The doctor’s soothing tones eased the tense muscles at the back of Jesse’s neck and shoulders. “Okay, I’ll give it more time. You’re probably right.”
Jesse peeked into the kitchen where Rachel, Ellie, and Tori had been cooking since before dawn. Hard to believe it was Thanksgiving, five weeks since she’d lost the baby. The Bonners were coming for the holiday, and a knock at the door alerted Jesse they’d arrived.
He led Mr. Bonner through a tour of the completed addition to the house. Jesse had tried to get Tori to pick out paint and furniture, but to no avail.
Thoughts ran through his mind as they examined the area. Time had indeed passed since she lost the baby, but the old Tori had not returned. He hated her agreeable demeanor. All the spark and life had left her.
She’d resumed her baking for the restaurant, but showed no enthusiasm for it, or anything else. In the evenings, she sat and stared, or worked on some sewing. Any conversation he tried to have with her ended with ‘yes’ and ‘no’ answers.
For old times’ sake, he’d tried baiting her to get some response, but she only agreed with him or ignored him. He’d talked to Dr. Hendricks a few more times, but the doctor always responded the same way. “Time.” To Jesse, time was running out. No matter what he did, his wife remained depressed. He came up with the idea of having her decorate the new addition, but she had no interest.
The group walked by the bedroom, the hardest room for Jesse. The doctor told him they could resume intimacy a few weeks ago, but every time Jesse made a move toward her, she said the same thing. “Not tonight.” He would love to hold her in his arms, and be intimate that way, rather than having sex. It would be a start. When he tried, she remained stiff as a board.
Every time he tried to talk to her about the baby, she turned a deaf ear and, in some cases, even left the room.
After Thanksgiving dinner, the ladies cleared away the dishes and served dessert. They’d baked several pies, and the smell of cinnamon and apples wafted in the air, making Jesse’s mouth water. Barely taking one bite, he rose in answer to a knock at the door.
“Pastor Dave, Jane, come on in.” He stepped back to allow the couple to enter. “It feels like snow out there.”
Jane tugged on Jesse’s hand as he took her coat. He leaned down to listen. “How’s she doing?”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “About the same. I admit I’m at a loss.”
Jane frowned and entered the noisy kitchen.
“I’m so glad you made it for dessert.” Mrs. Bonner hugged the Pastor and his wife and guided them to chairs.
Jane peered at Tori. “How are you doing?”
Tori smiled slightly. “I’m fine. You?”
“Fine, just fine.” The woman stirred her tea, taking furtive looks at Tori. Jesse shook his head and thinned his lips when Jane’s eyes met his.
He’d hoped being with family and friends and the holiday itself would lift Tori’s spirits, but she still seemed detached from everyone. Throughout the day she’d smiled at the right times, but her eyes were dead.
The bed dipped as Jesse sat on the edge of the mattress. Tori had her back to him. She held her body rigid so she wouldn’t roll to the center as he settled himself.
“Did you have a good time today with the whole family together for Thanksgiving?”
“Yes. It was nice.”
Please God, don’t make this another one of those ‘we have to talk’ nights.
“Tori, we need to talk.”
She sighed and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling, her hands crossed over her chest. How large would her tummy be by now? Would she feel the kicks of little feet, or would it be too soon? Without conscious thought, her hand moved in circles on her stomach.
Tori didn’t know how many more of these ‘talks’ she could take. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make him understand the tremendous guilt she carried.
Her gaze scanned her husband, and for the first time saw him not as the adversary she’d always enjoyed sparring with, but a man forced into a marriage he surely regretted. A man who now had to deal with a miserable, unwanted wife.
He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples with a thumb and forefinger.
“You’re not making this easy, you know.”
“What do you want to talk about?” Tori knew exactly what came next.
“Us. . . you, me. What’s going on, or should I say what’s not going on.”