by Noelle Adams
It was impossible not to see the difference.
It was what she wanted—so close to what she wanted. It made her happy. Hopeful. That one day he might love her the way she loved him.
Perhaps because of this realization, or perhaps because she was so incredibly tired after a really long weekend, as the concert progressed, she got more and more emotional.
She couldn’t seem to control it, although she didn’t know of any reason for the excessive emotion. When the audience stood for the Hallelujah Chorus, which concluded the concert every year, tears slipped from her eyes.
It was embarrassing. She was never like this. She’d never been one of those women who cried at the drop of a hat. She kept trying to discreetly wipe the tears away, but they kept coming anyway.
After a minute, Daniel wrapped an arm around her, and she hid her face against his shoulder, shaking just a little.
“You okay?” he murmured, his mouth just next to her ear.
“Yeah.”
“Anything I need to know?”
“No.” She managed to look up at him. “I’m just emotional. It’s stupid.”
He peered at her face closely, as if searching for whether she’d told him the truth. Evidently satisfied, he pressed his lips softly against hers. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”
“Now who’s arguing all the time? Anyway, it’s disrespectful to kiss during the Hallelujah Chorus. Pay attention.” She was pleased her voice was light and teasing, although she was feeling anything but.
“Right,” he said with a twitch of a smile, turning back to the choir.
She was giddy—no other word for it—as she listened to the last triumphant bars, the music somehow matching the joyful swell of her heart.
They stayed for the reception afterwards, and she was overwhelmed by the outpouring of concern for her, as people gathered to ask about her mother and whether they could do anything to help.
She was so surprised and disoriented that she wasn’t prepared when the conversation turned to the choir, and Daniel said casually, “Jessica is thinking about joining.”
She gasped and poked him in the side.
He blinked down at her in feigned surprise. “You said you were thinking about it.”
She gave him a discreet glare, since he’d obviously made the public statement on purpose.
“Oh, you must join,” Martha said. “You have such a lovely voice. We need another alto.”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Just come and try it out to see if you like it. You don’t have to commit.”
“I’m thinking about it.” In the face of all those expectant eyes, she said, “I’ll come a couple of times in January to see if I like it.”
Then she poked Daniel in the side again, since he was looking far too pleased with himself.
“Ouch.”
Those around them laughed at this bit of byplay, and Jessica pretended to laugh too.
As they were leaving, Daniel asked, “Did you mean it about trying out for the choir?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”
“Good. Are you upset about it?”
“Why have you gotten it in your head that I should do this?”
He was looking baffled and concerned by her shift in mood. “I think you’ll like it.”
Her giddiness had taken a hit from the possible explanation that occurred to her. Normally, she wouldn’t have admitted to it, since it revealed too much about her own feelings, but she didn’t have enough defenses to hold it back tonight. “Do you think I need to do the choir? As part of being your wife?”
Daniel stopped in the middle of the parking lot, a few flakes of blowing snow landing on his dark hair before they melted. “What?”
“You seem to be pushing the idea so hard, and I wondered if you thought I needed to be more involved in the church—as a pastor’s wife, I mean. If that’s the case, it would just be easier if you came out and told me how much you need me to do.”
Daniel almost choked on visible shock. “Of course you don’t have to do anything because you’re my wife. I’d never expect you to do anything for reasons like that.”
He seemed so authentically surprised—almost indignant—at the idea that she had to believe him. “Oh,” she said.
“Jessica.” He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t have a picture in my mind of the kind of wife you’re supposed to be. I don’t care if you cook or sing in the choir or do anything but be yourself. Don’t do any of those things for me, because you think that’s the kind of wife I want.”
She felt strange, shaky. “Then why are you pushing the choir so much.”
“Because I think you’d really enjoy it. Because I think it might help you feel more connected, and you said that’s what you want.” He reached up and cupped her cheek with one big hand. “Honey, I want you to have everything out of life that you want.”
She swayed toward him, drawn by the naked affection in his eyes. “And you really think the choir is the way to get there?”
“I don’t know. But I know you can’t get connected the way you want until you take a risk, until you put yourself out there. I know that’s hard for you—it’s hard for everyone—but I thought the choir might be a small risk you could take that might pay off. If you really don’t want to do it, I’ll drop it for good. But I thought you were just afraid.”
“I was,” she admitted. “I am. But I can try it. Maybe I’ll like it.”
He smiled in obvious satisfaction. “Good.”
“All I said was that I’d try it out. So, if I don’t like it, you can’t complain if I quit.”
“I won’t complain. But I don’t think you’re going to quit.”
She grumbled under her breath, but mostly just for show.
They walked the rest of the way to the car, and he opened the passenger door for her. “Are you tired?”
“Not too tired. Why?”
“We could get some dessert if you want. The cookies there left something to be desired.”
“You don’t really think I’m going to turn down dessert, do you?”
They went to a coffee shop on Main Street. They knew almost everyone in the place when they walked in, about half of the patrons having come from the concert just like them.
They said hello to everyone they knew, and then picked out cupcakes from the case. She got red velvet, and he got carrot. Daniel got regular coffee, and she got decaf.
There was one tiny table open in the far corner. She glanced over at it and then up at Daniel.
“It’s kind of stuffy in here,” he said. “Is it too chilly to go outside?”
“It’s not too bad. We can go out if you want.”
They went down the block to the duck pond and found a bench. It was chilly, but not unbearably so. They both had coats on, and Jessica leaned again Daniel, who was always warm.
She smiled up at him as she took a bite of her cupcake.
It was so strange. Almost like they were on a date.
The thought made her feel ridiculously shy, so she kept her eyes on her cupcake, licking the cream cheese icing off her fingers as she ate.
It kept feeling like Daniel was looking at her, though, so she finally glanced up to see.
When she saw his eyes were indeed resting on her, she asked, “Do I have icing on my face?”
“A little,” he murmured, reaching over and swiping the corner of her lip with his thumb.
For some reason, the little gesture made her shiver.
“Is it gone?” she asked, trying to sound natural and not like she was about to melt into the bench.
“Just about.” He rubbed her lip with his thumb again, but his time it was more like a caress.
She couldn’t look away from his eyes. She was trapped by the expression.
When the shivery sensation from the pad of his thumb on her lip started to generate different kinds of feelings, running down her spine and even lower, s
he dropped her head backwards and sucked in a breath.
“You’re so beautiful,” Daniel murmured, sliding his thumb from her lip to her cheek and then back.
“That’s what you said before.”
“Well, I meant it then. And I mean it now.”
She felt like she might melt into a hot puddle of feeling. “Do you?”
“Look at me, honey. Then tell me you don’t believe me.”
She managed to focus on his face again, and she gasped at the expression in his eyes. It was heated, possessive, so much more than admiring. It looked like he wanted to swallow her whole.
“Do you believe me?” he asked, low and thick.
“Yeah.”
“Good.” Then he tilted his head down to kiss her.
She responded immediately, couldn’t help but respond. A rush of pleasure and emotion rose up as he moved his lips against hers, sliding his tongue into her mouth.
She clutched at his shoulders with one hand, still trying to hold her cupcake with the other.
She was just getting into it when a voice broke into the fog of sensation.
“I’m shocked!” a booming voice said from behind them. “The pastor making out in public! Such a bad example for the youth in the town.”
They broke apart, and Jessica turned her head to see the grinning face of one of the church deacons, who was walking by with his wife. Both were laughing with genuine warmth.
Irrationally embarrassed, Jessica dropped her face to Daniel’s shoulder.
He said, “I’m more than happy to set an example of making out with one’s wife—at any time or place.”
They all laughed, and the other couple kept walking. When they were out of earshot, Daniel grumbled, “We’d have to leave the county to get any privacy around here.”
Jessica giggled. “Or we could just go home.”
“Yeah,” he said, a hot promise in his eyes. “Let’s go home.”
***
They were kissing again as they unlocked the door. And kissing as they let Bear outside in the backyard for a minute.
And kissing as they stumbled upstairs. And kissing as they tumbled into their bed, already trying to pull off each other’s clothes.
She’d made quick work of his shirt, and they both were trying to pull off his trousers, but they got hung up on his shoes, which he’d never taken off.
It was a bit of a kerfuffle, causing them to laugh as they finally managed to get the shoes and pants off, but then Daniel wasted no time in moving on top of her.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he said, pushing up her skirt and moving aside her panties. “I’ve never been like this in my life.”
“Like what?” she managed to ask, after gasping as he nudged her entrance. She was already aroused, just from their clumsy, half-interrupted foreplay.
“Like I’m a horny teenager, unable to think about anything except how much I want you all the time.” He groaned as he sank inside her, and she bent her knees to give him better access.
“You do?”
He’d closed his eyes, his expression reflecting pleasure and hunger both. But now he opened them again. “I do what?”
“You think about wanting me all the time?” She tangled her fingers in his hair, feeling so much more than the familiar tightness of having him inside her.
“Of course, I do. Don’t you know that? I’ve never been like this before. It’s almost embarrassing.”
She arched in pleasure, from his words even more than the sensation of him starting to move inside her. She knew what he was saying—even obliquely.
He wanted her in a different way than he’d ever wanted Lila.
There was part of him that could be distinctly hers.
She’d never dreamed it was possible, and it intensified the physical sensations.
When he began to thrust, she moved with him, rocking up her hips, huffing out little panting sounds.
“Oh, honey, you feel so good.” He ducked his head for a minute, his hips working fast and hard between her thighs. “You always feel so good.”
She made a sobbing sound as so much—too much—overwhelmed her all at once.
She shook her hips desperately as the pleasure coiled into a tight knot. Then cried out loudly as it released.
He was with her, his extended exclamation just as helpless as hers.
She gathered him to her afterwards, stroking his back, murmuring out incoherent words of affection and release.
When he finally raised his head to look down at her, she was relieved that there was no shadow in his eyes. They were just as warm as they’d been before—but relaxed instead of urgent.
“We’re pretty good together,” she said, raising her hand to stroke his rough face, loving the feel of his beard against her palm. “At least, I think so.”
He gave a huff of ironic laughter. “I think saying we’re good together is a massive understatement.”
She grinned up at him, the flood of joy impossible to stop. “We’re good together outside of the bedroom too, I think.”
To her relief, he showed no sign of withdrawing, despite the intimacy of the words. He leaned down to kiss her softly. ‘We’re very good together. In every way.”
“I think so too.”
“This marriage was a very good idea.”
It might not be a declaration of love, but it was more than Jessica had ever thought to hear from him.
***
Jessica woke up in the middle of the night and rolled over toward Daniel’s side. Even mostly asleep, she was conscious of a bleak expectation of finding his side empty.
Instead, her arm landed on his chest as she rolled.
He grunted at the impact.
“Sorry,” she said, too groggy to process anything but the relief that he was still in bed with her.
“What’s…matter?” he mumbled.
“Nothing. It was an accident.”
“’Kay.” He seemed mostly asleep, but he moved her body until she was lying beside him instead of half on top of him.
This seemed a perfectly good arrangement as far as Jessica was concerned, so she curled up beside him and went back to sleep.
Eleven
When she woke up, she was still beside Daniel—so cozy she was almost too warm.
Her cheek was pressed up against his chest, and she pulled away from it and rolled away, inhaling a thick breath.
When she glanced over at the clock, she saw it was just after five.
When she glanced up at his face, she saw he was awake.
“Hi,” she said, self-conscious since he seemed to have been watching her while she slept.
“Hi.”
“How long have you been awake?”
“About a half-hour.”
“You didn’t want to get up and take your run?”
He gave her a half-smile. “I guess I’m lazy today.”
“I don’t think it’s lazy to want to stay in bed past five on Christmas Eve morning.”
“I’m glad to have your approval.”
Feeling a surge of affection, she scooted back over, settling herself beside him and wrapping an arm around his middle.
He adjusted to put an arm around her.
“What were you thinking about, lying in bed all this time?” she asked, caressing his belly with her palm.
“I was praying.”
“Oh. I won’t disturb you, then. Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
He didn’t say anymore, but he’d brought the subject up, so after a minute she found the courage to ask, “Do you…do you feel any better…about things, I mean.”
Despite her vague question, he evidently knew exactly what she was talking about. “I’ve been working through some things.”
“I know you have.”
“Lila was in the accident in December.”
“I know she was.” Two years ago. Jessica hadn’t been as close to Daniel then, but it had still hit her hard. One morning the wom
an had been alive, and by the end of the day she was dead. No warning. No preparation. Just dead in the space of a minute.
“I thought I’d processed everything, grieved for her, reconciled myself. I thought I was recovered, until this last month.”
“I don’t think grief ever really gets put behind you for good. I think it’s normal that you’d still miss her, that you’d still wish she were here.” It hurt a little to say so, since she liked the idea of Daniel loving no one but her. But that was a petty, immature response, so she wasn’t going to indulge it.
He stroked her hair back from her face. “Yeah, but that’s not what I’ve been going through. I do still miss her sometimes, but this hasn’t been grief. Maybe it looks like it, but it isn’t.”
She’d been resting her head on his chest but now she raised it to search his face. “It isn’t?”
He shook his head. “It’s all been spiritual. You know that much, I think. But I don’t want you to think I’m wrestling with God this way because I still want Lila. I don’t want you to ever believe that I want you to be her. Because I don’t.”
Jessica took a shaky breath and tried to think of a response. There was nothing. She wasn’t sure she was capable of shaping a word, anyway. She’d needed so much to hear that. Needed so much to know it.
“It’s not all better or anything,” he added. “But I hope I’m making progress. I just wanted you to know.”
She pressed a soft kiss on his chest and managed to say, “Thank you.”
They lay in silence for a few minutes. Then Daniel said, “Sometimes I wonder what the church would think if they knew how messed up I am.”
She scowled at him. “That’s ridiculous. You know that’s ridiculous.”
“Yeah. I guess.” He sounded almost resigned.
She raised herself up, supported by straightened arms. “Anyone who thinks a pastor has it all together has never met one.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“You know I mean. The point of faith is that you don’t need to have it all together. You know that. You’ve told me that yourself.”
“I know. But it’s easier to say it when you feel like you’re on the right track.”
“You are on the right track, Daniel. So get over your insufferable arrogance and admit that you struggle just as much as anyone else.”
