This earns me a lift of his eyebrows, a look of surprise and, yes, hope.
‘But I can’t lie to you, Luke. Not now. Not today. I can’t change my story, as much as I wish I could, because if I do, even if we sweep all the mistakes we’ve made away, we’ll be rebuilding our marriage on the bedrock of lies. Lies breed secrets, and secrets are a slow-acting poison to the trust we need to make our love last a lifetime. So, no, I can’t tell you anything other than what I’ve already told you. I know it sounds crazy, but can you trust me, Luke? Can you trust me one more time?’
I feel as if I have just vomited up my soul and laid it at his feet. I have never in my whole thirty-five years on this planet felt so raw, so naked.
The seconds tick past as I wait for his reply, but Luke doesn’t say anything. He just shakes my hands from his, rises, and walksaway. I chase him, grab at his jacket, but he shrugs me off without looking at me. ‘Leave it, Jess. I’m done.’
‘Luke … !’ I whisper as he jogs down the stairs into the rose garden, but he doesn’t even break his stride. He makes his way down the path, through an arch at the far end of the garden and is swallowed by the night.
I try to run after him, but my leg muscles are jelly. I stumble forward, only stopping myself from falling down the stairs into the rose garden by grabbing on to the rough stone railing. I try to call after him as tears flow freely down my face, but no sound comes out of my open, howling mouth.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
JESS
I don’t know how long I stay slumped on the steps down to the rose garden. It’s as if my brain just cuts out, unable to process anything else. After a while, it’s as if I’m standing over myself, watching myself, only it’s not me I’m watching but my mother.
That snaps me back to full consciousness pretty quickly. I stand up, brush myself down and walk shakily back up the steps and rest against the stone balustrade again, hands on knees, staring at the lines of cement between the paving slabs of the terrace, tracing the haphazard pattern with my eyes.
I have a choice in this moment. I can follow the pattern laid out for me by my mother. I can slip into the shoes she wore that have ‘victim’ written all over them in large dark letters, or I can take control. I can fight for my marriage.
What’s the point? He’ll just find another reason to leave.
The thought cuts into my brain with startling clarity. He walked out on me a second time, despite all my efforts to make things turn out a different way. Is this fate? Was it always going to happen this way, no matter what I did?
I chew on my bottom lip as I think that over. As much asthat feels a logical train of thought, I’m not sure it is. I don’t know how or why I’ve had the experience I’ve had but in the back of my mind I felt it was the universe giving me a second chance. Why would that happen if the outcome was already predetermined? It would be cruel to dangle that carrot in front of me only to snatch it away again at the last moment. And I don’t believe that whatever power runs this universe is that malevolent. I still believe in the goodness of things.
So, while things might not look very good at the moment, am I going to lie down and give up? I’ve relived thirteen days of my life together with Luke, including this one, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned on this journey, it’s that I need to have more faith. In life, in Luke. Even in myself.
Okay.
I stand up, even though I’m not sure exactly what I need to do next. I suppose, if I’m going to fight for my marriage, then I need find my husband. I need to try again. But that might be easier said than done.
Just like before, I send a series of texts that go unanswered. I leave voicemails. I even try calling Hannah to see if she’s seen him, but my message goes unread. I’m just about to put my phone to sleep when I have a flash of inspiration. Why didn’t I think of this last time? We use a location app. Well, when I say use, I’m not sure I’ve actually checked up on my husband’s whereabouts before, but it’s there on our phones, just in case there’s an emergency.
I open it up, choose ‘people’ from the menu, and tap on Luke’s name. It blinks for a while and then shows me that his smart watch is stationary and still within a hundred-metre radius. I hold my breath as I pinch the screen, zooming in. It looks …it looks as if he’s still in the hotel grounds, next to a lake I didn’t even know existed.
Suddenly energized, I start moving but I catch a glimpse of something on the floor, just the other side of the table I stopped at earlier, a dark lump. It looks like a large pebble or …
Or a ring box.
In the heat of the argument I had with Luke, I totally forgot it fell on the floor, and he may not have noticed it fly out of the gift bag. I walk over, reach down and pick it up.
Is this fate too? Is this a good sign? I don’t see why not. After all, the ring has been a part of this crazy journey I’ve been on. I should definitely take advantage of an extra bit of magic, shouldn’t I? Very carefully, I prise the lid open. The tiny emeralds twinkle away, nestled between the leaf-shaped diamonds.
I’m so relieved to see it again, but when I touch it, it’s cold and hard, just metal and stones. Very pretty metal and stones, but metal and stones all the same.
Is this what the success of my marriage hangs on? What good can it really do? But Great-Great-Grannie believed in its power, and it served her well. And Millicent’s daughter after her, too. Why do I feel I need it?
I think back to the time when it truly became mine, in the second version of our Venice trip. What happens if there is no magic? What happens if I fight for our marriage, but I lose the battle? What then? What will I do if the worst happens, if Luke behaves just like my father and never comes back? I search deep inside myself for the answer.
I’ll survive.
Although the thought of going forward in this life without Luke terrifies me, somehow, I know I’ll survive. And if he’s notgoing to fight for me the way I’m going to fight for him, maybe it’s not that I’m not good enough for him, but that he truly doesn’t deserve me. The thought is freeing.
But I’m not giving up yet. Iwillgo down fighting.
I follow the curves and shapes in the ring with my index finger, watching it glitter as the light shifts, and then I close the lid of the ring box and put it back in its box – this is my task, and mine alone.
