Free The Brevity of Roses by Linda Cassidy Lewis Page B

paperwork to finish before joining him at the dig.
    “See you in a few, lovely lady,” he said.
    Not even fifteen minutes passed before Stephen’s assistant rushed back. “There’s been an accident … Stephen and Carl!” he told her.
    Meredith split in two: body and mind, or body and spirit, or heart and soul. One half knew instantly, just knew, the accident was fatal. That half shattered like cold crystal against stone and refused to believe that anything so horrible had happened on that beautiful morning. Had happened to Stephen. Had happened to her. That broken Meredith believed, if only she had not stayed behind, if only she had been by his side, the horrible thing could not have happened. Or even if it had, she would not have been left—alive—without him.
    Her other half switched off. That controlled Meredith stood at the collapsed dig observing the recovery of the bodies of the two men, and felt sympathy for Carl’s wife, at home in the States, and not yet aware she was also widowed. It was that steely Meredith who flew home with the coffin, arranged the funeral, accepted the offered condolences, and wrote the thank-you notes.
    At some point, her shattered self and her stoic self merged and went on with a life. She continued writing for a while, but she couldn’t face the prospect of field work. She continued teaching, but her heart was no longer in that either. Within a year, she had resigned her position at the university. At the age of thirty-five, she retired.
    It had been a long time since she pulled out, dusted off, and examined the memory of her life immediately following Stephen’s death. At first, grief covered her like skin, defining her, holding her together. Gradually, it sloughed off, and collected into another form—pain without warning, like a cat hiding under the bed reaching out its paw to swat her when she least expected it. Finally, it ceased breathing and became only an object, a fact of her life, but that object cast a shadow—the dark, formless absence of Stephen. This shadow lay over her so long she became oblivious to its presence. Then Jalal lifted it like a veil, and now she craved this new sun-filled life.
     

Five
     
    SOMEONE NUDGED THEIR cart into hers as Meredith stood in the frozen food aisle of the market. Assuming it was was accidental, she didn't react until they spoke.
    “She lives!”
    Meredith stiffened and forced a deep breath. “Hello, Judith.”
    “So, you are still speaking to me! I didn’t know, since you don’t return my calls anymore.”
    Meredith was surprised to feel a rush of pity when she looked at her. Judith was all hard edges and brittle points. A lack of love had burned away all softness. “I’ve been busy.”
    Judith rolled her eyes. “Well, now that you’ve finally qualified as one, you need to know that we Wanton Women stave off depression by finding a new man as soon as possible.”
    “Why would you think I need a new—” she didn’t bother to finish her protest. As usual, gossip had spread faster than a canyon wildfire.
    “It wasn’t hard to figure out. No one’s seen him around, and you’ve locked yourself away.”
    Meredith forced a smile. “Jalal is away on business.”
    A tinge of delight colored Judith’s look of pity. “Honey,” she said, “he’s not the type of man who goes away on business .”
    “You’re wrong.”
    “Oh, don’t be a fool ,” said Judith. “Jalal’s off chasing some new—and almost surely younger —piece of ass.”
    The sympathy Meredith felt moments ago washed away in a wave of anger and she lashed out. “We’re not talking about your men!”
    “You bitch!” Judith grabbed her purse from her cart, and shoved Meredith aside as she stormed off.
    Meredith resumed her shopping, but all the while, she questioned herself. What’s wrong with me? Where is my dignity, my self-respect? Why would any woman agree to let her lover be unfaithful?
     

     
    On the seventh day, Jalal sent Meredith