The Wife He Buried Alive novel · Chapter 30 of 32

Chapter 30: Her Terms

I found the folder on the kitchen table at ten the next morning, with a pen lying across it.

I stood over it in my stocking feet, still in last night's green dress.

I opened it and turned the pages.

Every flag was signed, and every line was dated, and the ink was black and sure.

He had not left a note, because he had known a note would be one more thing in my hands.

I sat down at the table and cried for a while.

When it was done I felt lighter than I had in four and a half years.

Then I put the folder in my bag and went to the hospital.

Winston was in the corridor outside the glass, in the same plastic chair.

His tie was in his pocket and his eyes were red.

Milo sat up in bed on the other side, working a puzzle with Bev.

He looked up and waved Pickle at both of us.

I sat down in the chair next to Winston's.

"You signed," I said.

"Yes."

"I didn't ask you to."

"I know. That's why."

I took the folder out of my bag and laid it across my knees.

"Here are my terms," I said.

He turned to me completely.

"I'm not filing this. Not today, not next week.

"I'm going to keep it in my bag, and every morning I'll know I can take it to a lawyer."

"Yes."

"I'm not forgiving you yet, either. I'm going to watch."

"Yes."

"Third. You take me to dinner. A real restaurant, where nobody has a table with my name on a card.

"And at seven forty, your phone stays in your pocket and off."

Something moved across his face that was half a laugh and half something else.

"It'll be off by seven."

"Fourth." My voice dropped. "Tonight, you come home with me. To Linden Street. And you do exactly what I say."

He looked at me for a long moment.

"All of it?" he said, low.

"I told you I'd tell you what I want, out loud. I'd like to start."

Bev, through the glass, was very busy with a puzzle piece.

The house was quiet at nine that night, with one lamp on in the bedroom.

I had put the green dress back on, because my mother had made it.

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