Brazen Virtue

divorce . “Jonathan … abused me.”

    “What do you mean?” Her low, slightly husky voice had barbs in it. “Did he hit you?” She was half out of her chair, ready to hop the next flight to the coast.
    “There are other kinds of abuse,” Kathleen said wearily. “He humiliated me. There were other women, plenty of them. Oh, he was very discreet. I doubt if even his broker knew, but he made sure I did. Just to rub my nose in it.”
    “I’m sorry.” Grace sat down again. She knew Kathleen would have preferred a sock on the jaw to infidelity. When she thought it over, Grace had to admit she and her sister agreed—on that, at least.
    “You never liked him.”
    “No, and I’m not sorry.” Grace flicked an ash into the lid of the empty mayonnaise jar.
    “I guess there’s no point in it now. In any case, when I agreed to separate, Jonathan made it clear it was going to be on his terms. He would file, the terms would be no-fault. Just like a fender bender. Eight years of my life over, and no one to blame.”
    “Kath, you know you didn’t have to accept his terms. If he’d been unfaithful, you had a recourse.”

    “How could I prove it?” This time there was bitterness, hot and sharp. She’d waited a long time to set it free. “You have to understand what kind of world it is out there, Grace. Jonathan Breezewood the third is a man above reproach. He’s a lawyer, for God’s sake, a partner in the family firm that could represent the devil against God Almighty and come away with a settlement. Even if anyone had known or suspected, they wouldn’t have helped me. They were friends with Jonathan’s wife. Mrs. Jonathan Breezewood III. That’s been my identity for eight years.” And next to Kevin, that was the most difficult to lose. “Not one of them would give a hang about Kathleen McCabe. It was my mistake. I devoted myself to being Mrs. Breezewood. I had to be the perfect wife, the perfect hostess, the perfect mother and homemaker. And I became boring. When I bored him enough, he wanted to be rid of me.”
    “Goddamn it, Kathleen, must you always be your own worst critic?” Grace stabbed out her cigarette and reached for her wine. “He’s at fault, for Chrissake, not you. You gave him exactly what he said he wanted. You gave up your career, your family, your home, and centered your life on him. Now you’re going to give up again, and toss Kevin into the bargain.”
    “I’m not giving Kevin up.”
    “You told me—”
    “I didn’t argue with Jonathan, I couldn’t. I was afraid of what he’d do.”
    Very carefully, Grace set down her wine again. “Afraid of what he’d do to you, or to Kevin?”
    “Not to Kevin,” she said quickly. “Whatever Jonathan is or has done, he’d never do anything to harm Kevin. He really adores him. And despite the fact that he was a bad husband, he’s a wonderful father.”
    “All right.” But Grace would reserve judgment on that. “You were afraid of what he’d do to you then. Physically?”
    “Jonathan rarely loses his temper. He keeps it under tight control because it’s very violent. Once, when Kevin was just a baby, I gave him a pet, a kitten.” Kathleen picked her way carefully through the story, knowing Grace always could take crumbs and make a whole cake. “They were playing and the kitten scratched Kevin. Jonathan was so outraged when he saw the marks on Kevin’s face that he threw the kitten off the balcony. From the third floor.”
    “I always said he was a prince,” Grace mumbled and took another sip.

    “Then there was the assistant gardener. The man had dug up one of the rosebushes by mistake. It was just a misunderstanding, he didn’t speak very much English. Jonathan fired him on the spot, and they argued. Before it was over, Jonathan had beaten the man so badly he had to be hospitalized.”
    “Good God.”
    “Jonathan paid the bill, of course.”
    “Of course,” Grace agreed, but sarcasm was wasted.
    “He paid him off to keep it out of the papers. It was just a rosebush. I don’t know what he would do if I tried to transplant Kevin.”
    “Kath, honey, you’re his mother. You have rights. I’m sure there are some excellent lawyers in Washington. We’ll go see some, find out what can be done.”
    “I’ve already hired one.” Because her mouth was dry, Kathleen sipped again. The wine made the words come easier. “And I’ve hired a detective. It isn’t going to be easy, and I’ve already been told it could