by Noelle Adams
It felt like Gabe wasn’t really with her, even though he was sitting about a foot away from her. It felt like she wasn’t really with either of them—as if she were an outsider intruding on their family.
It shouldn’t matter to her, but it did.
“What’s wrong?” Ellie asked, after a stretch of tense silence.
“Nothing is wrong,” Gabe told her.
“Something feels wrong.” Ellie looked between the two of them. “Are you fighting?”
Lydia gave her another bright smile. “We’re not fighting. We were having a normal conversation, weren’t we?”
The girl’s brow lowered dubiously. “Something seems wrong.”
And that hurt too, since the idea obviously worried her. Lydia wanted to comfort and reassure her, but there was nothing she could do. Nothing she could say.
Something was wrong. At least, it was wronger than it had been the day before. But it wasn’t something Lydia could fix.
It had been Gabe’s decision, and now they all had to live it out.
***
Lydia wrapped presents in the morning, mostly so she could be alone. She’d bought some for her own family—her real family—and also a few for Gabe and Ellie. Then she went to have lunch with her parents, as another excuse to get away.
She was convinced she would eventually be perfectly happy with this situation—it would just take a little transition time.
Obviously, her emotions were far more involved here than she’d ever intended.
But she’d never been a particularly emotional woman. She could deal with this, just like she’d dealt with everything she’d faced before.
When she returned to the house, Ellie wanted her to play a board game with her and Gabe, and Lydia forced herself not to refuse. She didn’t want to ruin the girl’s Christmas, after all.
Lydia managed to focus on the game and on Ellie, and not to focus on Gabe very much, so she got through the game without revealing anything she was feeling.
She went to the kitchen to get Ellie some cookies and hot chocolate afterwards, feeling pretty proud of herself that she’d managed to get through the day without breaking down or making a fool of herself.
After a couple of days, she would feel better. Then her life could go back to the way it had always been before.
She was going to India. Her life had been set on that goal for so long. Nothing that had happened in the last couple of months was going to change it.
“Lydia.”
She almost jumped at the shock of hearing the low voice behind her. She obviously knew who it was. She took a deep breath and kept counting out a few cookies from the pack.
“Lydia,” Gabe murmured again, coming over to stand very close to her.
Way too close.
Lydia turned to face him without really looking at him. “Yes?” Ellie was in the other room, but she didn’t want there to be a chance that they were overheard.
“Are you okay?” Gabe asked, his blue eyes searching her face.
Lydia suddenly wanted to scream—in absolute frustration. How the hell did he expect her to be okay, after what had happened this morning. She took another deep breath, however, and managed to say calmly, “I’m fine. I told you that before.”
He leaned in closer. “I’m sorry about everything. I don’t know… I mean, I didn’t want to mess things up between us.”
With great restraint, she managed not to say that he’d succeeded in doing so anyway. She had no right to complain. Their marriage was exactly what they’d agreed on, and she could hardly reproach him for that. “It’s fine. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“But it feels like it’s not fine.” He was big and warm and tense and right there. His heavy-lidded eyes seemed to see far too much, all the way into her heart, her soul. She couldn’t seem to get away from him.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice broke, but she pushed through the ache in her throat. “But I don’t know what you expect of me. You can’t have it both ways. I can’t be close to you if you won’t let me be close to you. I’m okay with whatever you decide, but you can’t expect it to be like it was before, when you’re the one who put the barrier between us.”
He stared at her, his eyes strangely agonized. “It’s not that easy,” he said at last, his voice very thick.
“I know it’s not. I know it’s not easy. And, you’re right, the easiest thing is for us to not be close. It will be easier for us to just live our own lives—on our own, except for what we originally agreed—so that’s what we’ll do.”
Lydia pushed him back gently so she could get away, and then she carried the cookies and mug back to the living room, where Ellie was waiting.
And it was fine. It was all fine.
If she repeated it often enough, maybe she could convince Gabe.
Maybe she could convince herself too.
***
By the time she and Gabe were sitting side by side at the Christmas Eve service that evening, Lydia was about ready to crack.
She couldn’t remember a harder day in her life—like every little thing she did was stretching her beyond the boundaries of her being.
Gabe felt like a stranger beside her, and all of it felt wrong to the core—like this wasn’t really who they were, like it wasn’t who they were supposed to be. But she kept telling herself it was what it was, and there was no use in trying to change it.
Ellie did a good job with her singing, and then she came back to sit on the other side of Gabe in the pew. The rest of the service was readings and carols, and they ended with the traditional candle-lighting as the congregation sang Silent Night.
Lydia had always loved the Christmas Eve service at this church, and she tried desperately to focus on worship. Christmas wasn’t about her sham of a marriage, and it wasn’t about what felt like a broken heart.
It was about Jesus coming into the world to save it, to save her. She wrenched her mind away from Gabe and Ellie so she could focus on the service.
But, by the end, emotion was bleak and heavy in her throat, her chest, her eyes, and she couldn’t even finish the final verse of Silent Night.
Gabe hadn’t even tried to sing. She hadn’t looked at him once, but she was conscious of every move he made. He stood beside her like a statue, staring down at the hymnal he was holding low so Ellie could see the words too.
After Daniel gave the benediction, Gabe reached out to pull her against him and tilted his head to say in her ear, “Lydia.”
It was obviously the beginning of a question, so she didn’t let him finish it. Her body tensed up, keeping herself from touching him more than she had to. She couldn’t be so close to him. She was already too far stretched, and she couldn’t take anything more. “I said I’m fine,” she whispered. “Don’t you dare ask me again.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Go ahead and take Ellie home,” she said, trying not to look at him, even as she was speaking into his ear. “I’ll get Thomas to take me back. He’s on his own, so I don’t want him to feel lonely.” It was true, but it was a flimsy excuse. Gabe would obviously know the pretext for what it was.
“Lydia.” Gabe’s body was so tense he was almost shaking with it.
“I’m sorry. You can’t have it both ways, and you need to give me a little time. I’m sorry.” She pulled away from him and leaned down to give Ellie a hug, telling the girl she’d done a wonderful job with her singing and she’d see her at home.
Ellie looked a little worried, but Lydia couldn’t help that.
She couldn’t seem to help anything. She just wanted this damned day to be over at last.
She went to the restroom to kill some time, and she was relieved when Gabe and Ellie were gone by the time she came out.
Then she talked some with her parents, trying desperately to act cheerful, and she finally went to find Thomas, who was sitting on the stoop outside the back door of the church.
It was chilly and clear outside, the moon and stars very br
ight. Lydia sat down next to him, even though the concrete was cold and uncomfortable.
He gave her a wry smile. “So what’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m sure it’s possible you feel sorry for me, since I can’t spend Christmas with my wife and daughter—”
“I don’t feel sor—”
“But that’s not why you didn’t go home with your own family tonight.” His green eyes had always been deep and clever, but right now they seemed unnaturally experienced, almost weary from it.
Lydia let out a sigh, fighting that same ache in her chest and lump in her gut. “They’re not really my family. You’re my family.”
He gave her a sharp look. “They’re your family now. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I mean, nothing important.” The breeze against her face was brisk and biting, but she was chilled for a different reason, like a fire somewhere inside her had gone out.
“Gabe and Ellie are very important.”
“I know. I didn’t mean that. It’s just that…”
“Just that what?”
She blew out a long sigh. “Things never work out the way they’re supposed to, do they?”
“No. They never do.” He studied her face. “What happened?”
She wasn’t sure how to answer the question, but she tried—as always—to be honest. “It’s a complicated situation. My marriage, I mean. And I’m trying to do the right thing. But I guess the right thing doesn’t feel like the right thing.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“I know. I don’t know how to explain it. I just want to do the right thing.”
“Well, that’s easy.” Thomas turned his head to stare down at the pavement of the parking lot. “You love them. That’s the right thing.”
For some reason, the words hurt so much she almost shook with it. “It’s not that easy.”
“I didn’t say it was easy. Anyone who says that loving someone else is easy has never really done it. It’s not easy. It’s right.” He turned back to look at her, suddenly urgent. “Believe me. What’s easy is being selfish. What’s easy is trashing your marriage. That’s the easiest thing to do, and then you’ve made mistakes that just can’t be taken back.”
Thomas had never talked to her—to anyone—about what had happened with his marriage, and Lydia was suddenly distracted from her own grief and confusion by a wave of intense sympathy. “Thomas, you didn’t—”
“I didn’t cheat on her. I never cheated. I never even wanted to. But there are plenty of other ways to trash your marriage. And then it’s like moving a mountain, trying to fix things. Trying to mend the hurt you’ve caused. And some things just can’t be fixed. Can’t be mended.”
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, her voice cracking. “You still love her?”
“Of course, I still love her. But she doesn’t trust me, and I can hardly blame her for that.”
“Shit.” She reached out to squeeze his arm.
“Yeah. But the point is not to feel sorry for me. The point is to not do the same thing. Whatever happened, go back home and try to fix it, while it can still be fixed.”
“That sounds like good advice.” The voice surprised both of them, coming from behind them. They turned to see Daniel, who had evidently come out the back door.
“Sorry,” Daniel said, stepping down to the pavement and lowering himself to sit beside them on the stoop. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I only heard the end of it, anyway.”
“It’s fine.” She smiled at Daniel, who was a good man and a wise man and a friend. “I’m just having some marriage problems, and Thomas was trying to help.”
“Despite the appalling irony of my helping anyone with their marriage,” Thomas added.
Daniel gave them a faint smile. “For what it’s worth, I did a pretty good job trying to trash my marriage too, and it’s only grace that I didn’t succeed.”
Lydia chuckled. “Thanks for saying that, but I don’t believe you for a moment.”
Daniel and Jessica had the kind of marriage she’d never imagined she could have. Only lately—only just recently—had she started to want that kind of marriage, but she’d been right all along about it never being intended for her.
She slumped, suddenly overwhelmed by how terrible it felt. That she could never have that kind of marriage with Gabe.
“It’s fine,” she said, as if someone else had spoken. “It’s okay. It doesn’t really matter. I’ll do the best I can, but I’ll be heading to India this summer. That’s what’s important to me.”
She was speaking mostly to herself, and she probably wouldn’t have said it out loud if she’d thought about it, if she’d had her normal emotional barriers intact.
But there was a strange tense silence that followed, as if the men had heard her, were silently responding to the words.
Before anyone could say anything, Jessica came out the door, smiling and very pregnant, and Daniel stood up.
“There you are,” Jessica said, taking Daniel’s arm. “I was about to leave and make you run all the way home again”
Lydia was faintly interested in the “again”—wondering when Jessica had made Daniel run home in the first place—but there was too much else going on in her mind for her to worry about it.
Daniel tilted his head to kiss his wife, but then he turned back to look down at Lydia. “You know, God didn’t save the world with a magic wand.”
She blinked at him. “What?”
“He didn’t save the world with a magic wand,” Daniel repeated, his voice taking on a powerful sort of gravity, even though it was still soft. “He could have, but he didn’t. He was born a baby. Think about what that means. What do you think we were doing in there tonight?” He nodded toward the church building.
Lydia shook her head, feeling helpless, so sad. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“He took on flesh. He took our flesh. He lived our life. He breathed our breath.” Daniel’s brown eyes held hers without wavering. “He ate bread, and he drank wine, and he built things with iron and wood.”
She stared at him, feeling breathless, like something really important was about to happen.
“And he laughed when it was a funny, and he cried when it hurt. And he kissed and hugged the people he loved. He bled when he died.” Daniel paused to take a breath. “He took on flesh, Lydia. He lived for thirty years before he started to preach. Think about what that means. And then tell me that living your life—right now, every day—doesn’t really matter. That loving your husband and that girl who is now your daughter isn’t really that important.”
Lydia literally couldn’t breathe. The world suddenly spun around her. She had been right and so incredibly wrong. Everything had changed.
“He didn’t save the world with a magic wand,” Daniel said, one more time.
The silence stretched out for a long time.
Then Jessica said, “I have no idea what this is about, but sometimes he gets it right.” She smiled up at her husband with obvious affection. “Sometimes he’s worth listening to.” She then gave Lydia a slightly teary smile.
Lydia stared at her, and then she turned to look at her brother.
He gave her a little nod.
“Okay. Okay. I get it.” Her voice didn’t even sound like herself. She stood up. “I better get home.”
Thomas stood up too. “I’ll take you there.”
Twelve
Five minutes later, Lydia was walking through the door of their home.
She used to think about it as Gabe’s house, but it was her house too. It felt like hers now. Like theirs.
It was completely silent, and she realized that Gabe must have convinced Ellie to go to bed early. The first floor of the house was dark, except for the entryway light.
So Lydia put down her purse and went upstairs, discovering that Gabe’s bedroom door was closed. A light was visible through the crack at the floor, the way she’d seen it so often.
She stood for a moment, suddenly terrified.
She wasn’t the sort of person who normally hesitated before doing what she believed needed to be done. She wasn’t the sort of person who was constantly fighting tears, whenever she felt strong emotion. She wasn’t the sort of person who was accustomed to feeling helpless.
But she did. Now. All of them. As she paused in front of Gabe’s door.
This morning, it felt like her heart had been broken, and she didn’t want it to happen again.
But she made herself knock on the door anyway.
She heard a noise from inside. It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet, so she was sure Gabe wouldn’t be asleep yet. She wondered if he was hurting like she was.
It was a minute before the door swung open and Gabe stood before her.
He was still dressed, and he looked rumpled and exhausted and confused and stretched and like he really needed to shave. He looked like Gabe.
Like Gabe.
He just stared at her.
Finally, she made her voice work. “Sorry. Were you in bed or…or something?”
He shook his head and opened his mouth, but no words came out. His eyelids were heavier than she’d ever seen them before.
“I just wanted to say…” She stopped to clear her throat, mostly as a filler. “I know what you said this morning, and I can accept it. But it doesn’t change how I feel about you and Ellie. I know you said we should take a step back, and you can do that if you need to, but I’m not going to do it.”
He kept staring at her, frozen, speechless.
It was very unnerving, but she pressed on. “I think you’re wrong about holding back—about not loving the people you’ve been given. And, for whatever reason we got married, we were still given each other. But I can understand you’ve been hurt, and it’s hard for you to trust me. I hope that will change. I think maybe it will. But I can wait. I can be patient. I’m not going to pull away.”
She paused, hoping he’d say something, but he didn’t move even an eyelash.
She took a shaky breath. “Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say. You can work out whatever you need to work out for yourself. But I’m your wife. And I love you. And I’m not going anywhere.”
