Danielle Steel - The Ranch

And when he got up the next day, he was in a hurry to get organized. He called the office, closed his bags, showered and shaved, and scarcely had time to glance at the paper over breakfast. She had made eggs and cereal for him, and the whole wheat toast he ate every day, and then gone to get dressed herself, and she appeared in a black linen pantsuit and a black-and-white striped T-shirt. As usual, she looked like a magazine ad when he saw her.

“Do you have a meeting today?” he asked, glancing over the paper.

“No,” she said quietly. There was a pain in the pit of her stomach.

“You're awfully dressed just to sit around at home. Are you going out to lunch?” She couldn't help wondering why he cared, he was leaving for two months anyway. What difference did it make what she did now?

“I didn't want to take you to the airport in blue jeans,” she said, and with that, he raised an eyebrow.

“I wasn't expecting you to take me. I have a limo coming at ten-thirty. I'm giving Mrs. Anderson a ride. They're picking her up first, and actually Bob Miller is coming too. We were going to do some work in the car on the way to the airport.” They couldn't bear to lose a single moment. The human robots. Or was it just an excuse to get away from her sooner?

“I don't have to go if you'd rather not,” she said quietly, and he picked up the paper again and went back to reading.

“I don't think it makes much sense. It'll be simpler to say good-bye here.” And less embarrassing. God forbid someone would ever think he loved her. Or did he? The faint humanity he had shown in the same room only the night before seemed to have disappeared, the wall was up again, and he was hiding not only behind it, but also behind the paper. “I'm sure you have better things to do today. The airport is a mess this time of year, it'll take you hours to get back into the city.” He smiled at her then, but there was no warmth in it. It was the kind of smile you'd bestow on a stranger. She nodded, and said nothing, and when he got up, she put their dishes in the sink, and tried to keep herself from crying. It was so strange watching him leave, going through all the procedures and plans, and almost before she had come to terms with it, he had rung for the elevator and his bags were on the landing. He was wearing a light gray suit and he looked unbearably handsome. And it had been tacitly decided by then, she was not going to the airport. She stood in the doorway watching him as the elevator man took his bags, and then took a discreet step back so he couldn't see them.

“I'll call you,” Bill said, looking like a kid again, and she had to fight back tears as she watched him. She wanted to tell him that she couldn't believe he was leaving, without a single loving gesture to her.

“Take care of yourself,” she said awkwardly.

“I'll miss you,” he said, and then bent to kiss her cheek, and without meaning to, she put her arms around him.

“I'm sorry… about everything…” About Todd, about the past year, about the fact that he felt he needed a two-month break from her while he worked in Europe. About the fact that their marriage was in shards around their feet. There was so much to be sorry for, it was hard to remember all of it, but he knew what she was saying.

“It's all right. It'll be all right, Stu…” He hadn't called her that all year. But would it? She no longer believed that. And they would be apart for two months now. She knew instinctively that they would only get farther apart from it, not closer. He was so foolish to think this was what they needed. If anything, it would make the gap unbridgeable in future.

He took a step back from her then, without kissing her, and looked down at her with immeasurable sadness. “I'll see you in a few weeks.” All she could do was nod as the tears began to course down her cheeks and the elevator operator waited.

“I love you,” she whispered as he turned away, and then he turned as he heard her. But he only looked at her, and nodded, and then the elevator door closed silently behind him. He hadn't answered.

When Mary Stuart walked back into the apartment, the force of her loneliness took her breath away. She couldn't believe how awful it had felt to see him go, and know that he wouldn't be home for months, that she wouldn't even see him except for a few days with her daughter. At least she had that, but even so, it felt like the end of their marriage. No matter what he said, the fact that he needed time away from her, and that he was no longer able to respond to her in any way, told its own story.

She sat on the couch and cried for a while, feeling sorry for herself, and then she walked slowly into the kitchen. She put the dishes in the dishwasher, and put the rest of his breakfast away, and when the phone rang she almost didn't answer. She thought it might be Bill calling from the car, telling her he had forgotten something, or maybe even that he loved her. But when she answered, it was her daughter.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Mary Stuart tried to sound brighter than she felt. She didn't want to tell Alyssa how unhappy she was that her father had left. They had had enough unhappiness without Mary Stuart complaining about her marriage, particularly to her daughter. “How's Paris?”

“Beautiful and hot and romantic,” she said. It was a new word in her vocabulary, and Mary Stuart smiled, wondering if there was a new man in her life. Maybe even a young Frenchman.

“Am I allowed to ask why.?” she said cautiously, still smiling.

“Oh, it just is. Paris is so wonderful. I love it here. I never want to leave.” But she was going to have to in a few weeks. They were giving up her apartment when Mary Stuart came to Paris.

“I can't blame you for that,” she said, glancing at Central Park from her kitchen window. It was pretty and green too, but it was also filthy and full of muggers and bums, and it was definitely not Paris. “I can't wait to see you,” she said, trying not to think of Bill leaving an hour before. By then, he would have been at the airport. But she doubted that he'd call her. There was nothing to say, and she had made him too uncomfortable with her display of emotions. She had gotten the message very clearly.

But at Alyssa's end there was a strange silence. Her mother hadn't even noticed.

“Have you gotten organized a little bit?” Mary Stuart had asked her to get some maps together for their driving trips. That part of the trip was Alyssa's assignment. The rest had been taken care of by Bill's office. “Did you get the maps of the Maritime Alps? I heard about a great little hotel just outside Florence.” But still there was no sound from her daughter. “Alyssa? Are you all right? Is something wrong?” Was there a problem? Was she in love? Was she crying? But when she spoke again, Mary Stuart could hear that she wasn't. She just sounded very awkward.

“Mom… I have a problem…”

Oh, my God. “Are you pregnant?” She was nearly twenty years old and it would have been a calamity Mary Stuart would have preferred not to face, but if she had to, she would go through it with her.

But Alyssa was outraged at the suggestion. “Mom, for God's sake! Of course not!”

“Well, excuse me. How should I know? So what's the problem?”

Alyssa took a deep breath and launched into a long, complicated tale that sounded like one of the stories she had told in third grade that went on forever and had no ending. What it boiled down to finally was that a group of her friends were going to the Netherlands and they wanted her to go with them. It was a rare opportunity, and they would travel into Switzerland and Germany, staying with friends, or at youth hostels, and then Italy, where she had planned to meet them later. But the whole earlier part of the trip had just been organized, and as far as Alyssa was concerned, it was the opportunity of a lifetime.