refrain from demanding an explanation. She wanted the truth no matter how painful it might be—and yet she didn’t. What wife ever did?
So far she’d remained silent. She was astonished by how good she’d become at pretending everything was fine. None of her friends suspected. What bothered her almost as much as her suspicions was the fact that Dave didn’t seem to have any idea that she’d caught on. She wondered if he’d broach the subject. Maybe if he knew she’d figured out what was going on … Perhaps that was what she’d been waiting for. She wanted him to ask her.
But Dave never asked. If she managed to put on a marvelous performance, then so did her husband. Last Sunday he’d actually spoken from the pulpit about the importance of marriage, of loving one’s spouse.
Emily felt like the most unloved woman in the world. She could barely stop herself from breaking into heart-wrenching sobs right there in front of the entire congregation. Naturally everyone must have assumed she’d been overcome with emotion, since Dave’s sermon, by implication, had honored her. She wanted to tell them that, beautiful though his words were, that was all they were. Words.
It was hard to believe this could be happening to them. Emily had always been so sure they had a solid marriage, and that Dave was her best friend. Apparently she was wrong.
The door leading to the garage opened and to her surprise he walked into the house.
“Dad!” Mark slid out of his chair, running toward his father as if he hadn’t seen him in a year.
“Hey there, little man, how’s it going?” Dave reached down and swung their son into his arms. Mark was too big to be picked up like a child, but he craved the attention from his father.
Dave kissed Emily on the cheek, then ruffled Matthew’s hair before he sat down. “I’m glad I made it home in time for dinner tonight.”
“Me, too,” Mark said, his eyes glowing.
Despite everything, her own happiness sprang to life again, and Emily got up and brought a fourth place setting to the table.
When she passed him the enchilada casserole she’d made, he took a heaping serving, then grinned over at her. “You fixed one of my favorites,” he said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She met his look, letting him know with her eyes how much she loved him. Maybe, regardless of the evidence, all her unhappy suspicions were wrong.
“Can you help me with my homework after dinner, Dad?” Mark asked.
Their younger son was the top student in his class, far ahead of the other second-graders. He didn’t need any assistance. What he really wanted was time with his father.
“You promised to throw me the football, remember?” Matthew said. Never mind that it was late November and already dark outside, He, too, wanted time with Dave. The children weren’t the only ones; Emily needed all the reassurance he had to offer. Hard as she tried to cast aside these doubts, they refused to die. She didn’t want to lose her husband. She loved Dave no matter what and was determined to keep her marriage together—or at least make every possible effort.
“Hold on, hold on.” Dave laughingly raised both hands. “Give me a minute to catch my breath, would you?”
Both boys stared expectantly at their father. Emily couldn’t bear to look at their eager faces. Seeing the love for him in their eyes made her feel like weeping.
“Let your dad eat his dinner,” she said.
“After that, I’ll help you both, but I’d like a few minutes alone with your mother first,” Dave said, glancing at Emily.
A chill raced down her spine, and she was afraid to meet his eyes.
“Aw, Dad,” Mark whined.
“It won’t take long,” he promised. “Eat your green beans.”
“Okay.”
Emily handed Dave the bowl of buttered beans with sliced almonds. He took a small portion. Green beans weren’t his favorite vegetable, either, and this was her way of suggesting he set a good example.
Following dinner, the boys cleared the table, then went to their room for study hour. This had been Dave’s idea. Whether they had homework or not, Matthew and Mark were to spend one hour every night reading, writing or reviewing their schoolwork. The television wasn’t allowed to be on, nor were video games permitted.
As the boys trudged to their room, Emily made a pot of coffee, keeping her back to Dave as she worked. Asking to speak to her like that was unusual for him. If there was something on his mind, he generally discussed it with her after the boys had gone to bed.
Even before she could finish pouring their coffee, Dave asked her, “Are you happy?” His voice was urgent. Intense. The need to know seemed to burn inside him.
Dozens of possible questions had occurred to her, but this was one she hadn’t expected.
“Happy?” she repeated, facing him. Still not meeting his gaze, she carried two steaming mugs of coffee to the table and set them down. “Am I happy?” She shoved her hands in the back pockets of her faded jeans as she contemplated her response.
“I didn’t think it would take you this long to answer,” Dave said. His dark eyes studied her and he seemed disappointed in her hesitation.
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be happy?” she asked, turning the question back on him. “I live in a beautiful house and I’m able to stay home with the boys the way we both wanted. My husband is madly in love with me, right?” she added, remembering his sermon from the Sunday before—and hoping she didn’t sound even slightly sarcastic. Without giving him the opportunity to answer, perhaps because she feared what he might say, she asked, “What about you, Dave? Are you happy?”
“Of course I am.” His reply was immediate and impassioned.
“Then I am, too.” Rather than join him at the table she started to load the dishwasher.
“Sit down,” he said. “Please.”
Reluctantly she did.
“You haven’t been sleeping well.”
So he’d noticed. She fell asleep easily enough, but an hour or two later she’d be wide awake. Then for the rest of the night she’d toss and turn, sleeping fitfully if at all. The scenarios that played out in her mind wouldn’t allow her to rest. Her husband might be in love with someone else. He might even be cheating on her.
Emily considered herself an emotionally strong woman, one who remained calm in a crisis. A woman others counted on for guidance and support. Yet when it came to confronting her husband with her suspicions, she was a coward.
“If there’s something bothering you, maybe I can help,” he said. She recognized his tone, that caring, concerned voice he so often used with others. Only she wasn’t just one of his parishioners, she was his wife!
“What could possibly be bothering me?” she asked airily. She didn’t expect him to answer.
“I don’t
