Page 66 of Grown-Up Second Chance

“Glad you finally got around to asking,” I said.

“I didn’t see any blood in the water, none of your bones were at funny angles, and you were conscious, so I figured there was no immediate emergency.”

“Good for you,” I said as he helped me up.

I looked down at my soaking clothes. I was going to have to tell Kathleen she’d been right about the change of outfit.

Bummer.

The sun was warm enough to get my clothes from soaking wet to merely damp in about a half hour. We continued to fish, and I was able to catch a few more before he suggested we stop. After packing up, we headed south to the next spot Joe had picked out, down by Lewis Falls.

The day went easily from then on out. We ate the picnic lunch he’d prepared, and took a nap on soft blankets before driving around the lake and fishing some more. Nothing major was discussed, and I was content.

~ ~ ~

“I met Patti my senior year in college,” he said over elk steak and potatoes that night. “As soon as we met, I knew she was the right person for me. It took me a little while to convince her, but she came around. And, like I thought, it turned out pretty well. We had a … um … number of good years together.”

Why the hesitation?

“I never thought I’d consider another relationship,” he said. “We had a lot of common interests, but also enough to have separate lives so we didn’t suffocate each other.”

“Sounds ideal.”

“It was, in many ways. Of course we had our ups and downs; all marriages do. But I believe it was one of the better marriages.” His smile was just a little off. I’d known him too long not to miss it. There was something he was leaving out about their “wonderful” marriage.

We were quiet for a moment.

“Then you walked back into my life.”

“And I’m about to walk back out,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Not before we talk about it,” he said.

It was time to lay my cards on the table.

“I didn’t have what you had, Joe,” I said. “I thought Larry was a good man. In his own way, I suppose he was. But he was lazy. He’d been raised by a father who felt the world, and women, owed him a good life. So I worked all day to build my business and came home at night to clean the house and prepare his meals.”

“I’m so sorry, Di,” Joe said.

I shrugged. “It was what it was. And now it isn’t.”

“It’s probably just as well you never had children,” he said.

“I wanted them. Desperately.” The last word came out in a whisper.

He let the silence build while he ate more of his dinner.

So did I. Telling anyone else that Larry had refused to admit he shot blanks or the blame he heaped on me seemed like the ultimate betrayal of our marriage vows. My Catholic upbringing had made me hang onto hope for wedded bliss for far too long.

We talked of casual subjects until it was time for coffee and dessert.

“I’m not sure what you’re thinking,” I said, tired of dancing around the subject. “But I’m not ready to involve myself in any other relationship—no matter how good the friendship.”

The waiter served our coffee.

“Besides,” I said. “My sisters and I have this trip planned.”

“Where will you go when the trip is over?” he asked.

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