by Noelle Adams
“Yeah,” Thomas said, his face momentarily drifting even closer to hers.
The deep expression in his eyes took her off-guard, and she jerked her head away to focus back on the stage, her breathing a little faster than usual.
There might still be hope for their marriage. But even if there wasn’t, they could still work together as parents for Mia. He loved their daughter just as much as she did.
The idea made Abigail feel so much better—like she wasn't entirely alone.
Thomas smoothly retrieved his arm from the back of her seat and pulled out his phone again. Wanting to make sure he knew she appreciated his support, she reached over and put a hand on his knee.
When his eyes darted over to her questioningly, she murmured, “Thank you.”
He twitched his eyebrows in ironic response.
Abigail managed to make it through the rest of the recital without falling asleep, and Mia had a small part in one more routine near the end.
When it was over, she and Thomas went to find Mia. The girl ran toward them as soon as she spotted them, and Abigail sank down to give her a big hug, raving about how wonderfully she’d done.
Mia beamed and squirmed appreciatively and then turned a little hesitantly toward Thomas, like she wasn’t sure what his reaction would be.
“Absolutely perfect,” he said, with impressive gravity. When Mia giggled and threw herself at him, he leaned over and picked her up into an affectionate hug.
Abigail watched as her husband embraced their daughter, holding her tightly, with naked tenderness, as if the girl was precious. She felt deeply touched and a little confused.
Only recently had Thomas had started hugging Mia like that. He rarely had when they were together. He’d always been too busy and distracted with work, and even his physical affection had been minimal.
But, sometime during the last year, that had clearly changed.
Still held in her father’s arms, Mia turned back to look at Abigail. “We’re going out for pizza!”
Abigail grinned. “Sounds yummy. I hope you have a really good time.” Thomas’s weekend with Mia didn’t end until the next day, so Mia’s supper plans were his decision.
Mia’s beaming smile faltered as Thomas put her back on the ground. “You’re going to come with us, aren’t you?”
“Oh,” Abigail said, with a pang of anxiety. She hated to crush her daughter’s bright mood. “It’s your time with your daddy tonight.”
Her worried gaze alternating between Thomas and Abigail, Mia said, “But Daddy said you could come with us.”
“Only if Mommy doesn’t have other plans,” Thomas put in softly.
Abigail’s eyes flashed questioningly to Thomas, seeking affirmation that the invitation to join them was genuine. When he nodded in answer to her silent question, she smiled at Mia. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than have pizza with you.”
"Do you see how pretty my hair is?" Mia said, twirling around so Abigail could admire her hairstyle.
"It's gorgeous."
"Daddy did it for me. It took him ages to get it right!"
Abigail gasped in shock at this piece of information and cut her eyes back to Thomas.
But he was pretending he'd gotten a call.
Two
Abigail was wiping her kitchen counter on Sunday when she noticed that it was almost nine o’clock.
She dried off her hands and walked down the hall to glance into Mia’s room. The girl was already in bed, under the covers and holding a book up as she read.
“Did you brush your teeth?” Abigail asked, coming into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Yes.” Mia was usually good about going to bed on time because that meant she got to read without interruption.
“Are you going to say goodnight to me, or should I slink off, despairing that my Mia wouldn’t give me a kiss?”
The girl snorted and laid down her book open on the bed beside her. “Don’t be silly, Mommy.”
Abigail chuckled and leaned down to pull Mia into a hug, exhaling with affection as the little arms wrapped around her neck tightly.
“So you had a good weekend with Daddy?” Abigail asked as she straightened up.
“Yes. We had fun. He told me next time we could go to a big bookstore in Dalton and pick out books.”
“That will be a lot of fun. There’s a great big one there. So this weekend, you went to see Ellie, and then had your ballet recital, and then went out to dinner with me and Daddy. What else did you do this weekend?
“He made pancakes,” Mia said, her sober face starting to glow as she remembered. “They were great big, and he made faces on them. One of them looked like Baxter!” She held up her favorite stuffed dog to emphasize her point.
“He did?” Abigail couldn’t help but smile at her daughter’s obvious delight at the memory. “Did he use chocolate chips and whipped cream to make the faces?” For a moment, she wanted so much to be part of the pancake-making episode that her chest ached with the feeling. Thomas was usually a very serious man, so the times he relaxed and had fun had always meant so much to her. She could picture his smile even now, and she felt a pull of longing so strong it took her breathe away.
She was convinced the break they were taking was a good thing for both of them. She was starting to feel refreshed, like she might have the energy to tackle their relationship again.
But she hadn’t seen him much lately because of it, and she missed him.
Mia hadn’t noticed her distraction and was answering the question happily. “No. I wanted whipped cream, but he said it would mess up the faces. He used blueberries and strawberries and dried cranberries and raisins and pieces of this orange fruit.” Her forehead wrinkled. “I don’t remember what it was called. He said it grew in tropics.”
Abigail hazarded a guess. “Mangoes?”
Mia gave a satisfied nod, her glasses slipping down her nose. “Yes. Mangoes.” She giggled. “They were funny faces. He made one that looked like you.”
“He did? Did it have a big nose and funny hair?”
“No,” Mia said, frowning disapprovingly. “It was pretty. We both thought so.”
Abigail felt another emotional tug at the idea that Thomas still thought she was pretty—even her representation on a pancake. “What else did you do besides eating pancakes?”
“We read a lot. We read two whole books. Long ones!”
“What do you mean 'we'? He read them too?”
Mia huffed like her mother was being dense and slow. “Yes, he read them. We read them together. He reads and then I read.”
Abigail blinked, vaguely baffled by the incongruous picture her daughter’s words evoked. “You mean you read them out loud?”
“Yes. That’s how we read.”
Swallowing, Abigail tried to process what she’d heard. She was so overwhelmed by the knowledge that Thomas had starting sitting with his daughter and reading for hours that her vision blurred over briefly.
He hadn’t come home until after bedtime on Mia’s third birthday, causing the girl to cry herself to sleep. Sometimes, when they’d been together, days had gone by when he hadn’t seen his daughter at all because of his long hours at the hospital. He hadn’t wanted to take his current position, even though his work schedule would be much less stressful and he’d have a lot more time for family, because it wasn’t as impressive a step in his career.
He’d ended up taking it anyway, but that was after their marriage had already crashed and burned. And he’d made it very clear that he was taking it begrudgingly and resented Abigail for making him do it.
The knowledge that he’d changed—that he was trying so hard and keeping it private so she wouldn’t even know—meant so much to her that she literally started to shake.
“Are you okay, Mommy?” Mia asked.
Abigail quickly pulled herself together, not wanting Mia to get concerned. “Yes, I’m okay.”
Mia had obviously been doing some thi
nking of her own. “Do you think Daddy loves me more now than when I was little?”
Abigail tensed up and focused again on Mia, who was frowning thoughtfully. “What? Why do you ask that, sweetie?”
“Because he seems to love me more now.”
Evidently, Mia’s thoughts had gone down the same paths as Abigail’s, but the girl was even less equipped to understand the transformation than Abigail was.
With a catch in her throat, Abigail gathered her daughter into a tight hug. “No, baby. He’s always loved you. Daddy has always loved you so much.”
“But he didn’t used to hang out with me.” Mia snuggled against her, not trying to pull out of the embrace like she sometimes did.
Abigail took a minute to control her emotions. She tried so hard to make sure her baby was perfectly safe, perfectly happy, perfectly loved, but there was so much she couldn’t control. Turning that control over to God where her daughter was concerned had always been a struggle for her, and it didn’t get any easier as Mia got older.
“Daddy has a very hard job” Abigail said, making her voice as gentle as she could, praying she was handling it right. “Sometimes it takes all of his time. He always wants to hang out with you as much as he can. But, even when he can't, he still loves you. He always loves you, sweetie. And, if sometimes, he can’t spend as much time with you, he still loves you.”
“I don’t think he will.”
Abigail actually gasped. “You don’t think he will love you?”
“No.” The girl looked at her like she was being silly again. “I don’t think later on he’ll stop hanging out with me.”
Abigail tried to answer but couldn’t, suddenly wishing Thomas was here too. He always seemed to know what to do in tricky situations like this. He was smarter than anyone she’d ever known.
“Daddy likes to hang out with me,” Mia added, as if her earlier point needed more explanation. “And he’s not as sad as he used to be.”
“What do you mean? When was he sad?”
“Before,” Mia explained, waving her hand as if that was plenty of explanation. “But he’s not like that anymore.”
Abigail’s head was spinning with so many questions and feelings she had no way of sorting them out. Afraid that, if she spoke, she would say something stupid, something she couldn’t take back, she decided to let the subject go until she’d thought through the best way to handle it.
She leaned down to give Mia a kiss on the forehead. “Daddy loves you so much. Just like me. I’m glad you had a good time with Daddy.”
Mia sighed happily. “Me too.”
They said their regular nighttime prayers together, and then Abigail stood up. “Turn the light off at nine-thirty. I’ll come to check.”
When Mia held up Baxter, Abigail gave the stuffed dog a kiss. “Goodnight, Baxter.” Then she leaned down to kiss the little mouth Mia was pursing up expectantly. “Goodnight, Mia.”
“Night night, Mommy.”
Abigail left the room, her feelings in an uproar. She had no idea what to think about so much of the discussion she’d just had with her daughter.
She almost called up Thomas right then—since she wanted so much to hear his voice—but she stopped herself. They were obviously both really trying to work on their personal issues during their break, and she didn’t want to mess things up by moving too quickly.
There were so many lingering difficulties between them, and if their marriage and their history had taught them anything, it was that simply trying wasn’t always enough to mend what was broken.
***
“Mommy! Daddy’s here!” Mia’s shout from the living room carried through the house to Abigail’s bedroom, where she was staring into her closet.
“I’m coming,” Abigail called back. “Don’t open the door unless you know for sure it’s him.”
“I heard his voice. He told me through the door.”
“All right. You can let him in. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Abigail dug through the clothes that were stuffed into the not-large-enough closet. There had to be something she could wear for her function tonight that would make her look respectable.
Her bed was piled with outfits she’d already tried on and discarded. She’d gained about ten pounds since she’d split up with Thomas—mostly because she was too busy to work out or to always prepare healthy foods—but she hadn’t fully restocked her wardrobe. She had decent clothes for work and casual, but these dinners with potential donors that were happening more often now were a stretch of her resources.
She had another one tonight, with the same donors they’d had dinner with over the weekend—and Thomas had suggested he come stay with Mia instead of a babysitter, since he wasn’t on call.
Pulling out a flattering gray top with a lowish neckline and a sleek black skirt, she decided they would have to do and she left them draped on the bed, ready to put on later. Then she headed toward the living room to make sure Mia and Thomas were all right.
She found them on the couch together with a book between them. It was an endearing sight. Thomas wore a black crew-neck shirt and beat-up tan trousers, while Mia was already dressed in her pink PJ’s and bunny slippers. Abigail felt a familiar clench in her heart as she saw them.
Mia was leaning against his side, and one of his arms was around her as he held the book out for both of them to see. He appeared to be trying to find the page they’d left off on.
The size of the book made Abigail blink. “What are you reading?”
“Little Women,” Mia said happily. “We started last weekend, and we're already on chapter four!”
Abigail’s eyes widened. While fairly tame, Little Women was definitely not written for six-year-old girls, and it included a somewhat traumatic death scene.
Thomas met her eyes blandly, raising his brows in what was almost a challenge.
She’d said he could try to find something better than the fairy school books, and he’d taken her up on it.
Abigail asked, “Are you enjoying the book, Mia?”
“Yes. It’s good. Sometimes it’s confusing but Daddy explains. He says that writers today are lazy, and that people used to be able to write better.”
Abigail couldn’t help but chuckle, but she was genuinely concerned about how Mia would handle the much more adult second half of the book.
Mia prattled on happily. “He says that it is two books put into one and that we only get to read the first book now. I have to wait until I’m bigger to read the second book. Do you think that’s right, Mommy?”
Letting out a gust of relieved laughter, Abigail said, “Yes, Daddy is right about that. You won’t like the second book yet. I’m sure he’ll find you something else good when you finish the first book.”
She was smiling as she met Thomas’s eyes, and his held clever amusement that had always been characteristic of him. Warmth filled her chest and her belly as they kept smiling at each other—completely in sync, completely understanding one another.
The feeling was so deep that Abigail actually took a step toward him, wanting to reach out and touch him.
“Oh. Okay,” Mia said, blissfully ignorant of the feeling sparking in the air between her parents. She turned to peer up at Thomas’s face. “Mommy’s going to the symphony with Mr. Foster.”
Thomas broke their shared gaze, and his eyebrows arched dramatically. “I thought it was a work function.”
Abigail felt off-stride by how close she’d felt to Thomas just now and then the sudden interruption. “It is a work function. We’re just going with the potential donors to dinner and the symphony. Mia, Mr. Foster is there because he’s my boss, but the dinner is about work. You know that.”
“Okay.”
Abigail wished she’d followed up on her concerns over the weekend and talked to Mia about Mr. Foster this week.
“Have you ever been to the symphony, Daddy?”
“I have.”
“Did you ever take Mommy to the symphony?”
“I did.” His green eyes shifted over to Abigail, and they took on a certain expression she’d almost forgotten.
Abigail sucked in her breath, feeling a flash of response to the memory he’d evoked with his look. Once again, deep feeling rushed through her, but this time it was of a different variety.
She and Thomas had gone to the symphony more than once in the years they were together, but she vividly remembered one particular time. Knew that evening was on his mind too.
Flustered and flushed, Abigail murmured, “I’m going to get ready now. Have fun reading.”
As she turned on the shower and tossed her t-shirt and sweats on the floor of the bathroom, Abigail tried not to think about one particular night at the symphony—several months after they’d gotten married.
But as she stepped naked under the hot spray, she couldn’t help but remember.
It was the first time she’d ever had an orgasm.
He’d splurged for expensive tickets, so they’d been sitting in an exclusive box in the theater, and Thomas had his arm around her. Just after intermission, he’d started to rub her neck and shoulders. It should have been an innocent touch, but it seemed to become more. Eventually, Abigail’s body had been a lit fuse, so aroused she couldn’t sit still.
Abigail had been raised to believe sex was something secret and dirty. Her parents had never actually said the words, but that conclusion had been very clear in everything they did. She’d known almost nothing about sex when she got married, and Thomas hadn’t even been able to finish on their wedding night, since she’d been so uncomfortable and upset.
It had been a month before they could have sex for real, and even longer before Abigail was genuinely comfortable with it.
Thomas had never been anything but careful and considerate, but he must have been so frustrated and disappointed in her. The memory of those nights and her own failures still mortified Abigail.
Because of her issues, that night in the symphony had been like a victory.
As soon as the applause erupted, Thomas had grabbed her hand and they’d fled. They’d made it to their SUV, parked in a dark corner of a parking garage.
