The Heart of Grace. Линда Гуднайт

tormented her.

      How could he prefer such a place to their lovely, spacious home? The home they’d bought together? He loved that place as much as she did.

      He just didn’t love her anymore. At least that’s what he claimed.

      To hold back the cry of despair, she buried her face in a pillow.

      Though she’d wanted to question why he had suddenly given up on them, after seeing his injuries, she was too concerned with his health. First, she’d get him well and then she’d fight him. She’d fight and she’d win because, even if it was arrogant, deep down she couldn’t believe he’d stopped loving her.

      Something was wrong, though. Terribly wrong.

      The thought stopped her cold.

      Insecurity reared its ugly head. Sometimes men strayed, even strong, steady, decent men like her father. Mother had never guessed, but Larissa had. A politician, like a photographer, traveled widely and alone. Good-looking, charming—both the men in her life would have no problem finding companionship outside the home.

      No. She couldn’t believe that about Drew. He might be secretive and mysterious in many ways, but he was faithful. She would know if he wasn’t.

      The other woman in Drew’s life had always been his work. Could that be it? Was she cramping his freewheeling, traveling lifestyle?

      No, that didn’t make sense either. He came and went as he pleased already, even though she’d asked him to be home more often. His job had always come first, even before their marriage.

      The familiar tune of her cell phone played and she fished the instrument from the bottom of her handbag.

      A quick glance at the caller ID brought a groan.

      “Hello, Mother.”

      “Have you seen him?”

      With a sigh, Larissa pinched the bridge of her nose. It was always like this—the tug of war between her parents, especially her mother, and her personal choices.

      “I had a dreadful flight. Thank you for asking, Mother. And I’m exhausted. Yes, I’ve seen him. His name is Drew.”

      “I know that,” her mother snapped. “Is he all right?”

      “Do you care?”

      “Larissa! That is no way to speak to your own mother. I have a terrible headache, too, but I wanted to check on my little girl before I took some medication and went to bed. Your happiness is the only thing that ever mattered to me.” Her voice took on the whiney, childish quality Larissa had dealt with since childhood. “I wish you were here to make some of your delicious tea. I find it so soothing at times like this.”

      For Larissa’s mother, Marsha Edington Stone, times like this occurred more or less every day.

      Her discontented sigh huffed through the telephone lines, and Larissa imagined her sinking into the lush, reclining chair in the vast sitting room, one wrist dramatically tossed across her forehead like some eighteenth-century princess.

      “What’s upset you this time, Mother?” She’d long ago accepted the fact that Mother’s troubles were far more important than her own.

      “The luncheon was today. I don’t know what possessed me to go without you. I’m not well enough, and now I’m paying for my dedication. All that chatter over who’s going to chair next year’s art council was too much. You’re the logical choice, if they have any sense at all.”

      Mother had been sick and needy as long as Larissa could remember. Having grown up as the adored only child of a very wealthy oil man, Marsha was spoiled, although she did suffer from migraines and too much time on her hands. Larissa vacillated between pity and annoyance, but like her father, she never refused her mother anything. Larissa steered the conversation away from her mother’s health. Marsha was a good person when she wasn’t focused on herself.

      “I’m sorry,” Larissa said, automatically. Say it now, or pay for it later. “Please forgive my selfishness.”

      “I understand, honey. You’ve been under so much strain lately. It’s no wonder you’re edgy. As soon as this thing is over, you can get back to normal.”

      This thing, Larissa assumed, was her marriage. Her mother refused to believe Larissa could be happy married to Drew. She’d long planned a huge society wedding for her only child, and when Larissa and Drew eloped, the die was cast. There was no forgiveness in Marsha Stone for a perceived wrong, and since Larissa was her daughter, Drew remained the focus of the animosity.

      Larissa’s marriage, to her mother’s way of thinking, was a dead horse. No use beating it.

      “I do have some lovely news,” Mother said. “Did your father tell you?”

      Larissa’s last conversation with her father had been terse to say the least. “I guess he forgot to mention it.”

      “We’re going on a cruise to Italy. I am so excited. I can hardly believe Thomas has finally agreed to get away from his office long enough to go. We’ve discussed it for years.”

      Larissa managed a laugh. “You make it sound as if you’ve never been out of the house.”

      Her parents had traveled to enough places to be U.N. ambassadors.

      “Oh, you know what I mean.”

      Actually, she didn’t.

      “Why don’t you come to Italy with us? Oh, darling, it will be such fun. A nice vacation is exactly what you need. We’ll go to Venice and let some handsome Italian woo you in a gondola. Then we’ll go shopping for the most wonderful wardrobe of Italian leathers. And by the time we return all this unpleasantness will be over.”

      “Mother.” Larissa’s anxiety level rose even higher. “I have to be here for Drew.”

      Silence hummed through the wires. Larissa could imagine the flat line of disapproval on her mother’s collagen-injected lips.

      “That’s ridiculous.” This time her mother’s tone had a bite to it. “Stop being a doormat to this man. He’s never been a husband. Traipsing all over the world and leaving you behind, embarrassed in society. Give him a divorce and move on with your life. Find a good man of our social standing and have a child. You’re not getting any younger you know.”

      “Thanks for the reminder.” Her biological clock was ticking loudly, and she hungered for children like a starving lioness. But she wanted Drew to be the father of those children, something he flatly refused to discuss. Children, he claimed, were not part of the package.

      A headache threatened. She pressed a thumb and forefinger against her eyes. “I can’t talk to you about this. I’m sorry.” Lately, all she did was apologize.

      “We used to talk about everything until you joined that religious group. I suppose they’re behind this insane idea of yours to bring Drew home, instead of cutting your losses while you can.”

      Hoping to avoid a lecture, Larissa said, “I haven’t had a chance to talk to anyone at church about this. It’s all too fresh. You’re my mother. I need you.” Boy, was that ever true. “I love you.”

      “Well,” Marsha sniffed. “I love you, too, honey. You’re all that matters to me. I’m happy that you enjoy your church friends. Although in my opinion, you take this new religion fad far too seriously. Everybody gets divorced these days. Divorce isn’t a sin, you know.”

      Larissa couldn’t agree. According to her Bible, Christians didn’t divorce even if they wanted to. And she most certainly did not want to.

      But to the Stones, church was strictly a social institution, mostly used to better her father’s political career. Though they attended occasionally as a family, especially during election years, they had never discussed personal faith in their home. She hadn’t a clue what a relationship with Christ was about until her friend Jennifer