Free A Shattered Wife by Diana Salyers Page A

opinion."
    "We might do that," Bill’s voice came across
amiable and easy-going. It sounded almost as if he meant what he said.
    Martha held her breath.
    "Just remember, with this operation and some therapy,
there’s a chance you could be a free man again," Paul said finally, and
went to his car whistling.
    For the rest of the afternoon Martha stayed away from her
husband, not only wondering when he was going to reprimand her for talking to
Paul about William’s visit but what she thought about what his operation could
mean to him - to them.
    At dinner, she could no longer avoid him and she had kept
quiet for as long as she could. Finally, she asked, "Well, what do you
think?"
    "Great cornbread," he said flatly without looking
up.
    "I’m talking about what Paul told us today."
    "Oh, that."
    Silence.
    Martha let out an exasperated sigh. "Well?"
    Bill knew what she wanted to talk about, but it had nothing
to do with her. He would have to think hard about it before making a decision. "He
didn’t sound very promising," Bill said after a while.
    "Any chance at all is…"
    "Look, this is my life we’re playing with here, not
yours." Bill punctuated his words by stabbing a fork into his meatloaf. "If
I decide to do it I will. If not, I won’t."
    "Let’s talk…"
    Bill interrupted her again. "The final choice is mine
alone to make. It doesn’t concern you."
    Martha looked away, her gaze colliding suddenly with the
chart hanging behind the door, glaring back at her menacingly. With the news of
the operation, she had forgotten about its mysterious disappearance.
    "For one thing, you don’t know what you’re talking
about," Bill continued. "You don’t sit in this chair day after day. I
do!"
    Martha continued to stare mutely at the chart.
    "If they make a mistake and I’m paralyzed from the neck
down, then nothing will have been achieved. When a change takes place in my
condition, I want it to be final - one way or another." If Bill could have
walked he would have been pacing the kitchen floor. Instead he was clenching
and unclenching his fists; his anger directed at the plate of food.
    After a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence, he went
back outside. The shotgun roared and then he yelled, "Mark down one more
for today!"
    Martha performed the task mechanically, her mind numb. Maybe
Paul was right. Maybe she was the one in need of help.

CHAPTER
8
    Grocery shopping was an easy task. Martha had been doing it
all her life, but this time she hurried through her shopping, hardly aware of
what she bought. Parking the pick-up in the small shopping plaza, she made a
quick stop at the bank. After leaving the bank, she hurried to a small drug
store nearby that carried the special shampoo, containing vitamin E, she used.
She did not notice the tall young man and petite red-haired woman crossing the
street holding hands.
    "Were you going to leave town without stopping to see
me?" Paul asked quietly as he followed Martha into the pharmacy.
    Startled at the sound of his voice, Martha whirled around,
nearly dropping her purse. She had completely forgotten about his orders to
come to his office for an examination.
    His clear, blue-gray eyes remained steadily on hers,
questioning.
    "Well," Martha stammered, "I’m feeling much
better today."
    "Did you take the medication I gave you yesterday to
help you get some rest?"
    She nodded.
    "I thought so. You look a little better. No adverse
reaction?"
    "No," Martha answered, trying to control her
trembling. Then she saw the woman standing close to Paul.
    "Martha, this is Katie Albertson. Katie, this is Martha
Landry." Paul made the introductions. Then with a proud smile he said, "Martha
is my foster mother."
    "It’s so nice to meet you!" Katie’s smile was
pleasant and she extended a tiny, well-shaped hand.
    Martha took the hand, which felt smooth in her own work -
roughened one, managed a weak smile and nodded. "Paul is bringing you out
to our place next week for lunch. We’re looking