Surprising me, she suddenly got up from her chair and sat in my lap. She slipped an arm around me and kissed me gently. Beyond her, the rest of the world was out of focus, and in the waning light, as if disembodied, I heard my own words coming back to me.
“I do, too,” she said. “Love you, I mean.”
I was remembering this story when Jane’s voice broke in.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked.
She stared at me from across the table. Dinner was casual tonight; we had filled our plates in the kitchen, and I hadn’t bothered to light a candle.
“Do you ever think about the night you came to visit me at Duke?” I asked. “When we finally got to go to Harper’s?”
“That was after you got the job in New Bern, right? And you said you wanted to celebrate?”
I nodded. “You wore a strapless black dress. . . .”
“You remember that?”
“Like it was yesterday,” I said. “We hadn’t seen each other in about a month, and I remember watching from my window as you got out of the car.”
Jane looked faintly pleased. I went on. “I can even remember what I was thinking when I saw you.”
“You can?”
“I was thinking that the year we’d been dating was the happiest year I’d ever had.”
Her gaze dropped to her plate, then met mine again, almost shyly. Buoyed by the memory, I plunged on.
“Do you remember what I got you? For Christmas?”
It was a moment before she answered. “Earrings,” she said, her hands traveling absently to her earlobes. “You bought me diamond earrings. I knew they were expensive, and I remember being shocked that you’d splurged that way.”
“How do you know they were expensive?”
“You told me.”
“I did?” This I didn’t remember.
“Once or twice,” she said, smirking. For a moment we ate in silence. Between mouthfuls, I studied the curve of her jawline and the way the late evening sunlight played across her face.
“It doesn’t seem like thirty years have passed, does it?” I said.
A shadow of that old familiar sadness flitted across her face.
“No,” she said, “I can’t believe Anna’s actually old enough to get married. I don’t know where the time goes.”
“What would you have changed?” I asked. “If you could?”
“In my life, you mean?” She looked away. “I don’t know. I guess I would have tried to enjoy it more while it was happening.”
“I feel the same way.”
“Do you really?” Jane looked genuinely surprised.
I nodded. “Of course.”
Jane seemed to recover. “It’s just—please don’t take this the wrong way, Wilson, but you usually don’t wallow in the past. I mean, you’re so practical about things. You have so few regrets. . . .” She trailed off.
“And you do?” I asked softly.
She studied her hands for a moment. “No, not really.”
I almost reached for her hand then, but she changed the subject, saying brightly, “We went to see Noah today. After we left the house.”
“Oh?”
“He mentioned that you’d stopped by earlier.”
“I did. I wanted to make sure it was okay if we used the house.”
“That’s what he said.” She moved some vegetables around with her fork. “He and Anna looked so cute together. She held his hand the whole time she was telling him about the wedding. I wish you could have seen it. It reminded me of the way he and Mom used to sit together.” For a moment, she seemed lost in thought. Then she looked up. “I wish Mom were still around,” she said. “She always loved weddings.”
“I think it runs in the family,” I murmured.
She smiled wistfully. “You’re probably right. You can’t imagine how much fun this is, even on such short notice. I can’t wait until Leslie gets married and we have time to really concentrate on it.”
“She doesn’t even have a serious boyfriend, let alone someone who wants to propose to her.”
“Details, details,” she said, tossing her head. “It doesn’t mean we can’t start planning it, does it?”
Who was I to argue? “Well, when it does happen,” I commented, “I hope that whoever proposes gets my permission in advance.”
“Did Keith do that?”
“No, but this wedding’s such a rush, I wouldn’t have expected him to. Still, it’s one of those character-building experiences I think every young man should go through.”
“Like when you asked Daddy?”
“Oh, I built a lot of character that day.”
“Oh?” She gazed at me curiously.
“I think I could have handled it a little better.”
“Daddy never told me that.”
“That’s probably because he took pity on me. It wasn’t exactly the most opportune of moments.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Because I never wanted you to know.”
“Well, now you have to tell me.”
I reached for my glass of wine, trying not to make a big deal out of it. “All right,” I said, “here’s the story. I’d come by right after work, but I was supposed to meet with the partners again later that same night, so I didn’t have much time. I found Noah working in his shop. This was right before we all went to stay at the beach. Anyway, he was building a birdhouse for some cardinals that had nested on the porch, and he was right in the middle of tacking the roof on. He was pretty intent on finishing the work before the weekend, and I kept trying to figure out a way to work the subject of you and me into the conversation, but the opportunity wasn’t there. Finally, I just blurted it out. He asked me if I’d get him another nail, and when I handed it to him, I said, ‘Here you go. And oh, by the way, that reminds me—would you mind if I married Jane?’ ”
She giggled. “You always were a smooth one,” she remarked. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, given the way you proposed. It was so . . .”
“Memorable?”
“Malcolm and Linda never get tired of that story,” she said, referring to a couple we’d been friends with for years. “Especially Linda. Every time we’re with other people, she begs me to tell the story.”