The Wedding (The Notebook 2)

She stared at me quizzically. "You want to do something . . . fun."

It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes," I said.

"Do you want to order, or should I?" she finally asked.

"I'll take care of it. What do you want on it?"

She thought for a moment. "How about the works?" she said.

"Why not?" I agreed.

The pizza arrived half an hour later. By then, Jane had changed into jeans and a dark T-shirt, and we ate the pizza like a couple of college students in a dorm room. Despite her earlier refusal of a glass of wine, we ended up sharing a cold beer from the fridge.

While we ate, Jane filled in more details about her day. The morning had been spent looking for dresses for Leslie and Jane, despite Jane's protests that she could "just pick up something simple at Belk's." Anna had been adamant that Jane and Leslie each pick out something they loved--and could wear again.

"Leslie found the most elegant dress--knee-length, like a cocktail dress. It looked so good on Leslie that Anna insisted on trying it on just for kicks." Jane sighed. "The girls have really turned into such beauties."

"They got your genes," I said seriously.

Jane only laughed and waved a hand at me, her mouth full of pizza.

As the evening wore on, the sky outside turned indigo blue and the moonlit clouds were edged with silver. When we finished, we sat unmoving, listening to the sound of wind chimes in the summer breeze. Jane leaned her head back on the couch, staring at me through half-closed eyes, her gaze oddly seductive.

"That was a good idea," she said. "I was hungrier than I thought."

"You didn't eat that much."

"I have to squeeze into my dress this weekend."

"I wouldn't worry," I said. "You're as beautiful as the day I married you."

At her tense smile, I saw that my words didn't have quite the effect I'd hoped. Abruptly, she turned to face me on the couch. "Wilson? Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"I want you to tell me the truth."

"What is it?"

She hesitated. "It's about what happened at the pond today."

The swan, I immediately thought, but before I could explain that Noah had asked me to take him there--and would have gone with or without me--she went on.

"What did you mean when you said what you did?" she asked.

I frowned in puzzlement. "I'm not sure I know what you're asking."

"When you said you loved me and that you were the luckiest man in the world."

For a stunned moment, I simply stared at her. "I meant what I said," I repeated dumbly.

"Is that all?"

"Yes," I said, unable to hide my confusion. "Why?"

"I'm trying to figure out why you said it," she said matter-of-factly. "It isn't like you to say something like that out of the blue."

"Well . . . it just felt like the right thing to say."

At my answer, she brought her lips together, her face growing serious. She glanced up at the ceiling and seemed to be steeling herself before turning her gaze on me again. "Are you having an affair?" she demanded.

I blinked. "What?"

"You heard me."

I suddenly realized she wasn't kidding. I could see her trying to read my face, evaluating the truthfulness of what I intended to say next. I took her hand in my own and rested my other hand on top of it. "No," I said, looking directly at her. "I'm not having an affair. I've never had an affair, and I never will. Nor have I ever wanted to."

After a few moments of careful scrutiny, she nodded. "Okay," she said.

"I'm serious," I emphasized.

She smiled and gave my hand a squeeze. "I believe you. I didn't think you were, but I had to ask."

I stared at her in bewilderment. "Why would the thought have even crossed your mind?"

"You," she said. "The way you've been acting."

"I don't understand."

She gave me a frankly assessing look. "Okay, look at it from my perspective. First, you start exercising and losing weight. Then, you start cooking and asking me about my days. If that weren't enough, you've been unbelievably helpful this whole week . . . with everything, lately. And now, you've started saying these uncharacteristically sweet things. First, I thought it was a phase, then I thought it was because of the wedding. But now . . . well, it's like you're someone else all of a sudden. I mean . . . apologizing for not being around enough? Telling me you love me out of the blue? Listening to me talk for hours about shopping? Let's order pizza and have fun? I mean, it's great, but I just wanted to make sure you weren't doing it because you felt guilty about something. I still don't understand what's happened to you."

I shook my head. "It's not that I feel guilty. Well, except about working too much, I mean. I do feel bad about that. But the way I've been acting . . . it's just . . ."

When I trailed off, Jane leaned toward me.

"Just what?" she pressed.

"Like I said the other night, I haven't been the best husband, and I don't know . . . I guess I'm trying to change."

"Why?"

Because I want you to love me again, I thought, but I kept those words to myself.

"Because," I said after a moment, "you and the kids are the most important people in the world to me--you always have been--and I've wasted too many years acting as if you weren't. I know I can't change the past, but I can change the future. I can change, too. And I will."

She squinted at me. "You mean you'll quit working so hard?"

Her tone was sweet but skeptical, and it made me ache to think of what I'd become.

"If you asked me to retire right now, I would," I said.

Her eyes took on their seductive gleam again.

"See what I mean? You're not yourself these days."

Though she was teasing--and wasn't quite sure whether she believed me--I knew she'd liked what I said.

"Now can I ask you something?" I went on.

"Why not?" she said.

"Since Anna will be over at Keith's parents' house tomorrow night, and with Leslie and Joseph coming in on Friday, I was thinking that we might do something special tomorrow evening."

"Like what?"

"How about . . . you let me come up with something and surprise you."

She rewarded me with a coy smile. "You know I like surprises."

"Yes," I said, "I do."

"I'd love that," she said with undisguised pleasure.

Chapter Fourteen

On Thursday morning, I arrived at Noah's house early with my trunk packed. As it had been the day before, the property was already crowded with vehicles, and my friend Nathan Little waved to me from across the yard, pantomiming that he'd join me in a few minutes.

I parked in the shade and got to work right away. Using the ladder, I finished removing the boards from the windows, so that the pressure washers could have complete access.

Again, I stored the boards under the house. I was closing the cellar door when a cleaning crew of five arrived and began to lay siege to the house. Since the painters were already working downstairs, they hauled in buckets, mops, cloths, and detergents and scoured the kitchen, the staircase, the bathrooms, the windows, and the rooms upstairs, moving quickly and efficiently. New sheets and bla

nkets that I'd brought from home were placed on the beds; meanwhile Nathan brought in fresh flowers for every room in the house.

Within the hour, the rental truck arrived and workers began unloading white foldout chairs, setting them in rows. Holes were dug near the trellis, and pots with preplanted wisteria were sunk; the purple blooms were wound through the trellis and tied in place. Beyond the trellis, the former wildness of the rose garden gave way to vivid color.

Despite the clear skies predicted by the weather service, I'd made arrangements for a tent to provide shade for the guests. The white tent was erected over the course of the morning; once it was up, more potted wisteria was sunk into the ground, then wrapped around the poles, intermingled with strands of white lights.

The power washer cleaned the fountain in the center of the rose garden; a little after lunch, I turned it on and listened to water cascading through the three tiers like a gentle waterfall.

The piano tuner arrived and spent three hours tuning the long unused piano. When he was done, a set of special microphones was installed to route music first to the ceremony, then to the reception. Other speakers and microphones enabled the pastor to be heard during the service and ensured that music could be heard in every corner of the house.

Tables were set throughout the main room--with the exception of the dance area in front of the fireplace--and linen tablecloths were spread on each. Fresh candles and flowering centerpieces appeared as if conjured so that when the crew from the restaurant arrived, they had only to fold linen napkins into the shape of swans to put the finishing touches on the place settings.

I also reminded everyone about the single table I wanted set up on the porch, and within moments it was done.

The final touch was potted hibiscus trees decorated with white lights and placed in each corner of the room.

By midafternoon, the work was winding down. Everyone loaded their cars and trucks, and the crew in the yard was in the final stages of cleanup. For the first time since the project began, I was alone in the house. I felt good. The work over the past two days, though frenzied, had gone smoothly, and while the furniture was gone, the house's regal appearance reminded me of the years it had been occupied.

As I watched the trucks pull out of the driveway, I knew I should be heading out as well. After having had their dresses fitted and shopping for shoes in the morning, Jane and Anna had made afternoon appointments to get their nails done.