Free One More Time by Deborah Cooke Page B

decided,” she said, unable to hide her unhappiness with this. “You didn’t think that maybe we should talk about such a decision before it was too late? Or had you already decided that you were going to walk out of our marriage?”
    The words were like poison on her tongue. Leslie was sure that her mouth would swell with hives just for letting them pass.
    Matt’s voice hardened. “I was sure that we were in agreement. I thought you’d be glad that I hadn’t compromised my principles. I thought you’d be glad that I wasn’t following the Coxwell legal eagle career path.”
    “You don’t maybe think you might have bent that principle a bit, just to get yourself a paycheck? Even just for a while?”
    “What for? I don’t need fancy cars and big houses and acres of lawn to feel like a big man. I’m not my father, Leslie. I don’t measure my own worth by what other people think of my toys.”
    “Well, maybe it’s time for you to think about what other people want,” Leslie said before she could stop herself. “Don’t take this wrong, Matt, I want you to be happy. I just wouldn’t mind if I got to be happy, too.”
    “But you are happy. You’re the most content person I know. You love your job...”
    How could he be so unaware of her feelings?
    “Content? You make me sound like a cow!”
    “That’s not what I meant...”
    “I’m as far from content as anyone can get. I hate my job!” Leslie shouted, interrupting him, only realizing how true it was when the forbidden words left her mouth. “I despise it! But I don’t have a choice, do I? Principles don’t pay for groceries or property taxes or electricity or gas for the car or even the car itself.” Her voice rose with every sentence and she didn’t care. She had kept such a tight lid on these thoughts that they were almost revelations to her, as well. “Principles don’t cover mortgage payments or provide for university tuitions, much less retirement plans. Principles don’t mean anything !”
    “You can’t possibly believe that...”
    “It doesn’t matter what I believe.” Leslie took a deep breath. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to work, so I can pay off the credit card bill for that new suit you’re wearing.”
    Then, because she remembered belatedly that Matt was headed straight to Sharan, because she realized that she had given him a whole lot of reasons to not just hurry there, but stay there, and because she knew she was going to cry, Leslie threw the receiver back into the cradle.
    Well done , she had time to tell herself before her tears started. She never cried, though it was hard to remind herself of that truth when the tears were streaming down her face.
    She dropped her forehead to her desk and wailed like a baby.
    The only mercy was that her office door was closed.
    Leslie hated her job. It was true, and now that she had uttered the thought, it was inescapable. She hated the lectures and she hated the politics and she hated all the energy she had to expend on people who really didn’t care about history. She hated that she couldn’t pursue her own research—and she despised Dinkelmann and his agendas.
    But she was trapped here, trapped as surely as a rat in a cage. Annette and Matt, the house, the car, the 401K’s, everything was dependent upon her and her paycheck.
    And if Matt was gone, her responsibilities were doubled. There wouldn’t even be a trickle coming in from his practice.
    It was depressing to think that Mrs. Beaton was right: Leslie would have to sell the house to give Matt his half, and she and Annette would have to move to an apartment.
    She’d have gone full circle, just as her father had always threatened. Maybe they’d end up in a grubby little tenement like the one she’d grown up in.
    Only now did she realize how very much she had wanted Matt to want that partnership with his father. How terrific that he could choose to pursue his principles, while she was going to have to give