Page 99 of Finding Amanda

She stood and slipped on her wool coat. "Fine. Good-bye, Mark." Leaving her coffee on the table, she stalked out of the restaurant, shoulders back, head high. He watched through the window as she slid into her car and drove away, watched until her car disappeared in the morning traffic. Then he paid the check and left.

In the chill of his truck, he dropped his head into his hands, remembering the verse the Lord had brought to his mind that morning. He'd prayed for her all night, for her faith and for their marriage. He'd woken up with strange words on his heart. They couldn't be from Scripture. Yet, just to be sure, he grabbed his computer and typed the wordunbelieverin the Bible website. The words niggling at his consciousness came from the first verse on the list. First Corinthians 7:14.But if the unbeliever depart, let him depart.He studied the chapter—it was definitely a reference to marriage.

He fought it, he argued, he searched the Scriptures for a different answer, but in the end, he knew what he had to do.

He'd let her go.

He slid his truck into gear and headed to work, allowing the peace of Christ to fill him where only despair should be.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Amanda glanced at the screen on her phone. Alan again. She set it down and went back to work.

She'd been in a daze all afternoon, unable to carry on any conversation beyond the basics. She did manage to call her lawyer and request she file the divorce papers immediately. Confused, her lawyer questioned her about her change of heart, worried Amanda would have another one. Amanda assured her she wouldn't but gave no other explanation. How could she explain that the man she'd been so bent on divorcing against his will had suddenly decided he wanted out? How could she possibly discuss that without the simmering emotions boiling over, spilling on the lawyer and everyone else around her? Mark, who was supposed to love her and want her and fight for her, had given up so easily.

I love you and I want you back . . . file the papers.

It was too much, and after the emotional ups and downs of the day before, Amanda couldn't process it, so she pushed the feelings away and set about editing her cookbook.

It was almost lunchtime when she remembered to call Roxie. She'd been so focused on not thinking about herconversation with Mark, she'd forgotten about the immediate problem—keeping Gabriel away from her while she traveled. It seemed silly to worry about it at this point, her fear of Gabriel was nothing compared with the loss of her marriage. But then she remembered the box with the torn lingerie, the roses. She remembered Gabriel in the hotel lobby, how he'd loomed over her. The fear she'd felt crept back the same way his hands had crept up her thighs that day. She made the call.

"Whatever I can do to help," Roxie said. "I can't believe this whole thing is my fault."

"It's not your fault. How could you have known Baxter was anything but what he said he was?"

After their short conversation, Amanda hung up the phone, wondering if she'd put Roxie's mind at ease. She had no idea. She couldn't discern her friend's feelings while so intent on not experiencing her own.

Amanda gave up trying to ignore Jamie's calls after maybe the tenth and answered the phone. It was a short talk. Amanda told her about her conversation that morning with Mark and her subsequent call to the lawyer. Jamie's answer, so predictable, brought memories of one of Amanda's favorite movies.

"Don't do this, Amanda. Mark loves you so much."

Scarlet darling. Captain Butler . . . Be kind to him, he loves you so.

What would Miss Melanie have said if she'd witnessed the movie's final scene, as Rhett Butler walked out of Scarlet's life?Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.

Oh, Miss Melanie would have been shocked. As was Jamie. As was Amanda, if she faced the truth. She'd expected Mark to grovel, to beg her to change her mind.

"He told me to file the papers," Amanda said in a flat voice.

"No. He can't have. You must'vemisunderstood."

Apparently Jamie didn't understand Mark any better than Melanie Wilkes understood Rhett Butler.

Truth be told, Amanda was as shocked as Scarlet. But she'd think about that tomorrow.

Today . . . today she had to stay busy.

She edited until she couldn't see straight, then she cooked. She made and froze a pan of chicken parmesan. She whipped up a batch of potato soup to serve for dinner. She defrosted a couple of pounds of hamburger and squished the ingredients together for meatloaf before remembering that Sophie and Madi hated meatloaf. She wasn't that fond of it, either. Meatloaf was one of Mark's favorites, though.

She stared at the lump of beef, knowing she'd never make meatloaf again. The permanence of it jarred her, poked the cold numbness. Hot tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked them back.

Meatballs. Everyone liked meatballs. She lit the burner and set a skillet on top of it to heat while she reformed the lump into bite-sized spheres.

Finally it was time to pick up the girls. Homework, dinner, bath time, and bedtime filled the evening, keeping her thoughts away. When she finished kissing her daughters good night, she trudged to her bedroom.

As she was about to climb into bed, she heard her cell phone ringing downstairs. Mark? Maybe he'd changed his mind.

Not that she had changed hers, but it would make her feel better.

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