“No,” she said, and meant it, “I don't think so. What's the point?” She shivered, and couldn't help but notice how his warm, hard body absorbed the tremor. “It's only a matter of time before we freeze to death out here.”
“Will you stop saying that? It's not going to happen.”
Murphy disagreed. Silently. It was now almost half an hour since the Rabbit had gotten stuck. The snow was still falling hard, the wind gusting ferociously. More and more, she was convinced help was not coming, that she and Garrett were not going to get out of this predicament alive. The thought fostered a companionable honesty between them. A last confession of sorts.
She couldn't help but admire the way Garrett was rock-steady in his belief they would get out of this car, this storm, this whole, horrible situation. Eventually. Somehow. She was simply having trouble believing it—more so with every frigid moment that slipped past. Of course, she'd be lying if she said his relentless optimism didn't make her feel the tiniest bit hopeful.
“Well? Answer me, Garrett. Are you committed to someone or not?” And why, she wondered, did she all of a sudden want—no, need!—to know so badly?
“I was.”
“Was. Past tense,” she defined, intrigued. “Who was she?”
“My wife.”
Murphy gulped. Until that second, it hadn't occurred to her Garrett might be married. Her memory raced, trying to find a wedding ring on him. If he wore one, wouldn't she have noticed? “I didn't know you were married.”
“I'm not.”
“But you just said—”
“I said was. Past tense, remember? I'm divorced.”
“Oh.” There was a logical explanation for the relief Murphy felt surge though her. Of course there was. Pity she had no idea what that explanation could be. “I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. Cheryl and I were only married six months. Besides, it happened a long time ago.”
“Six months isn't very long.”
“Long enough to know we weren't compatible.”
Murphy rolled her lips inward. It was none of her business. She shouldn't ask. But she knew, should or shouldn't, curiosity would get the better of her and she was going to ask anyway. “I know this is going to sound like a stupid question, but if you two weren't compatible…um, why did you get married in the first place?”
Garrett seemed to be debating whether or not to answer. His tone, when he did, was seeped in reluctance. “She was pregnant. We didn't have a choice.”
“There are always choices,” Murphy said, thinking of the children who shuffled through her office, battered and bruised, their souls beaten by parents who hadn't wanted them born in the first place.
“When you're nineteen years old,” he said finally, softly, “in college, still living with your parents, and you find out your girl is carrying your baby…well, in a situation like that, back in those days, there were no choices, Murphy. Our only other option was an abortion. Cheryl didn't want that.”
“Did you?”
“Doesn't matter what I wanted.” In the small confines of the car, his surprise was tangible. “It was her body. Her decision. She wanted the baby, and that was her right.”
“I see. So, you married her and had the baby?”
“Sort of. I married her.” His pause was long and strained. “We didn't have the baby. She miscarried in the middle of her third month.”
“Oh, Garrett, I'm so sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” he growled irritably. “You asked a question, I answered it. Period. There's nothing for you to be sorry about. Cheryl and I stayed together for a few months afterward, tried to make a go of it. I think we knew from the start it wasn't going to work. We found out pretty fast that except for great sex"—Murphy gulped—"the baby was all we had in common. The divorce was fast and friendly; damn rare in this day and age, eh?”
“Very.”
“Cheryl's remarried now. Last I heard, she'd gone back to school and became a legal secretary. Somewhere along the line she landed herself a wealthy lawyer husband and had two point something kids. Now she drives a Volvo and is living happily-ever-after somewhere in Vancouver.” He glanced down at her. “Now, about that job of yours…?”
“Ah, well…There's not a lot to tell, really. I'm thinking about quitting. No big deal. I'm sure everyone thinks about it at one time or another. Mind you, I won't be quitting anything if help doesn't arrive pretty soon and get us out of here.”
“Why?”