Free Miss Julia Meets Her Match by Ann B. Ross Page B

the man. And obviously I hadn’t, so taken up with living my own exemplary life that it’d never occurred to me to question his. I wondered why he hadn’t put me aside legally so he could pursue his interests with no fear of a vengeful wife.
    But, of course, he’d had no fear of me. I’d given him cover, something he could hide behind, and I now felt that was all he’d ever wanted of me. Even so, I’d had every right to expect fidelity and some semblance of respect from a husband, such as he was. Not that I’d ever been starry-eyed in love—I didn’t know what that meant—but I had devoted the best years of my life to him.
    I sighed and leaned my head against the back of the chair. My chest ached, as I thought of how proud I’d been of being the wife of such an influential man. As I thought of how I’d allowed him to take over most of the years of my life, flashes of anger blazed through my mind, not only at him, but at myself, as well. I was as much to blame for my bleak marriage as Wesley Lloyd had been. Well, maybe not as much, but a good bit.
    What it came down to was that I had not been able to keep a husband happy at home. Why in the world did I think I could do any better with another one, now that I was old and ugly and on my last legs? I would never be able to redeem the years frittered away on a wayward husband but, Lord knows, I didn’t have to put myself in the way of peril again.
    After a few more minutes of self-pitying reflection, I felt a growing conviction that there were still a few things I could do to preserve my dignity and to prevent any other man from pulling the wool over my eyes. And the first thing I did was go to the phone, I didn’t care how late it was.
    “Sam?” I said, when he answered, then hesitated to say what had to be said. “We missed you at dinner tonight, and you missed meeting Lillian’s great-granddaughter. You have a treat in store when you do.”
    “I look forward to it,” he said. “And I was about to call you, so I’m glad you beat me to it. I thought the Rotary meeting would never end. I kept thinking of you over there all lonely and despondent because you didn’t have me to entertain you.”
    I started to smile at his carrying-on, but remembered my new resolve and the reason I’d called him. “You do entertain me, Sam, and I hope you’ll continue to do so, but I want to tell you that I’ve made up my mind and there’ll be no changing it.”
    “Well, that lifts my heart, Julia. It’s the best news I’ve ever had. When do you want to do it? The sooner, the better, as far as I’m concerned. And I give you my solemn promise, you won’t regret it.”
    “Regret what?”
    “Why, marrying me. I’m going to make you happy, Julia. That is my dead-level promise.”
    I let the silence lengthen over the line, as I felt my own heart sink to the depths. Tears came to my eyes, and I had to clear my throat before proceeding. “Sam, the reason I called was to tell you that you might as well stop all this marriage talk. I’m not marrying you or anybody. I’ve had enough of that sad state of affairs to last me a lifetime and then some.”
    I hung up the phone, and stood over it, thinking that my heart was surely going to break in two. Then I turned off the bell so I wouldn’t hear it ring when he called back.
    I suffered through that night, tossing and turning and getting my gown in such a tangle that I almost strangled myself. When it was finally time to rise, I did it with a great deal of creaking and moaning, as I held onto the bedpost to get straightened up. But I did it with a new and firm acceptance of what I knew was the bottom line. There are some women, for whatever reason—upbringing, personality, basic characteristics, or something I couldn’t think of—who just are not cut out to be loved and cherished. And if you find that you’re one of those women, then the thing to do is accept it and concentrate on whatever positive qualities you can