by Noelle Adams
“I’m just fine. You’re not busy, are you?”
“Oh, no. Just fixing some dinner. It’s a very loose and unstructured affair.”
Sophie chuckled, feeling more like herself. “What does that mean?”
“That means Mia is cutting out biscuits in the shape of every animal in the zoo, and Thomas is pretending to make a salad while he’s secretly reading a book.”
“Hey!” That was Thomas’s voice, faint but audible. “There’s nothing secret about it!”
Sophie laughed again, suddenly so jealous of how casual, domestic, and happy they sounded that she could barely stand it. “Sounds like fun.”
Abigail must have noticed something in her voice. “Hold on. Let me go somewhere quieter.” After a minute, she said, “Okay. I’m in the bedroom now. How is everything? How is Mark?”
“He’s…he’s okay.” To her absolute horror, Sophie burst into tears on the last word.
“Oh, no,” Abigail murmured. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” The reply wasn’t particularly convincing, since she was choking on tears, but after a minute she managed to control her emotion enough to answer for real. “It’s really nothing. He’s as well as can be expected.”
“Then what’s the matter?”
“I don’t know. He just seems…not like himself.”
There was a long pause. “I guess maybe that’s expected, since he’s been through so much.”
“I know. I know. I didn’t mean to lose it like that. I’m just worried because he seems so distant, but everyone keeps saying it will take a while. I know it will.”
“What does he say about…about everything?”
“He doesn’t say anything. I mean, he’ll answer when I ask him a question, but he never starts a conversation on his own. And he doesn’t touch me at all. He won’t even look at me for very long.”
The length of the pause made Sophie think that Abigail understood how worrisome this was. “I’m sure that’s got to be normal. I know it’s not any comfort to you. I’d be horribly worried too. But maybe patience really is in order here.”
“I know it is. I’m going to be patient. I’m going to be as strong as I need to be for him. I just wish I…” She trailed off, since the thought was unworthy.
“You just wish what?”
“I wish I could see some little sign that he still loves me.”
The words hung in the air for too long.
“I’m sorry,” Sophie said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, no, of course you should have said it. I completely understand. I’d feel exactly the same way. I’m sorry I don’t have any good advice for you. The only thing I can say is that Thomas and I never got anywhere with our marriage until we both really talked and really listened to each other. So maybe you and Mark can just try to talk some of it out.”
“Yeah,” Sophie said, wiping away her tears. “Yeah. Of course, that’s what we should do. We finally have an evening alone tonight.”
“You mean you haven’t been alone all this time? Well, no wonder you feel this way! Just be honest with him and try to really hear what he says. That’s the only advice I’ve got. I guess it’s not very profound.”
“No, it’s great. This has been really encouraging. Thanks, Abigail.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad it was some use.” A voice from the background that sounded like, “Mommy” was audible over the line. Then Abigail said, “Just a minute, sweetie.”
“You should go back to making dinner,” Sophie said immediately.
“Oh, no. It’s totally fine. There’s no hurry.”
“No, really. I want to take a shower before dinner anyway, and I feel better now.”
“Okay. If you’re sure. Just call me any time.”
“I will. Thank you. Talk to you later.”
After she hung up, Sophie sat on the chair in her room for a full minute, thinking about what Abigail had said, thinking about Mark.
It was silly to be so discouraged. Any distance between them was only natural. Mark would obviously need time and space to heal. The only way they could get over it was to talk, was to get closer again.
That was what they could do tonight.
And she was going to start by taking a shower and making herself pretty for him.
***
Mark was supposed to get back to the hotel by five, so Sophie started to worry when it hit six and he hadn’t shown up.
At six-thirty, she decided to call, but she came to the uncomfortable realization that Mark didn’t have a phone—at least not one she knew the number to. She had no idea where he was or what he was doing, and she had no way to reach him.
So she called Paula, who told her that Mark had been dropped off at the hotel an hour ago.
When Paula sounded concerned, Sophie started to panic. Where on earth was Mark? If he’d been dropped off here an hour ago, why hadn’t he come up? She took the elevator down to the lobby and asked the front desk, but they said they hadn’t seen him.
Then she walked outside to ask the bell staff. A friendly young man told her that a dark-haired, bearded man had been dropped off by a chauffeured car but had walked across the street to the park, instead of going into the hotel.
She broke out in a cold sweat as she ran across the street to the small city park that was directly across from the hotel. She had no idea why she was so frightened, since Mark had evidently just wanted to walk, but it was strange. It was so strange that he would go to the park when he must know she was expecting him.
She hadn’t taken the time to put on a coat, and it was a chilly evening in late October. The wind blew against her loose hair, her bare face, and the long soft skirt and clingy top she’d put on to look pretty for Mark.
She actually had some trouble holding her skirt down as she reached the opposite sidewalk. Someone in a car driving by honked at her. She assumed it was in appreciation for the sight of her legs, since she hadn’t darted out in front of anyone.
She stood at the entrance of the park, panting and hugging herself in cold and concern. She saw Mark almost immediately. He wore a dark coat and a pair of jeans, and he was standing across the park, staring into a small fountain.
Almost groaning in relief, she ran over toward him.
“Mark!” she called out, as she approached.
He whirled around—far too quickly and far more tensely than the situation warranted. He looked like he was ready to pounce.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped, jerking to an abrupt halt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
How stupid could she be, running up on him like that, when he’d been for so long in a place where he must have always had to watch his back.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded. He almost sounded angry, but she told herself it was just because she had taken him by surprise.
“I didn’t know where you were,” she explained, trying desperately to catch her breath. “I was expecting you two hours ago. I was…I was worried.”
He stared at her for a long moment, still looking guarded and wary. “Oh. I just wanted some fresh air.”
“Of course.” She was still gasping from running over here. “That makes total sense. I just didn’t know where you were.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We need to get you a phone. I have no way to reach you.” She smiled and spoke casually—as much as she could—since she didn’t want him to think she was reproaching him.
“Yeah. I guess I need one.”
He didn’t make any move to leave or walk back to the hotel, so she stood beside him, staring into the fountain just like he was.
“I’m sorry you were worried,” he said at last.
Even that didn’t sound like him. Whenever he’d apologized in the past, he’d done it in a wry, self-deprecating way. He’d always had the best sense of humor and laughed at himself a lot. She’d never known she could laugh so hard until she’d met him.
“I
t’s fine,” she said gently. Another breeze hit her just then, turning the last syllable into an involuntary shiver.
“You’re cold.” He said the words as if he’d just realized it, as if he’d just noticed her for real.
“I’m ok—okay.” She couldn’t quite speak over the chattering of her teeth. “We can stay here longer if you want.”
Mark was already taking off his coat and wrapping it around her shoulders. She swam in it, since she’d always been small and even now he was a lot bigger than her.
It was warm, though. It didn’t really smell like him. He didn’t smell like he used to smell. But at least it was warm from the heat of his body.
She tried to think of something funny to say. She wanted to see him smile again, and she hadn’t since she’d first seen him in Germany. But she couldn’t think of anything to say.
He seemed far away again, staring at the fountain.
“I hope you’ll—” She broke off the words, suddenly scared to speak them, scared of what he’d say in return.
He turned his head, waiting for her to finish.
“I hope you’ll tell me what you need. I want to be here for you, but I don’t know what you need from me. I hope you’ll tell me.”
He nodded, and she took comfort in the fact that maybe it was a start.
“I want to…” He trailed off without finishing the thought.
“You want to what?” she asked breathlessly.
“I want to…to be me again.”
Her heart jumped at the stilted declaration. “You still are you,” she said, reaching over to take his arm, needing to touch him.
“I don’t think so.”
“You need some time to heal, but you still are you.” Her heart was filled with hope and joy—pure and undiluted—for the first time. She didn’t care if it would take time, but he wanted to get back to the man he’d been before. He’d been honest about it, and he could do it. She could help him. She could have her husband back after all. “I know you are. Just give it some time.”
He turned toward her suddenly, holding her eyes with a strange sort of intensity. “I can’t believe you’ve been waiting for me for so many years.”
She gasped. “Of course, I’ve been waiting for you! What did you expect? The only thing I’ve been wanting is to have you back.”
“I want to be me again,” he muttered, turning away from her abruptly. “So maybe you won’t have been waiting in vain.”
“Of course, I haven’t waited in vain. We can do this. We can do this together. I’ll help you in any way I can. You’ll be back to yourself before you know it.”
He nodded, still not meeting her eyes. “I hope so. I’m going to try.”
“We’ll try.”
He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t really need to. Sophie felt immensely better at the way he’d shared his heart with her. He’d always been an open, expressive man. He’d told her he was falling for her on their third date, without any pretense or hesitation. He’d been open with her about his feelings all through their dating relationship and marriage. This was more like him—telling her what he wanted, what he needed, what he was afraid of. The more he healed, the more he would be back to his old self.
She hadn’t lost him after all, and she was willing to do anything she could to help him recover.
“Do you want to get some dinner?” she asked at last.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Okay.” She was starving. She’d been waiting for him. She’d been hoping they could order some room service and have a nice meal in the room. “What—what did you want to do?”
He sighed. “I need a shower. I still feel like I’m dripping with hospital.”
She understood the feeling, so she reached out to take his hand. “Let’s go back to the room, then. You can get a shower there.”
He nodded and walked with her. The friendly bellboy greeted her, as did the staff behind the front desk. Sophie called out a thank you, but Mark didn’t even smile.
She wasn’t going to expect too much, though. They’d made a start. It was all she could hope for at this point. She wasn’t going to get frustrated or impatient with him. She was going to be exactly what he needed.
She was going to be strong.
When they got up to the room, Mark went right into the bathroom. Soon, she heard the shower start to run.
Forty minutes later, it was still running.
Once again, Sophie was starting to worry. Mark had always taken the shortest showers known to man. Sometimes, he’d been in and out in no more than two minutes. She wasn’t sure how he’d even had time to rinse the soap off his body.
What could he possibly be doing in there for so long?
Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore, and she went and tapped on the bathroom door. “Mark?”
The shower went off. “Yeah.”
“Just checking on you. You were in there for a long time. You don’t have to stop, though.”
“I’m done.”
She felt nervous again—and kind of foolish—as she went back to sit in a chair. In a few minutes, he walked out with wet hair, wearing a pair of blue pajamas.
He’d never worn pajamas before. He’d always slept in his underwear. He’d often paraded around totally naked, and it felt significant that he’d changed clothes in the bathroom, where she couldn’t see his body.
But she reminded herself not to blow things out of proportion. This was just the first evening they were really together. She’d been silly to think they could have an intimate meal, a long cozy chat, and then a passionate interlude in bed.
That wasn’t going to happen. Not yet. They would get there soon enough.
“Did you want to get anything to eat now?” she asked. It was almost nine o’clock, and her stomach was gurgling with hunger.
“No. I’m not hungry. You can get something, if you want.”
“That’s okay. What did you—what did you want to do?”
“I’m tired. I think I’ll just to bed, if that’s all right with you.”
She nodded mutely.
“I know it’s early. You don’t have to come to bed with me, if you don’t want.” Mark went to the bed and pulled down the covers on the right side, where he’d always slept.
She almost choked at the suggestion that she do something else, leaving her husband on their first night together. “I’m tired too. Going to bed sounds good to me.”
She went to wash her face, brush her teeth, and change into a pair of pajamas. She’d been planning to wear a pretty nightgown, but she’d quickly revised that plan, on seeing Mark’s mood.
When she crawled into bed with him, he was staring up at the ceiling.
“Did you want to watch TV or talk or something?” she asked, rolling over on her side to face him. She desperately wanted to touch him, to have him hold her in his arms, but he seemed so prickly and standoffish that she didn’t think it was a good idea to make a move.
“I think I’d just like…quiet, if that’s okay with you.”
“Of course, it’s okay.” It sounded like her voice was starting to wobble, so she paused to get control of herself before she added, “We can just go to sleep.”
“Thank you. Good night.”
Sophie turned out the last light in the room, and it was completely dark. And completely silent.
Her husband was right beside her, but she felt completely alone.
She wanted the television on. It had been a long time since she’d gone to sleep without it. She wanted to talk to Mark about the last two years—hear about what he’d faced, tell him about her life now. She wanted to kiss him again, to laugh with him, even to cry with him.
She didn’t like the dark or the silence, and she was still starving, so it was a long time before she went to sleep.
She tried to pray to God for help, for strength, for the wisdom to know how to act, how to love Mark, how to be what he needed, how to help him return to the man he’d been. But she�
��d been praying for Mark’s return now forever, and God had given her that.
Asking for his gift to be better than it was felt like she was throwing the answered prayer back in God’s face.
Three
After sleeping alone for so long, Sophie woke up in a panic as she realized there was someone else in her bed.
She felt an intense surge of fear—quickening her pulse and her breath—before she remembered that the other person was Mark.
He was home. He was with her now. They were together again.
At least, they were supposed to be.
As her adrenalin surge faded, she felt shaky and weak. Maybe it was the aftermath of her physical response to the fear, or maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day. Either way, she was suddenly cold and trembling, so she automatically moved nearer to Mark.
She’d gotten in the habit of doing that after they married. He always rolled away from her as he slept, so she’d just gravitated toward him. He was always toasty warm, and she was often cold.
It felt so nice—so familiar—to curl up beside him in the cool hotel room. He was still asleep, and he made some wordless mutters under his breath and slung an arm around her, the way he’d done all the time before he’d left on his assignment.
She exhaled in pleasure. It felt like she had her husband back, the way they both wanted. And maybe it would change again once he woke up, but at least his sleeping self wanted to be close to her.
Then she felt guilty for feeling sorry for herself. She had nothing to be disappointed about. She had Mark back. That was more than enough.
She still enjoyed his scent, the warmth of his body, until he started to move against her. He made some more mutters—these clearly indicating that he was waking up.
She wondered if she should roll away, give him some space, but she hadn’t made up her mind when he opened his eyes.
They stared at each other across the few inches that separated their faces.
“Morning,” he said hoarsely, his eyes softer, less guarded, than she’d seen him since their reunion.
She smiled, so relieved by his tone and expression that she felt something joyful starting to spill out of her. “Good morning.”
