Page 26 of The Fault Between Us
They stopped at the edge of the river and Red turned to her. His eyes were shadowed and his forehead creased. “I got fired, Claire,” Red got out. “After the fight at the Otter.”
Her questions about Dell fled from her mind, but his words took a moment to sink in. The fight at the Otter had been days ago. Her mouth dried and she pulled her hand from his grip. He’d lied to her.
“I’m sorry.” His eyes darted to hers. “I just—I didn’t want you to worry.”
Claire crossed her arms over her chest as anxiety crept up her throat.
Red turned her toward him, his touch gentle. “Claire, I’ve got a job lined up already. It pays more than Wormsbecker’s place—a lot more.”
She should have been relieved, but his assurance did nothing to assuage her rioting feelings. It wasn’t about the money, or how they would pay the rent. How could he not know that? It was about trust and not keeping secrets.
“I’m going tomorrow,” Red said.
She didn’t understand his meaning. “Going where?”
“To Libby,” Red answered, his voice firm. “To work in the mine.”
Her pulse pounded in her ears as she looked at his earnest face. Where was Libby, and why was he telling her like he’d already decided?
“It’s up near the Canadian border,” Red rushed on at her confused expression. “The pay is twenty dollars a day. Bucky told me about it. In a month—maybe two—we can save up enough to get us through the winter.”
Claire shivered as the breeze from the river turned icy. Her numb mind grasped only one thought. Red was leaving. “No.” She worked her dry mouth as she struggled for words that could change his mind. “We have the money I got for Marigold.” There was more than twenty dollars left in the cookie tin. She could make it last. “You can find a job here.”
“I’ve looked,” Red retorted. “Nobody’s hiring. And winter is coming. You know how tough it is to get work here after the snow falls.”
Claire remembered last winter when money had been tight. After the November hunts, Wormsbecker had cut Red’s working days to only two a week. Even when Red started working full-time again, they had yet to catch up on the overdue bills.
None of that mattered because Claire couldn’t breathe.
“You’ve been alone before,” Red said, finally registering her panic. His brows came together and he squeezed her hands. “And you have Frannie to help.”
“Why are you doing this?” Claire asked, her voice rising. Was it because of Marigold? Was he still angry?
“Claire.” Red looked away. “I have to.”
He didn’t have to. Claire’s stomach pitted and her chest felt as if it were being squeezed by a giant fist. Even when Red put his arms around her and pulled her close, she felt no comfort in his warmth.
Red walked with her back to the house as if it was all decided.
Claire put Jenny to bed and made up the couch for Frannie, her mind whirling. In their bedroom, Red shoved clothing in his pack as she tried one more time to change his mind. “Red,” she said, “please don’t go.”
Red didn’t turn around. “Bucky will help with Rosie and Bess, and anything else you need.”
His mind was made up, and Claire couldn’t change it. A coldhopelessness rose like a flood, chilling her to the bone. Claire got into bed and when Red joined her and reached for her, she pulled away.
“Frannie is just outside.” She felt the hurt and disappointment in his silence, but she turned her back to him so he couldn’t see the tears on her face.
Before the sun was even up, Claire held sleeping Jenny in her arms as Red drove to the Depot and parked. The bus that would take Red three hundred miles north idled on the curb.
They’d been in this same spot almost two years earlier.
That time, Claire had been the one leaving, after her summer as a savage at Old Faithful. She’d made no promises to Red that day. In fact, she’d been determined never to see him again. Red Wilder was nothing more than a summer romance, one she’d look upon fondly once the pain of separation faded. Claire was going home to her family and students at Tara School. Red’s Montana-sky eyes were filled with anguish. “Please don’t go,” he’d said.
Now, Claire said those same words to him, a painful pressure just above her collarbone making every word difficult to get out.
“I have to,” he answered.
Claire closed her eyes and tried to pray.Please, Lord, change his mind.But in the dark with the stink of diesel fuel in the air and the gray light, it didn’t feel like the Lord heard her.
