Distant Shores

"You wont believe what happened to me today," he said. "I tried calling you, but you must have been out. "

"I made a couple of trips to the hardware store. "

"This was too cool to leave on the message machine. Come here. " He looped an arm around her and led her to the sofa. They sat down. He stretched his legs out, planted his feet on the coffee table.

From this angle, she could see through the house to the dining room. A long strip of blue plastic showed. She tapped her foot nervously, waiting for him to notice.

"Guess who called me today?"

She was no good at this game, but it never stopped him from playing it. She glanced at the dining room again. "Just tell me, honey. "

"Come on, three guesses. "

"Julia Roberts. Muhammad Ali. President Bush. "

He laughed. "Close. Larry Kings executive producer. "

"No kidding?"

"No kidding. He booked me for Tuesday. He bumped some political bigwig to get me scheduled. And its not one of those via satellite gigs. Ill be in the studio. "

She sat back. "Wow. " This was big. She felt a flash of the old pride in him. "Youre on your way now. "

Your way. Shed chosen her words badly; they excluded her somehow, left her behind.

"Hes sending two first-class tickets. Well have a great time. Theres a restaurant Ive heard about--Birdie?"

She looked at the dining room, at the gaping hole in the wall. There was no way she could get it finished in time to go with him, and she sure as hell couldnt go out of town with the house like that. There wasnt much crime on the coast, but you still couldnt be crazy. She tried to think of someone she could call, but all of her friends had kids and husbands. They couldnt just pick up and move into this house for a weekend. She supposed she could close the gap with sheets of plywood--if she could find them locally on such short notice--but in truth, the thought of spending a few days all alone was pure heaven.

"What is it, honey?"

She pointed toward the dining room. "I knocked out the wall today. "

Frowning, he stood up. As he crossed the room, she knew he was seeing more and more of the plastic. In the archway that separated the two rooms, he stopped and looked back at her. "What in the hell?"

"You know I wanted a bigger window there. It overlooks the garden. Today, I decided on French doors instead. "

"Today? You decided today? It takes you

seven months to choose a paint color for the kitchen and twenty-four minutes to decide to smash out a wall?"

She lifted her hands helplessly, feeling more than a little stupid. "How was I supposed to know Larry King was going to call you?"

Jack sighed heavily and stepped over the rubble on the floor. Without turning to look at her, he said, "You cant leave the house like this. "

She picked her way through the two-by-fours and crumbled bits of Sheetrock on the floor, and came up behind him. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she pressed her cheek to his back. "Im sorry, Jack. "

He turned, took her in his arms. She could see how hard he was trying to be fair. "Its not your fault. I didnt mean to sound like an asshole. You did a lot of hard work here. Im sure itll be great. "

Why was this always the way of things these days? Nothing came easily anymore, not even a romantic getaway. She ought to want to go on this trip with him. In the old days, she would have moved a mountain to make it possible. "It shouldnt be this hard," she said softly, realizing that hed said the same thing to her only a few weeks before.

"Not tonight, Birdie," he said, drawing back. She knew what he meant. She didnt have the energy for another whats-wrong-with-us discussion, either.

She forced herself to smile. "Well. Lets go figure out what youre going to wear. I might need to get Mrs. Delaney out of bed for a rush dry-cleaning job. "

He smiled back, and though it was tired, that smile, it was the effort that mattered. "I was thinking about that navy suit you bought me at the Nordstroms anniversary sale this summer. "

"With the yellow tie and shirt?"