‘But nothing. I’m going to take the business over from my dad when he retires and that’s all there is to say.’
Can I please add ‘pig-headed and stubborn’ to the qualities of loyalty and dependability when it comes to describing my husband? ‘Surely there’s some way to find middle ground?’
‘That’s what I’m doing now, and it isn’t working, is it? Or I wouldn’t be getting calls like I had this morning.’ He looks me dead in the eye. ‘You just don’t get it, Jess. How could you, when you decided to walk away from someone in your family? I just don’t have it in me to do that.’
I stiffen. ‘That’s not fair! You know this is a different—’ I catch myself. There was something in my tone just then that made me sound just like my mother. This is what she does … did …whatever. Flare up and get defensive any time anyone says something negative about her, even if it’s true. I take a breath and delete the sentence already composed in my brain and ready to come out of my mouth.
I cross my arms over my body and instantly feel the soft wool of the present Luke gave me under my fingertips. Wool … I’ve been thinking what a strange material it is to use to celebrate a wedding anniversary. Last year, iron made sense. It’s strong, solid. In comparison, wool seems insubstantial, too light and fluffy to matter. But it’s also warm, soft, comforting. Wool is what Luke needs from me right now, not iron. Not the hard-headed defensiveness I inherited from my mother.
I remember the anger I felt when Luke walked out the door on our tenth anniversary, how wounded and sorry for myself I was, but haven’t I been doing the same to him the whole way through our marriage? Physically, I stayed, but emotionally I’ve been walking out the door on him for years, every time a conversation or a situation got too difficult.
If I want him to open up to me, then maybe I need to practise what I preach. ‘Okay, that came off a bit harsh, but I do understand what you’re saying.’ I shift to get more comfortable. I don’t think the action heroes on the TV screen are going to get unfrozen anytime soon.
‘Sorry,’ Luke mumbles. ‘I didn’t mean it to come out that way.’
‘Thank you.’ I reach out and touch his arm. ‘But I’m not surprised you don’t understand. There’s a lot I haven’t told you.’
I go on to tell him, in detail, of the nights I cried myself to sleep, of feeling so alone in our family unit of two that I might have been better off if it was just me in the house. I wouldn’t have had to deal with the anger, the blame, the shouts of ‘I wishI’d never had you!’. That’s something you shouldn’t yell in a ten-year-old’s face, isn’t it? I tell him about the embarrassing things Mum did when she was drunk, filling him in on the ‘falling down the stairs naked’ story, and many others like it.
‘The worst thing is,’ I say swilling my wine round in my glass and then taking a sip, ‘that she made me complicit. It was like being in a cult. I was conditioned to not say anything, even if teachers asked if I was okay, even if – in later years – my dad tried to check if everything was good at home. She made me keep her secrets, and then she hated me because I knew them. And I had to keep everything I felt about it all secret, too. I couldn’t share it with anyone. I’mstillnot good at sharing things with anyone.’
I swallow, because the next bit is the bit I’m going to have to drag out of myself. ‘And I think this is why I’ve been so vague when we discuss babies, why I joke but never actually get around to doing anything about it.’ I look down at my lap. ‘Because I’m worried that because I didn’t have good role models, I’ll be a bad mum.’ I have to pause for a moment, because a lump forms in my throat and moisture fills my eyes.
Luke gently lifts my chin and makes me look at him. ‘I don’t believe that.’ He waits until the truth of his words sinks into me. ‘I think you’re going to be an incredible mother.’
I lean my head against him and let the tears fall quietly, just for a minute or so, and then I take a deep breath and sit up again. ‘Families are strange … We’re part of them, but we’re also our own people. But sometimes the lines get blurry, and that’s why I did what I did with my mum when I cut her off. I had to make that dividing line hard – set a boundary – because I felt as if I’d lose myself if I didn’t. I wanted to know for sure than I’m different from her.’
His expression is full of such love. And pain. I know he would absorb it all from me and bear it himself if he could. ‘I think I actually understand that now.’
I nod, feeling oddly peaceful. ‘Good. But maybe it’s not a bad thing to find that balance with your family too.’ I hold up a hand as he starts to speak. ‘And, yes, I know they’re not toxic and dysfunctional, but it’s not wrong to want what you want, Luke, to do something for yourself. What doyouwant? Not your family, not your dad. You.’
‘I can’t let them down, Jess.’
‘But finding a balance between what they need and what you need isn’t letting them down. It could make all of you happier. Why do you find it hard to say no to your family?
He sighs. ‘You’re right. I do love flipping houses, especially the hidden gems. But I also want to take up the legacy Dad wants to leave me. I don’t want to hurt him.’
I smile gently at him. Healmostsaid it. I know there’s more. I know there are things he wants that maybe he’s not even ready to admit to himself, let alone me. But … baby steps. After all, it took me a while to figure this out. I just need to show Luke the same patience he’s shown me.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
LUKE
Nine Weeks Before the Anniversary Party
‘What about this one?’ He and Hannah are perched on stools at the breakfast bar in her kitchen. He points to one of the pile of photographs spread in front of them.
‘Hmm … Not sure,’ she replies. ‘Let’s keep looking.’
They sort through piles of different photos and look at even more Luke has collected on his tablet in a special folder hidden away where his wife hopefully won’t find it. He’d hate to ruin the surprise.
He and Hannah chat about nothing – stupid things that have happened at work, mostly – but there’s something that’s been burning away at him that he needs another perspective on. He was going to ask Elena when he saw her for their regular date later that week, but maybe he’s missing an opportunity here. ‘I need a second opinion on something … ’
Hannah looks up from the two photos she’s holding up, side by side. ‘I thought that’s what we were doing here, that you needed another brain to help you with Jess’s anniversary present.’
He shakes his head. ‘It’s something else. Something a little more … sensitive.’
She puts the photos down, sits up straighter and gives him her full attention.
