A Marriage Worth Saving

by Therese Beharrie

  ‘If I have to suffer through a concert with a load of teenagers, then so do you, buddy.’

  He grinned, and found himself relaxing for the first time since he’d arrived back home. ‘Sounds fair to me.’

  They got out after he’d parked, and he took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the surroundings he’d in no way appreciated in his teens. The field he stood on reminded him of the countless rugby matches he’d played there, and though nostalgia was easy to slip into, he found the scene beyond the school to be more compelling.

  The hills made it seem almost enclosed by nature, and had been the backdrop to many of his teenage escapades. Large trees were scattered over the grounds, leaves fading from green to orange with the turn of the season. He thought it might only be in Cape Town that even a school was beautiful to look at.

  ‘This place hasn’t changed since I was here,’ Jordan said as they stood in line to get tickets, and he watched as Mila turned her head to follow his gaze.

  ‘The swimming pool is new,’ Mila pointed out, and he looked over and saw she was right.

  He wasn’t sure how he had missed that, since the school grounds were built at a much lower level than where they were parked.

  ‘How do you know the pool’s new?’

  ‘I went to school here, too,’ she said, a light blush covering her cheeks.

  He wondered why telling him that would embarrass her. He frowned. ‘Why didn’t we see each other?’

  ‘You would have been four years ahead of me, so we would have only seen each other if I was there in your last year.’ She glanced over at him. ‘I wasn’t.’

  ‘So you came after I had already matriculated.’ The timeline had already formed in his head.

  ‘Yeah, and only stayed for a year.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘I got moved to another family and another school.’

  Her words left him...disconcerted. Perhaps it was because of the reminder of her childhood. Or perhaps it was because she had never spoken about her schooling before. It highlighted another crack in the relationship they’d had before breaking up. Shouldn’t he have known this about her, his wife?

  ‘Why didn’t I know this?’

  She shrugged, though the gesture was made with stiff shoulders, and the relaxation Jordan had felt only a few moments ago slipped away.

  ‘There were a lot of things we didn’t talk about, Jordan,’ she said.

  Exactly what he’d realised over the past few days, he thought. He took out his wallet before Mila could pay when they got to the front of the line, and turned to her as they waited for their tickets.

  ‘It seems a bit strange that we didn’t talk about it, doesn’t it...?’

  He trailed off when he saw that her face had lost its colour. And then he realised why. Because the school was at a lower level, there was a long staircase that led down to another sports field. It was steep, even for him, and he felt her shake even before he saw it.

  ‘I can’t do this,’ she said, and turned away, her eyes wide and frightened.

  Jordan felt the punch to his stomach even as steel lined it. ‘You don’t have a choice,’ he said firmly, and grabbed her hand, leading her to the stairs slowly.

  Every step she took—every uncertain, painful step—sliced at his heart, but he knew he had to do this for her. He knew that if he could redeem himself in any way for the decisions he’d made since the day she’d fallen down the stairs, it would be by giving her back her freedom. And he knew her well enough to know that the only way to do that was through tough love.

  ‘Jordan, please...’ she whispered, her hand white on the railing. She had managed one step down the stairs, but had then frozen.

  ‘Mila, look at me.’ He waited as she did so, letting those behind him pass as he stood with Mila. ‘You have to do this. The event depends on it. The vineyard depends on it. For my father.’

  It was a low blow and he knew it, and he saw the responding flash of red in her eyes. But the look quickly fizzled out as he took her hand again, and was replaced by a combination of fear and...trust? he thought, and felt that punch in his gut again.

  He couldn’t ponder why that look had that effect on him now, though, and instead focused on taking another step down, waiting for her to join him. After taking a breath, she did. He saw the temptation in her eyes to freeze again, and decided that distracting her would soften the tough-love approach.

  ‘Do you think it’s because we did everything so fast that we didn’t talk about our pasts?’ he asked her, and patted himself on the back when he saw confusion in her eyes at his change of topic.

  ‘That was a part of it.’ Her voice was shaky, but she had taken the next step with his encouragement. ‘But definitely not the biggest part.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  She rolled her eyes, and he thought vaguely that his attempt at distraction was working. Except that she was distracting him, too.

  ‘We told each other about the most important parts. You knew that I didn’t have any family, and that I grew up in foster care, and I knew that your mom had passed away from cancer.’

  ‘And we were just content with that...’ he said, more to himself than to her.

  Ever since he had realised that there had been things in their relationship that were broken even before the accident, the more he saw them. Yes, they’d known the basics—like the fact that her father had died before she was born and her mother had died shortly after her birth—but he’d had no idea how that had made her feel. Just as she hadn’t known how his mother’s death had affected him. And how much he blamed himself for it.

  ‘You were,’ she scoffed, and took another step down, still leaning on him. ‘I wanted to know everything about you. About your father, your mother, your childhood... Everything,’ she repeated. ‘But you didn’t seem willing to offer the information...’

  She took a deep breath, but he knew it had little to do with the fact that she was going down the stairs.

  ‘And I never wanted to push.’

  He frowned. ‘You didn’t want to ask me about my life?’

  She was silent for a moment. ‘I didn’t want to push you to give me any information you didn’t want to.’

  ‘Why not?’

  She looked at him, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. ‘Because I didn’t want to tell you things either.’

  It was a strange conversation to be having while she was facing her fears, he thought briefly, but in that moment the only thing that had his attention was what she was saying.

  ‘What didn’t you want to tell me?’

  He felt her hand tighten, felt her resistance as she tried to pull away from him, but then she stopped. Maybe because she’d realised that pulling away from him would mean she would have to deal with her fear alone. Or maybe because she had chosen to be cordial and her refusal to answer his question would be going against that. But still she didn’t say anything.

  ‘Why did it embarrass you to tell me that you went to school here?’ he asked, with a sudden urgency lighting up inside him that made it imperative for him to know. The same urgency that told him that whatever she didn’t want to tell him about her life was somehow tied to that.

  ‘It didn’t,’ she replied quickly. Too quickly for someone who had only a few minutes ago stiffened next to him.

  ‘Mila...’ It was a plea—one that came from that urgency—and it seemed to make a dent in that defensiveness she’d always had about her past. One he was beginning to realise he had, too.

  She let out a huff. ‘I just didn’t want you to think about my crappy unstable childhood when you’d had the complete opposite.’

  ‘That embarrassed you?’ he asked incredulously, and a wave of shame washed through him. Had he said something to her that had made her feel embarrassed a
bout her childhood? Did she really think his had been so wonderful?

  ‘Yes, it did,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘You had an amazing home—one you could go to every day. You had a father who loved you. I had none of that.’

  ‘Why were you embarrassed by that?’

  ‘Because...’ She had reached the bottom of the stairs, but she didn’t seem to notice. She took another breath, and said, ‘Because it meant that I wasn’t worthy of someone like you.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE WORDS HAD already left Mila’s lips when she realised how much they revealed about her. She was annoyed that it was the second time she had disclosed something to Jordan that she hadn’t wanted him to know, even if it had made her feel better. Especially since the disturbed look on his face made her think that he didn’t feel like what she’d said.

  ‘Did you really believe that?’ he asked softly.

  ‘I did.’

  Maybe I still do.

  ‘It doesn’t matter any more, though, does it?’

  ‘You’re wrong, you know.’ He shook his head. ‘I haven’t met anyone else I respect more than you. You didn’t have family, but you’re more loyal than any family member I can think of. Even me.’

  He paused, and she thought that he was sacrificing his own comfort to make her feel better. It melted her heart.

  ‘You looked after my father when I couldn’t. Thank you.’

  His words made her blush, and she mumbled, ‘You know you don’t have to thank me for that.’

  ‘I know you don’t think I need to—which just proves my point. You are worthy, Mila. I’m the one who isn’t worthy of you.’ He shook his head. ‘I didn’t have the childhood you thought I did.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked down. The gesture made him look so defeated she wanted to hold him in her arms, but as she followed his gaze she realised she was looking at grass. She’d made it down the stairs!

  ‘I did it...’ she said to herself, not quite believing this victory, especially after the fear had paralysed her for over a year.

  ‘Yeah, you did.’

  Jordan smiled at her, and for the first time since he had returned, she could tell that it was completely genuine, despite the look of disconcertion on his face.

  ‘I did it. I really did it.’

  She felt like a fool when her eyes started tearing up, but she couldn’t help it. A small piece inside her that had broken after she’d lost her son had become whole, and it gave her a sense of peace. She felt relief, a sense of accomplishment, and so many other emotions she couldn’t even begin to put her finger on.

  When she looked at Jordan, she saw that his frown had cleared, replaced by a look of satisfaction.

  He did this purposely, she thought and, ignoring the voice that screamed in her head, she hugged him.

  The comfort of it hit her so hard that she had to close her eyes. But that only heightened her senses. The woodsy smell of him was intoxicating—so familiar and masculine that awareness heated inside her. She was moulded to his body, could feel the strength of the muscles she had admired when she’d first seen him after he’d returned. His arms—which had been still at his sides until that moment—wrapped around her and she was pulled in tighter to his body. Her breathing slowed, her heart sped up, and she had to resist the urge to pull his head down so that she could taste his lips.

  And then she lifted her head and met his eyes. The heat of longing there was a reflection of her own, and she could feel the world fade as it always did with him. Gooseflesh shot out on her skin, and she considered for a brief moment what would happen if she kissed him.

  It would be magical, she knew. The things inside her that had died when he’d left would find life. She would finally feel alive again. But at what cost? a voice asked her, and she took a step back from him, knowing that it would take away everything she had rebuilt if she gave in to this temptation.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, and felt the warmth of a blush light her face. But she’d needed to say it, to make sure that he knew why she had hugged him—as a token of gratitude, nothing else. The physical effect the seemingly innocent gesture had awakened was merely an unforeseen consequence.

  ‘It’s the least I can do,’ he replied in a gravelly voice, and she knew that their contact had affected him, too.

  What was more surprising to her was that he looked as though he genuinely meant the words, that he wasn’t just saying them automatically.

  She cleared her throat. ‘So...we should probably start rallying the troops.’

  He nodded his agreement, and she forced herself to shift focus. She could be professional. She prided herself on it, in fact. She began to explain her strategy—she would speak to the vendors first, since they knew her, and then introduce them to Jordan as the new owner of the vineyard. Then they would pitch their event, find out if they were interested and available, and hope for the best. Since the will stipulated that they should give evidence of trying their best to find exactly the same service providers for the event, she would record their interactions and use them to show Mark if they needed to find alternatives.

  ‘You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?’

  ‘That’s the job,’ she replied, her neck prickling at the admiration she heard in Jordan’s voice.

  ‘Where have I heard that before?’ he muttered, and she remembered she’d said something similar to him the first time they’d met.

  She brushed off the nostalgia. ‘We’d better get to it.’

  They spent almost two hours there. It was time spent waiting for vendors to find a moment to talk to them in between serving people, and eating to fill that time. She found herself growing more comfortable as the minutes went by, the tension that was always inside her around him easing.

  He was a wonderful ambassador for the vineyard, she thought as she watched him, and even though all the vendors remembered her and their event—especially since she had used many of them multiple times before—it was Jordan they responded to. He spoke to them with such warmth, with such praise, that she could almost see their spines straighten with pride. He played up his enjoyment of their food so much that sometimes she found herself giggling.

  The sound was strange, even to her, and she wondered why it was so easy to relax around him now. Her determination to focus on the event and ignore whatever was between them had been decided just that morning. A few hours later and she had spoken to him about the past, made herself vulnerable by admitting that she hadn’t thought she was worthy of him, and had walked down an intimidating staircase. And now she was laughing with him. At him.

  She knew that at some point he had gone from entertaining the vendors to trying to make her laugh. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but she chose not to ponder it then. Not when for the first time in a long time she felt...free.

  ‘Ice cream?’

  She looked at him when she heard his voice, and realised that she had been staring off into space while she thought about the day.

  ‘I’m not sure it’s warm enough for ice cream,’ she replied, feeling self-conscious now.

  ‘The sun is shining, Mila. We should thank it by offering it the traditional food of appreciation.’

  Her lips curved. ‘And that’s ice cream?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’ He smiled back at her and her heart thumped. It was as if they were on a first date, she thought, and then immediately cast the thought aside.

  ‘Besides, we have one more vendor to see,’ he continued, ‘and he still hasn’t returned from his supply run.’

  She shrugged off her hesitation. ‘Sure—okay.’

  She followed him to the ice-cream stand, where they joined a long line.

  ‘Seems like everyone wants to make a sacrifice to the
gods,’ she said, and smiled at him when he looked at her.

  ‘I told you so,’ he replied, and took her hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

  And the truth was that on that day, after talking, after laughing together, with the winter sun shining on their faces, holding hands did seem natural. But it wasn’t, she reminded herself, and let go of his hand under the guise of looking for the notepad where she had written down the names of all the vendors and made notes.

  ‘I think we’ve done pretty well today,’ she said, and pretended not to notice the disappointment that had flashed across his face. ‘Of the six vendors here, three are interested and are available for two weeks—the end of this month and the beginning of next. It cuts our time in half. Not ideal, but I think it’s doable. And if we speak to the owner of the Bacon Bites food truck when he gets back, we could have four.’

  ‘So that means we only have to replace two or three?’

  Jordan slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and she wondered if it was because he was tempted to take her hand again.

  Her hand itched at the thought.

  ‘Yes, but we still need to hear from two vendors who aren’t here. Lulu said she would follow up on those. But I think we could substitute any who don’t come with some of the other vendors here. I chatted to the woman who owns the chocolate truck over there—’ she gestured to it with her head ‘—and she thought our event sounded great. She told me to come over if we were interested.’

  ‘How did you manage to speak to her?’

  ‘Oh, it was between your moan of delight for the meat pies and your groan of appreciation for the burger sliders,’ she teased, and saw the tension that had entered his body after she’d let go of his hand fade.

  ‘They have good food here,’ he said, with a shrug and a smile.

  Before she could respond they were at the front of the line. Behind the glass casing of the van she could see a variety of ice cream flavours that made her mouth water. After a few minutes of looking, she still couldn’t decide between the chocolate hazelnut flavour and the vanilla toffee.