Anne had never seen anyone before with a face that revealing, as though Sadie’s skin was just translucent enough to expose the feelings below. Right now, her expression held sincere commiseration. Not pity. Not the condescending looks Anne had received after the divorce news broke from the women who’d made up her social circle.
Empathy. That was what it was.
It made her feel—well, she wasn’t sure. Uneasy, yes. But at the kind understanding in Sadie’s eyes, some strange, unnamed craving leaped under Anne’s discomfort.
Usually, when faced with excess displays of emotion—or, really, any unrestrained emotion at all—Anne’s reflexive response was mild disgust, glazed with a light sheen of contempt.Shecould control herself well enough to behave appropriately; why couldn’t everyone else? But right now, strangely, Anne wasn’t repelled.
Somehow Sadie, using her sincerity, had pushed away any disgust and made room for Anne’s pain.
“You’re not sorry, though,” Sadie continued.
Anne started. “Excuse me?”
“You said you’re not sorry to be divorced.” Sadie cocked her head, the edges of her curly hair skimming her right shoulder. “That’s very interesting to me.You’reinteresting to me. Why aren’t you sorry?”
For just a few seconds, vertigo swept over Anne. “I told you, he’s gay. There’s no point in being sorry about a fact. The marriage was over. It was time to move on. For me, and”—she pointed her chin in the direction of the front walkway—“for both of us. Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I really do have to get going. Thanks for stopping by. Best wishes for your explosion.”
“I see.” It looked as though Sadie finally did. “Well, then, I’ll leave you be, along with my hope that the rest of the day’s gentle to you. Have a good afternoon, Anne.”
She turned and walked away.
Anne stared after her, at this loud, blunt woman who wanted a stranger’s day to be gentle, who’d looked at her with sincere compassion and warmth. So much warmth that, on a complete whim, she could just toss armfuls of it in Anne’s direction, with plenty left over.
You’re interesting to me, Sadie had said. As though in just minutes, she’d rummaged under Anne’s cool, detached exterior and touched something hidden that might be worth keeping.
Anne felt her lips slowly part, the breath high in her chest. Without her permission, an impulse began to bubble in her mouth.
Sadie was nearly at the end of the stone walkway.
“I never loved him,” Anne called out, and then nearly clapped her hand over her mouth, which opened on a gasp.
Sadie stopped. Spun around. No surprise waited for Anne on that open face. Even more incredibly, no judgment either. Just calm acceptance.
“Ever?” she asked evenly. “Not even in the beginning?”
Shock and cold, sick realization gripped Anne’s throat. She’d always told herself shedidlove James, at least in those early years. Told herself and told herself until she’d been convinced, mostly, and now the decades-long slow leak of that conviction had finally drained out right here, in her doorway, in front of someone she’d just met.
She’d never been in love with James.
Admired him—yes. Cared about him—yes. Had a connection with him—yes. But when Anne, her mouth dry and sour, thought back over her marriage, the strongest feeling she could remember was the sharp, bright satisfaction that came with doing what she was supposed to do: married an ambitious man from a good family, had his children, supported his career. Exactly what everyone—especially Anne’s mother—had wanted for her.
What was more humiliating? Thirty years of your husband lying to you, or thirty years of you lying to yourself?
“Not ever?” Sadie repeated. “You never loved him?”
Some unknown and terrible force shook Anne’s head from side to side.
Sadie nodded. Just once.
They stood there for a moment looking at each other. Anne, her stomach twisting with horror, felt exactly as though she’dtripped and dropped her ugly, naked soul on the ground between them. Any second now, Sadie would run away from what was rotten and squirming and never should have seen daylight.
Finally, Sadie announced, “We’re going to be friends.”
Anne recoiled, stunned. “What? Why?”
“Because, you fascinating thing,” Sadie told her, “I want to know what youdolove.”
She turned again and marched off toward her house, curls bouncing.