“Mommy, can I sleep with you tonight?” Amy asked.
Mommy. The word ripped my heart. That hadn’t been my name in a long time.
“Me, too,” Beth said.
I scooted over in bed. Threw back the covers. “Get your pillows.”
Love is letting go, they say. But sometimes it was sweet to hold them tight. To be Mommy, at least a little while longer.
Three days later, I took Amy to the airport.
When I got home, Ash was sitting on the front porch steps. He stood politely as I got out of the car, almost as if he were waiting for me.
“I suppose you’re leaving next,” I said.
He raised his eyebrows. “I just got back.”
He was wearing what I thought of as his hospital visitation clothes—pressed khakis and a button-down shirt with his stole neatly rolled and stowed in the breast pocket. “I meant, for D.C. Have you been offered that job yet?”
“Yes. I’d be providing support to the staff as well as veterans and their families. The salary is generous. And the benefits, obviously, are very good.”
That was that, then. I was happy for him. Of course I was. I didn’t want him living the rest of his life in a trailer, struggling to raise funds for his storefront ministry. It was time he moved on. Time we both moved on. “Congratulations. I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job.”
“I didn’t give them an answer. I told them I had to talk to you.”
That was a first. “It’s not my decision.”
“You’re my wife.”
“Ash...” My mother’s crepe myrtle were all in bloom, clusters of pink flowers framing the front porch. “You know I can’t leave the farm.”
“Because of the girls.”
“Not only the girls. But Amy is coming home. And Beth needs me. The grandkids are here. My life is here.”
He studied me with those cool, light eyes. Nodded once. “Then so is mine.”
I was shaken. “We’re not together anymore. You should do what’s right for you.”
“I am your husband,” he said. “You told me once that love is not enough. But love isn’t only a feeling, Abby. It’s action. It’s time—past time—for me to act like a husband. Your husband. Love does not insist on its own way, but bears all things, believes all things.” He smiled ruefully. “Hopes all things.”
I crossed my arms, as if I could keep my heart inside. “You’re quoting again.”
“First Corinthians.” His gaze met mine. “From our wedding day.”
My breath caught. “I remember.” I remembered the rest, too:Endures all thingswas part of it. AndLove never ends. “But Ash... what will youdo?”
He put his hands in his pockets. “I thought I’d go up to D.C. and talk to the folks there about other options. There’s a lot of need in these rural counties for clinical pastoral care, especially with all the bases around. I imagine there would be travel involved. Fayetteville. Goldsboro. Jacksonville. But I would hope to be quartered close to home.”
“This isn’t your home anymore.”
“Wherever you are has always been home to me.”
My heart cracked. I looked down at the grass, starred with fallen flowers. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll come with me.”
I was skeptical. “To D.C.”
