Free The Promise by Dan Walsh Page A

four or five in there.”
    â€œCould we? I’d love that.”
    â€œThen consider it done,” Jim said. “It’ll be like a living souvenir of this trip. I’ll get to work on it as soon as we get home.”
    Marilyn didn’t know why, but hearing this released a wave of emotion inside her. She had never felt so loved, so cherishedbefore. Not even in their dating days. It was as if Jim was totally focused on her happiness now, as if there was nothing in life, big or small, he wouldn’t do for her. Thank you, Lord , she prayed quietly, for changing this man so completely .
    She was also happy to discover that all the bitterness and loneliness, all the rejection she’d felt—emotions that had defined her life for so long—were completely gone.
    Her thoughts were momentarily interrupted by the tour guide as the bus made a wide sweeping turn and another amazing sight came into view. “If you look outside your right window, you’ll see the ancient Etruscan village of Orvieto sitting atop that rocky plateau. At the center you see the twin spires of Orvieto’s famous duomo, or cathedral.” She continued to talk, but Marilyn stopped listening. She was captivated by the visual splendor.
    The scene looked like something out of a medieval fairy tale. An entire walled city resting atop rocky cliffs rising up on every side. Lush green forests encircled the base. If she had traveled back a thousand years in time, she’d expect to see something just like this. “Oh Jim,” she said. “Is there any chance we could go there?”
    â€œThat sounds familiar. Orvieto, Orvieto,” he repeated, scrolling through a document on his phone. “Yes,” he said. “That’s one of the towns on Dr. Franklin’s list. Marta, Bagnoregio, some ruins outside of Viterbo, and Orvieto. We’re going to come back here, just the two of us, when our tour is through.”
    She couldn’t wait. She sat back in silence as this ancient city on a hill passed slowly by. Jim snapped a few pictures. Michele would love this place. She’d always loved stories with princes and castles. Thinking of Michele brought Marilyn back to the bon voyage party Michele had organized last week, a few nights before they’d left. Everyone had come, even Doug, their youngest.
    Michele had baked a cake in the shape of the Italian boot, with little flags stuck at the approximate locations of the bigcities on their tour. Everyone was laughing and getting along the entire night. But still, at several moments, Marilyn couldn’t help but notice Jean, Tom’s wife. The look on her face. Marilyn thought about it now. She remembered that expression. It was the same look she used to wear at all those parties Jim forced her to host or attend.
    There were the eyes that didn’t match the forced smile. Laughing just a little late at every joke, because you were supposed to, not because you were enjoying yourself. You did what was expected. All the while fighting off feelings of being alone in a crowd.
    Marilyn was convinced something was wrong between Jean and Tom. She didn’t know what just yet; it wasn’t anything anyone had done or said. But her instincts on these things were rarely off. Jean was unhappy, profoundly unhappy. She was certain of it.
    It didn’t take a whole lot of thought to imagine why. It was the way Tom treated her. Her and the kids. Not just lately but for years. Tom was the spitting image of Jim . . . the old Jim. He’d grown up wanting to be just like his dad. And that was the problem.
    Tom had succeeded.
    He was like his dad had been for so many years: tense, edgy, irritable, controlling. Totally focused on himself. My way or the highway.
    She sighed as one image after another ran through her mind. Example after example of the very real trouble she believed Tom and Jean were in. Still in. Right now.
    â€œWhat’s the