The Wedding - By Nicholas Sparks Page 0,55
we took all the kids to Florida? It was right after Joseph graduated from high school.”
She was right, I realized, but what I once regarded as a virtue, I now considered a fault.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“For what?”
“For not taking more vacations. That wasn’t fair to you or the family. I should have tried to do more with you and the kids than I did.”
“It’s fine,” she said with a wave of her fork, “no big deal.”
“Yes, it is,” I said. Though she had long since grown used to my dedication at the office and now accepted it as part of my character, I knew it had always been a sore spot with her. Knowing that I had her attention, I went on.
“It’s always been a big deal,” I continued. “But I’m not sorry only about that. I’m sorry about all of it. I’m sorry for letting work interfere with all the other events I missed when the kids were growing up. Like some of their birthday parties. I can’t even remember how many I missed because I had late meetings that I refused to reschedule. And everything else I missed—the volleyball games and track meets, piano concerts, school plays . . . It’s a wonder that the kids have forgiven me, let alone seem to like me.”
She nodded in acknowledgment but said nothing. Then again, there was nothing she could say. I took a deep breath and plunged on.
“I know I haven’t always been the best husband, either,” I said quietly. “Sometimes I wonder why you’ve put up with me for as long as you have.”
At that, her eyebrows rose.
“I know you spent too many evenings and weekends alone, and I put all the responsibility for child rearing on you. That wasn’t fair to you. And even when you told me that what you wanted more than anything was to spend time with me, I didn’t listen. Like for your thirtieth birthday.” I paused, letting my words sink in. Across the table, I watched Jane’s eyes flash with the memory. It was one of the many mistakes I’d made in the past that I’d tried to forget.
What she’d asked for back then had been quite simple: Overwhelmed with the new burdens of motherhood, she’d wanted to feel like a woman again, at least for an evening, and had dropped various hints in advance about what such a romantic evening might entail—clothes laid out on the bed for her, flowers, a limousine to whisk us to a quiet restaurant, a table with a lovely view, quiet conversation without worrying that she had to rush home. Even back then, I knew it was important to her, and I remember making a note to do everything she wanted. However, I got so embroiled in some messy proceedings relating to a large estate that her birthday arrived before I could make the arrangements. Instead, at the last minute I had my secretary pick out a stylish tennis bracelet, and on the way home, I convinced myself that because it had been expensive, she would regard it as equally special. When she unwrapped it, I promised that I’d make the necessary plans for a wonderful evening together, an evening even better than the one she’d described. In the end, it was another in a long line of promises that I ended up breaking, and in hindsight, I think Jane realized it as soon as I said it.
Feeling the weight of lost opportunity, I didn’t continue. I rubbed my forehead in the silence. I pushed my plate aside, and as the past sped by in a series of disheartening memories, I felt Jane’s eyes on me. Surprising me, however, she reached across the table and touched my hand.
“Wilson? Are you okay?” There was a note of tender concern in her voice that I didn’t quite recognize.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Why all the regrets tonight? Was it something that Daddy said?”
“No.”
“Then what made you bring it up?”
“I don’t know . . . maybe it’s the wedding.” I gave a halfhearted smile. “But I’ve been thinking about those things a lot these days.”
“It doesn’t sound like something you’d do.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I admitted. “But it’s still true.”
Jane cocked her head. “I haven’t been perfect, either, you know.”
“You’ve been a lot closer than I’ve been.”
“That’s true,” she said with a shrug.
I laughed despite myself, feeling the tension ease a little.
“And yes, you have worked a lot,” she went on. “Probably too much. But I always