I brought my lips together, knowing already how she’d felt about our wedding at the courthouse.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll go.” And at my words, Jane kissed me, a kiss as ethereal as heaven itself.
When Jane kissed me in the kitchen, the memories of that early kiss came flooding back. I suppose it was because it reminded me of the tender rapprochements that had worked so well to heal our differences in the past: if not burning passion, then at least a truce with a commitment to working things out.
In my mind, this commitment to each other is the reason we’ve been married as long as we have. It was this element of our marriage, I suddenly realized, that had worried me so during the past year. Not only had I begun to wonder whether Jane still loved me, I wondered whether she wanted to love me.
There must have been so many disappointments, after all—the years when I returned home long after the kids were in bed; the evenings in which I could speak of nothing but work; the missed games, parties, family vacations; the weekends spent with partners and clients on the golf course. Upon reflection, I think I must have been something of an absent spouse, a shadow of the eager young man she had married. Yet she seemed to be saying with her kiss, I’m still willing to try if you are.
“Wilson? Are you okay?”
I forced a smile. “I’m fine.” I took a deep breath, anxious to change the subject. “So how did your day go? Did you and Anna find a dress?”
“No. We went to a couple of stores, but Anna didn’t see anything in her size that she liked. I didn’t realize how long it takes—I mean, Anna’s so thin they have to pin everything just so we can get an idea of what she’ll look like. But we’re going to try a few different places tomorrow and we’ll see how it goes. On the plus side, she said that Keith would handle everything with his side of the family, so that we don’t have to. Which reminds me—did you remember to book Joseph’s flight?”
“Yes,” I said. “He’ll be in Friday evening.”
“New Bern or Raleigh?”
“New Bern. He’s supposed to arrive at eight thirty. Was Leslie able to join you today?”
“No, not today. She called while we were driving. She had to do some additional research for her lab project, but she’ll be able to make it tomorrow. She said there were some shops in Greensboro, too, if we wanted to go there.”
“Are you going to?”
“It’s three and a half hours away,” she groaned. “I really don’t want to be in the car for seven hours.”
“Why don’t you just stay overnight?” I suggested. “That way, you’ll be able to visit both places.”
She sighed. “That’s what Anna suggested. She said we should go to Raleigh again, then Greensboro on Wednesday. But I don’t want to leave you stranded. There’s still a lot to do here.”
“Go ahead,” I urged. “Now that we have the caterer, everything’s coming together. I can handle whatever else needs to be done on this end. But we can’t have a wedding unless she gets a dress.”
She eyed me skeptically. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. In fact, I was thinking that I might even have time to squeeze in a couple of rounds of golf.”
She snorted. “You wish.”
“But what about my handicap?” I said in feigned protest.
“After thirty years, my feeling is that if you haven’t improved yet, it’s probably not in the cards.”
“Is that an insult?”
“No. Just a fact. I’ve seen you play, remember?”
I nodded, conceding her point. Despite the years I’ve spent working on my swing, I’m far from a scratch golfer. I glanced at the clock.
“Do you want to head out to get a bite to eat?”
“What? No cooking tonight?”
“Not unless you want leftovers. I didn’t have a chance to run to the store.”
“I was kidding,” she said with a wave. “I don’t expect you to do all the cooking now, though I have to admit, it’s been nice.” She smiled. “Sure, I’d love to go. I’m getting kind of hungry. Just give me a minute to get ready.”
“You look fine,” I protested.
“It’ll only take a minute,” she called out as she headed for the stairs.
It would not take a minute. I knew Jane, and over the years, I’d come to understand that these “minutes” it took to get ready actually averaged closer to twenty. I’d learned to occupy my time while waiting with activities that I enjoyed but required little thought. For instance, I might head to my office and straighten the items on my desk or adjust the amplifier on the stereo after the children had used it.
I discovered that these innocuous things made time slip by unnoticed. Often, I would finish whatever it was I was doing, only to find my wife standing behind me with her hands on her hips.
“Are you ready?” I might ask.
“I’ve been ready,” she would say in a huff. “I’ve been waiting ten minutes for you to finish whatever it is you’re doing.”
“Oh,” I’d reply, “sorry. Let me make sure I have the keys and we can go.”
“Don’t tell me you lost them.”
“No, of course not,” I’d say, patting my pockets, puzzled that I couldn’t find them. Then, looking around, I’d quickly add: “I’m sure they’re close. I just had them a minute ago.”
At that, my wife would roll her eyes.
Tonight, however, I grabbed Time magazine and headed for the couch. I finished a few articles as I heard Jane padding around upstairs and set the magazine aside. I was wondering what she was in the mood to eat when the phone rang.
Listening to the shaky voice on the other end of the receiver, I felt my sense of anticipation evaporate, replaced by a deep sense of dread. Jane came downstairs as I was hanging up.
Seeing my expression, she froze.
“What happened?” she asked. “Who was it?”
“That was Kate,” I said quietly. “She’s going to the hospital now.”
Jane’s hand flew to her mouth.
“It’s Noah,” I said.
Chapter Nine
Tears brimmed in Jane’s eyes as we drove to the hospital. Though I’m usually a cautious driver, I changed lanes frequently and bore down on the accelerator when the lights turned yellow, feeling the weight of every passing minute.