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  “I feel better.” He plopped down next to her with a creak of his left knee. “Now what about you? You’ve been different since you went to the cabin. I want to know why. Can we talk about it now?”

  “I guess. . .” Her voice cracked, imitating his kneecap, and she took off her glasses to rub her eyes. His questions caught her by surprise and she felt a pang of guilt that she could have entertained the thought he was too shallow and self-involved to notice a change in her attitude. It made her feel like she was the one being shallow. And here she’d vowed to see things differently. Yep, it’s true. Old habits die hard. Old thoughts patterns, too.

  She felt her husband’s warm weight shift beside her, then his hand on her knee. The look on his face proved Jeff didn’t know how to judge her mood. Can’t blame the guy. Even to me it keeps flipping back and forth. She sniffled down the clump her heart lodged in her throat. “I guess it has all just been building.”

  “Yeah, it has,” he replied and squeezed her knee. He started ticking off the stressful events over the past few years on his fingers—her dad’s death, then her mom’s, settling both of their estates with her siblings. “That was a real headache. Being an only child, I had no idea how siblings could bruise each other’s feelings so much.” He shifted his hand to her shoulders and rubbed the tension from them.

  “Hmm. How did you know I needed that?”

  He stopped for a moment, then continued both with the rub-down and the litany. “Then Josh moved out, started college and the nest emptied. Add to that training two new people at work, your sister’s surgery, tax time, housing another couple for two months until their lame insurance agent admitted their fire was not the work of arson … Have I left anything out, like, maybe a shift in hormone levels?”

  She felt her cheeks flame.

  “I was wondering when Mount Vesuvius was going to spew.” Jeff dropped his hand.

  “Okay. You’re right.” His kindness stabbed her in the heart. Had her escapade been a revelation for him as well? Was this real or forced? It had been so long since she had experienced any tenderness from him. How could they begin to be a couple, again? Her questions swirled in a waterspout of doubt, trust, chastisement and pardon.

  After a few moments of silence, Jeff cleared his throat. “Honey, is that all it is? I mean, something’s been going on over the last few months…maybe longer. It’s like this cloud hovering over our house.”

  She cast her eyes to the wooden planks on the deck. A Cub Scout troop had practiced their knots in her stomach for several minutes. One of the knots now moved into her throat. She tried hard to swallow it back down and breathe slowly.

  He turned to face her and lifted her chin with his hands cupped on either side. “I can never replace your dad. I know you miss him, but you have me. He gave you to me close to twenty-five years ago. Dang, I feel like I need to walk on egg shells in my own…”

  His words blasted open the flood gates that rivaled any in the Hill Country. Shaking sobs burst forth from her body.

  Jeff put his hand on her shoulder, then pulled away, perplexed as to what to do. Finally he drew her into his chest and let her burble all over it.

  It was a good fifteen minutes and four Kleenex later before Christina felt she could speak. She shook off her angst and gave him a weal nod. I have to gain control. He deserves an explanation.

  Jeff sat quietly and listened as his wife babbled on about her Hill Country revelation. He stared at the bottom step, often nodding as she spoke. He hoped not looking directly at her would make it easier, like sitting behind a confessional screen. She told him all about her secret excursion to the cabin, her insight and her glasses, how she’d felt so angry inside and how everything seemed clouded in negative and hurtful thoughts. Next, she apologized that he kept getting the short end of the whipping stick she’d been using on the world, and herself.

  “I thought maybe it was your dad’s death and maybe a middle-aged female hormone thing. But, it’s so much more, isn’t it, Babe.” He finally said.

  She grinned. “You men. That’s your excuse for everything, isn’t it?”

  He shrugged.

  She playfully slapped his thigh, then chided him, her hands on her hip. “Jeff.”

  Another shrug, with a small smirk.

  She brushed his back with the palm of her hand. “Seriously, I’m sorry, hon. My emotions, up until my jaunt to the Hill Country, kept bouncing off the walls inside of me no matter how hard I tried to stifle them. Now I realize I’ve stifled all my emotions out of fear if one broke from the chain of pearls, the rest would burst off and roll helter-skelter, good or bad. “

  “Mostly in my direction?” He shrunk back in mocked fear.

  That made her laugh. He couldn’t hack seriousness for too long of a stretch. Comic relief was his defense, one she at first took offense to, but later understood. In fact, she developed the habit over the years, seasoned with her father’s punning gene. It often eased tension between them.

  “Want more tea?” He stood and put space between them to give his wife time to compose herself.

  When he came back with full glasses, her tear ducts were empty, her nose blown and her hands steadier. “There’s more Jeff,” she whispered apologetically.

  “Go for it,” he muttered from his tilted glass. The ice clunked together and settled. So did her thoughts.

  “Okay. Do you ever remember me telling you how I always felt the Hill Country was God’s country. Literally?”

  “Sure. Wait, you mean like Mount Sinai or something? That’s a little Old Testament, isn’t it?”

  “Well, yes, maybe. I mean I just always felt I could talk to Him up there. Maybe its being in the middle of nature. I don’t know.”

  “Hon, I think that’s a pretty common reaction. That’s why they have retreats in the sticks.” His eyes gleamed. She rolled her eyes and took a gulp of the cool amber caffeine.

  Then she spoke of her newly found closeness to God and her sense of guilt for drifting from Him over the years, turning Scripture into platitudes alongside her mother’s life-quilt of sayings.

  Christina could tell by his look that he knew this was important stuff to her. Instead of the normal glazed over effect when she began a “God talk”, Jeff kept his eyes glued to hers. He appeared to be really listening to her words and occasionally nodded.

  When she finally caught her breath and quit talking Jeff rose from the deck, then whispered, “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

  Puzzled, Christina watched Jeff go into the house. Maybe too much iced tea? Did I babble on that long, poor man?

  She heard him open the pantry. He brought out the bottle of Bordeaux one of the neighbors had given them for Christmas, which she kept meaning to throw out or give away. In his fingers dangled the wedding toasting goblets she’d kept in the china hutch along with her grandmother’s tea cups and silver spoons. Her heart melted. He’s really trying.

  He sat back down, put the bottle between his knees and began to wiggle the cork loose with his thumbs. “I guess this has aged enough,” he quipped as he poured them both a glass.

  She watched, rather perplexed. “But…we rarely drink except possibly a toast on New Year’s and maybe on our anniversary. If we even remember to do so.” And this is the second time in a week a man’s offered me a drink. Well, I did offer one to Bud first. Her attention returned to Jeff’s voice.

  “… and anyway, If I recall right, in the Bible Paul told Timothy a little wine in moderation was a good thing, you know.” He handed her a glass then clinked it against his. He winked, tilted his it back and took a deep swallow.

  Surprised he remembered that in Paul’s 2nd Letter to Timothy, she raised her glass and took a sip. She tried her level best not to winch as the dry sourness slid to meet her tonsils. Definitely not Boone’s Farm. Perhaps that was a good thing.

  “It’s not all you, Babe,” her husband admitted. “I’ve been a royal pain in the tush. Even the guys at work have said something.” The loo
k in his eye bordered on that of a puppy sitting near a puddle on the rug.

  “Well, I…”

  “No. I admit it.” He raised his hand in surrender. “I have. I’ve been so caught up in the pressures of this new promotion, trying to grow the company for the boss, proving I was worthy. He started his Elmer Fudd imitation, “Wowking all sort of houws, most weekends. I’ve been gwousing about it to myself - poor wittle me.”

  He stopped and looked at her straight on. He pounded his chest. “Martyred employee. Worthy of praise. AND an ulcer.”

  She gave him a sympathetic look.

  He shook his head. “I’m not letting your sympathy wiggle me off the hook. It’s my turn at this confession game. I’m rolling the dice again and moving two more spaces. “

  “Okay, your move then.” She raised her goblet again and gestured him to continue. “I realized you work all the time—days, nights, weekends. You keep the house clean, the accounting firm straight, my life all moving along, clearing out all the bumps along the road, covering the pot holes.”

  Christina gave him a quizzical look. “You do?”

  Jeff crossed his heart with his finger. “Honest. I have been taking you for granted. You always keep things running smoothly and I just stay out of your way. It never occurred to me you might need help, much less a day off.”

  “Who are you and what have you done with my husband?” she jibed.

  “I’m trying to be serious, hon.” Jeff pouted, but there was no hurt in his voice. He grinned slightly into his wine glass. The reflection of ruby liquid splashed on his cheeks.

  “It’s about time we spent a little of this promotion money. I want to get you a maid. I’m too old and decrepit to vacuum.”

  Christina felt her eyes pool again, but the tears had already been cried. She silently thanked God for this change, in her, in her husband, in their relationship. She hoped it would last awhile and not be a fleeting moment.

  She shoved him in the shoulder. “You’re just feeling guilty you’ve gotten Pete Stenson to take care of the yard.”

  “Yep.” He wiggled his eyebrows then swallowed down the rest of his wine.

  Then it hit her. A maid?

  Chapter 28 Remember When?

  Over the next few hours, the two sat with arms intertwined, curled up on the back porch steps, talking and sipping. It was one of the most intimate times in their married life. He admitted he’d been worried about her moodiness but hadn’t realized he’d been moody too. Maybe they’d just been feeding off one another’s negativity instead of the love God had given them for each other. “I guess it’s easy to hurt the ones closest to you. And be hurt by them,” Jeff said.

  “You are way too understanding.” Christina felt the guilt weighing her shoulders again. “Did you take a sympathy pill or something? Is this going to wear off?”

  “Maybe, doubt it. Anyway, I’m not very observant,” He replied and pushed her glasses up her nose a bit with his finger. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice them before.”

  “Well, that was the point in getting the frames that matched so close to the old ones.” She tapped her temple.

  “You smart woman, you.” His eyes glistened, the way they used to when he looked at her. Maybe the way Bud described Jeff at the rodeo. It put a lump like a lardy dumpling in her throat. She couldn’t quite swallow all completely in one gulp.

  Bud. Could she explain to Jeff her feelings for him, the ones which had laid dormant for decades, the ones she was never sure about from the beginning? Was that too much honesty? She had yet to sort them all out for herself.

  “You know I felt guilty keeping it from you. I don’t know why I did.” Christina stared off into the backyard, arms wrapped around her waist. She didn’t mean the glasses necessarily, but she knew he’d take it that way.

  “Did you think I would get mad at you for spending money?”

  From the corner of her eye, she noticed the muscle in his jaw twitch. She offered no response. He blinked and stared at the ash tree in the yard that held her focus.

  After a moment his eyes returned to her. “When have I ever chided you for that? You have always kept this family’s finances in good order. Better than I could have ever done.”

  She couldn’t remember the last time he had complimented her on something. She looked into his face and saw his eyes were damp. She touched his sleeve as he continued.

  “Christina, I always admired you for that. Do you have any idea how proud of you I feel when I listen to other guys at work complaining about their wives shopping sprees?”

  “How would I?” She immediately knew it came out too harsh.

  “I just assumed you knew.” The little boy pout emerged, innocently denying he’d whacked the huge baseball-size hole into the window of her self-esteem time after time.

  Seeing the hurt in his face, she shifted gears. “I don’t know why I took off like that.”

  “And were so reluctant to talk about it?” Jeff finished the thought. His eyes narrowed.

  “Maybe it was just all part of the excursion. It was all so special, so uncharacteristic. Kinda like playing hooky, you know? Like something too hush-hush to share, so you want to keep it just to yourself. Does that make sense?”

  “I guess.” Jeff shrugged. Maybe it’s a girl thing. Like a secret diary.”

  “Yes,” she replied. “It’s kinda like that.”

  Suddenly he laughed. “Headline: Little Miss I’ve-got-to please-everybody actually does something kinda bad.” He followed his words in the air with his finger.

  “Jeff.” She snapped in a scolding tone reminiscent of her mother’s. Then laughed at it in spite of herself. He had her pegged alright. She told him about the goldfish bowl.

  “So, it’s smashed? Are we flopping on the rocks without water now?” he asked, then quickly added, “ Don’t get me wrong. I’m not alluding our marriage might be on the rocks. I just. I . . .” he didn’t know what else to say.

  She smiled. “I don’t know. Maybe we are just swimming away free.”

  She saw relief appear in his eyes.

  “That sounds good. I like free.” He winked back at her.

  A few moments passed between them as they sipped the wine and watched the fireflies hover above the lawn. Several houses over a dog barked. They heard a screen door slam and children’s voices. In the distance came the repetitive whistle of the coal train heading to San Antonio.”Remember that train trestle near the park that caught on fire back in what? ‘59?” Jeff asked, reaching for a shared memory they had talked about on their first date.

  “How about the school tours to Rainbow Bakery?” she replied.

  For the next few minutes they played do you remember when? Just like when they were dating. It brought back fond memories. Once again. Then she returned the conversation to the present. She grinned and stared into her wine glass, watching the deep red glow swirl around.

  “Now, Jeff. About this maid idea of yours. How’s about a cruise instead?”

  She enjoyed the “how does that woman know” look on his face. She’d seen the brochure in his brief case.

  Chapter 29 Leaky Faucet

  When she came home for work, half of her husband’s body was under the kitchen sink. Most of her cleansers and scrubbers were sprawled across the floor like bowling pins after a strike. Not that she ever had too many of those in her life, even on computer games.

  “What are you doing?”

  An echoed mumble emitted from the cabinet. A hand, reminding her of the one on the Adaams family groped around on the floor. She interpreted it as meaning he needed the flashlight. She scooted it closer to his fingers with her shoe. Something resembling a thank you sounded from underneath the sink.

  Christina leaned against the counter, waiting as the grunts and repositioning finally accomplished whatever he was doing. He inched out, red faced, on his back and looked at her, his glasses catawampus on his face. “Leaky faucet. Couldn’t take the drip. Gotcha a new one. It has a built in veget
able sprayer.” He scrambled onto his feet and slid the nozzle out of the goose necked base. “And a magnet. Pull it out, it automatically whips back. See?”

  Her mouth formed an “O”. Up on her toes she exclaimed, “Barbara next door has one of those!”

  “I know.” The pompous reply. “George told me. But when he bought his, it wasn’t on sale. This was.” He leaned against the sink and laughed. “From the look on your face, why did I bother with flowers? I should have sent you pipes.”

  “Funny, my dear man. Plumbing fixtures would have looked great on my desk.” The look on his face made her realize she had never thanked him for the carnations. “Oh. I’m sorry. You were sick, and had taken that cold medicine. You were barely conscious, and, then . . .” She stopped. Excuses, excuses. “They were nice. My favorites. And they still look fresh.” The gratitude came too late and rather wilted, like they had actually become. Jeff shrugged it off. She couldn’t.

  He peered over his glasses at her as she bit her lip. She knew he saw her expression. She never had a poker face. Always the gentleman, he changed the subject. “Barbara and George also re-plumbed. We should think about that.”

  “Really?”

  “After we pay for the cruise, of course.” He grinned and walked off. Christina watched the grungy wet foot prints traipse across her kitchen floor and sighed. Tomorrow she was going to order a sign that read “horse’s patoot” and hang it around her neck. She got the paper towels and wiped away the remnant images of his size 11’s. Down on her hands and knees. Penance.

  That next Saturday morning as the couple passed the sections of the paper back and forth over breakfast, Christina commented, “You know, it’s funny, but now that I see better with these glasses, I am starting to see my life differently, too.”

  Jeff squirmed to face her across the bistro-styled table and gently touched her cheek as he pushed back her hair. “So,” he quietly asked, “Are you happy with what you see, now?”