At her question, a look of recognition crossed his features.
"Are you the folks throwing the wedding?" he asked. "At the old Calhoun place this weekend?"
"Yes, we are," Jane said, beaming.
"I thought so. I think half the crew is working that event." The waiter grinned. "Well, it's great to meet you. Let me refill your drinks, and I'll bring the full catering menu when I come back."
As soon as he'd left, Jane leaned across the table.
"I guess that answers one of my questions. About the service, I mean."
"I told you not to worry."
She drained the last of her wine. "So are they going to set up a tent? Since we're eating outside?"
"Why don't we use the house?" I volunteered. "I'm going to be out there anyway when the landscapers come, so why don't I try to get a cleaning crew out there to get it ready? We've got a few days--I'm sure I can find someone."
"We'll give it a try, I guess," she said slowly, and I knew she was thinking of the last time she'd been inside. "You know it'll be pretty dusty, though. I don't think anyone's cleaned it in years."
"True, but it's only cleaning. I'll make some calls. Let me see what I can do," I urged.
"You keep saying that."
"I keep having to do things," I countered, and she laughed good-naturedly. Through the window over her shoulder, I could see my office and noticed that the light in Saxon's window was on. No doubt he was there on urgent business, for Saxon seldom stayed late. Jane caught me staring.
"Missing work already?" she asked.
"No," I said. "It's nice to be away from it for a while."
She eyed me carefully. "Do you really mean that?"
"Of course." I tugged at my polo shirt. "It's nice not to always have to put on a suit during the week."
"I'll bet you've forgotten what that's like, haven't you. You haven't taken a long vacation in . . . what? Eight years?"
"It hasn't been that long."
After a moment, she nodded. "You've taken a few days here and there, but the last time you actually took a week off was in 1995. Don't you remember? When we took all the kids to Florida? It was right after Joseph graduated from high school."
She was right, I realized, but what I once regarded as a virtue, I now considered a fault.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"For what?"
"For not taking more vacations. That wasn't fair to you or the family. I should have tried to do more with you and the kids than I did."
"It's fine," she said with a wave of her fork, "no big deal."
"Yes, it is," I said. Though she had long since grown used to my dedication at the office and now accepted it as part of my character, I knew it had always been a sore spot with her. Knowing that I had her attention, I went on.
"It's always been a big deal," I continued. "But I'm not sorry only about that. I'm sorry about all of it. I'm sorry for letting work interfere with all the other events I missed when the kids were growing up. Like some of their birthday parties. I can't even remember how many I missed because I had late meetings that I refused to reschedule. And everything else I missed--the volleyball games and track meets, piano concerts, school plays . . . It's a wonder that the kids have forgiven me, let alone seem to like me."
She nodded in acknowledgment but said nothing. Then again, there was nothing she could say. I took a deep breath and plunged on.
"I know I haven't always been the best husband, either," I said quietly. "Sometimes I wonder why you've put up with me for as long as you have."
At that, her eyebrows rose.
"I know you spent too many evenings and weekends alone, and I put all the responsibility for child rearing on you. That wasn't fair to you. And even when you told me that what you wanted more than anything was to spend time with me, I didn't listen. Like for your thirtieth birthday." I paused, letting my words sink in. Across the table, I watched Jane's eyes flash with the memory. It was one of the many mistakes I'd made in the past that I'd tried to forget.
What she'd asked for back then had been quite simple: Overwhelmed with the new burdens of motherhood, she'd wanted to feel like a woman again, at least for an evening, and had dropped various hints in advance about what such a romantic evening might entail--clothes laid out on the bed for her, flowers, a limousine to whisk us to a quiet restaurant, a table with a lovely view, quiet conversation without worrying that she had to rush home. Even back then, I knew it was important to her, and I remember making a note to do everything she wanted. However, I got so embroiled in some messy proceedings relating to a large estate that her birthday arrived before I could make the arrangements. Instead, at the last minute I had my secretary pick out a stylish tennis bracelet, and on the way home, I convinced myself that because it had been expensive, she would regard it as equally special. When she unwrapped it, I promised that I'd make the necessary plans for a wonderful evening together, an evening even better than the one she'd described. In the end, it was another in a long line of promises that I ended up breaking, and in hindsight, I think Jane realized it as soon as I said it.
Feeling the weight of lost opportunity, I didn't continue. I rubbed my forehead in the silence. I pushed my plate aside, and as the past sped by in a series of disheartening memories, I felt Jane's eyes on me. Surprising me, however, she reached across the table and touched my hand.
"Wilson? Are you okay?" There was a note of tender concern in her voice that I didn't quite recognize.
I nodded. "Yes."
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course."
"Why all the regrets tonight? Was it something that Daddy said?"
"No."
"Then what made you bring it up?"
"I don't know . . . maybe it's the wedding." I gave a halfhearted smile. "But I've been thinking about those things a lot these days."
"It doesn't sound like something you'd do."
"No, it doesn't," I admitted. "But it's still true."
Jane cocked her head. "I haven't been perfect, either, you know."
"You've been a lot closer than I've been."
"That's true," she said with a shrug.
I laughed despite myself, feeling the tension ease a little.
"And yes, you have worked a lot," she went on. "Probably too much. But I always knew you were doing it because you wanted to provide for our family. There's a lot to be said for that, and I was able to stay home and raise the kids because of it. That was always important to me."
I smiled, thinking about her words and the forgiveness I heard in them. I was a lucky man, I thought, and I leaned across the table.
"You know what else I've been thinking about?" I asked.
"Is there more?"
"I was trying to figure out why you married me in the first place."
Her expression softened. "Don't be so hard on yourself. I wouldn't have married you unless I wanted to."
"Why did you marry me?"
"Because I loved you."
"But why?"
"There were a lot of reasons."
"Like what?"
"You want specifics?"
"Humor me. I just told you all my secrets."
She smiled at my insistence.
/> "All right. Why I married you . . . Well, you were honest and hardworking and kind. You were polite and patient, and more mature than any guy I'd dated before. And when we were together, you listened in a way that made me feel like I was the only woman in the world. You made me feel complete, and spending time with you just seemed right."
She hesitated for a moment. "But it wasn't just about my feelings. The more I got to know you, the more I was certain that you'd do whatever it took to provide for your family. That was important to me. You have to understand that back then, a lot of people our age wanted to change the world. Even though it's a noble idea, I knew I wanted something more traditional. I wanted a family like my parents had, and I wanted to concentrate on my little corner of the world. I wanted someone who wanted to marry a wife and mother, and someone who would respect my choice."
"And have I?"
"For the most part."
I laughed. "I notice you didn't mention my dashing good looks or dazzling personality."
"You wanted the truth, right?" she teased.
I laughed again, and she squeezed my hand. "I'm just kidding. Back then, I used to love how you looked in the mornings, right after you put on your suit. You were tall and trim, a young go-getter out to make a good life for us. You were very attractive."
Her words warmed me. For the next hour--while we perused the catering menu over coffee and listened to the music floating up from downstairs--I noticed her eyes occasionally on my face in a way that felt almost unfamiliar. The effect was quietly dizzying. Perhaps she was remembering the reasons she'd married me, just as she'd related them to me. And though I couldn't be absolutely certain, her expression as she gazed at me made me believe that every now and then, she was still glad that she had.
Chapter Ten
On Tuesday morning, I woke before dawn and slid out of bed, doing my best not to wake Jane. After dressing, I slipped through the front door. The sky was black; even the birds hadn't begun to stir, but the temperature was mild, and the asphalt was slick from a shower that had passed through the night before. Already I could feel the first hint of the day's coming humidity, and I was glad to be out early.
I settled into an easy pace at first, then gradually quickened my stride as my body began to warm up. Over the past year, I'd come to enjoy these walks more than I thought I would. Originally, I figured that once I'd lost the weight that I wanted, I'd cut back, but instead I added a bit of distance to my walks and made a point of noting the times of both my departure and my return.