Torn Asunder by Barbara Ross

Author:Barbara Ross [Ross, Barbara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2024-02-12T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Tom thanked Zoey “for being honest and brave.” He gave his head a quick shake in the direction of the door. He wanted to go.

I looked at Jamie.

“I’m staying with Zoey.” His tone discouraged argument.

“We weren’t going to be together the night before our wedding.” Zoey was still clinging to the idea that somehow, some way, she could salvage the wedding she had imagined.

“I’m staying,” Jamie repeated.

“Of course,” Tom said, and we left. Without talking about it, he and I slipped across the hall into the room I’d saved for him and sat on his bed. He wrapped me in his arms and held me tight.

“What now?” I asked from under his chin.

“You’re going to bed,” he answered. “You can sleep here. I’m going down to relieve Pete. It’s late. It’ll keep until morning. No one is leaving.”

“Okay.” He was right. We were exhausted and couldn’t be bothering the guests any longer. I doubted I would sleep. Adrenaline was surging through my body, not least from Zoey’s revelation about Kendall Clarkson’s alleged identity. “I’ll just go get my toothbrush and something to sleep in.”

“I’ll wait in the hall while you do. Then I’ll walk you back, and you’ll lock this door.”

But as we crept along the hallway, Constance Marshall’s door opened. “I heard Zoey crying.”

“Jamie’s with her,” I assured her.

Constance ran her tongue around her lips as if they were dry, opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, and then opened her mouth again. “I have something more I need to tell you.” She was looking at Tom, and I gathered that, whatever it was she had to say, it was in his official capacity.

“Of course,” Tom said. “Let’s not stand in the hall.” He took my elbow as Constance backed up, and we made our way into her room.

We returned to our former positions, Tom on the desk chair, me on the bed, and Constance in the easy chair. The bed was still made. She’d evidently been sitting up since we’d left her, not trying to sleep.

She folded her hands in her lap.

“You had something to tell us.” Tom spoke softly, as if coaxing a reluctant animal.

“Yes.” Constance stopped, then began again. “You, really, but it’s okay for Julia to be here. I wasn’t fully honest with you before. I told you Kenneth Clark and I had lived together, long in the past. But I didn’t tell you something important. When he left, he stole every penny I had.” She stopped, searching both our faces. Tom’s expression was one of sympathetic concern. I actually felt that way and hoped it showed.

“I was a young schoolteacher. I had a tiny savings account, enough money in checking for the next month’s rent and groceries, and a ten-year-old car. Not much to take, but when he left, he took it all.”

“He didn’t own a gallery where he could show your paintings,” I said.

“He did not. I’d known that for several months. He didn’t have a job. He was always on the phone in my apartment.

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