The Perfect Husband - Lisa Gardner [78]
Marion took a deep, steadying breath, picked up the phone, and dialed.
“How is he?” she asked.
“Marion?” Roger’s voice was groggy with sleep. It was two A.M. his time. Was he sleeping with his new toy? Had she interrupted something? She hoped so.
“How is he?” She gave up on her earlier good intentions and found a cigarette. Her hand was trembling.
“Marion, it’s two in the morning.”
“Thank you, Roger, but I can tell time. Now, how is he?”
Roger sighed. She thought she heard the low murmur of a woman’s voice. So the cocktail waitress was there. It hurt. It hurt more than she thought it would.
I loved you, Roger. I honestly loved you.
“He’s dying, Marion. Jesus Christ, what the hell do you want me to say? The doctors have given him medication for the pain, but at this point not even that’s enough. Maybe another week, maybe two. Or maybe tomorrow he’ll die. For his sake, I hope so.”
“Not a very charitable thought about the man you considered your mentor, Roger. But then, we both know just how highly you regard loyalty.”
He was silent. In her mind she could see the way his lips would be thinning right now and his high brow creasing into lines of tension. She’d been married to him for almost ten years. She knew him inside and out. She knew he was slightly weak and spineless. She knew he was smart and ambitious. She knew everything about him—she’d thought that was what marriage was all about.
“All right, Marion,” he said quietly. “Be bitter if you want to. But you’re the one who called me. I’m just the messenger telling you that your father is still in the last stages of cancer. He’s in pain, he’s delusional. He moans and sometimes he cries out for Jordan and sometimes he cries out for Teddy. If you want him to live like that, fine. I think it’s a helluva way to die.”
J.T. and Teddy. She wasn’t surprised that the colonel hadn’t called her name. He’d never had any use for a daughter.
“And Emma?” she threw in, referring to her mother. Marion didn’t like Emma. She considered her a weak bitch more content with fantasy than being a good wife to the colonel. But Roger had always had a soft spot for the demented old bat.
“I worry about her too,” Roger said predictably enough. “She’s quoting Sophia Loren’s lines from El Cid. I’m half afraid she might actually stick his corpse on a horse one of these days. You know she’s always worse under pressure.”
“Pressure? The woman cracks under the strain of what shoes to wear in the morning.”
“Marion . . . why did you call?”
“I wanted make sure nothing had happened.”
Another lengthy silence. This time she knew he was not frowning. Instead, he was painstakingly choosing his words. Roger was a very diplomatic man, a born spin doctor. She imagined his career would continue to advance nicely in the army.
“Marion . . .” His voice was soft. She automatically stiffened her spine. “I know this is a tough time for you. I know I hurt you—”
“Hurt me? Hurt me! You walked out on our marriage!”
“I know, Marion. But—”
“But what? We had respect, we had friendship. We had ten years of history. My God, Roger, we had a solid relationship.”
“Except that you froze every time I touched you.”
She went rigid, the cigarette burning down to her lips. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t move.
“I’m sorry,” Roger said. “God, I’m sorry, Marion. I know that hurts. But how was I supposed to take that? How was I supposed to live like that? I have needs—”
“It’s my job, isn’t it? You’ve always been jealous, haven’t you? Thought it took too much of my time, kept me from being the perfect army wife and hostess. And my career is a good career too, one as good as yours—and I’m stronger than you. I shoot better than you. You’re . . . you’re just an army bureaucrat and I’m the one out there actually making a difference!” Her voice was harsh.