Married...Again

by Stephanie Doyle

  “Don’t placate me,” he puffed. “I need to be pushed if I’m going to get back into shape.”

  “You need to not go beyond what your body can handle or you could get sick, which would just set you back.”

  “Which is why resting is a nice compromise.”

  “Now I definitely remember that. Max Harper doesn’t do compromises. When you compromise, both people lose.”

  He sniffed as if she’d pointed out something that smelled particularly awful.

  “I was an ass. You should have done a better job of reminding me of that.”

  It was hard, Eleanor thought. To reconcile this older, more mature version of the man he’d been. It might have only been just over two years, but instinctively, she knew it was more than that for him. Like two years’ hard time in his own twisted prison.

  “What?” he asked.

  As if he could see straight through her down to her soul. Something he always used to be able to do. Something she shouldn’t want him to be able to do now.

  There hadn’t been much of her soul to see in the past few years. She’d been more machine than woman. Working endlessly, because it helped to keep her going.

  Because Max had been dead.

  And now he was alive and she was nothing but feelings, it seemed.

  “I still can’t believe I’m sitting here looking at you,” she said, putting word to her thoughts. “Speaking to you. It catches me off guard, and there are moments I have to wonder if this isn’t a very weird, very prolonged dream.”

  He nodded. “It’s how I felt on that island. As if it was something that couldn’t possibly be happening to me. Death... I had reached that moment where I had to accept it. Hell, at one point I’d been in enough pain, could feel myself slowly freezing to death, I actually welcomed it. But that sense of powerlessness, of being alive but not able to get to you...that was crushing.”

  For a man like him, it would be. Max was a man who liked to be in control.

  “I’m sorry, Nor. I’m so sorry I messed us up. Have I said that yet? Not the almost-dying part. I couldn’t control that. Or maybe I could have... I should have never gotten on the damn ship in the first place. But before that. I was so damn...cocky. So sure you wouldn’t leave. Positive that you would always be there waiting for me when I got back.”

  “You and me both. Leaving you was the hardest thing I ever did. But I had to do it. It felt like the only way to...survive us. That must seem dramatic, given everything you’ve been through...”

  “No. No, us was that big. That dramatic. At least it was to me. If it hurt you...to leave me, then that’s a good thing.”

  “You’re happy I was in pain?”

  “Yes,” he said quickly. “The more you hurt, the more we meant. The better chance I have of proving to you we can be an us again.”

  Eleanor was done arguing the point. She didn’t think they had a future. He did. It was an impasse that wasn’t likely to change in the next few days.

  “Tell me something about yourself. The person you are now. Another thing I don’t know.”

  The question startled her.

  “You think I’ve changed?”

  “Of course you have. It’s been three years. You suffered the loss of your marriage, the death of your husband, the death of your beloved in-laws. They treated you like you were their daughter.”

  “They had a hard time...when I came home without you.”

  “You know that wasn’t directed at you, right? Any anger they had was directed at me. The last words I have from my father is a letter reading...and I’m quoting... Get your head out of your ass and come home to your wife.”

  It was hard to hear, but it actually made her smile. “Sounds like Harry.”

  Max shook his head and ran a hand over his face. “I can’t believe I’m never going to hear his voice again. Mom’s.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, then not even knowing what was driving her, she moved toward him, standing in front of him so that he could reach out and take her hand. It was all she offered him, but it seemed to be enough to get him over the hurdle of his grief in that moment.

  He squeezed her hand, then let it go.

  “No distracting me, though. Tell me something about you, the new you.”

  The new her. The woman who had left her husband, suffered his death and tried to build herself into something she could be proud of. Something he could be proud of.

  Was that true? Had part of what had driven her all this time been about making his ghost proud?

  The ghost who was currently sitting on a large rock in front of her, looking at her as if she was the most fascinating person on the planet.

  It was a trap. Another thing he excelled at, really listening to people, absorbing the words, instead of just letting whatever they said roll over him without paying attention.

  “Nor?”

  She shrugged. “You know about Head to Toe...”

  “That’s not you, that’s your business.”

  That made her laugh. “No, that is me. I am Head to Toe. When people use the expression blood, sweat and tears, that takes on a literal meaning when you’re trying to get your company off the ground.”

  “But you did it.”

  “I had already failed at a marriage. I wasn’t about to go oh for two.”

  “Stubborn,” he said even as he pushed himself off the boulder until he was standing again. She could see him wince in pain as he shifted his weight to both legs. “Just like your mother.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not the only one.”

  “I know. Now let’s walk while you talk.”

  They did, but Eleanor still struggled with what to tell him. When she thought about who she had been back then and who she was today, she didn’t think of herself now with the most flattering of descriptions.

  Harder. More focused. Less emotional. Colder to a certain extent, with maybe a smattering of bitterness.

  It was why she hadn’t even considered dating. She couldn’t imagine any man who would want to be around her. She wasn’t exactly sure why Daniel had been so insistent. Then again, the company had been its own attraction. He had wanted Head to Toe before he thought about wanting her.

  She tried to focus on what she considered to be the more positive aspects of her new life.

  “I’m smarter about a lot of things. Less afraid to try things.”

  “Does that mean I can get you to try sushi?”

  “No. Fish is still gross. And thanks to Norway, that hatred has now become more of an ideology.”

  “What new things have you tried then?”

  She thought about something she’d done. A thing she’d tried. She considered telling him. Wondered how it might affect him, affect them. But it just didn’t feel like the right time.

  “I meant more in terms of marketing the business rather than food choices,” she said.

  “You’re talking about your expansion.”

  Eleanor nodded. “Last year I never would have had the courage to think as big.”

  “Nor, you know I’m asking for more than just the kind of businesswoman you’ve become.”

  She flinched at that. Because she didn’t know if she was anything but the businesswoman she had become. Because she felt defensive, she turned it back on him. “Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to find my own thing. My own passion. Now you’re going to criticize me because I’ve done that?”

  “No,” he said quickly. “No, I’m incredibly proud of what you achieved. But you’re making it sound like your life for the past three years has been nothing but your company.”

  “And Daniel,” she said. Another wound she could inflict.

  “I didn’t get the sense he was that important to you.”

  She shrugged. “I’m probably not going to know the answer to that now. Am I?�
�

  He stopped, but she kept walking. She wanted to leave the guilt she felt at deliberately hurting him as far behind her as she could. After a couple yards, she stopped and looked back at him.

  “Well, are you coming, or are we turning around?”

  He tilted his head as if he was studying her. Like some rare aquatic life form that had captured his attention.

  Wondering, no doubt, if part of being the new her also meant being a bitch.

  He seemed to reach a conclusion.

  “I’m going wherever you are going.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “WHATEVER THAT IS smells delicious,” Max said as he came into the living room and turned the corner to see Nor moving around the kitchen like a woman with a purpose. Max had taken probably the longest shower of his life, but the hot water had helped to ease his muscles and kept the throbbing in his leg to a minimum. He’d pushed himself today, and he was paying the price for it, but it felt good.

  To challenge his body, to take it beyond where it could go. It’s what he’d done for months on the island trying to get himself in shape enough to get off. He couldn’t allow himself to forget the journey wasn’t done. He would probably have a limp for the rest of his life, but he wasn’t going to let his leg sideline him from doing the things he wanted to do.

  Like follow Nor on a hike around the top of a mountain.

  Even if she was being a bitch.

  She’s doing it on purpose.

  Intellectually, he knew that. But it didn’t hurt any less. The idea that she’d become this hardened shell of a woman because of what he’d done to her didn’t sit right with him. He knew who she was deep in her heart.

  “I’d forgotten how much I actually like to cook.”

  He took a seat at the island to watch her work. “I guess working every night until seven precludes cooking.”

  She muttered her consent even as she popped two potatoes wrapped in tinfoil in the oven.

  “What can I do to help?”

  She gave him a look. It was her are-you-serious face. He’d seen it a million times and in a million ways. Any time he suggested something he knew she would refuse. There had been a time, during those days spent lying on his back wondering if she’d moved on with her life, found someone else, when he used to think he was never going to see any of her expressions again.

  Here, now, it almost brought him to tears. He coughed and turned his head to avoid her gaze.

  “I know I’m not the greatest in the kitchen, but it’s because you wouldn’t let me be,” he said. “You never let me help.”

  “You’re saying that, in all the time we were together, you wanted to do the cooking?”

  “No, but I can change that. I can get better at it if I need to. I mean, there are cookbooks. Surely I can read one of those and turn the ingredients into actual edible food.”

  She cocked her head. “Why this sudden desire to learn how to cook?”

  “Because your business obviously requires long days. If I can have dinner put together and waiting for when you get home, I figure that has to be a plus.”

  She looked at him like he was crazy. “You? Are going to cook? Dinner? For me?”

  “I’m sensing a certain level of disbelief. I guess I deserve that, but I don’t think you understand how serious I am, Nor.”

  “Max, you can’t possibly think that having dinner waiting for me when I get home is going to fix us.”

  “Fine. Then what will?”

  Another sigh. “How about we put a pin in that conversation? Instead, we should talk about some of the practicalities. Like your parents’ estate.”

  “I definitely don’t want to talk about that.”

  “Max...it has to be done. Your parents didn’t have a ton of savings, but the house was worth a small fortune when it sold.”

  They had loved that house. Bought it cheap in an upcoming area just outside of Denver and had lived there all their lives, so it was completely paid off.

  “It’s all sitting out there in an account. I thought about donating it to a charity, Save the Oceans, in your name.”

  “Keep it. You said you were out on a limb financially. Use that money to help.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. It’s not right.”

  “Is something burning?”

  There wasn’t, of course. A control freak like Nor would never allow anything beyond the desired outcome when she put her mind to something. It was just an easy way to change the conversation.

  She stopped talking about money, checked that all of her dishes were at the perfect temperature, then grabbed a bottle of wine and set it in front of him.

  “Fine. You win. No more talking about money. Open, please.”

  He did as directed and poured them both a glass of some deep, rich red, which tasted better than anything he could remember.

  Except his wife’s mouth.

  The kiss had been good. He needed to find a way to get back to that. Then he remembered what he needed to tell her. The promise he’d made to himself when he thought about these few days together.

  It was a risk. He knew that. He’d wanted to get them on better terms before he brought up any of this shit, but she wasn’t giving him many opportunities to actually work on their relationship.

  After dinner, he told himself. It would be soon enough.

  * * *

  THE MEAL HAD been fabulous. He hadn’t expected anything else. Some combination of chicken and spinach and artichokes with a loaded baked potato. A hearty meal, a healthy meal. Something she knew he would love.

  Yes, she was doing everything she could to keep him at arms’ length. But when she dropped her guard, he could actually feel the caring touch that had always been part of Nor.

  They were sitting in front of the fireplace, her back in her solo chair while he felt miles away on the couch. They were already on their second bottle of wine, because there wasn’t much to do in the cabin but talk and drink and play games. Neither of them, however, were in the mood for cards.

  “I have to talk to you about something.” There, he thought. It was done. There was no going back now.

  “That sounds ominous,” she said as she sipped her wine, her eyes fixed on another fire he’d successfully built.

  “It could be. I don’t seem to be making much headway in convincing you of my intentions.”

  “Max, I don’t have any doubt of your intentions...it’s the outcome that seems crazy to me. We couldn’t make it work—”

  “Because I was selfish.”

  “So what does that mean? You’re going to spend every day for the rest of your life doing whatever I want?”

  “No. But I’m going to spend every day not taking you for granted. Not taking what we had for granted.”

  “What did you want to tell me?”

  The words clogged in his throat, but he knew it had to be done.

  “I cheated on you. When I came back and you were gone... I told you I was angry. At you, at the work, too. We were a week out to sea and one of the other scientists had smuggled a bottle of whiskey in her carry-on. We got drunk, and it happened. That’s when I knew.”

  * * *

  ELEANOR HEARD THE words and knew it was up to her to ask the next question.

  Knew what?

  Except she didn’t. Because as much as it hurt to hear it, to know he’d been with another woman most likely to spite her, she also experienced a profound sense of relief.

  “I cheated, too,” she whispered. “I wish I could say it was after...well, after you were supposed to be dead. That would have made it morally unequivocal I suppose. It was after the four months, when you didn’t come back. I had just started the business. I flew to San Francisco to meet with another woman who had opened a similar concept who was willing to mentor me. I was alone at the bar of
my hotel. He bought me a drink. I thought it would prove I was moving on with my life. It was the first time I had done anything like that. A one-night thing with a stranger.”

  She watched him swallow, saw his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “Did it? Did it prove that?”

  Eleanor shook her head. “No. It didn’t prove anything.”

  Other than it hadn’t been sex with Max. It hadn’t felt like being with him. It had been awkward and strange and eventually she faked her orgasm just to get the guy to finish it and leave.

  Then she’d sat in the shower stall for what might have been hours sobbing as water rushed over her.

  “What did you know?” she finally asked him.

  “I knew I never wanted to be with another woman again. I knew I had screwed up big-time. And I knew I would move heaven and earth if I had to, to get you back. I knew all of that before the storm hit. Before I saw death.”

  “And her?”

  “She didn’t make it off the ship. I tried...but she was scared and panicked and convinced herself that staying was better than going, even though there was no question it was going down.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too. She was a good scientist. I was sorry for them all. And at the same time there was this sense of disconnect. Like they weren’t people I knew and worked with and ate with. Like they were apart from me somehow. I’m sure some psychologist would have an easy word for it. Disassociation maybe? All I knew was that feeling was the only way I could cope with what happened. Did you ever...see him again?”

  “No. My first and last one-night stand,” she said, not trying to hide how awful she had found the whole experience.

  “And since then?”

  She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with what the revelation might say about her. “I was starting a business, Max. It’s not like there was a lot of time for casual dating. There was also the fact that you had died. I was allowed to mourn. Wasn’t I?”

  “Nor, I’m not calling you out because you didn’t sleep around. In fact, I’m pretty damn pleased you didn’t. Maybe that makes me a caveman, but I’m sorry. If that guy from the hotel walked through that door, I would punch him the face. Okay.”