Page 3 of Resisting the Fall

“Here in New York, yes.”

I stilled. “What about in Vermont?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Is that where your husband is living?”

I ignored her reference to Ben as my husband. “Yes. About thirty minutes outside of Burlington.”

Lilian glanced toward her colleagues, then leaned closer to the round vent between us. “I’m really not supposed to give any sort of advice, but if I were in your situation, it wouldn’t be a terrible idea to look into the requirements for divorce in Vermont. I doubt they’re as backlogged with cases. Besides, there’s always a chance that once you file, the judge could look over your previous case and decide to waive the typical protocols.”

“Like they could make an immediate ruling?”

She shrugged. “I’ve heard of it being done, but I’m not certain of the details.”

Well, if a judge had done it before, one could do it again. My heart rate increased when I realized what needed to be done. “Could I possibly get a copy of any relevant documents?”

“I’ve already printed out all documents on file.” Lilian walked to a printer behind her, retrieving a stack of papers thicker than most orchestral scores. She placed my written request atop it along with my check, then slid it beneath the glass. It barely fit. “Good luck, dear. I hope everything works out.”

Grateful Lilian had proven to be one of those rare New York gems, I mustered a smile for her. “Thank you.”

While I waited for the elevator, I made a mental note of my new to-do list. I was confident Cassandra would let me borrow her car, and if I just threw a few things in an overnight bag, I could be on my way to Vermont within the next hour or two. I’d also need to contact the Passport Office to reschedule my passport interview for Thursday, which would allow me some wiggle room. Then I’d have to call the courthouse in Burlington to see about meeting with a judge. The only thing I wasn’t sure of was how to approach the situation with Ben.

Thankfully, I had a six-hour drive to decide.

That would be plenty of time to come up with a plan.

I hoped.

There was nothing like getting up before the sun to spend the day with Dad at the river.

Just us Walker boys and the fish.

Sometimes there weren’t even any fish.

It didn’t matter.

Dad turned the key in the ignition, and the Suburban revved to life. “I never had a chance to tell you boys before bed, but Mom invited the Price boy to come today.”

I barely held in my moan. It was one thing to have my brother along now that he was eight, but to divide Dad’s attention among three of us—one being a city kid who likely didn’t know how to fish—plain sucked.

“It’s not easy being the new kid,” Dad’s voice cut through the silence. “He could really use a few friends.”

Aware that I wouldn’t disappoint my dad for anything, I drew in a slow breath.

I supposed, if we had to have someone else along, a boy my age wasn’t the worst option. Besides, Mom had said the two of us had a lot in common. Maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible. “I guess it’s fine.”

“Tate?” Dad asked, glancing in the rearview mirror at my brother.

“I don’t mind.”

Dad smiled. “Thanks, boys.”

The Prices had moved into an old one-story farmhouse down the lane from us, and when we pulled up, the house was dark except for a single light in the front room. Dad left the engine on and headed toward the front porch. He didn’t even have a chance to knock before the door opened.

A boy with blond hair and wearing a New York Giants hoodie stepped out onto the porch, followed by a much smaller boy in a ball cap.

My eyes narrowed.

No. Not a boy. A girl.