“Trust your instinct to the end, though you can render no reason.”
—RALPH WALDO EMERSON
I’m floating between leftover elation and strange desperation.
Sometime around 9:00 p.m., I finally slide the key into the lock of the lake house, and Kevin and I walk inside almost in slow motion.
I’m beyond exhausted. Brock hadn’t been kidding about the mess. We left Mitch at the hospital, took Clarice and Maysie home, and I almost fainted when I saw the state of Clarice’s normally pristine house.
We let the dogs out and fed them. I introduced Hope to Kevin and he actually seemed rather delighted with her. Only sneezed about six times. Then I took care of Maysie. Plopped her into a bubble bath, washed and combed and dried her hair, found clean pajamas, and put her to bed. She was tearful, but eventually drifted off to sleep.
Kevin was about halfway through the stack of dirty dishes by the time I went downstairs. He’d made tea for Clarice and forced her into an armchair in the living room. When I went to check on her, she was sound asleep. I picked up a little. Newspapers, magazines, more dirty dishes. Even a few discarded shirts and socks and soda cans. When Mitch arrived he immediately went to work cleaning up. He got bored fast, though, and spent the rest of the time wandering through the house with a drink in one hand, his cell phone in the other.
While I didn’t really want to leave Clarice, I’m awfully glad to be back in my own space.
“That was one unholy mess.” Kevin takes off his coat and runs a hand over his hair. “Is it always like that?”
“Never. I expect Clarice has been too busy with Brock to worry about housekeeping.”
I hang up our coats and glance around the living room. Everything is how I left it. The warm pine scent is welcoming and almost makes me smile. It’s good to be home. Except it’s not really my home. My home is back in Boston. I think. I’m so tired I can’t formulate a proper sentence in my head.
“The brother wasn’t much help.”
“No. He’s probably just under a lot of stress right now.”
“Why are you defending him?”
I sigh and head for the kitchen. “I can take some leftovers out of the freezer. Are you hungry?”
“It’s late. Not sure I could eat.” Kevin wanders around, checking out photographs and fiddling with the magnets on the fridge. “It’s weird not having everyone here, huh? Quiet.”
“I like it. Christmas was crazy.”
“Yeah, just a little.” He grins when I look his way.
How far we’ve come in twenty-four hours.
“Um.” I don’t remember what I was doing. Food. Looking for food.
“How was he?” Kevin shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, serious now. It’s the first time we’ve had time to talk since I saw Brock.
Suddenly I need to sit.
Kevin joins me at the table, arms crossed.
“He didn’t look good.” I pull my fingers through my hair and shake my head. “If he’d just have that stupid operation . . .”
“What operation?”
And then I remember he doesn’t know. Of course he doesn’t.
“It’s a long shot, but there’s a new procedure his doctor in New York wants to try. No guarantees, of course, but . . . there is a chance it could save his life.”
“So why wouldn’t he do it?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug, at a loss for words. “Maybe he’s scared. Maybe he doesn’t want to cling to false hope or give anybody else a reason to think he might be okay.”
“What about Maysie? If he doesn’t . . .”
“I know. Honestly, I don’t know what he’s thinking.”
“And if he had it, if it worked? If he was okay?” A pained look creeps across his face. “Would he think the two of you—”
“Stop it, Kevin. Don’t even go there.” I stare at him in disbelief. What is going on here? The conversation has become ridiculous, and I’m so tired and don’t want to continue it. I push my chair back and return to the fridge to see what we can eat.
“I’m not hungry, Savannah.”
When I turn around, Kevin’s on his feet.
“Okay. I’m not either.” Tears burn and I bite them back. “Why do I suddenly feel like we’ve taken ten steps backward? Like everything has changed?”
He walks to where I am and takes me in his arms, burying his face in my hair. “I’m sorry. I’m being a jerk.”
“We’re both tired. It’s been a crazy day.”
“Yeah. We should call Adam, see how he’s doing.” His brow furrows and he reaches for his phone.
I make tea while he punches in numbers, then listen to my son on speakerphone. I find some cookies in a tin and put those on the table. Everything’s good. Not too much to catch up on. Then he says he has to go because they’re about to watch a movie and, like, he just saw us this morning.
“He’s going to be okay.” I say it more for myself, but Kevin nods in agreement.
“Sure. He will. And I’ll pick him up on Saturday morning for the weekend. You’ll be back by then, right?”
“I . . . back?” What? I stare at him and fumble for words. “No. I thought . . .”
Understanding settles into his features and he frowns deep. “You want to stay. You’re going to stay.”
“Kevin, you saw the house. Clarice is overwrought, and Maysie’s just a little girl. And, like you said, Mitch is no help.”
“So now you’re agreeing with me.” He sits back a bit and narrows his eyes.
“Did you think we’d drive all the way up here, say hello, turn around, and go home again?” Did he? Really?
“Well, yeah.” He rubs his jaw and shrugs. “I guess I did. I have to be at work in the morning. I already took today off.”
“Uh . . . wow.” I sit forward and put my head in my hands. “I didn’t think this through. I just heard Maysie’s voice and you . . . you made the final decision.” I lift my chin to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, but I can’t leave.”
His shoulders sag and he looks away for a moment. “I knew that. I guess I was just hoping you’d choose me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
I can’t believe this is happening. I scoot back my chair and walk to the long window at the end of the kitchen and stare at the dark woods until I can form a coherent thought. Then I find the courage I need to face my husband. “I’ve already chosen you. Or did last night mean nothing to you?”
“Are you kidding me?” He widens his eyes, clamps his jaw, and looks away.
How is it that we’ve already forgotten how to talk to each other?
“Can’t you bring Adam up here for the weekend?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to check my schedule.”
Anger creeps in and takes over. And suddenly I can’t take a minute more.
I brush past him and head to the living room where I sink onto the couch, grab a soft cushion, and bury my head in it.
A few minutes later he’s there beside me, brushing hair off my face, leaning in to kiss my forehead. “I’m sorry. Savannah? Sweetheart, sit up a minute.”
A shuddering sigh escapes, but I push myself up and catch the sadness in his eyes. Kevin wipes my tears and pulls me in for a kiss.
“You didn’t deserve any of that. Really. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I brush my hand across his cheek, worried by the harried look in his eyes. “What’s really going on?”
He leans his head against the cushions and exhales in a noisy groan. “I got an email earlier this afternoon. While you were in with Brock.”
“From?” I don’t like the sound of this. Don’t like it one bit.
“My boss. Uh . . .” Kevin drags a hand down his face and swears. “It seems that Alison has applied for a position in the company. She’d be working in my division. And she put me down as a reference.”
I blink through the silence and process this news. “I thought she was in California.”
“I guess it hasn’t worked out there.”
What I really want to say probably wouldn’t go over well, so I shove those words down and find a thin smile. “Well. That’s. Interesting.”
“Savannah.”
I slap his hand away and jump to my feet. “No. Just. No.”
Terrible thoughts swirl around my mind and drag me down. It’s starting all over again and I can’t stand it. And just when I thought it was safe to unlock the chains around my heart.
“I haven’t responded,” Kevin says quietly. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“Well, that’s big of you. I actually factor in this equation?” Oh, God, help. The biting sarcasm slips off my tongue without permission.
Kevin moves before I can leave the room. He stands in front of me, grabs hold of my arms, and locks his desperate gaze on mine. “Will you stop? Savannah . . . stop! Look at what we’re doing to each other already. We can’t get sucked in again. Don’t you see that? Don’t you see what this is? We’ve come too far to turn back now.”
“What are you going to do?” I can barely whisper the words. “You can’t . . . She can’t . . .”
“I know.” He leans in, folds me into him, and hangs on. “I need this job, though. I—”
“I have money. It’s always been there. You know—”
“Yes.” Kevin sighs deep and steps back. “And you know how I feel about that. Working for your father was one thing. I had to earn that position and I worked hard for it. But I’m not touching your trust fund. That’s for you. For the kids. Not me.”
Desperation claws at me. I imagine the next few months like a bad soap opera, my husband coming home one dark, stormy night and telling me he’s really still in love with his mistress. That we’re truly not meant for each other and it’s just not going to work.
“I’ll figure it out. Savannah, this doesn’t have to be a big deal.”
“It what?” I take two steps backward and put a fist to my mouth.
“You did not just say that.” He gives me a blank stare that stirs my anger further. “Kevin. Get real. You can’t work with her. You can’t be around her. Not if you want this reconciliation to work. Not if you want our marriage back.”
“And what if I said you can’t be around Brock? What if he has that operation and he’s fine? You can’t stand there and tell me the man is not in love with you, because I’m not that stupid. So what then, Savannah?”
“I never slept with Brock. There’s a big difference. You lived with that woman.”
Suddenly the past is right there with us again.
Jeering, taunting, and unpacking its bags.
And I have no idea how to make it leave.
Kevin utters a low curse. “I know what I did. You don’t need to keep throwing it in my face.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.” I gasp for air and suddenly feel light-headed. “I’m trying to make you understand . . . Oh . . .” The truth dawns on me like somebody just flicked on the lights after an extended loss of electricity. “She wants you back. Doesn’t she?”
“Whether she does or not is irrelevant. I don’t want her.” Kevin steps toward me, his face lined with stress, cheeks pinking and moisture shining in his eyes. “I swear to you, Savannah, I’ve had nothing to do with her since I ended things. This came out of left field. You can look through my cell phone, my computer, whatever you need to see.” Kevin closes the gap between us and takes my face between his hands.
“Ever since Christmas all I’ve been able to think about is how empty my life was without you in it. I didn’t count on us getting back together, but I prayed for it. Prayed for it like I’ve never prayed for anything, except Shelby. But this time I felt like God heard me, took pity on me. Like he forgave me and really does want the best for me, for us. I don’t have all the answers, but I do know that we’ve been given a second chance. And I won’t let anyone take that from us.”
“Okay.” I hear him. And I believe him. My vision blurs, but I smile anyway. “We’re on the same page there. I’m not letting you go again, Kevin Barrington. Not without a fight. You’ve been warned.”
“Yeah?” He grins and rubs his nose against mine.
“Yeah.” I breathe out the stress of the last few hours and melt into his embrace. “I think I told you this wasn’t going to be easy.”
“You did.” He tips my chin and brushes his lips with mine. Tenderly at first, but the kiss becomes suggestive in minutes. “So . . . I could stay the night. Leave early.”
“You could.” I wrap my arms around him and meet his lips with a long, lingering kiss that conveys how I feel about that idea. “You’re going to wear me out, husband.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I thought we could just, you know, watch the stars. Or something.”
“Or something?”
“Or something.”
I grin wide and shriek when he scoops me up into his arms and heads toward the stairs. If he keeps doing this, he’s going to put his back out. But I’ll let him this last time.
It’s before dawn when he leaves the bed. I stretch and yawn and try to force my brain awake. After he kisses me good-bye, I come to my senses, jump out of bed, stop at the dresser, and scurry down the stairs after him.
“Kev! Wait!”
He’s pulling on his coat, turns and flashes the grin I know I’ll never get enough of. “Good gravy, woman. Put some clothes on or I’ll never get out of here.”
I’m only wearing my thin nightgown, and it’s cold down here, but I don’t care. I fumble with the rings I’m holding in my hand and open my palm. “You forgot something.”
He exhales, smiles, and stares at me awhile without words. “I did, didn’t I?”
Silently I take my husband’s hand and slip his wedding band back on his finger.
Back where it belongs.
And then I give him my rings.
And he’s crying a little as he gingerly takes my trembling hand in his and puts them back in place.
I put my arms around him and hold tight. Like it might be for the last time.
“Hey.” Kevin sniffs, moves hair out of my wet eyes, and smiles. “I know what I’m asking, but trust me, okay?”
“I do. I will.” I nod, press my lips to his again, and wish he didn’t have to go. “You do the same.”
“I will.”
“I love you.” I brush his hair back, stretch up to kiss him once more, and then step back, shivering in the cold morning air.
“You are my world, Savannah. I’ll never forget that again. And I’ll make sure you know it every day for as long as I have breath.” Kevin hesitates a moment, pulls me back into his warm embrace, and claims my lips again. When he’s finally done, I’m not so cold.
“I’ll call you later,” he says as he reaches for his bag. “Charge your cell.”
“I’ll do that right now.”
“See you on the weekend. I’ll let you know what time.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
I watch him drive off on that snowy Tuesday morning and I wonder whether we truly will survive this. Because I know now that nothing worth having comes easy. There will always be another obstacle. Another hurdle. One more roadblock on the way to peace.
But perhaps this time will be different. This time we’re in it together. And we’re determined to fight for what we want.
To claim what was meant for us all along.
As Kevin’s car disappears down the drive, I catch a glimpse of the small figure standing in the snow. My breath hitches, but I stay there in the moment, real or not. Our eyes meet for a split second and we share a smile. Then she lifts a hand, waves, and skips away.
And this time I know it is not Maysie.