Which was now a lake.
Water puddled across most of the floor, running from the ancient dishwasher to the back door.
“Good thing the floor is slanted,” Melina said, pointing as water seeped out of the house under the back door’s frame.
Aussie followed Melina into the kitchen, snuffling curiously and picking up his paws on the wet floor.
“Ack! Aussie, no! Get out!” Melina said, then immediately regretted it as the mutt trotted down the dry hallway toward the living room, leaving wet paw prints in his trail. “No, wait! Aussie, c’mere boy! Let’s go outside!”
Her bare feet splashed as she opened the back door, giving Aussie a clear path to the moonlit yard. The dog followed her direction.
Joshua inspected the pipes under the sink that connected to the dishwasher. It became apparent that was the source of the problem; something in the connection between the house’s old plumbing and the dishwasher’s valves and pipes. He shut off the water, but the mess remained.
Melina pulled out all of their spare towels, a large salad bowl, a bucket, and two sponges. She squatted down and began sopping up the water with one sponge, wringing it into the salad bowl.
“I don’t think we have any other buckets,” she said, gesturing to the bucket and sponge for Joshua to use. He dropped on his knees, sopping and wringing, sopping and wringing.
“We can get a plumber in here first thing in the morning,” Joshua said. “There’s no point in calling tonight and having to pay double.”
“And a plasterer. Did you see the hole you made in the wall upstairs? With the doorknob?”
Joshua cringed. “I know. How stupid was that? I didn’t mean to throw it—it just came off in my hands.” They sopped and wrung in silence for a few minutes.
“This is glamorous,” Melina said. “I’ll be sure to put this on my résumé.”
“Hey, it’s not easy being a homeowner,” Joshua said. “We gotta stick together—it’s us versus the house.”
“It seems like it,” Melina said. “I mean, whenever we fight, something always seems to break down.”
“Um, in case you haven’t noticed, we fight a lot,” Joshua said, timidly. “And it’s an old house.”
Most of the water was gone from the middle of the floor so she tackled puddles in the corner. “Well, we’ll just have to fix it up,” Melina said, still wringing.
“And fix us up,” Joshua added. “I know we got married pretty fast, but I’m still convinced that we’re right together. Maybe some people think we’re too different, but maybe we’re not. Maybe we’re two sides of the same coin.”
“Like ‘You complete me’?” Melina asked, snickering. She couldn’t resist quoting the corny line from the movie Jerry Maguire.
“No, not like that,” Joshua said. “Like, you challenge me. You get me fired up. We’re like steak and horseradish.”
“That’s such a dude thing to say,” Melina said. “Which one am I?”
Joshua grinned devilishly. “The hot one, of course!”
FORTY-FIVE
It was a mild, bright day, just edging into summer, and Joshua sang along to the radio, belting out a chorus.
The wind whipped Melina’s hair into her eyes, tangling it, but she gamely rode with a baseball cap jammed on her head, hand-surfing as they cruised back to Seattle.
They’d gone to visit Momo, Squirt and his family, and Melina loved how Momo’s face lit up at the enormous bouquet of flowers cut from her garden.
When spring came and Mother Nature demanded a caretaker, Melina jumped into the task with total enthusiasm, pruning, weeding, mulching and helping the first sprouts of spring blossom into a riot of summer color.
Aussie became her constant companion. Melina thought she wanted a refined purebred, but it turned out that Aussie was just right—voice-trained, calm, and considerate enough to do his business only in the far corner of the yard by the compost heap. When Aussie joined her in the garden, she never felt lonely.
The visit to Momo’s new home gave Melina and Joshua some good perspective as their oil-and-water personalities still clashed.
“I hope you brought me wedding pictures!” Momo said when they arrived. “And tell me all about what you’ve been doing to the house.”
Melina laid out a few photos Andrea had taken on the beach after the ceremony, blown up to help Momo’s poor eyesight.
We both look so … happy. Like nothing, like none of the fights we’ve had matter.
But they did matter.
As Joshua described their ceremony and trip to an enthralled Momo, Melina stared at the photos, trying to see the secret of those unclouded, happy smiles.
Maybe we just rushed into it, she thought. Maybe we had no business getting married until we’d really gotten to know each other and seen if we were a good fit.
“So tell me what you’re doing to my old house,” Momo asked, eyes shining as she sipped her mint tea.
“Well, we’ve painted it,” Melina said. “It was really fun to choose colors, and we picked them based on the sea, the places we’ve been on Puget Sound and in Hawaii. Lots of pale greens and blues.”
“We kept all the white moldings and trim, but caulked and repainted them,” Joshua added. “Melina’s done a great job with that. And we cleaned all the light fixtures, had a couple rewired, and refinished the floors.”
“Sounds like you’ve been very busy,” Momo said. “I’m so delighted you have the energy to take care of it and really make it your own.”
Melina smiled. “I’ve been working on your garden. It really does change your state of mind.”
“And Aussie is warding off the cats that sneak past our wire barrier,” Joshua added.
“Sounds like you’re very happy, and that the house is just perfect,” Momo said.
Joshua’s expression betrayed him.
“Not perfect?” Momo asked. “Tell me.”
Joshua told Momo about the roof leak, which cost several hundred dollars to repair. Melina chimed in with the dishwasher disaster and the doorknob.
“And don’t forget the lights. They just blew, but none of the fuses were damaged,” Joshua said.
“The shower sometimes decides it wants to only run one temperature—freezing cold,” Melina added.
Momo studied the young couple. “I see. So it’s just the house that’s having problems. Right?”
“What do you mean?” Joshua asked.
“I mean, the house is having problems. And you have to fix them. There aren’t any other problems?”
“Well,” Melina ventured, “it seems like the house has problems when we have problems. Like, it breaks down when our relationship gets tough.”
Momo nodded, encouraging her to go on.
“It’s like when we fight, when we have a breakdown, the house knows it. And then it has problems, but the thing is, that’s the end of it.”
“The end of the house problem?”
“No, the end of our fight.”
Momo sipped and let the silence stretch. “It’s been so long since I lived there with my husband, I’m not sure if I can offer you an explanation,” she said. “But if the house is ending your fights, rather than starting them, I’d say it is a good place to be.”
Joshua was puzzled. “But Momo, there’s a lot of work to be done on it. It’s not easy. It takes all of the time and effort I can give and more.”
“True,” Momo said, “but if you two are meant to be, it will be worth it in the end.”
Melina blinked, realizing Momo had completely misinterpreted Joshua’s statement about the house.
“And the same can be said for the house,” the old woman continued. “It’s not perfect. It needs a lot of love and care, and probably more than you expected to give it for it to survive your whole lifetime.”
Melina examined Momo. “So you think we’re meant to be the caretakers of your house? To help get it back into shape?”
“Yes, my dear,” Momo said, squeezing Melina�
�s hand affectionately. “You are definitely meant to be.”
***
Joshua and Melina returned home as the summer sun made its lazy descent behind the Olympic Mountains across Puget Sound.
The Danford Residence, Melina thought. That sounds so important. It sounds like a real family lives there. Now we’ve got to make it our own.
Joshua was still caught up in hitting the high notes on a classic rock song and Melina turned her face west toward the sunset. Seattle had outdone itself in the spring, exceeding its own reputation for rain and gray days.
“Well, what are we going to do next on the house?” she asked Joshua.
“You mean, provided we’re not playing catch-up from a bunch more snafus?” With each fix, they uncovered more problems, including questionable electrical wiring and ancient plumbing.
“Good thing you love projects,” Melina said, squeezing his hand and trying to keep it positive.
“I do,” he said. “I like making things better. And really, the house doesn’t have any problems we can’t handle. We know from the inspection that it doesn’t have termites or mold. And the roof is sound, we know that for sure now.”
“OK, then what do you want to do next?” she asked. “I was thinking of building out the vegetable garden, so that we can have more of our own produce this summer.”
“If you grow it, I’ll cook it!” Joshua said with enthusiasm. “That bruschetta we made with the farmer’s market tomatoes last summer totally shows the difference between store-bought tomato mush and that really bright, meaty flavor of home-grown tomatoes.”
“I’ve been reading about raised beds, and I was thinking that the south side of the house gets good sun for them,” Melina said. “Maybe we could use wine crates or pallets to fake raised beds?”
“I have an even better idea,” Joshua offered. “Mark and Stephanie owe me one, since I helped Mark build raised beds for Steph. Why don’t we invite them over and build it together?”
Melina was genuinely enthusiastic; she and Stephanie weren’t best friends, but they no longer rubbed each other the wrong way.
“The next thing I want to do is the kitchen,” Joshua mused. “It needs a total overhaul. The drawers don’t slide out very well. There’s not much counter or storage space because it’s designed really inefficiently. I hate the old sink—it’s too shallow for big pots. I would really like to make the kitchen amazing.”
They spent the rest of the drive home imagining everything their new kitchen could have—under-cabinet lighting, an instant hot water spigot, a warming drawer, and special pull-outs in the pantry. The kitchen was the heart of any house, Joshua said, and he was determined that his old house would be given new life with a complete heart transplant.
FORTY-SIX
Joshua slammed out of the house blindly, running as if chased by demons. Aussie raced after him, streaking down the street to the familiar first turn on their jogging route.
But this was no jog. Joshua was running as if his life depended on it, pushing himself harder as his lungs threatened to close down, to hold him back from putting more distance from the house and Melina.
Aussie, running without his leash, knew every turn. He kept pace with Joshua, not slowing to sniff the usual trees where neighborhood dogs marked their turf.
Joshua felt his feet pound the sidewalk through thin canvas sneakers. Good, he thought. I don’t care if this hurts. I’ve been hurt enough.
For once, it seemed that everything was going well. He and Melina had kept the peace since their visit to Momo—no fights, few misunderstandings. They threw themselves into the house project, Melina focused on the garden and Joshua planned the new kitchen.
But a niggling thought kept pecking at the corners of Joshua’s mind. Ever since Melina had gone to the Pursuit conference in Chicago, something had changed about her.
She was more secretive. He caught her a few times on her mobile, hastily saying goodbye to someone. She cleared her web browser history on their shared computer. And she spent longer hours at the office, sometimes getting home after he’d already gone to bed.
He’d tried asking her about it, but with each excuse, he grew more doubtful. Each answer was too forced, too generic to be believable.
How could I have failed to see it? He was as angry at her as he was at his own stupidity. I was wrong about Melina.
***
Melina wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as she drove away from the house, knowing she’d said the wrong things. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
She’d tried to keep it a secret. Since the night when Joshua finally learned the whole truth about her, she had been forming a plan and putting the pieces together.
And now, everything was ruined.
Joshua never even gave her a chance to explain. He just looked up from her open suitcase as she walked into the bedroom, gave her the most cutting glare, and slammed out of the house.
Melina hiccupped a sob and pressed the coupe’s accelerator harder, racing toward her office in downtown Seattle on a Sunday night. The roads felt unfamiliar without traffic, as if they opened just for her, and she arrived in minutes.
She reached for her purse and realized it wasn’t on the seat beside her. In her haste, she’d left it at home. But she had her keys.
Hands shaking, Melina swiped the fob on her keychain to unlock the office tower door then hurried through the darkened lobby to the elevator bay for a ride up to her office. She’d worked so hard and planned this so carefully, it broke her heart to think that Joshua thought the worst of her.
Now, she wasn’t just fighting to protect a secret. She needed a critical piece of evidence to make Joshua believe her.
***
When Joshua found her suitcase packed, he knew it was over.
She was supposedly going out of town for work again—Melina claimed she’d gotten on a client account in New York and would fly out on Friday.
But now Joshua knew about Richard. He’d seen Melina’s covert little maneuvers. And he had to look.
Inside the suitcase, he didn’t find a single business suit. Nothing for purported client meetings. Instead, he found lingerie, strappy heels, bathing suits and beautiful dresses with plunging necklines.
New York, my ass, Joshua thought, as resentment and bile crept into his throat, choking him. She’s cheating on me, and she doesn’t even hide it well.
So Joshua ran—as hard and fast and far as his legs could go, all the while thinking: How could I be so stupid? Is she leaving me? Or just having a fling?
***
Melina wrenched open her desk drawer and pulled out everything: the bound scrapbook filled with postcards, clippings, recipes and photos.
Joshua’s life—all in one place. Everything she’d found stuffed in his shoebox on a shelf in the kitchen pantry. In the past month, Melina had painstakingly preserved each memento. His history.
She knew Joshua wanted a sense of place, of permanence. So what greater gift could she give him than his own past?
But now, just days before the big reveal, he had ruined it. He’d jumped to conclusions, assumed the worst of her. And it was that feeling—that he wouldn’t give her the benefit of the doubt, didn’t trust her—that tore at her chest.
The scrapbook is the only way to fix this. If she could show him this, it might force him to hear her out. To show him all the secrecy and little white lies were in service to her grand plan.
The plan that was crumbling around her.
Melina grabbed the scrapbook and raced out of her office back home.
***
When Joshua rounded the last corner of his jogging route, he instantly sensed something was wrong. A high-pitched scream pierced the night. Joshua ran toward his house. Four houses away. Three. Two.
Then he saw it: black smoke rose from the back of his house, blending into the night sky. His smoke alarms screeched. Joshua’s rage drained out of him, immediately replaced by adrenaline and fear. He sprinted up the front ste
ps, commanding Aussie to “Stay!” with such force that the dog whimpered—but obeyed.
Joshua threw open the front door and gagged as smoke poured out. It was dark and thick; it could disorient anyone—and Joshua’s first thought was: Melina.
He’d left her crying, standing by her suitcase in the bedroom. What if she was still there? What if she was trapped? Joshua took a gulp of air from the porch and raced up the stairs, eyes squinting and heart pounding in his ears as he held his breath against the sickening smoke.
Their bedroom was dark. No movement, no Melina. His eyes scanned the room and landed on her purse. The burnt orange Giustiniano bag. She must be home.
Joshua felt his lungs ready to explode, like the contests he’d had with his brothers, to see who could hold their breath underwater the longest. He never won, and today, he needed to.
Back in the dark hallway, squinting against the smoke, Joshua slammed open the bathroom door. No Melina. The guest room door was closed—he opened it and gulped air that had not yet been polluted as smoke flooded in behind him.
Think, man, think—where is the fire? Joshua tried to force logic through his panic, cutting through the fog of fear.
Smoke rises. The fire is downstairs. The fire is not at the front door. It’s in the back. It must be in the kitchen.
Joshua raced downstairs, fearful of what he might find.
***
Melina braked in the driveway, sending a small spray of gravel as she came in fast. She popped open the door and Aussie tackled her, whining above a high-pitched alarm shrieking through the summer night.
“Oz! Cut it out!” she pushed the shaggy dog away, intent on finding Joshua. When he’d slammed out of the house, accusing her of the worst, Melina assumed Aussie went with him, so now that the dog was back, she guessed he was home. Now was the time of reckoning.
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