Child of Her Heart. Irene Brand

that she hadn’t considered that obligation.

      “You’re paid through the rest of this month, but don’t worry about that.”

      Sonya reluctantly followed Leta out of the apartment building. As Leta drove along busy Dodge Street, she said, “The lawyer’s name is Daniel Massie. He represented me in my last divorce. Before I went to him, I’d heard he was always on the woman’s side, and I believe it. He surely held my ex’s feet to the fire.”

      Leta parked in an underground garage. “Massie’s office is on the fourth floor of this building. I telephoned and made an appointment, so I’ll introduce you and then wait in the reception room. You’ll be more at ease if you talk to him alone.”

      “I don’t know what to say, and I’m scared.”

      “No need to be. He’s a gracious man.”

      Sonya’s stomach heaved, and she nearly retched during the elevator ride to the fourth floor. She pressed sweaty hands to her abdomen and leaned against the wall, thankful that no one else except Leta had witnessed her discomfort.

      Daniel Massie greeted Leta warmly when they entered his office, and after the introduction, he turned to Sonya with a smile and shook hands with her.

      “I’ll be in the waiting room,” Leta said.

      Massie motioned Sonya to a chair beside his desk. Daniel Massie was a man at whom people, especially women, took a second glance. Even as he leaned back, at ease in his leather chair, he exhibited a hint of latent authority. He was not handsome in the usual sense, yet his face was made up of winsome features—brilliant gray eyes, small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and a warm smile. Yes, it was a face meriting a second glance, but although he had the kindest eyes she’d ever seen, Sonya couldn’t meet his gaze.

      What kind of person must he think she was when her husband had deserted her?

      “What can I do for you, Mrs. Dixon?”

      “I don’t know,” she murmured. What a dumb remark! And she made it worse by stammering, “I didn’t want to come, but Leta thought I should.”

      What had happened to her self-confidence? she wondered.

      “How old are you?” the lawyer said.

      “Twenty-three. I’ve been married two years.”

      “Not quite as old as my mother was when my father went off and left her with two children to raise. That was twenty-five years ago when I was five years old, but I still remember the problems she had.”

      Sonya twisted her purse straps. The telephone rang, and Massie engaged in a short conversation with another client relating to an automobile accident Water gurgled in the aquarium in the corner, and Sonya riveted her eyes upon the black and gold fish zipping gracefully through the bubbling water. The leather furnishings of the room weren’t new, but they had quality, and Sonya deduced that Daniel Massie had a thriving law practice much beyond what she could afford.

      When he replaced the receiver, he said, “Mrs. Barton briefly outlined the nature of your problem, but perhaps it would be better if I hear it from you.”

      In halting sentences, Sonya unburdened the trauma of the past two months, leaving out nothing. It was easier to talk to a stranger than her friends. “The worst thing about it is that we had been very happy up until that point I just can’t believe that my life could change so drastically.”

      “On what criteria do you judge the happiness of your marriage?”

      Was he suggesting that they hadn’t been happy? The nerve of the man!

      Almost belligerently, Sonya said, “We lived in a large apartment in the best part of town, lavishly furnished, and we vacationed at luxurious places. Bryon bought me expensive jewelry, and he insisted that I buy nothing but designer clothing. Of course we were happy.”

      “But it takes more than material things to make a happy marriage. You’ve mentioned nothing about tenderness, mutual respect and devotion.”

      “We had those, too,” Sonya said with downcast eyes. But had they? Daniel Massie had given her something to think about.

      “Do you want me to contact your husband?”

      “Oh, no, I don’t want to make him any angrier. And I can’t have you working for me when I can’t pay you. Perhaps you can just advise me.”

      The lawyer pondered a moment “Do you have family to help you financially?”

      “My parents live in Ohio and would probably help me if I asked, but I won’t ask them. They were opposed to my marriage, and I remember my grandmother’s old adage, ‘If you make the bed, lie in it’ It’s my problem, and I don’t expect to burden them with it.”

      “Then it might be a good idea for you to talk with a marriage counselor. You’ll need help from someone.”

      “I’ll handle it myself. I still think Bryon will come back.”

      “Even so, I suggest that you send those current bills to your husband. If he’s been caring for the finances, he’ll have to continue to do so. Also, if you won’t let me contact him, you’ll have to. Find out exactly what he intends to do. And I must warn you, Mrs. Dixon, from his actions, I think he means to make this a permanent break. If he sues for divorce, you’ll need an attorney.”

      “I don’t believe in divorce.”

      “You may not have a choice, and if he files, you must have help.” Daniel Massie smiled slightly. “You won’t let me help you. You won’t call upon your parents or a marriage counselor. But you must face reality. Mrs. Dixon, I’ve been through this with many other women. You can’t handle it alone. You’ll need help to get through this,” he added gently.

      Sonya stood to leave and found that her legs scarcely sustained her body. She held on to his desk for support The lawyer quickly left his chair, came to her side and took her arm.

      “Perhaps you should sit down for a few minutes,” he said, with concern in his voice. “I’ll call Mrs. Barton to assist you.”

      Sonya shook her head. “I’m all right now. How much do I owe you, Mr. Massie?”

      “Nothing at all today, since I haven’t done anything for you.”

      “I won’t accept charity.”

      “It isn’t charity—I never charge for a consultation of this type. If you need further help, then we can consider a fee. But there is one thing you can do for me.”

      She looked at him questioningly, suddenly suspicious of his motives. What kind of woman did he consider her?

      “I’d like to have you talk to a friend of mine, a professional counselor as well as a minister.” He picked up a notepad, wrote a name and handed it to her. “His name is Adam Benson, and he and his wife, Marie, will come to you anytime day or night when you have a special need. I’ve written down his home and office phone numbers.”

      “I don’t need to talk to a minister or a counselor. I can handle this alone.”

      “I’m sure you believe you can. But there comes a time in each life when human resources, and our own self-determination fail us. When those times occur, people who don’t have a higher power to sustain them will be overwhelmed by the pressure. I don’t want that to happen to you, Mrs. Dixon. Please take this card.”

      This man is really concerned about me, Sonya thought, and she took the card from his hand.

      “Thank you,” she murmured and walked weakly from the office.

      Leta took Sonya’s arm and helped her to the elevator, and Sonya was thankful to have a friend to lean on.

      “What did you think of Daniel?” Leta asked, as she drove out of the parking garage.

      “He was all right, I suppose.”

      “He