The Glory Game (21 page)

“Irreconcilable differences. Isn't that the phrase?” And that irreconcilable difference was Claudia. “Tell them it's an amicable divorce.”

“What about when they ask about the other woman involved? They will, you know,” Audra reminded her.

A sardonically amused smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I'll probably say, ‘How incredibly tacky of you to bring that up,' then walk away.”

“Very wise.” Audra nodded in approval.

Luz's head began to throb from the strain. It was crazy, but she couldn't allow herself to show her true feelings to either her sister or her mother—not the frightening vulnerability she felt, the awful insecurities, nor the doubts about her self-worth. She had to hide them. Her self-confidence was eroded, leaving only a brittle shell. It couldn't withstand much probing.

“Do you mind leaving?” She avoided looking at either of them as she made her stiff request. “I'd prefer to be alone just now. I—I have to call Rob and Trisha, and I'd rather do that in private.”

“If you need me, you will call?” Mary pressed for reassurance.

“Of course.” But Luz knew she wouldn't and wondered why she was afraid of exposing her weaknesses to the family. It should have been the one place she found solace. Did she feel she had somehow failed them, too? She honestly didn't know. She simply felt alone—so alone.

*   *   *

A white organza scarf was tied around the band of the navy-blue hat, its long tails trailing off the back of the extra-wide brim. The hat acted as a shield against prying eyes. Luz hid beneath it the same way she hid behind the very dark sunglasses framed in white. Her nerves were coiled as tautly as a mainspring as her glance jumped over the faces of strangers exiting the plane. She unconsciously pressed a hand to her abdomen to quiet the nervous churning of her stomach. The white silk of her navy polka-dot dress felt smooth beneath her palm, so at odds with the rawness inside.

She was aware of Rob standing beside her, studying her with a brooding look that seemed almost sullen. Fortunately, there hadn't been time to talk, since his flight had been delayed and had arrived only minutes before Trisha's. She knew how mysterious she must have sounded when she called them, first assuring them no one was ill or dying, then insisting she needed them to come home this weekend.

Trisha emerged from the line of deplaning passengers and cut across the departure lounge to meet them. Dodging the swooping hat brim, she hugged Luz, then stepped back and viewed her with sharp, curious eyes that reminded Luz of her mother's.

“You look like hell, Luz,” she said.

The bluntness was so reminiscent of her mother at times. “Thank you, Trisha. You do such wonderful things for my morale.” She realized her ironic remark could invoke questions, and she didn't intend to provide answers in an airport. “The car is in the lot. Why don't I meet you two outside the baggageclaim area?”

“Sure.” Their agreement was readily given.

When they temporarily parted company a few minutes later, Luz felt as though she'd been granted a stay of execution. Over and over, she had rehearsed what she was going to say. She worried about how they would take the news of the impending divorce and what they would think of her. She wanted them to think well of her. More than anything, she needed their approval and support.

Parent-child relationships were so complicated. She hadn't sought their advice in making her decision, yet their opinions mattered so very much.

They were waiting at the curb when she drove up. As soon
as the luggage was stowed in the trunk, they climbed into the car. Rob got into the back seat, letting Trisha sit in front with Luz.

“If you don't mind, we'll talk when we get home.” She doubted that she could concentrate on the road and their questions at the same time if she tried to talk to them now.

Trisha started to answer, but Rob was a split second quicker. “We don't mind.” Trisha appeared to disagree, but she said nothing. Luz was grateful for the way they bridled their curiosity and hoped they would continue to show such understanding.

The Mercedes's convertible top was raised to close in the interior, the air-conditioning vents letting in the only circulation. Luz had always thought a divorce would make a person feel free—would make her welcome the sensation of the wind blowing through her hair. But she wanted to hide, under hats, behind dark glasses, inside cars. Maybe Drew felt free, but she felt naked and exposed. It was as if everyone could see the flaws that she'd taken such pains to hide—like the small cellulite deposits dimpling her thighs or the faint stretch marks on her stomach from two pregnancies.

The drive home from the airport was made mostly in silence. Neither Rob nor Trisha appeared inclined to talk, although Luz was aware that their gazes strayed to her often. She led the way into the living room, entering through the French doors to the patio. She removed her hat and dark glasses and laid them with her purse atop a bar stool.

Her blond hair was pulled severely back and coiled in a bun at the back of her neck. Its style stretched the skin across her face, eliminating the crepy look around her eyes and the lines of strain recently etched near her mouth as well as smoothing her brow and tautening a sagging chin. The total effect was a mock facelift. More than once since Drew had left her, Luz had considered cosmetic surgery. She no longer believed there was such a thing as aging gracefully. She didn't want to look old and hear unkind comparisons between herself and the youthful Claudia. It all came from insecurity, she knew—from not believing anyone could care for her the way she was.

The tension in the air was thick. Luz sensed the waiting, and she walked behind the bar. Liquor had become a crutch, a false support to help her deal with unpleasant things. Depending
on it only proved how weak she was. She knew that and poured a drink anyway.

“I know you're wondering what is so important that you had to come home this weekend,” she began.

“We already know about the divorce, Luz,” Trisha said quietly. “Dad called us.”

The announcement was like a blow knocking the wind from her. She hadn't the strength to hold the glass anymore and set it down before she dropped it. “Drew called?” Shock was in her voice, but it quickly receded under a rush of resentment. “The swine! He could have let me know he'd talked to you. I've been through hell wondering how to tell you.” All her carefully built emotional defenses were shattered. Blindly, Luz moved around to the front of the bar, where Trisha was perched on a stool and Rob stood awkwardly.

“He called the day after you phoned us,” Trisha explained.

“He told you about the divorce over the telephone? How could he do anything so cold and impersonal?” His insensitivity made her want to cry. She touched Rob's shoulder, feeling the rigidly flexed muscles.

“We wanted to hear your side,” Rob said.

My side. Your side. It was beginning—the dichotomy of a family. Luz ached inside, for herself and for them. “Did he tell you that he'd found someone else?” Tears blurred her eyes when she saw the confused and pained look on Rob's face that said he knew.

At the sight of her tears, he reached and gathered her into his arms, crushing her tightly against him. He turned his face into her hair and muttered half-smothered words of anger. “How could he do this to you, Luz? The dirty son of a bitch—” The rest was choked off.

But it didn't matter. This was the first physical comfort she had known. She closed her eyes, feeling the strain of his body as it tried to absorb her anguish. She held him tightly, needing him, crying softly, yet reassured by her son's fierce embrace. It was some minutes before she slowly pulled away, careful not to notice his reddened eyes while she wiped away her own tears.

“Maybe I should ask what he told you,” Luz suggested in a soft, emotionally charged voice.

“Nothing much really,” Trisha said. “Just that he'd found
someone else and the two of you had decided to get a divorce. Naturally he hoped we'd understand. Marriages just sometimes break up, he said.”

“It happens all the time.” To others, Luz thought. She had never expected it to happen to her.

“Have you met her?” Despite her frequent questions, Trisha seemed unnaturally contained. Rob was usually the quiet one, showing all this reserve Luz saw in her daughter.

“Yes.”

“What's she like?”

“She's young and beautiful.” Luz tried not to let her own jealousies color her reply. “She's a lawyer, so she and your father have a lot in common.”

“Maybe if you'd shown a little interest in his work instead of confining your dinner conversation to such scintillating topics as the current theme of your latest bazaar, this wouldn't have happened.”

The stinging criticism hurt, however innocently disguised it was. “I have tried to talk to him about his work, but when he gets too technical, I can't follow him. I imagine he grew tired of explaining everything to me all the time.” She was conscious of the defensive edge in her voice.

“You could have tried to learn.” It was a half-muttered complaint, and Luz resented being singled out for blame. This whole issue had been a touchy subject for too long, so she naturally reacted to it.

“You think I should have studied law, even though I wasn't personally interested in the subject, simply to please him?” Luz challenged. “Don't you think that's a slightly antiquated idea, Trisha? A marriage consists of two individuals who live together. The idea is not for one person to impose his interests on the other. To share them, yes, but not to force the other to like them.”

“Luz is right.” Rob spoke up on her behalf. “I can't think of anything more boring than spending an evening talking about writs, supoenas, and litigations.”

Trisha hopped off the bar stool in a sudden burst of impatience. “Well, it just seems to me if a man is happy at home, he doesn't go out looking for someone else to love. I just want to know what went wrong. What did you do to send him away?”

“I don't know,” she answered sharply. “Why don't you ask
your father? Then you can tell me so I won't have to keep wondering.”

“I suppose it was your idea to sleep in separate bedrooms,” Trisha accused.

Luz slapped her. “Your remarks are becoming too personal, young lady.” When she saw the white mark her hand left on Trisha's cheek, she felt sickened by what she'd done. Her temper died as quickly as it had flared. Trisha was young and could be forgiven her impetuousness, but Luz was an adult and should have known better than to react in kind.

When Trisha turned and grabbed up her purse to walk to the door, for an instant Luz couldn't move or speak. “Trisha.” She watched her daughter pause near the door, not turning. “You once asked me what I had ever lost. I think I can answer that question now. I lost my illusions. Nobody lives ‘happily ever after'—not even a Kincaid. Please … I don't want to lose you.”

Slowly Trisha swung around to face her mother. “You won't, Luz. But I have to go see him. He's my father, and I love him, too.”

“Of course.” Luz understood, but that didn't silence that little niggling fear. Trisha had always been Daddy's girl. It wasn't fair. Drew had Claudia, and she was alone. She needed the children, and he was starting another family.

Trisha hesitated by the door. “Are you coming, Rob?”

“No.” After she'd gone, Rob walked over to Luz and stood near her, his hands self-consciously shoved into the side pockets of his slacks. “I can't face him yet. All I want to do is hit him right now.” He shuffled away, his head down, while he muttered in a barely audible voice, “The bastard. The dirty, rotten bastard.”

For a long time, Luz stood alone in the middle of the room, then she walked back to the bar where she'd left the drink.

Later that evening, Luz was in the kitchen fixing a pizza, something she hadn't done in years. She'd given all the help the weekend off so that she could be alone with Rob and Trisha. She wondered if the pizza was such a good idea as she placed the anchovies atop the mounds of shaved mozzarella cheese. It was a remembrance of happier times when the four of them were together. She placed the finished pizza on a rack in the
refrigerator, ready to pop into the oven as soon as Trisha came back.

When she walked out of the kitchen to join Rob on the patio, she heard Trisha's voice. She didn't mean to eavesdrop, but she knew that neither of them would talk freely about their father to her. They wouldn't want to be accused of carrying tales, nor would they intentionally want to hurt her.

“He wants to talk to you, Rob. Won't you at least call him?” Trisha urged.

“No, dammit, I won't. And I don't see how you can have anything to do with him after the way he walked out on Luz!”

“He had his reasons.”

“Yeah, and I know the reason. A cute little piece of ass half his age.”

“Rob, you haven't even met her. Don't you think you should wait to condemn him at least until you've seen them together?” Trisha argued, then her voice turned thoughtful. “I've never seen him look so happy. He's always smiling or laughing—something he rarely did at home. His face seems to shine every time he looks at her. He loves her, Rob. I think even you would like her if you gave yourself a chance.”

It hurt to hear the way Trisha described them. It sounded so idyllic, and she was going through hell. Hate and envy mixed with bitterness. It wasn't fair. Every divorce had winners and losers, and she was the loser in this one—her youth gone and her self-esteem shattered. Luz remembered again what she'd told Mary that evening in the study of the Kincaid manor—this wasn't the way she thought her life would turn out.

“I don't have to listen to this shit!” Rob's angry declaration was followed by the scrape of a metal chair leg across the patio tile, then the sound of footsteps.