But unsurprisingly, they’d returned to separate cabins.
Their reconnection had felt like a first date, complete with emotional outbursts and a lot of listening on his part, though unlike a first date, a married couple had whispered awkward goodbyes. Claire said goodbye and the cabin door closed, denying him entry, leaving him feeling alone. Worse than the loneliness, his lips were barren of a goodnight kiss.
The emptiness in his heart made him feel guilty for having left her in the first place. The shame weighed heavily that he had ever considered staying on someone else’s couch. But they’d had a good start and he couldn’t wait to see what tomorrow might bring.
Chapter Eleven
A new day sang with birdsong and the opportunity came to try again. When Claire approached Peter, he knew this couple opportunity gave them the chance to forge a new alliance. Even so, two jobs, his and hers, sat like a wedge between them, but perhaps their difficulties could be overcome.
Claire appeared cheerful and refreshed, her face enhanced with makeup. A slight smile tugged her lips upward, this pretty woman—reminded him of his first attraction to her, all those years ago. He closed his eyes, remembering the beach and a provocative young woman: long brown hair, eyes sparkling with mischief, and wearing a sexy yellow bikini. His gut ached recalling it. He opened his eyes, staring at Claire. The attraction remained, even with their issues.
“Good morning, Claire. You look beautiful this morning,” Caroline said, giving Peter a wink. “Wouldn’t you agree, Peter?”
“As beautiful as the day I met you.” He wished he’d had the courage to lick the icing off her fingers the day before.
“Good morning, Peter, Caroline,” Claire said, glancing downward. He saw the slight smile pursing her lips, and a welcome surprise, she blushed. Was she happy to see him, too?
“Take a seat on the sofa, Claire, across from Peter if you will, so the two of you can appreciate how good you look this morning. There’s a fresh pot of coffee on the table, and our server will bring pastries, soon.”
Peter reached for a familiar mug, not surprised to find it on the table. The two honeymoon mugs they had taken years ago. He poured coffee into each of their stolen memories. “Did you do this for me?”
“I wanted to look my best.”
He had a sudden memory of Claire. In the bakery: flour dusting her fingers and amusement creasing her cheeks. He’d kissed her. He still wanted to kiss her.
When he finished pouring the coffee, Claire grasped her mug and studied it serenely, sometimes sending a provocative look his way.
Caroline cleared her throat. “You’re radiant today, my dear. Our discussions went well yesterday, so I’m excited to get started.”
Claire sipped her coffee. “What will we do?”
Caroline uncovered a white board. Holding a marker in her hand, she wrote on its surface: ‘The Name Game’. “We’re playing the Name Game. These are the instructions. It’s a simple strategy. For each letter in your first name, you must select an adjective that best describes your spouse.”
Peter glanced at Claire, preparing, wondering about the letter ‘C’.
“Who wants to go first?”
“I will,” Claire replied. “I don’t want to put too much pressure on Peter. ‘P’ is for perfect.
“I’m not perfect.”
“Yes, you are. You have infinite attention for detail.”
“I’m a numbers guy. If I were to choose my own adjective, political might have been a better choice.”
“If you’re so well-versed in mathematical equations,” Caroline interjected, “then you know you’re not part of Claire’s equation unless she invites you to do the math.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” Peter said, puzzled by the comment.
“Perfectly puzzling…puzzler could have worked equally well, Claire. What about you, Peter? Tell us about the letter ‘C’.”
“Cute.”
“I’m not cute.”
“Today, you are.” Peter smiled knowingly, then added, “and tastes like cake.”
“That’s a noun, not an adjective.”
“Hmm, let me think about this some more,” Peter said, silently pondering. “Aha…costly.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Hey, you said I was a numbers guy, and you’re right, I am. But I must confess that it’s not clothing or makeup that takes up space on our monthly bill.”
Caroline wrote on the board, making a squeaky sound. “That’s a discussion for another game. Claire, let’s move on to the letter ‘E’.”
“This one is difficult. Harder than I would have imagined.” Claire tapped her finger against her lip, obviously contemplating. Peter watched her fingertips, absorbed more in the contact with her lips. “Elegant.”
“I’m not elegant.”
“You’re slim, trim, you wear a suit like a dream…” Claire paused in her speech, her face went bright red.
“That’s a kind observation. Does it embarrass you, Claire?” Caroline asked, writing ‘elegant’ on the white board.
“A bit. It does feel strange to compliment a man who doesn’t want me anymore.”
Peter grasped the mug as if he needed a solid structure to hold. “Have I said I don’t want you?”
“Well, not in so many words, but leaving our home and our marital bed, a wife could assume her husband doesn’t want her anymore.”
The light in her eyes diminished, chased away like the sun slipping behind a cloud. Peter ached as if his own heart was hiding behind the clouds, too.
Caroline approached Claire, holding the marker between her fingers. “Say everything you were meaning to say, Claire. Don’t hold anything back.”
“This is embarrassing.”
“It’s okay. No one will judge you harshly. Peter will hear whatever you have to say with an open mind. Won’t you, Peter?”
“Yes, it’s okay. I don’t want to hurt you. Claire, just tell me.”
Claire peeked at him shyly, her heart in her hands. “You don’t bring me flowers. You don’t hold my hand. We hardly have sex anymore.”
Caroline pivoted to her white board and wrote the letter ‘L’ on the surface.
Peter placed his mug on the table, reached across the space and touched her hand. “I want to hold your hand, hug you, too. ‘L’ is for love. Emotional and physical love. I want you. I love you; I ache for you. I’m sorry for not making a better space in your life.”
“Peter…”
“Well said.” Caroline nodded.
Claire sipped her coffee. “While I appreciate the sentiment and yearn for you as well, the word love is a noun, it’s not an adjective.”
“Perhaps our love will have to wait until we’ve overcome our issues. What about a born leader?”
“That’s a noun, too.”
Peter chuckled. “I wish I understood the language of love better. How about, ‘lucky’?”
“Yes. You’re one lucky man, to have found an honest girl like me.”
“That’s a fantastic adjective. We’re lucky that your breakfast has arrived,” Caroline said, as a basket of pastries and fruit was placed on the table. Peter selected a croissant and Claire reached for a raspberry and white chocolate scone. He couldn’t tear his gaze away as she took a bite.
“Claire, it’s your turn again. What adjective best describes the letter ‘T’?
“Trouble,” Claire said, grinning.
Peter enjoyed seeing happiness in her eyes again. “I’m not trouble.”
“Terrible?”
“Hey, I picked positive adjectives for you.”
“They were mostly nouns and I didn’t leave you.”
“That’s not nice.”
“Be kind to each other throughout these exercises,” Caroline said, lecturing them with a pointed stare. “What about the letter ‘A’, Peter?”
“Annoying. She’s always nagging at me.”
Caroline stepped forward, tapping her marker on her thigh. “Th
at’s not caring for your wife.”
“It was the first word that came into my mind. I could just as easily have said amazing or amusing, for the way you bake a pie, or the way you raised our two children, or even the way you used to make me laugh.”
He wished he hadn’t said it. The comment had slipped out of his mouth and it had clearly hurt Claire. “I’m sorry, Peter. I guess I must own my mistakes in this troubled marriage, too.”
He grabbed her hand again. “I’m sorry. There’s been enough sorrow.”
“I need a minute,” Caroline said, reaching for a coffee cup. She poured the dark liquid into the cup then returned the pot to the table. She added a spoonful of sugar as if needing sweet motivation to continue. “I didn’t think this would be so difficult. It’s an easy game. Select an adjective that describes your partner. I didn’t expect the issues to pop up. I’m not sure why I’m getting emotional.”
Claire sighed. “We apologize for being bad students, but you’re managing our name game fabulously. “C” fits you to a tee. If you were permitted to enter the selection process, I’d select your first initial as counsellor.”
“That’s a noun, love, but perhaps the camp director should have a greater status than an adjective anyway. Caroline, we’ll be better guests.”
“Okay. Let’s try this again. Letter ‘E’. Claire, you can’t use the word ‘elegant’ a second time.”
Claire munched on her scone, obviously giving this letter serious consideration. “I want to be clever about this. I want to choose a word that perfectly describes…Aha, I remember the way you used to embrace me.”
“It’s a verb. Caroline, can we break the rules on this one?”
“I’ll let it go on one condition.”
“What?” they asked at the same time.
“You must give each other a hug.”
The comment left Claire speechless. She placed her scone on the side plate, seeming unsure of what to do next, so Peter took the initiative. He stood. He held out his right hand. Claire rose from her chair, vulnerability in her eyes.
“Come here, icing.”
The comment broke the ice that had jammed between them. Her lips pursed upward, and she giggled. She edged around the table and stepped toward him. He took her into his arms, embracing her, placing his hands on the small of her back. Holding her felt good. His heart beat a little faster, a bit stronger, too.
“Now. I want you both to think about the letter ‘R’ as this initial is in both of your names.”
“Should I release my wife?”
“No. I forbid it. It’s been far too long since the two of you have shown each other any sort of affection. It’s a crime. You’re man and wife. You made vows to each other that you’ve forsaken. You stay that way, hugging each other, until I say you can sit again.”
“The camp counsellor sounds like your mother,” Peter said, sucking in an indrawn breath as his wife’s fingers slid under his shirt. A daring move on her part.
“The letter ‘R’, kids.”
Peter had a hard time following the instructions. He massaged his wife’s back, his fingertips tracing the indentation along her spine to the top of her neck. Claire sighed when he twisted the strands of her hair between his fingers.
“Solid as a rock,” Peter stated.
Claire didn’t argue with the noun selection. Peter wondered if she felt the need pressed against her abdomen. Though the weight didn’t impede their interaction. Claire leaned against his strength, saying, “Rugged.”
“Doesn’t describe me at all. I’m not an adventurous man.”
“Give it another try, Claire. I can see you’re both enjoying this moment.”
“Rapture. I know it doesn’t describe you. Doesn’t describe me either, but it’s a word that best describes this moment. I feel like I’m in heaven, simply from being held in your arms.”
“Step apart now.”
They stepped apart, reluctantly, leaving a slight gap between them. Peter saw the disappointment in Claire’s eyes at being forced to give each other space. He missed her warmth, he wanted her back.
“How does the separation make you feel?”
“Lonely,” Peter said, seeing a similar sentiment in his wife’s eyes.
“Hug each other again.”
They edged into the embrace and being held felt amazing.
“Claire makes a valid selection in her choice of the word rapture. It’s a good word to use as a descriptor for this point in time as rapture has been missing. You have suffered a breach of trust, a breach of harmony; it’s symbolic of your relationship issues. They began with a crack or a fracture in the walls. They widened when a husband and wife left each other’s embrace, which permitted the space between you to grow. The mortar of your heart walls became fragile, permitting the dam to break. Your relationship suffered, gushing emotion, tears of sorrow if that gives you a better comparison. You can rebuild the walls. The two of you can rework the structure and repair your marriage.”
“We understand,” Peter said.
“Do you? Another lecture. You’ve let the space between you grow too wide. A couple needs to spend time together. Needs to hug. Needs to have physical intimacy. I bet it feels good to hold each other.”
They nodded, and in doing so, both agreed that it did feel good to hold each other again.
“You’ve given us a lot of ‘R’s to think about,” Peter said, hugging Claire. “You’re better at this game than the couple you’re teaching.”
“Why don’t you take your seats again.”
Peter reluctantly gave up the warmth he’d been holding, realizing that Claire was crying. It broke his heart. He wiped a tear away with his thumb. He did what he should have done months ago and kissed her cheek. She mumbled a broken “thank you” and then they each took their seats.
Caroline sat on a chair near them. “How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve run a marathon,” Peter replied, leaning toward Claire, “like I’ve been contemplating real work.”
“You have. A good marriage requires ‘effort’, and that’s my wisdom for you. I want each of you to give me one more word that starts with the letter ‘E’.”
“Though it won’t always be easy,” Claire said, “I don’t want this experience to be our last.”
Peter gulped. He couldn’t have said it better, but they still needed to lessen the gap between them. “Let’s embrace the energy we’re feeling and make a new promise to each other.”
“I’m all ears.”
Peter slapped his knee, snickering. “They’re elegant ears, too.”
“Fantastic!” Caroline clapped her hands. “I’ll take my leave now. Mark, our server, will assist you with other requests.”
“What do you have planned for us after lunch?”
“You’ve earned a reprieve from your counsellor, but a word of advice. The couple should bridge the gap and spend quality time together. The weatherman forecast perfect conditions. Take a walk along the beach. Go for a swim. A couple’s massage if that gives you pleasure.”
Claire took a sip of her coffee and studied him in an intimate manner, a look Peter remembered well.
“No hanky panky.”
“We’re married, Caroline.”
“You certainly are, but the gap is wide, and you shouldn’t rush to fill it. Who knows what random energy could cause more pain.”
“I don’t understand.” Peter rubbed his chin.
“Then let me be frank. In my opinion, sex complicates things. I’d like you to refrain from intimacy until you’ve made a new commitment to each other. Can you manage that?”
Neither of them voiced a complaint, though Peter bore a dour expression and Claire seemed disappointed, too. They probably looked like disheartened children to the camp director.
“I asked a question.”
“Yes, Caroline,” they both replied, their smiles returning.
“Good. I’ll leave you to enjoy the afternoon and leisurely pursuits. Thanks for
playing ‘The Name Game’. We’ll meet here again, bright and early, tomorrow morning.”
“What’s on the schedule for tomorrow?” Claire asked.
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
Chapter Twelve
They strolled along a rocky shoreline, walking side by side, carefully traversing the rocks while listening to the ocean. “I want to hold your hand,” Peter said.
Claire looked him, observing his need as much as his outstretched fingers. She wanted to hold his hand, too. She pondered whether to say yes or no, but rejecting his request could create further difficulties, barriers that could strain their relationship. It was time to bridge a new connection. She slid her fingers along his arm, intentionally stroking his wrist. “I don’t want more space between us.”
Peter looked at her in a serene and hopeful way. When she touched his palm, Peter squeezed her fingers. “Neither do I.”
She glanced at the ocean. “The water’s calmer today.”
“And the air,” he said, inhaling, “is fresh and clean.”
“I love it here. I’ve always thought there was no better place to retreat than Summer Landing.”
Peter faced her. “Does it bother you that I ruined your retreat with your girlfriends? You only do this sort of thing once a year.”
Claire studied the waves, so peaceful and gentle, rolling to the shore. “It’s okay. You knew about this, but the change surprised me. I don’t how one would label the experience, perhaps an intervention?”
“It does seem like your friends and family, primarily your mother, thought something more than division was necessary.”
“So, you did know about the plans.”
Peter kicked at a rock, then looked out across the bay. “Not much, really. Only that you would be here, and we’d have time together. Time to reconnect.”
“Does it mean what I think it means?”
“That I didn’t want to give up on you, on us?”
“Well, you can tell me,” Claire said.
“Caroline said we couldn’t be intimate, but I feel a man needs to show his wife how he feels about her. Would you kiss me like you used to, when we were young and silly, and the world was our oyster?”
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