by Noelle Adams
To her surprise, his mouth quirked up. “You’re getting rather bossy, you know.”
She tried to smother the laughter that rippled out of her, relieved that Daniel’s characteristic dry humor had returned. “I am not bossy. And you shouldn’t be calling me that. I’m your wife, and you should only be speaking sweet words about me.”
He burst into laughter and pulled her into a hug, rolling them over so he was on top of her. “That sounded rather bossy to me.”
“You have a skewed frame of reference when it comes to bossiness. That was simply a statement of fact.”
“It was a fact?”
“Yes. It’s a fact that husbands should speak only sweet things about their wives.” She thought she did pretty well about keeping her tone serious, even as she was shaking with amusement.
“Oh, okay. I’ll give it a try. Hmm. My wife…”
She waited breathlessly, overwhelmed by the teasing warmth in his eyes. When he didn’t continue, she swatted him on the shoulder. “Well?”
He chuckled. “My wife has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”
She couldn’t hide a rather besotted grin. “Well, that was pretty good for a start.”
“More? All right. My wife…can make me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever known.”
Her laughter faded into a rise of emotion as she processed what he’d said.
His eyes were still warm, but they weren’t as teasing anymore. “And my wife has a remarkable mind. And a remarkable heart. And she takes my breath away every time she finds the courage to take a risk and tell me the truth.”
His voice cracked on the last word, and there was a lump in Jessica’s throat too.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
Then she whispered, “I do?”
He leaned down to kiss her. “You do.”
Afraid she was going to get swept away in sentiment, she managed to regain enough irony to say, “I guess that was a pretty good start at sweetness. You’ll have to keep practicing.”
“Who said I was done?”
“There’s more? I’m all ears.”
He hid a smile. “My wife has the most…annoying dog I’ve ever—”
His drawled words broke off abruptly when Jessica gave a cry of outrage and tried to push him off her.
They had a brief, laughing wrestling match until Daniel gave up in mock surrender. “Fine. My wife has a dog who is just as sweet as she is.”
She frowned. “I think that was rather backhanded as far as sweet words go.”
“Nope. Nothing backhanded about it.”
They lay smiling at each other until he asked, “So husbands don’t get sweet words too?”
“Only if they’re really good.”
“Ah. Then no sweet words for me.”
“Right.”
“Too bad.”
She scooted over to kiss him. “My husband is smarter and hotter than any man I know.”
He looked surprised—but very pleased—by the compliment, so she kissed him again.
Then she added, “And his heart is so incredibly kind…to everyone except himself.”
***
They had to get up soon afterwards, since they had to go to church, as the team was meeting to take the canned and dry goods from the Christmas drive to the local food pantry.
Jessica took Bear for a walk while Daniel showered and dressed, and then Jessica got ready while he did his devotions and cleared out some email.
When she was ready early, Jessica felt a burst of energy and mixed up some muffin mix out of a box. She was just pulling the muffins out of the oven when Daniel came into the kitchen, wearing jeans and a college sweatshirt.
“Yum,” he said, grabbing one from the tray.
“Wait, they’re hot!”
He broke the muffin open, letting out a burst of steam. “I can blow on it.”
She narrowed her eyes as he blew with exaggerated force on the muffin half.
He took a bite. “My wife…makes great muffins out of a box.”
“How did you know they were out of a box?”
He grinned and nodded toward the trash, where the box was clearly displayed.
“Oh. I’m going to work on baking from scratch. I just haven’t had time yet.”
“Muffins from a box are better than no muffins at all.”
“Keep it up, and you’re going to get no muffins.”
He laughed, and he looked so adorable that she gooched his sides.
He huffed in surprise, which made her gooch him again.
This time, he grabbed her wrists and turned her around so he had her trapped against the counter.
“I wasn’t doing anything,” she insisted, widening her eyes with what she hoped was an innocent look.
“You certainly were doing something.” Then his expression changed. So quickly it stole her breath. He didn’t move back, so she could feel his hard body pressed against hers. His brown eyes had grown sober. “Seriously, though, Jessica.”
She drew her brows together. “Yes, seriously I was gooching you. Is that a problem?”
He gave a bark of laughter. “No. Gooch away. I had switched topics.”
“Oh. To what?”
“I just wanted to make sure you’re really all right with this.”
“With what?” For some reason, her heart started pounding in a way it hadn’t all morning. With fear. Or dread. Or something.
“With this marriage. Our situation. I think what we have is good and can get even better, but I can’t help but feel like I’m getting the better end of the deal. I get the perfect wife—”
“Ha! I’m far from the perfect wife.”
“All right, I get exactly what I want and need in a wife, while you get…”
“A very good husband.” She was worried now, and her blood was throbbing with her heartbeat, suddenly afraid she was about to hear something heartbreaking.
He was searching her face urgently now, as if trying to read her mind. “And that’s enough? What I can offer you? I’m not going to pull away from you again, and I’m as committed to this, to you, as anything. But it’s not everything you deserve. I can’t give you everything, so you’re really just getting half a man. Is it really enough for you, not having a love marriage?”
And there was the heartbreaking thing.
She froze—maybe just for a few seconds but it felt like an eternity. Then she took a shuddering breath that was one of the hardest things she’d ever done.
She’d always known what this marriage was about. Daniel had never lied to her about it.
She’d simply lied to herself.
But this was what she’d signed up for, and she’d gotten everything she’d wanted out of it. She had a husband, a partner, companionship, security, the chance at a family.
Expecting something more—wanting something more—wasn’t fair to Daniel. Or herself. She couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t strip herself naked and expose her heart, when she knew her feelings weren’t reciprocated.
It might feel wrong, but it wasn’t wrong. She’d gotten exactly what she’d asked for.
“Yeah,” she said, hoping her voice sounded natural. “I like what we have. It’s enough.”
She must have come across as convincing, because Daniel relaxed visibly. He leaned down to give her a gentle kiss.
“Okay. We better get going.”
“Sounds good,” she said, faking a bright smile. “I’m ready to go.”
She spent the few hours, as they packed up the food and drove it over to the food bank, convincing herself she had nothing to be depressed about.
This marriage had already given her a lot.
This marriage had never been about love.
***
They had lunch with her mother at the nursing home and then an early dinner with Micah and Daniel’s parents. They were acting like a family. It felt exactly like they were a family. And, for some reason, it made Jessica feel even worse.
Daniel was friendly and affectionate all day—the way she’d always wanted him to act. But even that made her feel worse.
She just didn’t know why he couldn’t love her.
As she was showering and dressing for the Christmas Eve service at church, she felt like she might cry. Right in the middle of putting on one of her socks, she bent over and had to stifle a sudden rise of tears.
“What’s the matter, honey?” Daniel said from the doorway of the bathroom. He had a toothbrush in his mouth, so his words were mumbled.
She wished he wouldn’t call her “honey.” It sounded like he loved her, so it just twisted the knife of reality. “Nothing,” she said, straightening up.
He spit out his toothpaste, rinsed for about two seconds, and then came over to sit next to her on the bed. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you. You’ve gotten really quiet today. Something is bothering you.”
“It’s nothing important. Silly stuff.”
“Well, I care about silly stuff too, so I want to know.”
She opened her mouth to tell him but then shut it again.
She wanted to take a risk, to tell him the truth, to let him know she thought something wasn’t right in this. She wanted to say that they both needed more than they had.
Maybe some women could tell a man she loved him, without his saying it first, but Jessica wasn’t one of those women.
She just couldn’t do it. Not when she already knew he didn’t love her back.
She closed her mouth and shook her head.
He raised her chin and met her eyes. “You can tell me anything, you know.”
She cleared her throat. “I know.”
“But you aren’t going to tell me this?”
She shook her head, any words she might have said sticking in her throat.
His eyes urgently searched her face. “Will you tell me later?”
“Yeah,” she said, mostly just to get him to leave her alone. “Probably later.”
This seemed to satisfy him. He got up and glanced at his watch. “You better hurry. We need to be over there in twenty minutes.”
“Yeah.” She hurriedly put on her second sock and then both of her shoes. “Would you mind feeding Bear? I still have to do something with my face.”
He rolled his eyes and gave his head a bewildered shake. “Your face is perfect.”
That should have made her happy, but it didn’t. So she felt even heavier as she put on some mascara and lip gloss and then pulled on a dark green cashmere sweater over her top.
As she went downstairs, she heard Daniel talking to Bear. “I gave you your food. It’s not my fault you inhaled it like a vacuum.”
Only silence greeted this statement.
“Don’t give me those eyes. You’re a very talented manipulator, but I don’t cave to those kinds of tactics.”
Jessica walked as quietly as she could to the entrance of the kitchen so she could see.
Bear was begging expectantly, and Daniel stood next to the dog food cabinet.
“Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes the way he had at her just a few minutes earlier. “You can have one treat. But that’s it. Someone has to insist on discipline in this house.”
He got a dog treat out of the cabinet and handed it to Bear, who crunched it happily.
Then he reached out to scratch her ears, and the dog nuzzled his hand.
Jessica almost started to cry as she stood watching.
Daniel loved Bear, no matter how he might say differently. There was no way to misread his expression.
She wanted this man so much—with all of his kindness and intelligence and humor and strength and stubbornness and brooding depth.
She wanted him all the way.
She wanted to share life with him. To have his children. To grow old with him.
She wanted to love and be loved.
And it hurt so much that she couldn’t have all of it. It seemed wrong in a way she couldn’t articulate.
He’d crouched down to stroke the length of Bear’s back, but he straightened quickly when he realized she was present.
“This dog is the most demanding creature I’ve ever seen.” Then he must have processed her expression because he made a rough burst of sound and strode over to her. “Jessica, you have to tell me what’s wrong.”
She controlled her expression, although it physically hurt her to do so. “It’s nothing. I’m just emotional today, I guess.”
“Emotional about what?”
She looked away. “Everything.”
He started to object, but then must have glanced at the clock. “We’ve got to go, but we’re going to talk about this later tonight. So you might as well resign yourself right now to telling me what’s wrong.”
At least she had a short reprieve. She could pull herself together and figure out something to tell him later tonight.
She could tell him some of the truth without telling him all of it.
They took her car over to the church, since his truck was still getting worked on.
Jessica lit the candles in the displays in the windows of the sanctuary as Daniel got his stuff together and found the Scripture readers so he could be sure they knew what to do.
The service was a traditional lessons and carols service, with a short homily and then “Silent Night” sung as individual candles were lit. It was the same Christmas Eve service she’d attended all of her life, and she’d always deeply loved it.
The service was beautiful and grave. The carols and Scripture passages were much-loved and familiar. She tried to focus on spiritual issues, the beautiful truth of God becoming human to save them, instead of on her own crushed heart.
She mostly succeeded.
But then, just before Daniel got up to give the homily, she glanced over at him, where he was sitting behind the pulpit.
He was gazing at her, and there was something in his expression that she knew, she recognized, she’d seen in him before, she’d felt in herself. Like he was gazing at something he wanted desperately but knew he could never have.
In that moment, it looked like he loved her.
She saw it—felt it—for a few seconds, but then his face changed, and he glanced away. And it felt like something was taken away from her, something she’d never really had.
Her eyes were burning when he stood up and began to talk about how this one birth, this one life, was the center of everything, transformed everything, remade everything.
She was fighting not to cry as he spoke about how the incarnation was the absolute manifestation of love. And she was strangling on emotion when he concluded that this one truth changes us, gives meaning to lives that would otherwise not have them.
By the time he was done, she couldn’t control herself anymore—she was about to break down completely—so she slipped out of the pew and out the side door of the sanctuary as he spoke the prayer before the final hymn.
She stood in the hallway of the church for a moment, paralyzed, with no idea what she should do. Irrationally, it felt like her entire body was cracking with her heart.
With no way to control herself, she headed toward Daniel’s office, where she could be alone for a few minutes and pull herself together.
She had her hand on the doorknob when she heard his voice say from behind her, “Jessica.”
She paused, motionless, her hand gripping the knob.
The congregation had just started to sing “Silent Night.” The sanctuary would be dark, and they’d begin to light their candles now.
“You should get back in there,” she said raspily. “They’ll wonder where you went.”
“I should be right here.” He looked frustrated and concerned and utterly helpless. “You need to tell me what’s wrong right now. Right now.”
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she burst out, no defenses anymore, no way to hold the truth back.
His face grew very still. “You can’t do wha
t? The marriage?”
She wiped away a couple of tears, hating that she couldn’t stop crying. “I don’t know if I can do it. I thought I could. I wanted to. But it’s not enough. I want more. I can’t help but want more.”
His brow lowered slightly as he stared at her. “What do you want, honey? I’ll try to give you anything you need.”
She shook her head, even his earnestness hurting her, since it was so close to what she wanted from him. But just not all the way there. “I don’t think you can.” She took a shaky exhale and finally processed the realization she’d had in the service earlier, the one that had changed everything. “That’s not right. You can. You just won’t.”
“I won’t what?”
“You won’t let yourself love me.”
He froze, the way she’d frozen a minute ago.
It was too late for pride or deflection or any sort of defense, so she let the words spill out. “You could. I know you could. You could love me the way I love you. But you just won’t allow yourself to. And I don’t know if I can be okay with the half of yourself you’re willing to give me.”
He swallowed so hard she saw it in his throat. “Jessica, honey—”
“Don’t call me ‘honey’ unless you mean it. You can’t have it both ways. I know it’s hard. I know how hard it’s been for you. I know how you’ve suffered, and I understand why you’re angry about it. Why you can’t trust that anything good will last. I understand. I really do. But I don’t think I’m okay with this.”
He reached for her, something strange happening on his face, but she jerked away from his touch, afraid it would undo her.
“I’m sorry Lila died,” she went on, her voice cracking on almost every word. “I’m so sorry it happened. It’s horrible. Horrible. And nothing is ever going to make her death good. It’s proof that something is wrong with the world—that things like that happen. That people like her die. That they’re taken away from us. The world is broken. It’s just broken.”
She sucked in a harsh breath and palmed more tears away. Daniel tried to reply, but she talked over him. “But you’re acting like that’s the end of the story, that the brokenness is the final answer. When you know very well that it’s not. You’ve always said that, at the end of the story, the world will be healed, fixed, all wrongs finally righted. And that what’s broken is being redeemed, little by little, even now.”
