Read Online Seasons of the Fool by Lynne Cantwell - Free Book Online Page B

stared at her. “Because.”
    “Because why?”
    They were starting to sound like his kids when they bickered. “Because it’s…” He sputtered to a stop. “Because it’s embarrassing.”
    “Illness is embarrassing?” she asked.
    “It’s not the illness,” he said, and threw up one hand. “It’s living in chaos, never knowing when the volcano will erupt. It’s having to leave work on a moment’s notice to do damage control at home. It’s seeing my kids deal with it all like it’s normal. It’s knowing it is their normal.” He stopped and took another long pull on his beer. “It’s knowing that all my decisions have been flawed and all my choices are lousy.”
    “I know all about flawed decisions,” she said. She looked away from the fire to him. “Did you know she was sick when you married her?”
    “Kind of. But she wasn’t this bad then,” he said. “The pregnancies seemed to make it worse.”
    “I think I’ve heard that,” she said. “Hormonal changes in general can influence mental illness. And pregnancy is all about hormonal changes.” She focused on the mug in her hands. “To be honest, I’m glad Lance never wanted kids. Everything we went through would be ten times worse.”
    “Tell me what happened,” he said suddenly. “You’ve never said.”
    She barked a bitter laugh. “I made a bunch of stupid choices, that’s what happened.” She sighed. “I ran from my parents’ deaths, right into Lance. He looked like a safe port in the storm. And to him, I looked like the perfect arm candy.”
    “He wasn’t wrong,” he allowed himself to say.
    She accepted the compliment with a tiny smile. “Anyway, we got married. And he was all about money. Didn’t want kids because they’re too expensive. Wanted to blow our cash on houses and vacations.” She shook her head. “I left a fortune in jewelry behind when I moved out here. Did you know that?”
    He shook his head. How could he have known? He’d hardly spoken to her after their breakup.
    “Doesn’t matter now. The government’s going to get it all.” She stared into the fire for another moment. “I was pretty sure he had a mistress. I guess I wasn’t enough for him.” She paused, her mouth twisted. “Anyway,” she resumed, “I was bored silly. Then I got the idea to start writing again. He blew his top when he found out I’d signed up for a workshop. Told me I’d better not be spreading around any stories about him.”
    “I bet he was worried that you’d tip somebody off about his indiscretions.”
    Her eyes widened. “You know, that didn’t even occur to me. I was too focused on the fact that he didn’t want me to write. I told him I didn’t have anything that was just mine except my writing, and I’d be damned if I’d let him take this away from me, too.”
    “Good for you.”
    “Yeah, well. It made for a pretty speech. He hadn’t taken everything away from me so much as I’d given it all up to keep him.” She shook her head in something approaching self-disgust. “And then I met Jesse.”
    He frowned. “Who’s Jesse?”
    “Jesse Vaughn,” she said, straightening in her seat, “was a guy in my first workshop. Younger than us, but only by a couple of years. He was a free spirit, or so I thought. Wanted to be a famous playwright. Then he switched it up and decided he wanted to be a famous novelist. Then he decided he wanted to start a famous publishing house.”
    “I’m sensing a theme,” he said with a small smile.
    “You could say that.” She shot him a lopsided grin. “Once he figured out I was rich, he was very attentive. Very attentive.” She finished her coffee, the mug hiding her face.
    “You slept with him.”
    She lowered the mug. “And gave him money. Every couple of weeks, he needed cash for some new scheme, and like a dope I gave it to him. Except he never used it for what he said he needed it for. He blew it all on booze and drugs. Probably other women, too, for all I