The Wedding

“No.”

“Then what made you bring it up?”

“I don’t know . . . maybe it’s the wedding.” I gave a halfhearted smile. “But I’ve been thinking about those things a lot these days.”

“It doesn’t sound like something you’d do.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I admitted. “But it’s still true.”

Jane cocked her head. “I haven’t been perfect, either, you know.”

“You’ve been a lot closer than I’ve been.”

“That’s true,” she said with a shrug.

I laughed despite myself, feeling the tension ease a little.

“And yes, you have worked a lot,” she went on. “Probably too much. But I always knew you were doing it because you wanted to provide for our family. There’s a lot to be said for that, and I was able to stay home and raise the kids because of it. That was always important to me.”

I smiled, thinking about her words and the forgiveness I heard in them. I was a lucky man, I thought, and I leaned across the table.

“You know what else I’ve been thinking about?” I asked.

“Is there more?”

“I was trying to figure out why you married me in the first place.”

Her expression softened. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I wouldn’t have married you unless I wanted to.”

“Why did you marry me?”

“Because I loved you.”

“But why?”

“There were a lot of reasons.”

“Like what?”

“You want specifics?”

“Humor me. I just told you all my secrets.”

She smiled at my insistence.

“All right. Why I married you . . . Well, you were honest and hardworking and kind. You were polite and patient, and more mature than any guy I’d dated before. And when we were together, you listened in a way that made me feel like I was the only woman in the world. You made me feel complete, and spending time with you just seemed right.”

She hesitated for a moment. “But it wasn’t just about my feelings. The more I got to know you, the more I was certain that you’d do whatever it took to provide for your family. That was important to me. You have to understand that back then, a lot of people our age wanted to change the world. Even though it’s a noble idea, I knew I wanted something more traditional. I wanted a family like my parents had, and I wanted to concentrate on my little corner of the world. I wanted someone who wanted to marry a wife and mother, and someone who would respect my choice.”

“And have I?”

“For the most part.”

I laughed. “I notice you didn’t mention my dashing good looks or dazzling personality.”

“You wanted the truth, right?” she teased.

I laughed again, and she squeezed my hand. “I’m just kidding. Back then, I used to love how you looked in the mornings, right after you put on your suit. You were tall and trim, a young go-getter out to make a good life for us. You were very attractive.”

Her words warmed me. For the next hour—while we perused the catering menu over coffee and listened to the music floating up from downstairs—I noticed her eyes occasionally on my face in a way that felt almost unfamiliar. The effect was quietly dizzying. Perhaps she was remembering the reasons she’d married me, just as she’d related them to me. And though I couldn’t be absolutely certain, her expression as she gazed at me made me believe that every now and then, she was still glad that she had.

Chapter Ten

On Tuesday morning, I woke before dawn and slid out of bed, doing my best not to wake Jane. After dressing, I slipped through the front door. The sky was black; even the birds hadn’t begun to stir, but the temperature was mild, and the asphalt was slick from a shower that had passed through the night before. Already I could feel the first hint of the day’s coming humidity, and I was glad to be out early.

I settled into an easy pace at first, then gradually quickened my stride as my body began to warm up. Over the past year, I’d come to enjoy these walks more than I thought I would. Originally, I figured that once I’d lost the weight that I wanted, I’d cut back, but instead I added a bit of distance to my walks and made a point of noting the times of both my departure and my return.

I had come to crave the quiet of the mornings. There were few cars out at this hour, and my senses seemed heightened. I could hear my breath, feel the pressure as my feet moved over the asphalt, watch the dawn as it unfolded—at first a faint light on the horizon, an orange glow over the treetops, then the steady displacement of black by gray. Even on dreary mornings, I found myself looking forward to my walks and wondering why I’d never exercised like this before.

My walk usually took forty-five minutes, and toward the end, I slowed my pace to catch my breath. There was a thin sheen of sweat on my forehead, but it felt good. Noticing the kitchen light at my house was already on, I turned into our driveway with an eager smile.

As soon as I pushed through the front door, I caught the aroma of bacon wafting from the kitchen, a scent that reminded me of our earlier life. When there were children in the house, Jane usually prepared a family breakfast, but our differing schedules in recent years had brought them to an end. It was yet another change that had somehow overtaken our relationship.

Jane poked her head around the corner as I padded through the living room. She was already dressed and wearing an apron.

“How’d your walk go?” she asked.

“I felt pretty good,” I said, “for an old guy, that is.” I joined her in the kitchen. “You’re up early.”

“I heard you leave the bedroom,” she said, “and since I knew there was no way I’d fall asleep again, I decided to get up. Want a cup of coffee?”

“I think I need some water first,” I said. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Bacon and eggs,” she said, reaching for a glass. “I hope you’re hungry. Even though we ate so late last night, I was still hungry when I got up.” She filled the glass from the tap and handed it to me. “Must be nerves,” she said with a grin.

As I took the glass, I felt her fingers brush mine. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but her gaze seemed to linger on me a little longer than usual. “Let me go shower and throw on some clean clothes,” I said. “How much longer till breakfast is ready?”