is enough enough? Our kids are growing upâand away from us. Iâve been raising our children alone, Charles. Alone. I feel like . . . like a single mother. So . . . why not become one?â
For a long moment he couldnât breathe. Couldnât believe what sheâd said. âJude. No.â He shook his head. âYouâd abandon the kidsââ
âI wouldnât be abandoning anybody,â she retorted in a frustrated tone. âDespite all your words to the contrary, you donât need me. And Iâll still be there for Alex and Jenny.â
Charles stiffened. How could she be so blind? âI do need you,â he choked out in barely more than a whisper. âHow can you think I donât?â
Her eyes welled with tears. âNot the way you once did.â She hurried away, leaving Charles alone. More alone than heâd ever been before.
He folded the dish towel in his hands, then refolded it again. He did need her, as much as he ever had. In even more ways than he had twenty years ago. How could she think otherwise?
Yet she did think otherwise, and that scared him. Even worse, however, was the question that he hadnât asked her: if she needed him anymore. He was too afraid the answer was no.
Chapter Four
T he house was warm. The fire blazed. The central heat was going full force. Though the snow came down in a thick white blanket and the wind howled around the corners of the house, the cold was kept at bay.
But inside his heart, Charles felt frozen; numb and shivering. All he wanted was to retreat to the bedroom and crawl into the bed. Maybe then heâd get warm. Maybe then he could find solace in the blankness of sleep.
But Judith was upstairs in their bedroom, and he was too afraid of another confrontation with her to risk going up there. Instead he scanned the meager offerings on the tall, narrow bookshelves and wondered if she would come downstairs again tonight.
âYouâve watched that dorky show for an hour. Itâs my turn now.â
âSays who?â Jennifer challenged her older brother.
âSays me, you stupid wuss.â
âYouâre the wussââ
âYeah, right. Youâre showing your ignorance, wuss, âcause the only wuss around here is you. Always has been. Always will be.â
âYouâre such a fool,â Jennifer spat right back. âNow, give me that remote!â
âCome and get it, punk.â
When Charles finally turned around to face his children, Alex was holding the remote control for the television up out of Jenniferâs reach, taunting her with it. âCome and get it,â he egged her on.
âDaaaad!â Jennifer cried, stretching that one syllable into three. âMake him stop!â
âSheâs been hogging the TV ever since we got here. Itâs my turn.â
âFor Godâs sake, canât you two ever cooperate? Here, give me that.â He grabbed the remote control unit from Alex, then punched at the various buttons until the television flicked off.
Charles turned and glared at his two children. âThere will be no more bickering. Do you understand me? No more.â He took a frustrated breath, then made himself speak more calmly. âThereâs a bunch of games on that bottom shelf. Go get one and then sit at the table and play it. No!â He forestalled their protests before they could voice them. âIâm not giving you a choice in this. Now, go!â he thundered.
If Charles had felt the chill of his family situation before, the furious silence he received now was positively arctic. Like wooden puppets, Alex and Jennifer did as he had ordered, but resentment was clear in even the least of their movements. A cabinet was jerked open; a game box was snatched out, then slammed down on the table. Two chairs were yanked back. One teetered and nearly fell over, but Alex righted it with a kick, then flung
Learning to Kill: Stories