Dakota Born (24 page)

“I want to preface what I'm about to say,” she said, inhaling a deep breath and holding it for a couple of seconds, “because—well, because I don't want you to respond with anger.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “In other words, I'm not going to like whatever you've got to say?”

She couldn't deny the truth of that.

“Just say it!”

“I think…” Joanie was afraid he'd never agree, but for the sake of their marriage, for the sake of their family, she had to try. “I think we should sell the farm.”

Once she'd made the suggestion, she closed her eyes, anticipating his backlash. She didn't have to wait long.

Brandon was out of his chair in seconds, pacing the floor. “This farmland's been in my family for a hundred years!”

“I know that, Brandon.”

“You're asking me to sell my heritage, my son's heritage.”

“I'm just asking you to consider it. To look for alternatives. You're killing yourself working as many hours as you do. We don't have a life. You're constantly worried about money. You might want to continue like this, but I don't. The stress is making me ill. I'm already anemic.”

Her husband sank back into his chair and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

“The small farmer hasn't got a chance anymore,” she told him. “Not in today's market.”

“Farming is all I know, Joanie.”

The pain in his voice was nearly her undoing. But she forced herself to go on. “You can learn something else, something less demanding and stressful.”

He frowned, and she could see his doubt and his fear.

“My dad said if you were willing, he might be able to get you into the pipefitters' union. He knows the apprenticeship coordinator.”

“You talked to your parents about this?” His voice throbbed with hurt.

“Is that so unforgivable?”

“It might surprise you, Joanie, but I do have my pride.”

“Don't let your pride destroy our lives!”

Brandon didn't answer. The muscles in his jaw quivered and he broke eye contact and looked away.

“You think I've…betrayed you by talking to my mom and dad,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “but I've done everything I know to save this marriage.”

Her husband said nothing. Then he muttered, “Your parents were right. We should never have married.”

“I'll let
you
tell Sage and Stevie they were a mistake,” she cried, fighting back anger. This wasn't the first time he'd hurled these accusations at her, and she was tired of them.

“That's not what I mean,” Brandon shouted.

“In other words, the
kids
weren't a mistake. I was.”

“Not you.
Us.
We were nothing but one big mistake waiting to happen. I should've known better than to bring you here to the farm. You don't understand what it means to be a farm wife. I should have listened to my instincts.”

She should be used to hearing it by now; still his words cut deep. “Then your answer is no. You refuse to consider selling the farm.”

“My answer is
hell, no
.”

She nodded, not even disappointed, since this was exactly what she'd expected. Unwilling to prolong the agony, she left the living room and retreated into their bedroom.

The suitcases were stored in the back of the closet, and she dragged out the largest one and started emptying her dresser drawers. She hadn't wanted to come to Brandon with threats or hysteria. Had he agreed to consider selling the farm, she would have told him her reason for asking. But the knowledge that another baby was on the way would only add to his burdens. For now, the pregnancy was her secret. She wouldn't be accused of manipulating him with that.

“What the hell is this?” Brandon demanded when he found her. “You're leaving me?”

Without emotion, Joanie looked at her husband. “Don't tell me you're surprised. From everything you've said and done in the last few weeks, it seems this is what you want.”

He stood there, silent. Pride kept him from denying her words or asking her to stay, she realized, her heart breaking. It wasn't supposed to end like this. She loved Brandon, had always loved him, had planned to grow old with him.

“I know you think you've failed us, Brandon, but that's not true. You're trying to cope with circumstances that have become impossible. We can't go on like this. I was hoping we might be able to try again, but I can see that isn't going to happen.”

“Because I refuse to sell the farm?” he asked bitterly.

“It was the only thing I could think of that would give us a chance. I'm sorry it's come to this.”

He sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you plan on taking the kids?”

She nodded.

“I guess that's for the best,” he said, sounding resigned.

“I haven't told them. I thought we could do that together in the morning.”

He agreed. “I assume you're moving in with your parents?”

“No. Mom and Dad have a rental that's vacant and they said the kids and I could live there for the time being.”

“How long have you been planning this?” he asked.

“It isn't what I want, it never was, but we can't go on as we are now, destroying each other little by little. It's obvious you don't love me anymore.”

“I bought you that damned washer and dryer, didn't I?”

Joanie held her head high. “Yes, you did get me the washer and dryer, and you've resented doing it every minute since. Do you honestly think I could enjoy using them after the things you've said? If I could've found a way, I would have returned them both.”

Brandon watched her silently. Suddenly he stood and walked to the door, but before leaving the room, he turned back. “I suppose you're expecting me to beg you to stay.”

“No.”

“This is your choice, remember that.”

She nodded.

“I didn't ask you to go.”

“No, you drove me to it,” she said, not immune to bitterness herself. This was hard. She'd anticipated Brandon's anger, but was stunned by his pain.

“I'm not coming after you, Joanie,” he said tonelessly.

“I don't expect you to, Brandon.”

“Just remember you're the one who wants out of this marriage.”

“I want a
marriage,
and what we have isn't that.”

“I've got a signed wedding license that states otherwise. If you want to end our marriage, there's nothing I can do. But let's get something settled right now.”

She closed her suitcase and secured the lock. He waited until she'd straightened and was looking at him before he spoke.

“Once you walk out that door, don't think I'm going to follow.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it, Joanie.”

She didn't doubt him.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I'll send you what I can financially.”

Tears burned her eyes and it took the full force of her determination to keep them at bay. “I'd appreciate whatever you can do to help.”

“How do you plan to support yourself?” he asked. “Will you be getting a job?”

She nodded. “I talked to a friend of my mother's when I was home at Thanksgiving…. She said if things don't work out here, she'd hire me.”

Cold, hard anger flashed from his eyes. “How many people have you discussed this with? How long have you been planning it, anyway? You didn't answer me before.”

She stared at him. “Does it matter?” she finally asked.

“I guess not,” he said in a defeated voice.

“That's what I thought.” She slid the suitcase off the bed and set it next to the others. “I'll make sure the children keep in touch.”

He nodded. “Just remember this was your decision.”

“I'll remember.”

“I'll sleep on the couch tonight.” With those words, he hurried from the room. The lump in her throat made breathing nearly impossible.

It was over.

After she'd left with the children in the morning, she wouldn't see Brandon again. Not unless it was in court.

 

Rachel had looked forward to this evening all week. Mark was spending the night at Lindsay's while she went to dinner with Heath. The one unfortunate aspect of her pizza success was that it tied up her weekends. Since he was in town three days a week, Heath suggested they go out for dinner on a Wednesday.

During the last three months, Rachel had felt she was beginning to know Heath. He'd waited a long time to ask her out; he'd become her friend first, and she was grateful for his patience. He was the kind of man who knew what he wanted—and knew exactly how to get it. And if
she
was what he wanted…Well, she had to feel flattered.

Over Thanksgiving, he'd invited her to meet his grandmother, and Rachel had spent an enjoyable afternoon at the older woman's home. Lily remembered not only Rachel's parents, but her grandparents and had told her several stories she'd never heard before.

Rachel had loved watching Heath with his grandmother and enjoyed the conversational play between them. Lily Quantrill was as prickly as a cactus, and Heath always managed to say just the right thing to rile her. Rachel had teased him about it afterward and he'd told her how much he loved his grandmother. It was obvious to her that Lily Quantrill treasured her grandson, too. Rachel suspected these two were more alike than either one realized.

Tonight's dinner was important, a turning point for them. Rachel wasn't sure how she knew this, but she had the distinct feeling that it was much more than a routine date. Meeting his grandmother had been the first step, and apparently she'd passed muster.

Rachel's dress had cost a small fortune, and she'd spent copious amounts of time on her hair and makeup. When she dropped Mark off, Lindsay had assured her she looked fabulous. Rachel hoped that was true. It'd been years, at least fifteen years, since she'd gone out on a date, and despite knowing Heath and feeling comfortable with him, she was nervous.

The doorbell chimed and she leaped off the sofa, her heart pounding. She forced herself to be calm as she walked to the front door.

“Hello, Rachel,” Heath said, stepping inside. He'd stamped the snow off his boots and brushed off his coat as he stood on the porch waiting for her. The December wind howled outside, and she could see that it was snowing more heavily now.

“You got your Christmas tree up early,” he said, glancing around the house. He seemed to approve.

“Mark wanted the tree up last weekend. I don't know how I managed to put him off as long as I did.”

Heath returned his attention to Rachel, and his gaze softened. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you. You do, too.”

Heath grinned, and Rachel swore it was the most wonderful smile she'd ever seen. “I don't think I've ever been called lovely before.”

“You know what I meant,” she said, blushing.

He helped her on with her coat, and his hands lingered at her shoulders. When his lips touched the side of her neck, Rachel closed her eyes as the shivers raced down her spine. He turned her in his arms and she didn't resist when his mouth sought hers. His kiss was light and gentle. And brief—he pulled away almost immediately.

“We'd better go,” he murmured, his breath a little unsteady.

She nodded.

“I made a reservation at Mulligan's in Devils Lake.”

It was by far the best restaurant in the area. Getting there entailed a fairly long drive, but if Heath didn't mind, she certainly wasn't going to object.

“Mark's with Lindsay, so it doesn't matter what time I get back.”

“Is she keeping him for the night?”

“Yes.” Rachel flicked off all but a few lights. “He was really excited, especially since he's got a minor role in the play. He gets to practice his lines with the director.”

“The play's next week?”

“Thursday to Saturday. It should be wonderful—everyone's worked so hard.” One way or another, the entire community was involved in this play. Her job had been publicity—sending press releases to radio stations and local newspapers. She'd heard that people from as far away as the Canadian border were planning to attend.

Heath handed her into his car, then raced around the front. “Damn, it's cold,” he muttered as he slipped into the driver's seat.

She didn't think now was the time to remind him that it was going to get much colder come January. Officially it wasn't even winter yet. He hadn't lived in North Dakota in some years and must have forgotten about the weather.