page and embarrassed Tony with all his friends. I think it was kind of the last straw for him.”
“What about you? Where does that leave you?” Mary Stuart looked genuinely worried. They had worried about each other for years, even if they didn't talk all the time, or see each other constantly, or even live in the same city. But they both knew that they were always there for each other. “You're telling me that it's getting too hot for him, so he's leaving?”
“He hasn't said that yet, but he's going to. Right now, he wants ‘time off’ so he can go to Europe. Which leaves me taking his kids to a ranch in Wyoming, but that's okay too. I really love them.”
“I know you do. But I'm not exactly impressed by their father's chivalry and devotion.”
“So what else is new?” Tanya smiled ruefully, and squeezed Mary Stuart's hands. “What about you? How's Bill doing these days? Has it been as hard on him as it has on you?” It was written all over her face how much she'd been through.
“I suppose so.” She shrugged. “We don't talk about it much. There's nothing to say. You can't undo what happened.” Or the things they had said to each other about it.
Tanya dared to ask her something then that she had wondered for the past year, and she suspected was the root of the problem. “Does he blame you?” It was barely more than a whisper, but even in the crowded restaurant Mary Stuart heard her.
“Probably,” she sighed. “I suppose we both blame ourselves for not seeing what was happening. But I know in the beginning he felt that I should have seen it coming. I should have been able to foresee disaster before it struck us. Bill bestows magical qualities on me, when it suits him. In any case, I suppose I blame myself too. It doesn't change anything. The delusion is that you can turn the clock back, and stop it from happening, if you assign the blame to the right person. But it doesn't work that way. It doesn't matter. It's over.” Tears filled her eyes and she looked away, and Tanya was instantly sorry she had brought up the subject.
“I'm sorry… I shouldn't have said anything…” What was the point now? Tanya was silently berating herself for being so stupid, as Mary Stuart dabbed at her eyes, and looked reassuringly at Tanya.
“It's all right, Tan. It doesn't matter. It hurts all the time anyway. Like a severed limb, it never stops, sometimes it's sharper than others, sometimes it's really unbearable, sometimes you can live with it, but it never stops aching. You didn't make it hurt. It's with me every moment.”
“You can't live like that forever,” Tanya said, looking devastated for her. It was clearly the worst thing that had happened to any of them, and there was nothing she could do about it.
“Apparently you can live like that forever,” Mary Stuart answered her desperately. “People do it all the time, they live with constant pain of all kinds, arthritis, rheumatism, indigestion, cancer, and then there's this, the destruction of the heart, the death of hope, the loss of everything you ever cared about, it's a challenge to the soul,” she said, looking agonized, but so strong that Tanya almost couldn't bear it.
“Why don't you come to Wyoming with me and the kids?” she suddenly blurted out. It was the only thing she could think of to help her.
Mary Stuart smiled at her. “I'm going to Europe to see Alyssa, otherwise I'd love to. I love to ride.” And then she frowned, confused by an old memory, and grateful to get off an unbearably painful subject. “I didn't think you did though.”
“I don't.” Tanya laughed. “I hate it. But this is supposed to be a fabulous place, and I thought it would be good for the kids.” She looked awkward for a moment then. “I thought Tony would like it too, but he's not coming. But the kids are twelve, fourteen, and seventeen now, and they all love to ride. I thought it would be perfect for them.”
“I'm sure it will be. Are you going to
“What about you? Where does that leave you?” Mary Stuart looked genuinely worried. They had worried about each other for years, even if they didn't talk all the time, or see each other constantly, or even live in the same city. But they both knew that they were always there for each other. “You're telling me that it's getting too hot for him, so he's leaving?”
“He hasn't said that yet, but he's going to. Right now, he wants ‘time off’ so he can go to Europe. Which leaves me taking his kids to a ranch in Wyoming, but that's okay too. I really love them.”
“I know you do. But I'm not exactly impressed by their father's chivalry and devotion.”
“So what else is new?” Tanya smiled ruefully, and squeezed Mary Stuart's hands. “What about you? How's Bill doing these days? Has it been as hard on him as it has on you?” It was written all over her face how much she'd been through.
“I suppose so.” She shrugged. “We don't talk about it much. There's nothing to say. You can't undo what happened.” Or the things they had said to each other about it.
Tanya dared to ask her something then that she had wondered for the past year, and she suspected was the root of the problem. “Does he blame you?” It was barely more than a whisper, but even in the crowded restaurant Mary Stuart heard her.
“Probably,” she sighed. “I suppose we both blame ourselves for not seeing what was happening. But I know in the beginning he felt that I should have seen it coming. I should have been able to foresee disaster before it struck us. Bill bestows magical qualities on me, when it suits him. In any case, I suppose I blame myself too. It doesn't change anything. The delusion is that you can turn the clock back, and stop it from happening, if you assign the blame to the right person. But it doesn't work that way. It doesn't matter. It's over.” Tears filled her eyes and she looked away, and Tanya was instantly sorry she had brought up the subject.
“I'm sorry… I shouldn't have said anything…” What was the point now? Tanya was silently berating herself for being so stupid, as Mary Stuart dabbed at her eyes, and looked reassuringly at Tanya.
“It's all right, Tan. It doesn't matter. It hurts all the time anyway. Like a severed limb, it never stops, sometimes it's sharper than others, sometimes it's really unbearable, sometimes you can live with it, but it never stops aching. You didn't make it hurt. It's with me every moment.”
“You can't live like that forever,” Tanya said, looking devastated for her. It was clearly the worst thing that had happened to any of them, and there was nothing she could do about it.
“Apparently you can live like that forever,” Mary Stuart answered her desperately. “People do it all the time, they live with constant pain of all kinds, arthritis, rheumatism, indigestion, cancer, and then there's this, the destruction of the heart, the death of hope, the loss of everything you ever cared about, it's a challenge to the soul,” she said, looking agonized, but so strong that Tanya almost couldn't bear it.
“Why don't you come to Wyoming with me and the kids?” she suddenly blurted out. It was the only thing she could think of to help her.
Mary Stuart smiled at her. “I'm going to Europe to see Alyssa, otherwise I'd love to. I love to ride.” And then she frowned, confused by an old memory, and grateful to get off an unbearably painful subject. “I didn't think you did though.”
“I don't.” Tanya laughed. “I hate it. But this is supposed to be a fabulous place, and I thought it would be good for the kids.” She looked awkward for a moment then. “I thought Tony would like it too, but he's not coming. But the kids are twelve, fourteen, and seventeen now, and they all love to ride. I thought it would be perfect for them.”
“I'm sure it will be. Are you going to
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