Free Seasons of Sorrow by C. C. Wood Page B

She drove home on autopilot, turning the events of the day over in her mind.
    How is it she could be married to her husband for eight years and never know how low he would sink? Derek proved himself to be not just a criminal, but a complete dickhead. He screwed around on her, took as much money from their account as he was able, stole from his best friend and business partner, and didn’t seem to care at all that his little boy had died just a few short months ago.
    The confusion that set in after Greg’s phone call was beginning to dissipate. Her blood started to heat with ire as she thought about her husband. He was a liar and a cheat. What the hell was wrong with him? She was also angry with herself. How could she not have seen what kind of man Derek was after eight years of marriage?
    Charlotte pulled into her garage and jumped out of her car. She stormed into the house, angrier than she had been before. More enraged than the day she had broken so many of her knick knacks and Greg had cleaned them up while she slept off the crying jag that followed.
    Her hands shook as she dumped her purse on the kitchen table and looked around her kitchen. She wasn’t sure what to do. If she tried to pour herself a glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge, she would probably crack the glass in her fist or smash it against the wall, so strong was her ire. She half wished Derek would show his face. The thought of punching him in the nose seemed quite satisfying.
    Instead, Charlotte bounded up the stairs, two at a time. When she reached her room, she tore off her slacks and business-like blouse, and yanked on an old University of Texas t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. She tugged her hair back into a knot on the top of her head with a scrunchie.
    When she came out of the bathroom, the first thing her eyes fell on was a picture of her and Derek on their honeymoon. Suddenly she knew exactly what she was going to do. She walked over to the dresser and snatched up the picture. Then she went to the wall on her side of the bed and grabbed the photo of her and Derek holding Adam together. She would replace it with one of the pictures of just her holding her little boy. Since Derek didn’t seem to care that his son had died, Charlotte decided that he didn’t deserve a place in her memories of Adam.
    She was going through the house, removing Derek’s pictures from the walls and tables, when the doorbell rang. Charlotte dumped the armful of photos she held onto the couch and went to the door. When she peeked out the side window, she froze. She really didn’t want to see Greg right now. After everything that had happened, she had no idea what to say to him.
    Charlotte stayed out of sight and waited. Greg rang the bell twice more before he finally gave up and walked off the porch. She sighed with relief and went back to what she was doing. Maybe she would know what to say tomorrow. It might be cowardly but there was only so much upheaval she could tolerate at that moment.
    She went into the kitchen with all the picture frames and began to remove Derek’s photos. When the front door slammed, Charlotte went rigid. She looked around wildly for the phone, but the handset wasn’t in the cradle on the counter. Her heart pounding, she turned to run to the garage and out of the house.
    “Charlotte! Are you okay? Why didn’t you answer the door?”
    It was Greg. Charlotte stopped her flight. He came through the kitchen door, a worried expression on his face.
    “Thank God, you’re okay,” he said.
    She frowned at him. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” she asked.
    He just stared at her. “Since you’re not bleeding to death or lying on the bathroom floor, severely injured, why didn’t you answer the door?”
    Charlotte couldn’t lie. “I really don’t feel like talking to anyone tonight, Greg. It’s been a hard day.”
    His eyes narrowed as he continued to look at her. “You didn’t want to talk to anyone or you didn’t want to talk to