what I intended to say next. I took her hand in my own and rested my other hand on top of it. “No,” I said, looking directly at her. “I’m not having an affair. I’ve never had an affair, and I never will. Nor have I ever wanted to.”
After a few moments of careful scrutiny, she nodded. “Okay,” she said.
“I’m serious,” I emphasized.
She smiled and gave my hand a squeeze. “I believe you. I didn’t think you were, but I had to ask.”
I stared at her in bewilderment. “Why would the thought have even crossed your mind?”
“You,” she said. “The way you’ve been acting.”
“I don’t understand.”
She gave me a frankly assessing look. “Okay, look at it from my perspective. First, you start exercising and losing weight. Then, you start cooking and asking me about my days. If that weren’t enough, you’ve been unbelievably helpful this whole week . . . with everything, lately. And now, you’ve started saying these uncharacteristically sweet things. First, I thought it was a phase, then I thought it was because of the wedding. But now . . . well, it’s like you’re someone else all of a sudden. I mean . . . apologizing for not being around enough? Telling me you love me out of the blue? Listening to me talk for hours about shopping? Let’s order pizza and have fun? I mean, it’s great, but I just wanted to make sure you weren’t doing it because you felt guilty about something. I still don’t understand what’s happened to you.”
I shook my head. “It’s not that I feel guilty. Well, except about working too much, I mean. I do feel bad about that. But the way I’ve been acting . . . it’s just . . .”
When I trailed off, Jane leaned toward me.
“Just what?” she pressed.
“Like I said the other night, I haven’t been the best husband, and I don’t know . . . I guess I’m trying to change.”
“Why?”
Because I want you to love me again, I thought, but I kept those words to myself.
“Because,” I said after a moment, “you and the kids are the most important people in the world to me—you always have been—and I’ve wasted too many years acting as if you weren’t. I know I can’t change the past, but I can change the future. I can change, too. And I will.”
She squinted at me. “You mean you’ll quit working so hard?”
Her tone was sweet but skeptical, and it made me ache to think of what I’d become.
“If you asked me to retire right now, I would,” I said.
Her eyes took on their seductive gleam again.
“See what I mean? You’re not yourself these days.”
Though she was teasing—and wasn’t quite sure whether she believed me—I knew she’d liked what I said.
“Now can I ask you something?” I went on.
“Why not?” she said.
“Since Anna will be over at Keith’s parents’ house tomorrow night, and with Leslie and Joseph coming in on Friday, I was thinking that we might do something special tomorrow evening.”
“Like what?”
“How about . . . you let me come up with something and surprise you.”
She rewarded me with a coy smile. “You know I like surprises.”
“Yes,” I said, “I do.”
“I’d love that,” she said with undisguised pleasure.
Chapter Fourteen
On Thursday morning, I arrived at Noah’s house early with my trunk packed. As it had been the day before, the property was already crowded with vehicles, and my friend Nathan Little waved to me from across the yard, pantomiming that he’d join me in a few minutes.
I parked in the shade and got to work right away. Using the ladder, I finished removing the boards from the windows, so that the pressure washers could have complete access.
Again, I stored the boards under the house. I was closing the cellar door when a cleaning crew of five arrived and began to lay siege to the house. Since the painters were already working downstairs, they hauled in buckets, mops, cloths, and detergents and scoured the kitchen, the staircase, the bathrooms, the windows, and the rooms upstairs, moving quickly and efficiently. New sheets and blankets that I’d brought from home were placed on the beds; meanwhile Nathan brought in fresh flowers for every room in the house.
Within the hour, the rental truck arrived and workers began unloading white foldout chairs, setting them in rows. Holes were dug near the trellis, and pots with preplanted wisteria were sunk; the purple blooms were wound through the trellis and tied in place. Beyond the