When Never Comes

by Barbara Davis

How was that even possible? Marriage had never been part of her plan. Far from it, in fact. She’d grown up hard and fast, the way most children of addicts did, and had learned a thing or two along the way. At ten, she learned that no address was permanent, at twelve, that no promise was sacred, and at sixteen, that there was no such thing as safe. There were other lessons too. Lessons that were still etched in her mind—and her flesh. She dragged back her coat sleeve, and stared at the trio of scars on her wrist, shiny and pale, like a constellation of tiny moons. Her badge of survival. Yes, she’d learned a thing or two growing up, including what happened when you trusted the wrong people. And then she met Stephen. He was handsome and charming, a rising star in the publishing world. But even more appealing was the fact that he hadn’t batted an eye when she informed him, quite emphatically, that children weren’t part of her long-term plans. In fact, he’d seemed pleased. He was career minded and so was she. At least that was the excuse she’d given. They were married six months later. It wasn’t a storybook marriage by any means, but then she’d never really bought into the whole happily-ever-after myth. Like most whirlwind romances, the early days had been about newness and chemistry, but over time their relationship had evolved into a kind of arm’s length alliance, symbiotic and safe, steady. Or so she thought. She glanced at the clock on the dash. Nearly five. How was it poss...