The Secret Ingredient for a Happy Marriage

by Shirley Jump

“And we never got a dog.” Magpie dropped down beside the mutt and buried her face in his fur, whispering nonsense words. The dog’s ears perked up, his tail wagged, and Magpie’s face lit with pure joy. The youngest of all of them, Magpie had maintained that wonder and appreciation for the world that Nora had lost somewhere between her marriage vows and dropping Ben off at rehab.

  A part of Nora was jealous and wished she could recapture those feelings. Except she wasn’t sure she’d ever lived with that kind of wild abandon. The minute her father died, Nora had stepped into a pair of practical, sensible shoes and worn them ever since. How would her life have been different if her fun-loving, rule-breaking father had lived?

  “We almost got a dog,” Nora said softly.

  “When?” Magpie rose. “I don’t remember that.”

  “You were so young, and Ma never mentioned it after…” Nora’s voice trailed off. “Dad was going to get us a dog.”

  “Really?”

  Nora nodded. “He loved dogs. Remember how he’d pet every single one he saw? Or look for an excuse to walk Mrs. O’Neill’s Great Dane?” She glanced down at the stray and knew her father would have loved that dog like a fifth child. “How he was always over at Dan Murphy’s house, playing fetch with his Lab? One night when he was putting me to bed, he told me about this spaniel he had when he was a kid and how that dog was his best friend for years. I snuck out of bed for a drink of water and I overheard him telling Ma that he thought we were old enough to take care of a dog, and he was going to buy us all one for Christmas. But then…”

  “He died.” Just two soft, sad words.

  Even though it had been twenty years, the sudden death of their father still echoed in Nora’s heart. One minute the six of them were sitting down to dinner, and the next, their father was crumpled on the floor, clutching at his chest. A week later, the four girls had held hands as they stood around the casket, too young to understand the permanence of that hole in the ground.

  “Then why not get a dog now?” Magpie asked. “Like, in memory of Dad?”

  If her life had been going in any other direction, Nora would have agreed. Her kids were old enough to help out, and a dog was the kind of thing that seemed to complete the two-point-five kids suburban home picture. Except right now, Nora didn’t own a single part of that American dream. “It’s not as easy as you make it sound.”

  The dog slid down beside her sister’s feet and let out another sigh, quite the drama queen for a mutt. Magpie studied Nora for a long moment, her lips twitching like they did whenever she was puzzling on something. “Well, like you said, his owners are probably looking for him anyway. For now, your kids are happy, the dog is happy, and we can deal with all the rest later.”

  “Dealing with the rest later is what got me into this mess in the first place,” Nora muttered. The dog got to his feet, ambled over, and pressed his head against Nora’s leg, his tail beating a breeze into the room.

  The storm raged on into the night, intensifying after midnight, battering the small beach cottage with howling winds and heavy rain that shook the windows and drummed on the roof. Nora lay awake in the unfamiliar bed, scrolling through her phone, scanning a rental app for affordable apartments. At this point, she’d settle for a cardboard box with indoor plumbing. Given the sky-high rent in Boston, a cardboard box was pretty much all she could afford.

  She set her phone on the nightstand and started to curl into her bed when she heard a soft whimper from the room next door. She waited, heard it again, and then swung out of bed. Pulling on a pair of sweats with the T-shirt she was wearing, she ducked into the kids’ room.

  The dog lay at the foot of Jake’s bed, curled into the comforter. He gave Nora a quick glance and then went back to sleep, as if he knew full well no one was going to kick him out of the bed. Nora heard the whimpering sound again and realized it was coming from Sarah’s bed. Moonlight cast a dim glow in the room, enough for Nora to circumvent the hazards of forgotten Legos on the floor and cross to Sarah’s bed. Her daughter was curled into a ball under the covers, clutching her favorite stuffed bear to her chest. The muted light glinted off the tears that dampened Sarah’s cheeks.

  Nora sank onto the bed and put a hand on Sarah’s thin shoulder. “What’s the matter, honey?”

  “I…I wanna go h-h-home. I wanna go h-h-home now.”

  “It’s the middle of the night, so we can’t go now, but we will in a couple days.” She started to tell Sarah about Ben’s offer to take the kids trick-or-treating but stopped herself. What if he got sidetracked by work or a bad decision? Even though it had been a year since Ben quit gambling, Nora lived in fear of the moment when she’d get that call. Honey, I screwed up.

  So she didn’t make promises she couldn’t keep. And she didn’t count on a man who had stopped being dependable a long time ago.

  “I thought you liked vacation,” Nora went on, in that happy Mom voice she’d perfected during the terrible twos. “You’ve been swimming and playing on the beach with Jake, and you met this great dog.”

  Sarah shrugged. “Yeah. I guess.”

  Nora brushed back a damp lock of hair from Sarah’s forehead. In the dark, her daughter looked so frail, so vulnerable. Nora wanted to scoop her up and hold her close, like she’d done when Sarah was a baby and she’d fall asleep on Nora’s chest. Nora would lie on the sofa, still and quiet, watching her newborn breathe, her delicate eyelashes fluttering as she dreamed. That sweet, fresh baby scent would fill the space, and a deep, warm contentment would wash over Nora. The naps always ended too quickly, and as Nora worked more and Sarah spent her days in day care, those sweet, magical moments became few and far between. “Before you know it, you’ll be back at school and wishing we could go on vacation again.”

  Sarah shook her head. “I don’t wanna go back to St. Gregory’s.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just don’t wanna.”

  “Is it because of that fight with Anna?” Nora pressed her hand to Sarah’s cheek. “Because if you want, I can talk to her mom and—”

  Sarah jerked away from her mother’s touch. “No! I don’t want you to. You’ll just make it worse.”

  Nora could understand Sarah being embarrassed or maybe even reluctant to have the mothers intervene, but sometimes that was the easiest way to head off a ruined friendship. Surely whatever had happened between the girls could be cleared up with a conversation. “Honey, I know what it’s like to fight with a friend. I’m sure if Anna’s mother and I talked, we could help you two work it out.”

  “Anna’s not my friend anymore.” Sarah buried her face in her pillow and shook her head again. “I don’t want you to talk to her mom.”

  “Oh, come on. You guys have been friends forever.” They’d gone to preschool and kindergarten together, been in Girl Scouts, practically lived at each other’s houses. There’d been sleepovers and camping trips and long afternoons spent at Build-A-Bear or Chuck E. Cheese’s. “When we get back to Dorchester, why don’t we call Anna, and I’ll take you two to Boston Garden for the day? Maybe ride the swan boats? And see the Make Way for Ducklings sculpture? You’ve always loved that, and I’m sure Anna would too.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to. Just leave me alone.”

  “Sarah.” Nora reached for her daughter, but as she did, Sarah twisted away and put her back to her mother. She put a hand on Sarah’s shoulder, but her daughter remained burrowed in her pillow, the stuffed bear hiding most of her face. “Honey, come on, talk to me.”

  “No. You don’t understand. All you do is make it worse.”

  “Make what worse?”

  But Sarah refused to answer. The more Nora pressed her, the more Sarah pulled away.

  When had this divide opened between them? She’d always thought that she and Sarah were close. Told herself that she was a good mother.

  Maybe she was fooling herself about that too. Maybe she’d spent too many hours at work to see that her entire family was eroding. Guilt squeezed Nora
’s heart, and she vowed that going forward, she would take more time off and be there more for the kids.

  A second chance, Lord, Nora whispered in her head. That’s all I need. Give me a chance to do it right and be the mother You want me to be.

  Nora leaned over, gave Sarah a tender kiss on her temple, and then whispered, “I’m just next door if you need me, okay? Good night, honey. I love you.”

  Nora waited a long time, but there was no answer from her daughter. She told herself Sarah had already fallen asleep and stepped out of the room. But she left the door ajar, just in case.

  ELEVEN

  The moon reflected off the white column of the Cape Cod lighthouse, dancing along the solitary landmark in a turbulent painted ocean, the ship’s captain caught in a perpetual battle to reach solid ground. The pillar glowed in the dark, almost like it was meant to be a beacon for her too. Nora lay in the dark bedroom, her heart heavy, her worries a burden she could barely hold. Sarah had stayed in her room, resolute. The more Nora tried to figure out what was upsetting her daughter so much, the further she got from an answer.

  Nora missed her husband. Missed the partner she used to have. The friendship. The beach house bed seemed cold and empty, a vast cotton iceberg without Ben beside her. Even though it had been two years since they had shared a bed, she’d never gotten used to the empty space.

  Nora picked up her phone, swiped across the screen, and opened the photos app. She scrolled back, two, three, four years. And there, in those photos of their trip to Disney World, the weekend camping trips, the afternoons spent on Wollaston Beach, was the life she used to have. Ben, hoisting each of the kids onto his broad shoulders, a trio of wide smiles reflecting in Nora’s camera lens.

  She switched to the messages app, sliding her finger down until she got to Ben’s name. Nora, talk to me, he’d written earlier today.

  Her finger hovered over the Reply button. Three little dots popped up in a pale gray bubble, meaning Ben was awake now, too, and typing another message. She waited, her heart in her throat, both aching for his words and dreading them. They had lost what they once had, and like the house, she didn’t see any way to get it back.

  I can’t sleep without you here.

  She thought of Ben alone in that big house, empty of the voices of the children, of the dinners and squabbles over toys and TV channels. Her heart ached, and the space in the bed seemed to quadruple. Me neither, she wrote.

  His response was immediate. You’re up? Can we talk?

  Before she could type yes, her phone was ringing and Ben’s face was on her screen. It was one of her favorite pictures of him, from three years ago, before it all started going south. He’d been sitting across from her at dinner, and she’d raised her camera to take his picture. He’d smiled, one of those soft, intimate smiles that seemed meant only for her.

  She pressed the green button and put the phone to her ear. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” The word had a hint of surprise in it, as if he wasn’t sure she’d answer. “How are you and the kids?”

  “We’re good. They’re having a great time.” She didn’t mention the dog. Didn’t tell him about everything going on with Sarah. Maybe because a part of her didn’t want Ben to know she couldn’t handle this on her own. That she was screwing up and was as beleaguered as the captain in the painting. Only she didn’t have a lighthouse to tell her which way to go, how to fix this deepening mess. And as much as she wished she could depend on Ben—and ever since he’d gotten out of rehab he’d been insisting that she could—Nora’s trust for her husband still hovered in the negative digits.

  “I’m glad.”

  She pressed the phone tighter to her ear, wanting him to say those words—I can’t sleep without you here—one more time. Because here, in the dark alone, with the world crashing down on her, she needed him. Needed them to be a team again. She didn’t care about the debts or the divorce. She would open up to him and tell him what had happened that morning, and maybe they could get back to where they used to be. She missed him. Missed them. Just for a minute, maybe they could…pretend. “Ben—”

  “We need to talk about how we’re going to divide things up.” He cleared his throat, and the softness disappeared from his voice. “I think we can do this amicably, Nora. Then there’s not as much disruption for the kids.”

  Divide things up. Do this amicably. She blinked away tears. “I, uh, thought you didn’t want to get divorced.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it since you left, and I think you’re right. We’ve grown apart, Nora. And the best thing to do is split up what little we have and go our separate ways.”

  She’d been angry when she said it, frustrated, sure that nothing could ever return to what it once had been. Across from her, the lighthouse stood against the storm, solid and immovable. She’d once thought she was like that lighthouse, the one her family, her kids, could rely on to be strong, but now she was like a swing on a frayed rope. One gust of wind away from falling apart. “But I thought…your message said you were lonely in the house without me.”

  She hated the vulnerability in her voice. The fear.

  “Insomnia isn’t a reason to save a marriage.” His words were cold, as harsh as the ones she had thrown at him the day she walked out the door.

  “You’re right. It isn’t.” The tears brimmed and then spilled, sliding down her cheeks. She drew in a breath, forcing the sorrow out of her voice. She refused to let any more weakness show or to be the one who crumpled. “I’ll, uh, write up a list of the furniture and stuff I’d like to keep, and you do the same. If there’s anything we disagree about, I’m sure we can find an equitable solution.”

  “Good.” Silence filled the space between them for a moment. Then Ben cleared his throat again. “And, Nora, one other thing—”

  “Yeah?” Hope still fluttered in her chest, damn it.

  “I’d like to pick the kids up on Halloween and take them trick-or-treating here. That way they can have one more Halloween in this neighborhood.”

  She wanted to believe in him. Wanted to trust that he would show up, that he wouldn’t let the kids down. Again. But years of disappointment said otherwise. “That would be great,” Nora said, a part of her angry at that little flutter of hope. Why had she been stupid enough to wish for a happy ending in a story that had already finished? “If you actually do it.”

  “Damn it, Nora, I’m trying here. I know I haven’t been the most involved father,” he said. “I’ve let work and my own issues get in the way of being there for you, for the kids. But I want you to know that I will be totally hands-on whenever I have custody, and if you ever need anything, I’m just a phone call away.”

  I need you now, she thought, but you’re already on the other side of my world. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Then she said goodbye and shut off her phone. She lay in the dark, staring at that lighthouse until her tears blurred the image.

  TWELVE

  The lone vet in Truro, a tall, skinny man in his seventies with soft blue eyes and a ready smile, shook his head. “Sorry, Mrs. Daniels, but I don’t know who this dog belongs to. I’ve never seen him here before, and pretty much everyone in town brings their pets to me. Maybe some summer renter left him behind.” He sighed. “It happens more than you’d think. Damned tragedy, if you ask me.”

  Nora pointed to the dog’s scruff. “Isn’t there one of those chip things in his head?”

  “Nope, sorry. I checked that first thing. You can call the police department, see if anyone’s missing a dog. And you’re welcome to put a flyer up on my bulletin board, but I’m afraid we’re heading into the off-season, so I won’t have that many people through that door for a few months. If some family left him behind, I doubt they’re coming back anytime soon. Or ever.” The vet ran a hand down the dog’s flanks and tsked under his breath. “He looks like he’s been on his own for a while. He’s pretty skinny and malnourished. He found you all just in time.”

  Nora thanked the vet, paid him money sh
e didn’t really have, and took home a dog she didn’t really want.

  When she walked in the door of the beach house, Jake scrambled to his feet, abandoning the Legos he was playing with his aunt, and then ran up to the dog, dropped to his knees, and wrapped the mutt in a tight hug. “You’re gonna be my puppy, Chance! Yay!”

  “Chance?” Nora laid the leash she’d bought at the vet’s office on the counter and set her purse beside it. God, now they’d named the dog? Nora had hoped maybe the connection would have lessened after the first night, but if anything, Jake seemed more invested in the mutt. Thank goodness Sarah was outside on the deck playing dolls and didn’t hear or see the whole you’re my puppy thing.

  “Yup. That’s his name,” Jake said. “Aunt Magpie said it was ’cause he took a chance when he came here, and we gave him seconds.”

  Magpie came over and ruffled Jake’s hair. “A second chance, you mean.”

  Jake tugged the dog over to his Legos pile to explain the house he was building. “Come on, Chance! Let me show you the house I’m building for you and me and Mommy and Daddy and Sarah!”

  Magpie watched him with a wistful look on her face. She had always been the one who believed in signs and instant miracles. The dreamer of the family, who didn’t have the realities Nora had to deal with. Her little sister didn’t know how hard it was going to be to leave the dog at a shelter now that the kids had named it. Encouraging them would only make the whole loss more painful. “Mags, we don’t name the dog we aren’t committing to,” Nora whispered. “That just makes it worse.”

  Her sister waved that off. “It’ll be fine. Come on, we were just about to make ice cream sundaes for lunch.”

  “That’s not a healthy lunch. Let me throw together some turkey sandwiches and—”

  “Nora, this is vacation. In case you have forgotten the definition of vacation, it’s when you do all the things you aren’t supposed to do. Like stay up past your bedtime. Eat breakfast for dinner. Get drunk and stumble home at four in the morning.” Magpie grinned. “Which, by the way, I decided not to let Jake do. Sarah might get a pass.”