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Show Moon - 99 she feared for Joy and wanted to save her from the dreadful losses to come. But then she was suddenly tired of the whole thing. Wasn't it time for Joy to make her own mistakes? She reached up her hand to her husband, wanting to pull him down next to her, to reclaim him. James would not be pulled down to his wife. He filled a glass with ice from the bucket on the dresser and reached for his bottle of Bourbon. Anne sat up. "Don't," she said. "This once, be with me just as you." She wished her hair were still in braids so she could undo them and let the crimped locks cascade over her shoulders. She wished the skin under her chin had not begun to sag and wondered if the deck steward had overlooked that, had noticed instead her slender ankles and nice eyes. Propped up on her elbows, she watched him pour whisky into the glass and drink it down. Then he drank another. His hair was nearly white, and the skin on his neck had fallen into folds like an old sock. Funny how that didn't matter with a man. He would never worry how he looked. He would never be afraid to undress in front of her, as he was doing now, meticulously unclipping the garters from his socks and placing the wooden shoe trees in his shoes, which he set neatly beside the bed, unconcerned about the flesh rolling over the top of his undershorts. Finally he came to the bed, and it was odd, but she was certain he didn't really mind about Joy either. His outrage had been a kind of show. They were, both of them, giving Joy away, though perhaps for different reasons. Mother, you wanted to let me go. You knew I was a danger to your marriage. If we could have talked, we might have joined forces and insisted that James behave himself. Failing that, we might have left him, the two of us starting a |