At home, Jack gave me space when I asked for it and suffocated me with a hug when I asked for that too. My asking was growth. I told him what I needed, and he didn’t shy away.
Ever since our conversation in the hallway, Jack wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He looked to me for cues. He only gave what I asked for and only repeated what I praised.
Every day, I would go out to the gardens. First Richard’s. Then mine. I picked his veggies and left them inside the house for his family. They liked that. It helped them out, and I was happy to find a way to serve them. I picked his green beans and made them a casserole. And a tomato pie. And some fresh cucumber salad. I left vases of fresh-cut flowers inside the house. Cynthia and Bob thanked me a hundred times for caring for all of Richard’s plants.
Then I tended our garden. The harvest was just starting to come in. Red crept into the green tomatoes, a few squash and cucumbers had already been picked. My flowers were filling out and looked really nice. Beet greens were full and the kale needed to be clipped back. My basket wasn’t overflowing, but it wouldn’t be long. The foundation was strong and the harvest was promising.
Being out there made me feel better. I cried a lot, but mostly, I just felt thankful. In his final days, Richard gave gifts that would span way beyond his lifetime. Maybe even beyond mine.
When I wasn’t gardening, I kicked around with Kacey and Jack. We went to the park, watched some movies. Just had quiet days. Jack only got one sick day off. I understood. He couldn’t just sit. And I didn’t need him to.
Plus, when he wasn’t home, I was working on my project. It wasn’t much, but it did require a little of my time.
It was probably best we didn’t spend too much time together. Because as the days went by, I burned for him. I needed to tell him how I felt. Soon.
Jack was sad, maybe even nervous. And I couldn’t keep him there if I knew what I wanted. We had signed papers to sell the lake house right before we came to the funeral. Money would come within a week and Jack wasn’t certain what I was going to do. He didn’t ask though. He was pretty quiet overall. I could tell he was thinking a lot. And so was I.
He never pushed to talk about us during that time. Even when I crawled into bed with him. Funny. I wassurehe meant for that to be a one night thing. But one of us would tuck Kacey into his toddler bed then we’d sit on the couch and kind of end up falling asleep in Jack’s room somehow.
Each night, I gave him a sweet, gentle kiss. He didn’t push for more, which I appreciated, but I knew lying next to me without pressuring was no small feat for him. Heck, it was a feat for me. The third night, he didn’t pull me close. Just put a hand on my arm and kept his distance. I knew why. I can’t be completely certain, but I think he even moved to the couch after I’d fallen asleep. Because when I stirred in the night, his side was cold.
On the forth night, I told Jack I didn’t need to come to bed with him. I was certain I couldn’t sleep next to him because I wanted him and felt how much he wanted me.
Making love on uncertain terms wasn’t my gig. Despite the tension humming between us, I wasn’t willing to sell out. That step was very big.
I wanted to say everything the way I’d planned to say it first. My plan would mean something to him. I just knew it would.
Before I went upstairs for the night, he double-checked to make sure I was okay. Asked if I needed anything. Made sure Iwasn’t going to go up and cry alone.
I promised him I wouldn’t.
But it was a lie, because as soon as my bedroom door shut behind me, I burst into tears.
Happy tears.
Because somehow my husband had gone from running from my big feelings, to making sure he wasn’t missing out on them. I knew it wasn’t easy for Jack, but he was literally bending over backward to hunker through the storm with me. It was an unexpected change that made our future all the more promising.
I pulled myself together and slipped into the upstairs bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I turned on the fan so my voice wouldn’t carry. The phone call I needed to make was part of my project, and I didn’t want Jack to overhear.
I checked the time. Only 8:30 p.m. Surely, it wasn’t too late to call Jules. My hands shook. I doubted there’d be any confrontation, but her icy blue eyes were seared into my brain. When they babysat Kacey for my birthday, there hadn’t been any obvious animosity between the two of us, but unfortunately, that knowledge wasn’t enough to calm my nerves.
I dialed her number and pressed send.
“Hello?”
“Jules, hey, this is Miranda.”
“Oh! Miranda! Is everything okay?”
“Yes. I’m sorry to call you so late.”
“No, it’s fine. Pat and I usually stay up way too late. I’m”—she hesitated—“really glad you called.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, not to hijack your call, but I’ve wanted to apologize to you. I was hard on you that night at Jack’s and didn’t know the whole story.”
“You had every reason to be hard on me.”
