Dead Man's Winter: Jacob Reed

Chapter 2: The Divorce Certificate

"Jacob." She set her bag down and softened her whole posture, the shift as smooth as changing channels. "What is this nonsense about a divorce?"

"It's not nonsense." He took a slow sip. "It's a decision."

"A decision." She sat down across from him, folding her hands on her knee, wearing the patient face of a kindergarten teacher. "Honey, we've been married ten years. Couples fight. Dad has a sharp tongue, I know, but you don't blow up a family over one breakfast."

"This isn't about breakfast."

"Then what is it about?" She leaned forward, her voice dropping into that warm, coaxing tone she saved for getting things. "Talk to me. Whatever it is, we fix it together. That's what family means."

Family. Jacob almost smiled. She shot family in the chest and complained about the mess.

"Think about Cameron." Julie pressed on when he stayed quiet, and she reached for her strongest card with practiced ease. "He's four years old, Jacob. You want him growing up asking why his daddy left? You want him crying at night? You're a better father than that. You've always been such a good father."

"Have I?" Jacob set the cup down, and his eyes lifted to hers, flat and unreadable. "Julie, how good of a father can a man really be?"

"What do you mean?" Her smile stayed in place, but confusion flickered behind it.

"I mean some men raise a child for years." He spoke slowly, letting each word land. "Feed him, hold him when he's sick, work overtime for his toys. And the whole time, the child calls another man's blood daddy without knowing it."

The color drained out of Julie's face so fast it looked like a trick of the light. Her folded hands gripped each other until the knuckles whitened.

"That's, that's a strange thing to say." Her laugh came out thin and broken at the edges. "Where is this coming from? Did someone tell you something? People gossip, Jacob, people are jealous of what we have."

"Nobody told me anything." He watched her squirm, and inside, the last small doubt he carried dissolved. Her face just now was answer enough. "I'm only talking about men in general. Why are you shaking?"

"I'm not shaking." She pulled her hands apart and tucked her hair back, fighting to rebuild her composure brick by brick. "You're being cruel today. Fine. You're angry, you want to hurt me, I understand. Say your terms then. What do you want, a bigger say in money? More respect from Dad? I can arrange—"

"Nothing."

She blinked. "Nothing?"

"I want nothing." Jacob leaned back, spreading his hands. "The house stays with you. The car stays with you. The savings, all yours. I forfeit custody of Cameron completely. And I pay no child support. Not one dollar, ever. I sign, I walk out, and this family never has to look at my useless face again."

Silence stretched across the living room. Julie stared at him the way a farmer stares at a cow that suddenly stopped giving milk.

He's serious. Her thoughts spun in a panic she kept off her face. He can't be serious. Where would the mortgage help come from? Who covers Dad's card debts? Who pays when Nathan needs...

"You've really thought about this." She made her voice small and wounded, dabbing at dry eyes. "It hurts, you know. Hearing you throw us away so easily."

"You'll survive." His tone stayed pleasant, almost cheerful. "You're a strong woman."

"At least take some time. A month. We can separate first, see how it feels, maybe counseling..."

"Today." He stood and picked up his jacket. "The civil affairs bureau closes at five. If you're busy, I can also just move out and let the lawyers handle it publicly. Contested divorces get loud, though. People ask questions. All kinds of questions about all kinds of things."

Her spine went rigid at that. Questions were the last thing she could afford, not about Cameron, not with a DNA test one curious lawyer away.

"There's no need for lawyers." She rose quickly, forcing brightness into her voice like sugar stirred into vinegar. "If this is truly what you want, I won't cage you. I've always respected you, Jacob. Let's do it your way."

Play along for now, she told herself, collecting her bag with steady hands while her mind raced. Let him have his little tantrum and his empty pride. A man who walks out with nothing comes crawling back with nothing. And when he crawls, I'll be waiting.

The drive to the bureau passed in silence. Julie spent it composing herself in the passenger mirror, and by the time they parked, she had settled into the role of the dignified, heartbroken wife.

The clerk behind the counter looked between them twice. "You're both certain? Uncontested, all assets to the wife, no custody or support obligations for the husband?"

"Certain." Jacob slid his ID across the counter.

"Certain." Julie echoed softly, lowering her lashes for the performance. "We simply grew apart. I wish him well."

Papers moved. Signatures dried. Thirty minutes later, the clerk stamped two small red booklets and pushed them across the counter.

Jacob picked his up and turned it over in his hand. Such a light little thing. In his last life he had begged her not to file, had knelt in this same building while Arnold laughed at him from the doorway. Now the chain was cut with half an hour and two stamps.

Free. The word rang through him like a struck bell. Ninety days left, and now every one of them belongs to me.

Outside, the afternoon sun was bright and cold. Julie stopped on the steps and touched his sleeve one last time, tilting her face up with gentle, glistening eyes.

"No matter what the papers say, you're still Cameron's daddy in his heart." Her voice trembled on cue. "Our door is always open to you. If you're ever lonely, or you need family around you, come home. I mean it, Jacob."

"Goodbye, Julie." He drew his arm out of reach.

She watched him walk down the steps and away through the parking lot, and only then did the softness slide off her face like melting wax, leaving something hard and calculating underneath.

Walk while you can, she thought, tapping the red booklet against her palm. Enjoy your pride for a few weeks. Rent will eat you, loneliness will eat you, and a man like you can't live without someone to serve. When your money runs low and your bed stays cold, one phone call about Cameron missing his daddy will drag you right back with your wallet open.

She pulled out her phone and dialed, and her whole body turned warm and sweet before the line even connected.

"Nathan? Baby, guess what. It's done, he actually signed everything away, the house, the car, all of it." She laughed into the phone, twirling a strand of hair like a schoolgirl. "Mm, I know. Don't worry about the money part. He'll pay again when I want him to. Men like Jacob always do. Now come over tonight, I miss you."

Across the lot, Jacob got into his car without looking back. On the passenger seat sat a plain envelope holding a few strands of a child's hair, addressed to a DNA lab downtown.

One chain cut. He started the engine, and his eyes in the mirror were calm and cold as winter glass. Now the money. Then the fortress.