The Law of Bound Hearts Read Online Free Page B

set his briefcase and the newspaper on the counter, then crossed to her and kissed her cheek. His smile was tentative, his eyes were watchful, gauging her mood. He was getting a little paunch, and the flesh beneath his eyes was puffy—his fall allergies—but he was still handsome in a Michael Caine kind of way, still good-looking enough to be the center of at least one or two coeds’ fantasies. At the annual autumn mixer, Libby could pick them out by the way they fluttered around him, smooth-skinned and smiling, bodies ripe as pear flesh. Suddenly she wondered if right now on the Brown campus Mercedes was performing a similar dance around some middle-aged professor. She hoped their daughter was smarter than that, but of course lust, or whatever it was these girls were experiencing, had less to do with intelligence than with the dangerous and heady temptations of first independence and, on another level, of exploring the cruel power granted by youth alone. Richard was not totally unaware. He reassured Libby that he kept his office door open whenever one of them dropped by. Of course, if they provoked fantasies on his part, he would never confess it. She had a momentary flash, a quick and painful memory of a time and betrayal she never managed to erase from recall.
    Richard noted her jacket, her pocketbook. “Going out?” he asked. His face was neutral but she knew him well enough to catch the flicker of hurt. For a moment she softened. He was only trying to negotiate the slippery terrain their life had become. She knew he wished she would handle this whole thing differently, knew that he wanted to be partners in this. She couldn’t allow that, because he wasn’t a partner. Not in this. He reminded her of the young men who announced “We’re pregnant” when their wives were expecting. No, she always wanted to tell them.
You
are not pregnant. Your
wife
is. At least Richard hadn’t tried to usurp that. In fact, when she went into heavy labor with the twins, he had fainted. Well, not exactly fainted but turned so white Dr. Glass insisted he leave the delivery room.
    â€œYes,” she said. “Just a couple of errands.”
    â€œWant me to go with? We could do lunch at Southgate after.”
    Go with. Do lunch.
The words sounded ridiculous coming from him, he so precise with language, and she knew it was a sign of how hard he was trying. She shook her head. “I’m not really hungry.” She didn’t ask him to join her. Not long ago it would have been taken for granted that he would go with her. “There’s soup in the fridge.”
    She was at the door when he asked.
    â€œHave you heard anything? Has she called?”
    â€œNo.”
    He nodded, his mouth tight. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But what can we expect? Samantha’s true to course.”
    Libby felt a stab of anger, an impulse to defend that took her completely by surprise. She let it go. Not Richard’s fault. He was only parroting judgments she had voiced, opinions she herself was entertaining only moments earlier. She knew he was angry because rage was easier to feel than fear. Didn’t she know the truth of that. Fear was the black beast they had been trying desperately to keep at bay for months.
    In the car she had no destination in mind, but she was aware of Richard watching from the kitchen window and so backed out of the drive like a woman with a mission. Once away from the house, she drove aimlessly through town, away from the lake, up Deerpath, past the library, onto Western, up Illinois. She was so edgy that for a moment, as she drove by the Deer Path Inn, she actually considered going in and ordering a glass of wine. One wouldn’t kill her, but it wasn’t one glass she wanted. It was five. Ten. Oblivion. She thought next of heading north on 94 toward Wisconsin—maybe stop at Gurnee Mills, pick up a sweater for Mercedes, something for Matt. Not too