16 Lighthouse Road - Debbie Macomber [95]
Not knowing what to do, she slid off the bed and stood barefoot in the middle of the bedroom. Her hands were so tightly clenched her nails bit into the soft flesh of her palms.
“How dare you show up in Cedar Cove with her,” she hissed.
Her daughters refused to believe Dan had another woman, but Grace knew. She’d known for months. There was someone else and, she thought now, that someone else had been in his life for a very long time.
Kelly had insisted there’d be some evidence, but Grace had all the evidence she needed. It’d started years ago. The emotional distance and the wild mood swings had been going on for so long, she couldn’t remember when they’d begun. Evidence, she realized, of someone dealing with guilt and remorse.
By God, she’d prove it. Not to her daughters but herself. Dan had left some evidence; he must have. It was right here in this room—where else could it be? After years of reading mysteries, she should’ve thought of this sooner. The evidence she sought was probably something ordinary, something right in front of her eyes. Something tangible… Proof that Dan was living with another woman.
She banged open the sliding closet door and jerked a shirt free of its hanger. The force of her rage left the wire hanger swinging like a pendulum. She checked the pocket, tossed the shirt aside and reached for another one.
Nothing.
He’d been too smart for her, or so he thought, destroying all the evidence. But Grace wouldn’t be foiled, not this time.
The second shirt joined the first one on the carpet. Soon the floor was heaped with Dan’s clothes. Her shoulders heaving, she grabbed as many as her arms could carry and hauled them through the house, dumping everything at the front door. Staring at the heap, she unlocked the dead bolt and threw open the door with a fury that made it crash against the opposite wall. Then, standing on the top step, she flung her husband’s clothes into the night. Trip after trip, she repeated the action, until his half of the closet had been stripped bare and every bit of clothing Dan owned was sprawled across the porch and the sidewalk.
Then, nearly tripping over her cotton nightgown, she kicked a dress shirt on the top step, and sent it soaring into the darkness. A pair of work pants went next as she got caught up in a frenzy of kicking, hurling his clothes one piece at a time.
Sobbing now, she sank onto the porch step and covered her face with both hands.
“Dan!” she screamed. “Where are you? WHERE ARE YOU?”
Only silence answered. Her rage hadn’t brought him back, nor had her love. All that was left were her tears. The emotion poured out of her until she was spent and weak.
Wiping the tears from her face, she staggered back into the house, not bothering to lock the door. If someone wanted to break in and kill her, she’d welcome death. It was better than this nightmare that had become her life, better than having to walk into an empty house every night and acknowledge that the man she’d loved no longer wanted to be with her.
What was it Dan had told her? His idea of hell was spending the last thirty-five years living with her. Right to her face he’d said such a thing, not caring how that made her feel. Not caring that his words were as brutal as any weapon.
“I hate you…” she whispered as she crawled back into the bed. “Oh, God, I hate you.” Curling into a fetal position, she began sobbing again, until there were no tears anymore.
Grace woke at first light. She didn’t move, but remained in the same curled-up position, her knees tucked against her stomach. The memory of the night before flooded her mind. She’d been like a wild woman, purging her life of Daniel Sherman.
A sound came from the front room. Dan? It’d be just like him to appear now, she thought wryly. Just like that bastard to show up and behave