Electronic battle sounds rocked the bedroom wall. Had Angie bought a video game player?
He lay the pizza box on the floor, grabbed his pillow, and pulled the comforter off the bed. He trudged to their walk-in closet, the quietest place he could think of, removed his shirt, lay on the floor, and closed his eyes.
The sound of the shower running pulled him from sleep. Where was he? What day was it?
He opened his eyes to darkness, but he smelled Angelina. He smelled home.
Reality came rushing back. Yes. He was indeed home, and he’d slept in the closet because of the noise from the living room. Now the apartment was quiet except for the sound of the shower.
Woozy, he fumbled for the light switch near the door, knocked a box off the shelf, but didn’t look back.
Nicholas entered their bedroom, put his pillow and the comforter back in place. The clock showed 12:39 A.M. He’d slept on the closet floor for six hours. Still, his brain was mush.
He walked to the bathroom door and found it locked.
He knocked. “Angie?”
No answer.
He knocked harder. “Angelina? I need to talk to you.”
The water shut off. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Nick waited. Not sure if he was angry or impressed she’d locked him out of the bathroom.
The door opened. His wife stood in her robe, her beautiful face freshly scrubbed. He’d never seen her expression so cold, so distant.
“Shower before you come to bed,” she said. “I just washed the sheets.”
“I hope you didn’t speak to my boss that way. Although if you did, it might explain something he said. Did you have to call him?”
“That’s what you want to say to me?”
“I should have called,” he said. “But I got this amazing opportunity. I met a French businessman who paid me to go to Paris and review an aspect of his plant operations. Then I happened to call my mom, and she happened to be off work for the weekend. You know I haven’t seen her in years. You won’t believe how much money I made us.”
She retrieved her phone from the bathroom counter, pushed buttons as she walked to the bed. “I’m setting an alarm. I have an early class tomorrow.”
“So, those were friends from the institute.”
She set the phone beside her wedding ring. Turned out the lamp and slid under the comforter. She closed her eyes.
He switched the light back on. “Are you going to let me apologize?”
She was so still he barely saw her breathing.
“Angelina. Please.” He touched her shoulder, and she batted away his hand.
“Angie.”
She threw aside the covers and got in his face. “You don’t get to ask me for anything right now. Not one single thing. And if you think a bouquet of trashed flowers is going to undo the damage you’ve done, you’re in for a very rude awakening.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“No, you didn’t. You want me to be happy you didn’t come home for Valentine’s Day and our anniversary. You want me to be excited with you about making us more money when we already have plenty. You knew if you called and told me, I’d be upset. So you didn’t call—”
“Does it really matter that much when we celebrate our anniversary?”
“You took another job so you could be someone else’s hero, then you called your mother.” She stomped to the closet to turn off the light. “While I was here—”
They both saw the lingerie on the floor.
“Angelina. I had no idea what you had planned … You won’t even look at me now.”
“Are you really this relationship-challenged? What do you think people do on their anniversaries? You’re so smart, Nick. You’re great with people, great with ideas.” She switched off the light. “Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? You’re smart about those things because you actually think about them. I, on the other hand, am not even on your radar. Out of sight, out of mind, huh? First, you forgot my birthday, now this.”
“I was working out of state on your birthday.”
“As I said, out of sight, out of mind. No phone call, no card, nothing.”
“Angie.” He reached for her, and she pulled away.
“Don’t.” Her voice went low. “Touch. Me.”
“I haven’t seen or touched you in two weeks.”
“Two weeks and four days,” she said. “And counting.”
“I have to leave again on Thursday. I’m flying to Florence, Italy, for another two-week trip.”
They stared at each other.
Nicholas felt his heart jerk. “Don’t you love me anymore?”
Her bottom lip quivered.
“I’ll die if you stop loving me,” he said.
She firmed her chin. “I’m not going to tell you how to fix this.” She climbed back into bed and again closed her eyes.
“You have to tell me where to start.”
“No. I don’t. You think long and hard, Nicholas. You knew what to do, but you didn’t do it. Put that brilliant brain of yours to work for us for a change and figure out why.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “I was so worried; I prayed for you.”
“Don’t cry. I can’t stand it when you cry.”
It hit him then; this was no tiny spat. He hadn’t hurt her feelings; he’d deeply wounded her and in so doing had put a large dent in their young marriage.
He’d been distracted. Careless. And had considered of little or no value what was obviously terribly important to her.
Idiot! What was he working for if not to provide for her—a gift, a date on Valentine’s Day. What was he working for if not to build a life with her—making memories with her.
He’d lost focus. In concentrating on the how he’d forgotten the why and gut-punched the one he loved most.
“I’m sorry, Angie. I’ll make it up to you. Tomorrow, the next day, on this trip. From now on, I’ll be different. Now, please let me hold you. I’m leaving again on Thursday.”
“Fine,” she said. “Hurry up and take your shower. And don’t you ever hurt me like this again.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Third anniversary, Birmingham, Alabama
The stretch, black limousine pulled to a stop at the curb, a rare dusting of snow covering its windows.
“Mrs. Rousseau, may I assist you?” the doorman asked. “The sidewalk is slippery.”
“Thank you.” She accepted his arm and dodged clumps of dirty snow.
“Jade is a great color for you, ma’am.”
“Why, thank you, Patrick.”
Choosing to wear open-toed, four-inch heels was no doubt a questionable decision, but on this special night, she wanted to feel as beautiful as she’d always been told she was. She wanted to capture Nick’s attention. She wanted him to look at her, touch her as he did when they first married.
She wanted him to fall in love with her again and tell her so.
She slid into the back of the limo, careful of her silk, formal gown and long coat.
“All in?”
“Yes, Patrick. Thank you, again.”
He closed the door. The glass panel between her and the driver lowered.
“Good evening, Mrs. Rousseau.”
“Angelina. Please.”
“How’s the temperature back there, ma’am?”
“It’s fine. Thank you.”
Nicholas had told her he was going all-out for their third anniversary, but she hadn’t expected this level of extravagance. She couldn’t have been more nervous if today was the opening of her first art show.
“I’m to tell you the evening starts with what’s under the seat.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She reached down to find a large, Valentine’s Day red envelope. She didn’t know whether to be flattered or embarrassed. He’d not only bought a card but planned ahead to have it waiting for her. This whole scenario seemed a bit ridiculous, yet
terribly romantic.
They drove around. The Birmingham skyline at night appeared clean and beautiful and somehow exciting as if offering new and wonderful experiences. The gently falling snow only added to the sense of wonderland.
“When will we meet Nicholas at the restaurant?”
“Soon, ma’am.”
Forty-five minutes passed. An hour. And she realized they’d circled the same city blocks a third time.
“Where are we going?”
The driver touched his earpiece. “One moment.” They took another turn. “There’s been a delay. I’m awaiting further instructions.”
She closed her eyes. Not again.
After a horrible first anniversary and an awkward second, they’d regrouped, for lack of a better word. When he was home, they attended church together. Despite the time he was gone, they’d completed more than one devotional for couples. When he traveled, he texted, if only to say he was thinking of her. During this trip, he’d sent her pictures of the Swiss Alps and the mountain chalet in which he stayed. During this trip, he hadn’t forgotten her. When he’d asked what she wanted for their anniversary, she’d responded a real date. And believed him when he’d promised to make it happen.
She feared what the driver would say next. A lame apology about why Nick wouldn’t be meeting her at the restaurant and probably wasn’t going to be home tonight. She might even get a text from him. He’d say he was sorry. That he’d make it up to her soon. That she should go ahead with the evening and enjoy herself. He might even promise to call.
She didn’t want to be disappointed again.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Titus.”
“Titus, do you know for a fact I’ll see my husband tonight?”
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am. That’s a fact.”
They pulled to the curb. Titus raised the glass panel and closed the privacy curtains.
The door on her side unlocked, then opened. Nicholas, wearing a black tux and tails, handed her a single red rose. Snow caught on his long lashes. “Are you going to leave me out here in the cold?”
She reached for him, tossing aside the rose. He dove into her arms.
Someone must have closed the door behind him.
With gentle hands, he held her face and kissed her as they pulled into evening traffic. He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her eyelids, her throat.
He pulled back, reached into his jacket pocket, and presented a velvet box.
“I just picked this up from having it sized for you. I hope you’ll forgive me for choosing it on my own. We did it, Angie. We’ve made it three years, and now I was finally able to buy rings I’m not embarrassed to see you wear, rings you deserve. I love you, Angelina. Happy Valentine’s Day. If I had to, I’d marry you again every year on this date to stay your husband.”
Her heart actually lightened in her chest. She felt it rise, expand, and fill with new love for this man as he moved her old wedding ring to her right hand and slid the new, huge, diamond-covered set onto her left.
He rested his forehead against hers. “Dear Heavenly Father, thank You for my wife. Thank You for helping us get this far, for growing the love in my heart for her. Help me love her better every day.”
He kissed her. “Your hands are shaking.”
“They are.”
“And they’re cold.”
“Yes,” she said. “Do you know why I have trouble accepting gifts? My father gave my mother gifts when he’d been unfaithful. They were her consolation prize.”
“That’s not why I’m giving you these. They’re a recommitment to you and to us. Do you like them?”
“A recommitment.” She looked at the rings, a new symbol of his dedication and love for her. “They’re perfect.”
***
She couldn’t help feeling like a heroine in a romance novel. Having been swept away in a limo, given new wedding rings, then ushered into an intimate private dining hall in the most elegant restaurant she’d ever seen.
She couldn’t remember the last time Nicholas had given her so much attention.
A crystal and sapphire chandelier hung over the round table flanked by cobalt chairs, a clear tribute to The Blue Room. Even the ceiling had been painted midnight blue and dotted with tiny LEDs to simulate a night sky. A string concerto played softly from hidden speakers.
A uniformed waiter pulled out her chair. “What may I serve you first, Madame?”
“Are those French doors to the balcony?”
“Yes, Madame.”
“Could you open the drapes, so we can watch the snow?”
“Certainly.” He moved to do so.
“And give us a few minutes,” she said.
“Of course.”
Nicholas took both her hands in his. He kissed her fingers below her new diamond rings.
“This is lovely and beautiful,” she said. “And I almost don’t want to stay for dinner. I’m desperate to be alone with you.”
“I like your honesty.” He grinned.
“We did agree to be painfully honest, didn’t we?” She paused. “Nicholas, we can’t be apart this long. It leaves me feeling so disconnected, so alone. Like I’ve two lives: one where I’m a single art student, then a few days a month I’m married to you. I hurt when you leave. The longer you’re gone, the more I hurt. The last four weeks were awful for me.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Then let’s stop living this way. Jenkinsons has been very good to you, allowing you consulting clients on the side, but your salary is more than enough for us. Can’t you cut back? Simply work for Jenkinsons and be content?”
The waiter carried in a bottle of wine.
Angelina shook her head. “No, thank you.”
“Compliments of the house to celebrate your special day,” the waiter said.
She looked at her husband. He knew her mother drank herself into an early grave.
“Thank you, but we’ll pass,” Nick said. “Go ahead and bring the soup.”
“Yes, sir.”
The waiter left again.
“Thank you for that.” Angelina wiped her hands on the linen napkin in her lap. “I was getting uncomfortable. I don’t like feeling pressured that way.”
“I know you don’t. Now don’t worry about it.”
“What are we going to do?”
“I’ve been praying about this. I’ve a surprise for you. I’m off for the next two weeks. No work. I need to recharge. We need to be together and talk about what I think God wants me to do. Tomorrow afternoon, I want us to meet with an attorney named Gavin Hawk. I met him while I was in Mobile. He has experts in his office who specialize in accounting and financial planning for independent business owners. He’s driving here to talk to us.
“If you’re in agreement, after my vacation I’ll resign my position at Jenkinsons and focus on my own business. I can figure this out, Angie. How to set us up so I’m not gone all the time, still pay for your tuition at the institute, and provide for us long-term. But I’m not making the final decision without you.”
She studied the new rings on her finger. “Then you shouldn’t have bought me these. Can you return them? And we shouldn’t have moved into the penthouse apartment.”
“You don’t want the rings?”
“It’s not that. They’re exquisite. But I don’t need them. I’d rather have a home and time with you.”
“I don’t want to return them, Angie. Buying those was important to me. From now on, we come first, you come first.”
“All right, then.”
Their soup was served.
Angie took her first taste of lobster bisque. “This is wonderful. I hate cooking, and I’m so terrible at it. Maybe all I need is a great cookbook.”
“No cooking this weekend.”
“Because you don’t want the new apartment to smell like smoke?”
“No, because I want you to relax and not have to do anything you don’t enjoy.”
“Nich
olas. Can we stay like this? Together? I need us to be close and stay close.”
“I know what you mean. We’re a team. That’s how we have to look at our life. I’m working, doing my part. You’re finishing school, doing your part. We’re both heading in the same direction toward a common goal. If we both work hard, we’ll get there.”
She waited to speak again until the waiter had cleared away their bowls and placed their pasta with shrimp and scallops before them. They ate.
“Nicholas, happy Valentine’s Day.”
“I love you, Angie. And it won’t just be a happy Valentine’s Day. We’ve got two weeks that I’ll be right here with you.”
He stood. “Dance with me?”
She went into his arms, rested her cheek against his. “When I’m done at the institute, I want to move back to Rowe City.”
His grin was huge. “So do I. Can you imagine? Being close to Daniel and Kay and all the great people at The Barn Church?”
“It’ll be wonderful. Maybe we can even start a family. You’re really taking time off now?”
“My only meeting is with the attorney.”
“I’m blown away. You thought of everything.”
“I was thinking, maybe we could take a trip during your summer break.”
“I’d love that. Where?”
“Pick a place. Tell me what you want to do this weekend.”
“Go with me to church Sunday morning. I hate going alone.”
***
Nicholas kept his eyes closed. He knew if he opened them, he’d start moving. He’d shake the bed. Which would wake Angelina. Which was not what he wanted to do because he’d promised to stay in bed with her this morning and hold her while she slept.
“I want to wake with your arms around me,” she’d said last night. What man didn’t want to hear that from his wife?
So there he was. Eyes closed. Trying to be still. Not even glancing at the time, but fairly certain if he did look the first number on the digital clock would be an eight or a nine.
Even on a Saturday, how could she possibly sleep this late?
He almost sighed, then caught himself. She turned in her sleep and nuzzled into his chest. After weeks of sleeping alone, he couldn’t resist kissing her.
Abide With Me Page 7
