The Wedding - By Nicholas Sparks Page 0,47
before at Noah’s house, and she smiled up at me almost coyly. I expected the moment to pass quickly, but it didn’t. Instead, we gazed at each other until—almost hesitantly—she leaned toward me and kissed me on the cheek.
“Thank you for finding the caterer,” she said.
I swallowed with difficulty.
“You’re welcome.”
Four weeks after my proposal to Jane, we were married; five days after we were married, when I came in from work, Jane was waiting for me in the living room of the small apartment we’d rented.
“We have to talk,” she said, patting the couch.
I set my briefcase aside and sat beside her. She reached for my hand.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Everything’s fine.”
“Then what is it?”
“Do you love me?”
“Yes,” I said. “Of course I love you.”
“Then will you do something for me?”
“If I can. You know I’d do anything for you.”
“Even if it’s hard? Even if you don’t want to?”
“Of course,” I repeated. I paused. “Jane—what’s going on?”
She took a long breath before answering. “I want you to come to church with me this Sunday.”
Her words caught me off guard, and before I could speak, she went on. “I know you’ve told me that you have no desire to go and that you were raised an atheist, but I want you to do this for me. It’s very important to me, even if you feel like you don’t belong there.”
“Jane . . . I—” I started.
“I need you there,” she said.
“We’ve talked about this,” I protested, but again Jane cut me off, this time with a shake of her head.
“I know we have. And I understand that you weren’t brought up the way I was. But there’s nothing you could ever do that would mean more to me than this simple thing.”
“Even if I don’t believe?”
“Even if you don’t believe,” she said.
“But—”
“There are no buts,” she said. “Not about this. Not with me. I love you, Wilson, and I know that you love me. And if we’re going to make it work between us, we’re both going to have to give a little. I’m not asking you to believe. I’m asking you to come with me to church. Marriage is about compromise; it’s about doing something for the other person, even when you don’t want to. Like I did with the wedding.”
I brought my lips together, knowing already how she’d felt about our wedding at the courthouse.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll go.” And at my words, Jane kissed me, a kiss as ethereal as heaven itself.
When Jane kissed me in the kitchen, the memories of that early kiss came flooding back. I suppose it was because it reminded me of the tender rapprochements that had worked so well to heal our differences in the past: if not burning passion, then at least a truce with a commitment to working things out.
In my mind, this commitment to each other is the reason we’ve been married as long as we have. It was this element of our marriage, I suddenly realized, that had worried me so during the past year. Not only had I begun to wonder whether Jane still loved me, I wondered whether she wanted to love me.
There must have been so many disappointments, after all—the years when I returned home long after the kids were in bed; the evenings in which I could speak of nothing but work; the missed games, parties, family vacations; the weekends spent with partners and clients on the golf course. Upon reflection, I think I must have been something of an absent spouse, a shadow of the eager young man she had married. Yet she seemed to be saying with her kiss, I’m still willing to try if you are.
“Wilson? Are you okay?”
I forced a smile. “I’m fine.” I took a deep breath, anxious to change the subject. “So how did your day go? Did you and Anna find a dress?”
“No. We went to a couple of stores, but Anna didn’t see anything in her size that she liked. I didn’t realize how long it takes—I mean, Anna’s so thin they have to pin everything just so we can get an idea of what she’ll look like. But we’re going to try a few different places tomorrow and we’ll see how it goes. On the plus side, she said that Keith would handle everything with his side of the family, so that we don’t have to. Which reminds me—did you remember to book Joseph’s flight?”
“Yes,” I said. “He’ll be in Friday evening.”
“New Bern or Raleigh?”
“New Bern.