Page 64 of The Wife
“Okay.”
So we finished eating and dressed for the cold and headed out to the barn. I mounted up and Jake on Wyatt followed me out. Jake took the lead and I clicked Petunia into a gallop to keep up. Not that I ever needed to encourage her. Wherever Wyatt went, that’s where Petunia wanted to go.
Like mother like daughter.
It was so quiet as we rode. A soft layer of snow, no wind, just us and the sound of the horses breathing. I thought we were meandering, but when we got to an overlook I realized where Jake had led us.
From where we were on the ridge, we could see down further into the valley. Across the stream was Talley land.
“Does it feel good? Knowing it’s yours again?”
He nodded but he was quiet.
“When are you going to get started on the house?”
“Next week. I talked to a contractor Pete knows. He thinks the best thing is to level it to the ground, clear out the debris, and build on the foundation.”
I thought about the irony in that statement. That’s what me leaving was also supposed to do. Clear us out, so we could get back to the foundation.
Unless that wasn’t what I was doing at all. Unless I was doing this awful thing that would end us.
What if he met a woman next week? What if he fell in love with her? What if I had to sit at his wedding? What if I had to hold his child by another woman?
It would be heartbreaking. But so would looking up from the kitchen table five years from now, realizing he didn’t really love me. That he’d stayed with me only out of loyalty and devotion.
“I’m getting cold,” I told him. “I’m heading back.”
“Me too.”
We finished our ride and didn’t talk the rest of the way back. I was trying to believe this was a special day. A good day for us, but the truth was it felt like some heavy weight was sitting on our shoulders.
I made hot chocolate for both of us. That didn’t help.
We watchedIt’s a Wonderful Lifetogether. That didn’t help.
I managed to make a turkey that was pretty darn tasty, if I did say so myself. That helped a little.
Champagne. The trick was the champagne.
“It’s like drinking fizzy water,” Jake complained.
We were sitting in front of the fire with our stacks of presents opened, the wrapping already cleaned up. I got Jake a new pair of work boots, which he needed; socks, which he wanted; a new pair of pajamas in case he ever had to save another woman’s virtue someday and she made him sleep on the floor next to her.
And a picture of me. One he’d taken. Just with his phone one day when I had been goofing around on Petunia. It was one of those rare moments when I was smiling but I didn’t think my teeth were too big. I had a print copy of it made and framed. So he wouldn’t forget me when I was gone.
I think he liked it. He stared at it for a while.
He got me flannel pajamas with tiny little flowers, which I was currently wearing, and this really cool leather satchel with my initials stitched into it to carry around my school books, he said. I loved it.
“It tickles my nose. I like it.” I poured myself another glass and then he took the bottle from me.
“Any more and it will make you sick.”
“Killjoy.”
“That’s me. It’s late. I’m going to bed. Big day tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” He got up and took the nearly empty champagne bottle back to the kitchen. I heard him pour himself some water. Then he made his way back to the living room and poked his head around the corner.
