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class … and your mother had the same kind of life before you. You’ve told me her father treated her like a queen. No one felt that way about Mom. My Uncle Donald was good-looking and smart—and he was the boy. She was just the girl. I know she brags too much. It makes me cringe when she tries to find a way to quote my Aunt Margaret’s brother because she wants everyone to know she’s related to someone who went to Yale. It’s so damn sad!
    “Your father is proud of your mother for getting her doctorate. I can see it whenever he talks about the work she does. My father would never be proud of anything my mother did. I’ve never seen him be tender or gentle with her. Not once. I’ve never heard him thank her for all the years she spent at that lousy job supporting us while he was screwing up business after business, until my Uncle Donald finally took pity on her and gave her an allowance. And now my father resents her for that.
    “When I was younger, I used to wonder why the hell they ever got married. Now I don’t care, I just know that I want to make life better for her.”
    He said it so earnestly. Laura propped herself up on one elbow. “What do you mean? You can’t do that—for anyone.”
    “All I have to do is be a success. That’s all she needs.” His eyes were shining in the half light now. “She used to read to me when I was a kid, Laura. She’d come home from working all day, clean the house, make dinner, put me to bed, and then she’d read to me—not kid stories, books like
Ivanhoe
and
A Tale of Two Cities
. Sometimes she’d be so tired she’d nod off in the middle of a sentence, and I’m not sure she even liked what she was reading—she picked those books because my Aunt Margaret said they were intellectual.
    “Mom bought the collected Shakespeare and one summer we tried to plow through it.” He laughed softly into the darkness. “She’s probably the only person in the world who ever tried to read
Timon of Athens
for the fun of it.” He stopped chuckling. “And she did get something out of all those words. She loved stories about honor and nobility. That’s why she likes it that I’m going to be an archaeologist. She read somewhere that archaeology is the occupation of aristocrats. To her, that means I’m like Ivanhoe.” He turned to Laura. “She meant it when she said I was the apple of her eye. I’m the reason she gets out of bed every morning.”
    Cruel, selfish woman, to put such a burden on him! “That’s a big load to be carrying.”
    “Oh she’s never said that, she wouldn’t.”
    Not in so many words
, Laura thought.
But she’s let you know all the same that you are supposed to make it up to her for every disappointment, every unhappiness she’s had. And that is so unfair!
    Robby stroked her face. “Hey, stop looking so tragic! I’m not some driven Mama’s boy. If I worked a little harder at a math problem when I was a kid, or if I studied a little harder for an exam because I didn’t want to fail her, where’s the harm?”
    He did have a point. And she didn’t want to argue. “There isn’t any, I guess.”
    “I’ll admit, I’d like to be famous. I’d like to discover a new dig site that’s named after me and write bestselling books. But if all I ever do is add to the store of human knowledge, that’ll be okay too. It’ll be an honorable way to spend my life.”
    When Robby talked this way, he could quell every doubt. Especially when he was lying in bed next to her with his body pressed against hers and his fingers playing idly with her hair. “You and Ivanhoe,” she breathed.
    “Exactly,” he whispered as he kissed her. And then they didn’t say anything more as they came together in the way that had always banished all thoughts except those of bliss for both of them.
    Finally, when they lay next to each other spent and out of breath, Robby whispered, “Laura, we’re going to have a great life! You’ll see. I’m going to make you so