Yule Tidings

102

Yule Tidings

Savannah Dawn

Copyright © 2012 Lena Quinlan

All rights reserved.

ISBN:
 
1479352985

ISBN-13:
978-1479352982

Dedication

This novel is dedicated to my wonderful husband, who was patient and understanding throughout the many
revisions of this novel, and to my parents, who fostered and supported my love of reading and writing.

Prologue

             
The small courtroom was mostly empty.  Anne and Franklin Stafford each sat next to their respective lawyers.  Today the divorce was to be finalized.  Anne was angry and hurt.  She watched Franklin in her peripheral vision, still unable to believe that after twenty-two years of marriage he wanted a divorce.  The last several years had been difficult, but she never would have believed that he’d actually leave her.  Trisha was still to home, Jason was just in college and the two older children didn’t seem to know what to think about the divorce.  Anne still expected Franklin to take it back; to change his mind about discarding her and their marriage.  She could still see T
risha’s tear-stained face as Anne
left the house that morning.  Trisha had asked to come to the proceedings, but Anne refused to allow her to watch this, one of the worst moments in Anne’s life.  She was a complete and total failure.  So was Franklin.  In truth, it was all his fault.  If he hadn’t pushed her and caused the accident
,
things would never have gotten so horrible for them. 

             
Anne looked at Franklin with all the hatred she felt.  He’d found someone else to satisfy his lust and now he wanted to be rid of her.  She’d show him.  She wanted the house, the car, the farming implements. She wanted everything in the house, the kids: she wanted it all.  It was his infidelity that led to the divorce.  If he’d been faithful to her it never would have happened.  They would have both continued in misery unaware that anything could be better.  Franklin sat back in his chair looking resigned to her demands.  He didn’t care.  He didn’t want anything because he didn’t want to be reminded of the fact that he had ruined everything.  He destroyed their family.

Chapter One

It was a cold, dreary day.  The kind of day where the moisture from the rain seeps into old bones and makes the entire body ache with a dull throbbing pain.  Anne felt old today: as she had yesterday, and the day before, and even the day before that.  She’d felt old since the day her divorce was finalized, maybe even prior to that.  Never mind that Franklin had been cheating on her the last five years of their marriage.  She’d known.  Of course she’d known.  He came home smelling freshly showered twice a week; sometimes his hair was still damp.  At least he hadn’t smelled of
her
perfume.  He’d had the decency to cleanse himself of his infidelity before entering their home. 

Their home, the home that now, six years after the divorce, was in shambles.  The roof needed fixing, the basement stairs needed to be replaced, the porch was missing a step, the floor of the barn was practically falling through, and the pond was overgrown with cattails.  The home she was driving to, where no one would be waiting for her, and where she would spend a sleepless night in misery in the bed he had bought for their twelfth wedding anniversary.  Anne sighed and shook her head as she stopped the car in the garage.  This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be.  She shouldn’t be driving home from a thankless job to an empty house.

Anne climbed out of the car and went inside.  At first it had been difficult for her to go in the house, knowing she’d be alone.  The kids were all grown up now, with lives of their own, uninterested, for the most part, in her plight.  Oh, they’d been supportive at first.  It seemed that they hated their father for initiating a divorce, and then for going through with it.  When he got remarried a year later, none of the children supported his decision.  Anne had been grateful for the show of utter disdain and even cruelty with which the kids had treated Donna, Franklin’s new wife.  It was wrong to feel that way, but she couldn’t help it.  Donna was living Anne’s life. 

Franklin hadn’t married someone half his age.  No, he married a woman the same age as Anne.  It would have been easier for Anne if he’d married a younger woman; someone in the prime of her life, but he hadn’t.  He’d married a menopausal woman that Anne had known for at least ten years.  They hadn’t been friends per se, but neighbors in a sense.  Donna and her husband were invited to any large barbeques at the Stafford residence during the summer, and they in turn invited Franklin and Anne to any large get-togethers at the Robert’s home.  It was more a matter of cordiality.  But when Donna’s husband left, Anne befriended her.  She would send Franklin to plow Donna’s driveway, shovel her stoop, and work on her car.  In a twisted way, it was Anne’s fault then that Franklin and Donna ended up together.

Donna wasn’t beautiful.  Indeed, Franklin never even noticed her until Anne pushed him to help her time and again.  Her hair was straight and flat, gray strands standing out starkly against her dark brown coloring.  She kept her hair cut short, and occasionally added a little wave with a curling iron.  Her eyes were a plain brown, and she had large hands for a woman.  Her voice seemed deeper than most women’s and rough, like she spent a lot of time crying or yelling.  Her face was squarish compared to the smoothly rounded face of Anne.  There was something large and masculine about Donna.  Most women could be called pretty or beautiful, but Donna would be described as handsome.  There was nothing delicate about her; neither her features or her personality held any semblance of sweetness or warmth.

Anne didn’t bother eating; she wasn’t hungry after thinking about Donna and Franklin.  Instead, she poured herself a glass of milk and stood, drinking, at the counter.  When they had been a family she would never have allowed the kids to stand and drink or eat.  She always cooked and they ate as a family at the table: a table which now sat unused except to hold a variety of bills and other clutter.  Since she’d been alone the last three years, the ‘baby’ away at college now, she often ate standing at the counter.  She didn’t eat because she wanted to, or because she was hungry, but because it was what one did.  It was habitual to eat or drink something, so she did, though she had neither desire nor an intense need to do so.  It was as if she stood to get it over with more quickly.  Sitting down required more effort, more time, than she wanted to expend.  She rinsed her glass and sat it in the sink, glancing, momentarily, out the window. 

The view had been lovely to her once.  Even on days like today, where the wind whipped the trees in angry bursts and the darkness and rain turned the sky gray; the beauty of the place hadn’t been lost to her.  Today it was just another late October day.  Halloween was just around the corner, and then the snow would fall.  Oh how she hated the snow now.  In earlier years, the snow was a joy.  She and Franklin had snowball fights with the kids, and then she’d make hot cocoa on the stove and they’d all come inside to warm up by the fire.  She’d sit in Franklin’s lap or next to him on the couch, and they’d watch as the kids played charades or some other such game.  Now the kids were having children of their own, and she was alone. 

The kids never came to visit anymore.  Not that she blamed them.  The house wasn’t really a home anymore.  It still had rooms and furniture, but the entire atmosphere had changed the day the divorce was finalized.  It was no longer a warm and cozy place that helped her to relax.  She didn’t walk in the door feeling comforted and safe.  No, she felt cold and unwanted.  Trisha, the baby of the family, had felt the change the most.  She was the only one still living at home when the divorce happened.  Her high school years had been hell.  After the divorce Anne hadn’t been able to afford much, and Trisha had to work to be able to have a car.  Money just didn’t go as far without Franklin around.  Alimony and child support was only a portion of what she was used to having in a month, and finding a job she was qualified for took the better part of two years.  The older kids never had to work, and Anne couldn’t help feeling a bit ashamed that Trisha didn’t get the same opportunities that the older kids had.  She was a trooper though, and Anne was, perhaps, more proud of Trisha than of her other children for her strength.

             
Anne looked away from the somber scene outside the window.  The kitchen was dark.  She went into the living room to rest her weary bones and relax as best she could.  She turned on the floor lamp as she entered the room and sat on the worn leather couch before she noticed the red light blinking furiously on the answering machine.  One of the kids must have called.  Anne played the message, and was surprised to hear Jason’s voice.  “Hey Mom, just me, I was calling…well, I had a question.  Can you call me when you get home? Or I’ll try again…yeah, so, love you, bye.”  Anne smiled slightly.  Jason hadn’t called much recently.  His weekly calls had dwindled down to bi-weekly, then monthly, and now bi-monthly.  He’d just started college when Franklin filed for divorce and he’d had a hard time adjusting when he came home for breaks.  Trisha had been home during it all, but Jason, he came intermittently and the gaps made the changes seem more rapid than they really were.  Anne picked up the phone, holding number two down, Jason’s number on speed dial.

             
The phone rang.  Once, twice, on the third ring a young woman’s voice answered, slightly high in pitch and sounding unsure of herself.  “Hello?”

             
“Hi,” Anne said, a bit surprised when Jason didn’t answer the phone, “I’m trying to reach my son, Jason.”

             
“Oh, hello.  He’s in the shower right now.  Do you want me to go get him or something?” the girl asked, evidently slightly bewildered as to what she should do.

             
“No, no.  That’s quite alright.  Just umm, tell him his mother called, will you?” Anne asked, slightly miffed.  “When he gets out of the shower, I mean,” she added for good measure.  Who was this girl at Jason’s apartment, answering his phone?  She didn’t even have the courtesy to introduce herself.  Anne knew Jason wasn’t a boy anymore, and she had to admit, at least to herself, that he wasn’t as innocent as he used to be, but a girl answering his phone?  That just didn’t make sense.  He was dating someone, she knew, because Trisha had told her a little about his girlfriend, but Anne had never really imagined that the girl would actually be at his apartment, spending time with him there. Didn’t people still go out on dates to the cinema?  Certainly there were other, more appropriate places to spend time together than his apartment; especially while he showered for heaven’s sake.  Anne counted her blessings that he was at least showering alone.

             
For some reason it bothered Anne immensely that Jason had a girl in his apartment.  She didn’t understand why it upset her so much, but it did.  He was a grown man, yet she couldn’t stifle the pang of jealousy at the thought that this girl was probably the reason Jason hadn’t called much in the last few months.  Here she was alone, her children slowly pulling further and further away, and this girl was taking Jason from her even faster.  Anne struggled to control the tears blossoming in her eyes.  She’d never been much for crying, but in the last few years it seemed she cried more often than not.  She knew she was being silly, ridiculous even, but she couldn’t help it.  She was losing Jason.  Soon it would be Trisha, too.  The tears started running down her face, and she sniffed as she wiped them away with an irritated brush of her hands.  She would not cry again. 

             
Anne stood up, resolved to keep herself busy rather than think about her situation.  She opened the cleaning closet and pulled out the vacuum, determined to put her mind on something else.  Cleaning had always been a good distraction for her, though in recent years her house was long overdue.  Sometimes she’d stop right in the middle of cleaning and the house would be left a disaster for days until she finally managed to push everything back in its place or stow it away in random closets out of the way.  She plugged in the vacuum and went to work, sucking up every piece of dirt in the house.  She vacuumed the bedrooms, the living room, the family room; she even vacuumed the bathroom rugs, for good measure.  When that was finished she started sweeping and mopping the wood floors.  She was preparing to attack the cluttered table when the phone rang.  Anne looked at the phone a moment before answering.  Taking a deep breath she picked it up.  “Hello?”