Page 3 of The Banned Books Club
“Margot? What the hell are you doing?”
Sheldon’s sudden appearance in the doorway sent her heart slamming against her chest. She was standing in the middle of the floor not far from the bed, which, fortunately, didn’t incriminate her in any way. She just had to hope she didn’t look as guilty as she felt. “I was...trying to remember why I came in here.”
He rolled his eyes. “Sounds like you. I swear, I have no idea how you graduated from college. Most of the time you’re dumber than dirt.”
Normally, Margot flinched at the insults he lobbed so casually, usually with a laugh so that if she took umbrage he could say he’d been joking. Today, she merely studied him for any evidence in his ice-blue eyes that a bigger argument was brewing. “What are you doing home?” she asked, checking her watch. These days, she lost minutes, even hours, ruminating over her future—and that of her children. But itcouldn’tbe late enough for Sheldon to be home from work. She’d never lost an entire day.
“Forgot my lunch. I’ve been trying to call you to have you bring it to me but couldn’t get an answer. Why the hell do I pay for you to have a cell phone if I can’t even reach you on it?”
“I-It’s in my purse,” she said lamely. “From when I took the boys to school.”
A disgusted huff revealed his irritation. “Of course it is. You never have it when you need it.”
“I usually have it,” she said in her own defense, but she was careful to keep the pique out of her voice. She knew how easily they could wind up in a fight if she didn’t.
He ignored her response. “My lunch isn’t on the counter. What’d you do with it?”
When he left it behind, she’d assumed he was going out with his friends. Although he’d gained quite a bit of weight over the years and made an occasional, half-hearted attempt to lose it, his diets never lasted. She’d assumed he no longer wanted the carrot sticks and other healthy food he’d directed her to start packing for him. “When you didn’t take it, I assumed you had other plans and—and put it in the boys’ lunches.”
His eyebrows snapped together. “So you wouldn’t have to make more? Jesus, woman! Why didn’t you just call me?”
Because she hadn’t wanted to hear his voice. The only peace she had was when he was at work and too caught up in being the “boss” to check in with her. “I didn’t want to bother you if you were busy.”
Lifting his Wakefield Trucking ball cap, he scratched underneath it before mumbling something she couldn’t quite make out—probably “stupid bitch”—as he trudged back down the hall. “Now what am I going to eat?” he called back to her when, judging by his voice, he’d reached the kitchen.
Margot curled her fingernails into her palms. She was havingterriblethoughts lately—of wanting to put something gross, like a spider or dirt, in his sandwich, or something dangerous, like antifreeze, in his tea. She knew that was downright evil. Her upbringing and her belief in God had stopped her so far—that and she didn’t want to be yanked away from her children to spend the rest of her life in prison.
But the desire to hurt him in return was growing stronger by the day. That she could even consider such things—Margaret Rossi, salutatorian of her high school class and daughter of two loving parents who’d raised her to be much better than that—was shocking. It certainly wasn’t something she’d anticipated before she got married.
But was it really her fault? Sheldon was like a girdling tree with roots that had slowly wrapped around her over the years, trapping her and holding her in place while squeezing the life from her...
“Dammit, Margot! Didn’t you hear me? Get your ass out here and make me another lunch! I’ve got work to do!”
She wanted to screamMake it yourself!and slam the door. The anger simmering inside her was like bile rising in her throat. Sometimes it was all she could do to choke it back. But she knew what would happen if she let loose. He’d never struck her; she couldn’t claim that kind of abuse. But his fits of rage were getting worse—bad enough that she believed it was possible he might completely unleash one day.
Even if that didn’t happen, what he did was almost as bad. His words slugged her like fists. He belittled her to the point that she was afraid to say or do anything for fear of reprisal. And he made her feel as though she deserved every cutting remark.
That she was beginning to believe she wasn’t worthy of being treated any better created a panic that gnawed at her soul. If she didn’t do something soon, she was afraid the old Margot—the happy, well-adjusted Margot she was struggling to hang on to—would disappear for good.
It won’t be long now, she promised herself, and cast his guns a final glance as she forced her feet to carry her back to the kitchen. “I’m here,” she said woodenly. “What would you like?”
2
Most of the people Gia associated with were men. There were a lot more of them in her business—both as competitors and clients—and there’d been more men than women in Alaska, where she’d spent ten years before moving to Idaho. But as the men she knew got married, she had the opportunity to meet their wives—and then their kids—which was nice because it broadened her social circle. Eric Cheung, who’d learned to fly in the military and been her flight instructor in Alaska before becoming her business partner, had met and then married his wife only six months after they’d moved Backcountry Adventures to Coeur d’Alene, so Gia was coming to know Coty well.
“I thought we were going to head back to Glacier once the season ended,” Eric said as they sat huddled around the fire pit he’d built in his backyard, holding a drink.
“I was looking forward to focusing on our photography, but—” Gia frowned up at the night sky “—who knows if the weather would even allow a trip to the park. Winter seems to be coming early this year.”
“That’s good,” he clarified. “We were aftersnowshots, remember?”
Shedidremember and regretted that she couldn’t follow through with their plans. He’d recently convinced a local gallery to carry his work and said he could probably get her in. But she couldn’t ignore what was going on in the rest of her life by heading to Glacier National Park on November 1 as they’d discussed. “I know, but...my mom’s taken a turn for the worse.”
He sobered instantly. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve been meaning to ask about her, but I didn’t want to keep probing that sore spot. The treatments aren’t working, then?”
“I think they’ve done all they can.”
Coty came out of the house after putting their daughter to bed. “What did I miss?”
