“‘Mrs. Carlson,’” she began reading in a low voice shaky with emotion. “‘I thought you should see this. I hope it will answer some of your questions and help you understand that John loves you. And as soon as he’s able, I know he’ll tell you just how much. Melanie Hitts.’”
Sharon took a deep breath and slowly moved the second sheet to the forefront, and was greeted by a photocopy of John’s last letter to Melanie. Once again she dropped her hands to her lap. Did she really want to put herself through this? As much as she ranted to Gwen about wanting to know the details of John’s relationship with this woman, would ignorance prove to be more blissful at this point? No, she decided, and began to read.
By the second paragraph, Sharon was in tears, caught up in a truth that both thrilled and upset her. She felt sad and envious because though it was now clear that Melanie and John had never been physical lovers, they had certainly shared an intimacy that in twenty-four years she and her husband had never achieved. Both of them had told the truth when they stated, “It’s not what you think.” They were right. Their relationship was so much less, but still so much more.
But even this realization could not squelch the joyful news that John’s letter delivered. It was she who he truly loved and desired. And not only did he love her, he wanted to start their marriage anew, which was her exact wish. Sharon realized that they had no choice but to begin afresh because nothing was the same. She was a different person and John had obviously been altered by this experience as well. And now they had a child to think about because John would have to accept her with the baby, if he truly wanted her back.
Sharon realized that despite their common wishes, they still had a lot to work out and success was not assured. Trust was going to be a crucial issue for her—both trusting John and her new sense of self. But they still had intact a solid base of mutual love and, most importantly, hope. And after living so long with John, she knew what every successful architect did—a strong foundation was the key to building a lasting structure.
Sharon quickly gathered her things and practically skipped back to John’s room. In the corridor she ran into the doctor, who reported that John was making steady progress and was continuing to respond to stimulation. The news only compounded the authentic happiness that had been building since this morning. First the birth of a son, Amanda’s reconciliation with her mother, Melanie Hitts’s special delivery gift, and now John was showing signs of regaining consciousness.
She hurried to John’s bedside and kissed his lips for only the second time since he’d been admitted. “I love you too,” she said, and laid her head on his chest, wanting so badly to be close to him again. It had been so long. Too long. A lifetime of pain and progress had passed between them since they’d last spoken.
Sharon wiped her tears and made herself comfortable in the chair by his bed. She quickly filled him in on everything that had transpired since his accident, from her self-revelations to her decision not to sell the house and culminating with the news of the birth of their biracial son.
“At first I didn’t think I’d be able to love a baby who wasn’t…`well, like me, but once I looked into his sweet little face I couldn’t feel anything but love,” she told him. “It really is simple, isn’t it? You just have to close your eyes to the meaningless outer costume, open your heart, and just allow yourself to love. But I guess you learned the same thing with Melanie, which is actually a good thing if we’re going to be that little guy’s parents,” Sharon said, aware of an uncomfortable tingle of jealousy the mention of Melanie Hitts’s name caused. It was obvious that Sharon had a lot of unresolved feelings to work through, and it was going to take time before she could get over the idea that her husband loved another woman.
As expected, John had no response, but Sharon continued to talk on excitedly.
“The only thing is I still don’t know what to call him,” she said, pulling from her bag a copy of the World’s Best Baby Names. “I thought about naming him after my father, but he’s going to have enough to deal with without being stuck with a name like Ernest. I was considering Craig Arthur, which Amanda really likes, but now that I see him, I don’t think he looks like a Craig.”
Sharon opened the book and silently searched through possible names, every now and then calling out a moniker she thought might work. She’d gotten through most of the G’s when she thought she heard John stir. Sharon looked up, but nothing had changed, so she went back to her book and resumed her search.
“Parker,” John’s weak voice wobbled across the bed. Hearing her maiden name, Sharon shot up and rushed to his side. “Parker John Carlson,” he whispered as she joyfully collapsed on his chest. Sharon had her husband, her child, and a whole new attitude. And for the first time in her life, she felt genuine happiness radiate through her body like sunshine and plant flowers in her heart.
Chapter 30
Will was fifteen minutes late for his noon lunch with Griffin. The restaurant’s cool artificial air rushed in to rescue his grateful skin, overheated by the blistering Las Vegas heat. Apparently Griffin was running behind schedule as well, so Will allowed himself to be seated and ordered a glass of iced tea for the wait.
He felt indebted to his friend for planning this weekend getaway. With three days off from work, Griffin suggested that they get together to do a little gambling, play a little golf, and drown their respective sorrows. Will was only too happy to oblige, hoping this change of scenery would allow him at least one day without thoughts of Melanie running through his head. Trying to keep Mel out of his mind had become a full-time job. He’d held true to his promise to avoid her, which hadn’t been easy, knowing how the same treatment had affected him. It hurt him to hurt her, regardless of the grief she’d inflicted.
Will glanced at his watch again. It was twelve-thirty and still no Griff. Perhaps his flight from LA was late. He finished his drink and, still thirsty, turned around to find his waiter. On cue, the man approached carrying another drink, and a plate covered with a silver dome.
“Thanks, man, but I didn’t order anything yet.”
“It’s on the house, sir,” the waiter explained as he left the plate and walked away, smiling.
Will lifted the cover and found plenty to whet his appetite. In bronze-colored lipstick he’d wiped from his lips many times were words that caused his heart to jump and his stomach to clog with bustling butterflies: WILL YOU MARRY ME? He took a moment to digest this romantic appetizer before standing up to search the room for the face he loved.
“You once told me that an empty plate was a prelude to a heapin’ spoonful of homemade love,” a known voice stated. Will turned to find Melanie standing on the other side of the table. She looked incredibly refreshing in a white matte jersey dress that breezed her body with reverent allure. Her silky brown skin glistened under the light, and her trademark spray of bronze curls were pushed off her lovely face by a white crystal headband. She couldn’t have looked more like a bride had she been wearing a veil and carrying a bouquet of flowers.
Will sat back down in his chair, his gaze never leaving hers. Melanie’s eyes searched his for some clue to his emotions. Gratefully she saw what she needed in order to continue—behind the shock and desperate vulnerability, love still shone.
“So I take it Griffin isn’t coming,” Will commented, his voice as unsteady as his nerves.
“No. Actually, he helped me set all of this up. We figured if you knew that I was coming, you wouldn’t.”
“That has a sneaky and familiar ring to it,” Will said, remembering how he had ambushed her at Griffin’s play.
“It should.”
“Why are you here?”
“I thought that was obvious,” Melanie said, gesturing to the dish in front of him.
“And I thought I’d said everything I had to in my last e-mail,” Will said tersely, trying to maintain a hard-line attitude in order to protect his fragile emotions.
“Will you please just listen to me?” Melanie would not be deterr
ed by Will’s understandable resistance.
“There’s nothing you can say to change the fact that if you love this John Carlson you can’t possibly love me, at least not the way a wife should love her husband.”
“I do love John, but I’m not in love with him. Not the way I’m so deeply in love with you. He’s my friend, but you’re my life.” Will sat in stony silence as Melanie took the time to calmly explain the relationship she and John shared, both before Sharon’s discovery and in its present state. She was very clear and honest about her feelings for the man and his for her, not wanting there to be anything left for Will to misinterpret.
“When we were in the boat on the Potomac, you said that you had nothing but thanks for John if he made me realize that it’s you I wanted. Well, if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here right now begging you to marry me.
“Baby, so much of what happened before was because I was afraid that I couldn’t be married and still be myself. I don’t feel like that anymore. I’m confident now that I can be a world-class interior designer, astronaut, professional skier, pop singer, and your loving wife,” Melanie said, smiling, as she tried to replace some of the heaviness with a little playful banter.
“I don’t know about that professional skier thing,” Will said, feeling his resolve threatening to melt under the warmth of her infectious smile. Melanie continued, her courage bolstered by Will’s momentary thaw.
“I love you, William Gregory Freedman,” she said, her tone once again turning serious. Melanie reached for Will’s hand and intertwined her fingers with his, her eyes begging for understanding and forgiveness.
Will wanted so much to give in to those intriguing brown eyes and accept her proposal, but how could he be sure that this was not simply another prelude to some new issue that would pop up to crush him once again?
“Melanie, you have to know how much I love hearing this, but it’s too late,” he told her, trying to ignore the unbounded love in her eyes.
Will’s refusal squeezed the air out of her body, and she felt her heart compress itself into a construction-paper cutout. The couple sat in sticky, uncomfortable silence, neither knowing what to say, nor understanding how such a great love had come to this very sad conclusion.
“Okay, then I guess this is goodbye,” she said as the screech of her chair across the tile echoed through the room. Mel looked into his eyes one last time, her tears falling with every blink. She leaned over and kissed his lips before turning away to leave. Will watched her pause and quickly return to the table to once again hand over her engagement ring.
“I just want you to ask yourself one question,” she told him. “What did I do that was wrong? I didn’t cheat on you. I simply allowed myself to get close to a man who made me understand how to value and honor my desires to create a life I want—a life that revolves around you. What was so awful about that?”
“It should have been me who taught you that. I’m supposed to be the one.”
“Oh, Will, what does it matter who does the teaching, as long as the lesson is learned?” Melanie asked with soft exasperation before she turned and hurried toward the ladies’ room.
Will sat at the table stunned, asking himself the question she’d posed. What had Melanie really done wrong? Was his ego so fragile that he couldn’t make room for other people in her life? He definitely didn’t understand this wild tangle of emotions and he still had problems with the idea that Mel loved another man, but the one true thing he was certain of was that despite everything, he could not imagine his future without her.
What am I doing? Here I am in the gambling capital of the world. Don’t be a punk. Why not roll the dice and take a chance?
Will glanced down at the plate sitting before him and suddenly felt very lucky. Melanie had not come out of the ladies’ room, so if he acted fast, there might be time to catch her. Out of his peripheral vision movement caught his eye. He looked over at the table next to him and noticed a woman putting on lipstick. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, and offered to buy the tube. Thirty seconds later, he dropped another five on the table to pay for his iced tea, picked up the plate, and hurried after his woman.
He positioned himself outside the bathroom so that Melanie would see him when she turned the corner. He stood for several moments, holding his breath, when he heard the door open and the click of high heels on the bare tile floors. Melanie looked up to see a hopeful Will holding the dinner plate with a bright orange YES! scripted under her proposal. Their eyes met and their broad smiles connected.
“Well, then, let’s go,” she said, her demeanor brightening considerably as she gulped down a breath of relief and sent a thank-you up to the heavens.
“Right now?”
“Absolutely. I’m not letting you get away from me again. I’ve wasted enough time being a Hitts when I could have been your Mrs.,” she said.
“Is there something I need to know?”
“Well, expecting good things, I reserved the Candlelight Wedding Chapel, located in the heart of the famous Las Vegas strip.” Melanie laughed as she quoted the brochure. “Our wedding is at three, so we have to leave immediately to get a license.”
After a quick trip to the marriage license bureau to flash their ID, pay the required fee, and sign some papers, they arrived at the chapel shortly before 2:35. Griffin was waiting for them with Will’s suit, as was Mel’s sister Francesca. While Will quickly changed and the minister lit the candles, Franti helped her sister touch up her makeup before handing Melanie the red rose bouquet that came as part of their wedding package.
“Mom may get over this, but I don’t know if Eva will ever forgive you for cheating her out of being a flower girl,” Francesca teased as the two stood at the back of the chapel. “I’m so happy for you, Melanie. This is such the right thing for you.”
Promptly at three, Pachelbel’s Canon floated through the speakers hidden between the cascading silk ivy planted in the ceiling rafters. Melanie followed Francesca up the aisle, barely noticing the two large sprays of artificial flowers standing sentinel on either side of the altar. Her eyes were fixated on the handsome man who in minutes was to become her life companion. Any wedding jitters that had consumed her at their engagement party were gone, replaced by the solid knowledge that everything that had happened this past year had led her to this particular place at this particular time.
As Will watched his bride approach, tears of joy streamed freely down his cheeks. A wonderful peacefulness had replaced his earlier apprehensions. Thank God his love had overruled his ego, because only in this woman’s eyes did he find home.
Melanie stopped next to a pedestal topped with a lit candelabra and stood happily by her man. Bathed in the buttery glow of candlelight, they pledged to forsake all others and love and honor each other until death do them part. In less than ten minutes, they had exchanged the matching platinum bands selected by Melanie and delivered by their witnesses, were proclaimed “man and wife,” and Will gleefully kissed his bride.
Following the ceremony, the couple posed with their witnesses for wedding photos and Griffin substituted the traditional champagne toast with a short and sweet romantic poem, happy that love had worked out for his friends at least. The wonder of his words filled the ears of his small audience with melodic fantasies, and the silent consensus was that this was a wedding that had been sanctioned from above.
“Well, my darling husband. We have to scoot,” Melanie said, positively glowing as she wiped a bit of wedding cake frosting from his chin.
“Already the Mrs. is ordering me around,” Will said, teasing her. “So where exactly are you taking me now?”
“We have a honeymoon to get to,” she said, biting her bottom lip and winking with erotic promise.
Epilogue
Melanie pushed the button near the bed and watched the sunlight slowly spill into the room of their hotel suite. She glanced over at Will, grateful that the mechanical grind of the rising wooden shutter did not
wake him. She pulled on the thick white terry-cloth robe emblazoned on the chest pocket with HOTEL DANIELI, and slipped through the terrace doors and out into yet another fabulous Venetian morning.
She took in a deep breath and hugged herself as she took in the view. No matter how many times she’d seen this same slice of heaven these past four days, at morning’s first glimpse the sight still took her breath away. She looked directly out across the Grand Canal at the white domed roof of the Palladian church of Santa Maria della Salute and the terra-cotta tile rooftops of the surrounding buildings. Water taxis and gondolas lined the liquid boulevard, their drivers chatting in expressive Italian while the number 82 vaporetto, the Venetian equivalent of a city bus, pulled into its floating stop. Down below, vendors were setting up shop, preparing for the thousands of international visitors who would buy their cheap glass trinkets, papier-mâché masks, and other souvenirs. Dispersed in between the merchants were street artists whose similarly beautiful renditions of the city’s numerous canals, churches, bridges, and gondolas made it nearly impossible to choose.
Melanie loved the quiet serenity of early morning and had made a point of starting each day with a few solitary moments in quiet gratitude. Standing witness to such magnificence, both man-made and Divine, she felt radiantly happy and thoroughly blessed. Venice was definitely a city for lovers and Melanie felt right at home.
She turned away from the window to gaze upon her new husband. She was finally married to the man she adored, and in so many ways she had John Carlson to thank. Still, arriving at this state of bliss had not come without pain. The strong feelings she and John shared for each other had hurt the two people they both loved more than anything in this world and she was genuinely sorry about that, but theirs was a relationship she would cherish forever. John’s love and insight had saved her from making the biggest mistake of her life.
Mel turned back to the splendor of Venice as her thoughts shifted to the future. Would she allow herself to give and receive love from another man now that she was a wife? Or even more importantly, how would she react if Will happened upon another emotionally intimate soulmate? Would she be understanding and accepting of their friendship or would she find herself threatened? Mel genuinely hoped that after her experience true love, and not the fear of loss or insecurity that dictated most marriages, would rule her heart and relationship, but she truly had no idea how she would react.
Hitts & Mrs. Page 31