Desert Gift by Sally John Read Free Book Online Page B

squeezed his arm. The morning sunlight shone in her neatly curled, stiff hair, casting shades of blue. “There is no such thing as a midlife crisis.”
    He couldn’t help but smile at how his mother’s conclusion mirrored Jill’s. “Well, there is evidence for it, but I feel fine. There’s no crisis in my life. There’s nothing I need or want except not to live with Jill anymore. I want the best for her, wish her all the success in the world. But I’d rather not be with her.”
    His dad nodded. “I felt like that on occasion. Not about Jill. About—”
    “Oh, Charles. You did not.”
    “I did, Kate. I most certainly did.”
    Now he and his mom stared at his dad.
    “Each time, I had a good stiff drink and it went away.” Charles chuckled. “You’ll get over it, Son. Odd feelings and daydreams are just part of life. You don’t want to start messing with wills and trust funds and dividing up property and bank accounts.” That was his dad, the former bank president, speaking.
    His mom said, “Perhaps this separate vacation time will help. Now before we go down to the church service, tell me about my grandson. He sent us a postcard last week.”
    “Kate, it was this week.”
    “No, I distinctly remember. What is today?”
    “Sunday. Which explains why we’re going to church.”
    Jack went deaf again. Good grief. Was their entire relationship built on disagreement? Granted it was always civilized, no shouting or throwing things, no swearing or crying. But he remembered plenty of stomachaches as a kid. Jill had been the one to finally help him see that it was not his job to keep the peace between his parents.
    And yet . . . he had kept the peace in his own marriage, hadn’t he? He had kept it by sticking to a promise he’d made to himself as a teenager: he would never relate to his wife like Charles and Katherine did to each other.
    Which basically meant that the first time he knowingly introduced conflict into his marriage was three days ago.
    * * *
    Jack went with his parents to the church service held in the common room. He ate lunch with them in the dining room and said his good-byes before their naptime.
    Now he sat in his car, warmed by bright sunshine streaming through the windows and glinting off the snow piled around the parking lot, and debriefed himself.
    There had been no further mention of his situation with Jill until they parted, and then it was only cursory.
    His mother had held his chin in her hand, looked him straight in the eye, and said, “Make it work.” Then she kissed him on the cheek.
    His father hugged him and suggested the brand name of a good Scotch.
    Jack had not expected or wanted more from them. He just wanted to keep them in the loop. He owed them that much.
    What took him by surprise was his intense reaction to their bickering. It hadn’t affected him for years. He heard it, of course, but no longer internalized it.
    He pressed on his stomach. The ham and scalloped potatoes were not setting so well. He knew better than to have eaten two helpings of the cafeteria food.
    His thoughts turned again to Connor. Imagining how he himself would have felt to be told on the telephone that his parents were splitting, he cringed at the thought of putting his son through that.
    Could it wait until May, when he was due home?
    Where would Jack be in May? Single?
    Obviously they could not tell Connor after the fact.
    Jack glanced at his watch. If he correctly recalled Jill’s itinerary, she was at that very moment speaking to a women’s group at a megachurch. She would not be answering her phone.
    Perfect timing for a coward.
    He pulled out his cell and hit the speed dial. “Hi. Uh, I assume you got Connor’s e-mail? About being out of touch? I’m just wondering how to, uh, tell him about, um, us.” He took a breath. “About what I’ve done. It just seems that we shouldn’t tell him long-distance. Do you mind if we hold off? He’s busy anyway. And he thinks we’re busy. I hate