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moisture in her eyes. But she didn’t cry. “How appropriate. Profanity for Christmas,” she replied in a brittle tone.
    â€œWhat does that have to do with anything!” Charles exploded. “Our lives are falling apart and you’re avoiding me, Jude. But it won’t work.”
    â€œReally? It worked for you for years. You’re a master at avoiding what you don’t want to see.” She laughed, a harsh sound with no mirth. “I learned from a master.”
    Charles was torn between wanting to shake her and wanting just to fold her into a desperate embrace. He trembled with the effort to do neither.
    â€œI’m not avoiding anything now, Judith. I want to set things right between us. That’s why I planned this trip. I want to begin again—”
    â€œYou want a lot, Charles. You always have. But wanting it isn’t enough. It takes two to make a marriage work.” She took a slow, shaky breath. “Did you never consider that I might not want it?”
    If she had torn his heart out by the roots, he couldn’t have hurt more. Charles was terrified even to take a breath; he was sure he would break apart. The worst fear of his life had been exposed, and he recoiled as if he’d been struck a physical blow. Unable to cope with her complete dearth of feelings for him, he jerked about and fled.
    Judith stood in the spacious bedroom, staring at the place where Charles had been, seeing the stricken expression on her husband’s face—and she felt the same wrenching pain he had.
    When had she become so cruel?
    She honestly didn’t know.
    There had been a time when Charles had meant everything to her. Her world had centered on him, and later, on him and their children. Now she seemed completely self-centered. She wanted what she wanted, and too bad for anyone else.
    Yet she still wished it could be how it used to be. She wanted to be madly in love with her husband, so that nothing else would matter. Only everything else did matter.
    She shook her head in confusion, unable to decipher what she wanted anymore. She wanted to feel that old thrill when she saw Charles, the one that centered low in the pit of her stomach. And she wanted to know he felt the same thrill for her. But like the emotional part of the marriage, the physical side had suffered, too. Charles turned to her in bed as often as ever, but more and more she tried to avoid him. She felt so apart from him emotionally that the closeness of lovemaking seemed dishonest. Even when she longed for him, she felt compelled to push him away.
    It was madness, and yet she couldn’t prevent it.
    She turned automatically to the task of putting away their clothes. His hung on the right side of the closet, hers on the left. She placed his other items in the three right-side drawers of the large dresser and hers in the other three. She even tossed her phone into a drawer. After all, there was no one she really wanted to talk to. On one nightstand went the book she was reading: Luncheon of the Boating Party by Susan Vreeland. On the other went today’s Wall Street Journal. Finally she placed the empty luggage in the rear of the closet. Only when everything was well put away and she couldn’t put it off any longer did she finally descend the wide stairwell.
    The house was strangely hushed. Jennifer was on her phone, of course. Judith recognized the electronic tones of the game she liked to play. Alex was perched in a bay window playing the guitar. How quiet the instrument was when it was not plugged into an amplifier. She could hardly hear it.
    Her eyes skimmed the room restlessly, unable to focus on anything. How would she manage an entire week here?
    With a fortifying breath, she buried the thought. Her children deserved a good Christmas. Charles obviously was trying to give them one; she could do no less. Even if it were the last Christmas they would celebrate as a family, some good might come of it. By