped on a large brown
envelope with the county's return address. Walking inside,
she closed the door behind her and dropped the rest of the
mail on the kitchen table. With a sense of foreboding, she
slid nervous fingers under the flap and pulled out a sheath
of papers.
Final Judgment and Decree. Gemma swallowed hard and scanned
the four short paragraphs that officially terminated her
marriage.
"… it is decreed by the Court that the marriage contract
heretofore entered into between the parties to this case,
from and after this date, be and is set aside and dissolved
as fully and effectually as if no such contract had ever
been made or entered into…"
As if the marriage had never existed.
Her eyes watered, blurring the words. This was it then.
Proof that the last ten years of her life hadn't mattered.
She'd assumed that she and Jason were years away from the
menace of a midlife crisis, yet in less time than it had
taken to plan her wedding, her marriage had disintegrated.
What now? she wondered, leaning into the granite counter,
uncaring that the hard edge bit into her pelvic bone. TV
therapists and girlfriend shows referred to breakups as a
clean slate, a new chapter, a chance for a woman to find
her authentic self.
But what if her authentic self was being Jason White's wife?
It was a notion that she didn't dare say aloud for fear
that Oprah herself would appear on her doorstep. She knew
that being absorbed into a man's life was considered passé,
but she couldn't remember the person she'd been before
Jason. She didn't have a point of reference, a place of
origin. She recalled only a vague sense of floating
aimlessly before she'd moored herself to him.
He had been her first and only lover. He was all that she
knew.
The sound of the doorbell pealed through the air, jangling
her nerves. She frowned, wondering who could be visiting.
Then, remembering what Sue had said about having company,
her pulse picked up at the thought that it could be Jason.
Had Sue been trying to forewarn her? Perhaps he'd received
his copy of the final papers, too, and he'd reconsidered…
Gemma wiped at the wetness on her cheeks as she hurried
through the foyer and was smiling when she opened the door.
But at the sight of the man standing on the threshold, her
smile faltered.