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Now they stood in the cramped confines of the small front porch, without a freaking clue what to say to each other.
CHAPTER FOUR
Two and a half years before
THE HOUSE WAS QUIET. Not that long ago, the silence would have surprised him. Meg loved music. She always had it going, blasting so that she could hear it in every room. He would come home and find her doing the dishes to U2, dusting to The Boss, paying bills to Dave Matthews.
He’d never understood how she could concentrate with so much else going on.
She’d never understood how he could concentrate with what she called the scream of silence.
Now that silence filled the house. Once he would have called out to her, but now he moved quietly through the foyer. He didn’t want her to know he was home. Not yet. There’d been a Web site launch meeting that afternoon at the Gazette—but she’d never showed. Lori said she’d gone out for coffee a little after two.
She’d never come back.
She did that a lot these days.
He found her in the kitchen, the big walk-in pantry to be exact. The navy suit she’d put on that morning was gone, replaced by a boxy T-shirt and baggy jeans. They literally hung on her. Her feet were bare, her hair loose.
The urge to—Russell didn’t know. He didn’t know what he wanted to do—what he was supposed to do. Six weeks had passed since they’d lost their baby…a little girl. Dr. Brennan said Meg had recovered physically, but emotionally…
Julia said to give her time.
Meg’s mother, Lilah, said to give her love.
Russell had tried both.
Now he watched her alphabetize their canned goods, and wanted to put his fist through the goddamn wall.
“Hey,” he finally said.
She stiffened. His wife. She stiffened at the sound of his voice.
“Missed you this afternoon.” He’d quit asking if she was okay.
Slowly she turned, looked at him with those awful, blank eyes of hers. “The pantry’s driving me crazy.”
He felt his jaw tighten, didn’t have a clue what to say in response—she’d arranged the cans by size and color the week before. “Meggie—” He reached for her, stilled when he saw her wince.
His wife. Wincing because he wanted to touch her.
“I can finish up for you,” he said. “Why don’t you go ahead and shower.”
She blinked at him. “Shower?”
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