Authors: Lisa Heaton
Over and over he whispered, “I am so in love with you.” Those were the only words that seemed to do his heart justice.
To which she would reply, “And I love you.”
It hardly felt real to love her and touch her and hear her whisper his name in pleasure. This was what he was always meant for, loving her. He was finally living out his supposed to be, the life he knew was the only one that could cause him to feel such a deep and penetrating sense of wholeness.
Chelsea was overcome by such joy at the feeling of being in Tuck’s arms, of him loving her so tenderly and patiently, that on more than one occasion she cried softly. Doing so discreetly, fearing he may assume she was thinking of John, she hurriedly wiped stray tears away before he could see them. Most often, it was the tender expression on his face that brought her to tears, but once, it was something inexpressible, something about the connectedness she felt with Tuck that she never anticipated.
Just as Tuck feared, she too was afraid that she would think of John as they made love, and to some extent, she did. In the deepest recesses of her mind, she could hear John’s whispers from their wedding night, how she was his only one and how she echoed his words. Because of it, she continually spoke Tuck’s name aloud, trying to drown out the distant voices, unwilling to allow what used to be to taint what was new. Somewhere between the whispers and Tuck’s sweet expressions, something beautiful happened. There came this sense of being his and him being hers and something about their physical connection that seemed to break new ground on a deeper place of love for him. It was exactly what she had prayed for.
Once or twice, she thought maybe Tuck was crying too, not audibly, but a few times he buried his face in the curve of her neck and she could feel his shoulders shaking, as if maybe he were. It wouldn’t surprise her if he was. She was quite certain no man had ever loved a woman as much as Tuck loved her. It was the most patient and enduring love she had ever witnessed. John loved her without question, but Tuck lived for her in his love. Their first night together could have been no more beautiful or meaningful. How could they both not cry at the completion of what he so rightly called their epic love story?
Finally, after he fell asleep she just lay there and watched him. He had been up since early working the farm, then obviously pulling off such a spectacular surprise honeymoon at their “new house.” Spread out there on the bed next to her, broad and tan and muscular, he was so incredibly handsome that it caused that little flicker in her stomach to ignite again. If she were truly compassionate, she would let the exhausted man sleep, but she wasn’t, not at all. Poking him in the ribs, she hovered over him and whispered, “What are you, a sissy?”
“Maybe a little.”
Peeking an eye open, he pulled her closer. “I was just resting my eyes for a minute.” Tuck sighed and added, “Let’s stay up all night. I don’t want this first night to ever end.”
Chapter 18
L
ife in the farmhouse was odd. For Chelsea, it was like a vacation. It wasn’t hers to settle into exactly, yet she felt the need to make it feel as much like home for Sara Beth as possible. They had painted her new room the same color as her old room, a soft green. So far, she was adjusting surprisingly well. All that seemed to matter to her was that her daddy was there sleeping at night. Some nights, she came in to check on him, to tell him she loved him. The precious daddy and daughter relationship that Tuck had always shared with Lucy was just as much so with Sara Beth. Even though Tuck had been there before the girls woke and stayed until after they went to bed, somehow, knowing he went to his own house had disturbed Sara Beth more than Chelsea ever realized.
Living in transit without her things still felt peculiar. As she used to feel in dorm life or roommate life, she felt never-settled, as if she were never home. Most days since they had married, once Tuck went down to the barn, Chelsea would drive over to her house to make a slow go of packing. It wasn’t easy, knowing what to bring into her new life with Tuck. So many things were reminiscent of John that she had to take care in what to pack and what to give away. First thing, she packed up all of their photos together and the ones of him alone. They were in her mother’s attic for safekeeping. Someday, Sara Beth would want to know more about her father, and Chelsea was careful to be mindful of that.
On several occasions, she had tried to show a photo of John to Sara B., but she was anything but interested. There was a stubborn refusal to acknowledge anyone but Tuck as her daddy, as if it might somehow diminish her relationship with him if she accepted the fact that John was her biological father. With each rejection of John, Chelsea’s heart shattered a thousand times over. John had desperately wanted Sara Beth. From the moment he knew of Chelsea’s pregnancy, he was so completely in love with the babe inside of her, girl or boy. The day of her sonogram, he wept at the words,
it’s a girl
. Now, gone for only two years, he had already lost her. Sara Beth had no way of knowing how much he longed for her and the great extent of his love. She never would. Even the photos of Sara Beth’s early life with her dad could never paint an accurate portrait. Many times, Chelsea would find John alone, rocking his little girl, and oftentimes, he would be crying silently as he watched her sleep. Those images of John and Sara Beth were trapped in Chelsea’s mind and many captured in photograph, but the sentiment of the moment was lost. Maybe someday, when she was older, Sara Beth would allow Chelsea to tell her of his deep and devoted love for her.
Sara Beth was at Caitlin’s for the day and Lucy was back at the farmhouse, leaving Chelsea time alone to sort and pack. Dividing her life from old to new was especially painful this day. The new house was still months out from being complete, but more than anything, Chelsea hated the uneasy feeling she experienced while at the farmhouse. It wasn’t hers and she could hardly feel anything but ready to be back in her own home. While the farmhouse was a great transition place for them, it needed so much work that they often spent time and money repairing something urgent there rather than on the new house. There were ever leaky pipes and broken something or others. So they put up with the day-to-day mishaps and maintenance issues associated with living in a hundred and fifty year old home, one which had received little care or updating in the past twenty years. It was tiresome.
Though it wasn’t something she dwelt on often, when Chelsea was at her most frustrated by her surroundings, she thought of Tuck there with Lindsey. No one occupied the room they had shared there together. Before she arrived, Tuck had dismantled his old room entirely and either thrown or packed things away. All that remained was the bed he had grown up using, the same one he shared with Lindsey. Chelsea had peeked in on one occasion but never again. The feeling she experienced when she did look in was enough to convince her that there truly was no way Tuck could have ever lived in her home. It was painful to be in a home where the one you loved had once shared life with another.
Chelsea sat on her bed and sighed. Directly across from her was John’s closet. She had not been inside in a very long time, so long in fact, she had no way of knowing if it still smelled like him. It used to. This day, she was a bit afraid to go in, fearing it would, but fearing even more that it wouldn’t. Finally, lunging from the bed, she walked quickly toward the door and turned the knob. Without further hesitation, she swung the door open and allowed the scent of him to wash over her. Besides filling her nose with the familiar and comforting aroma of John’s aftershave, the space itself drew her in, causing her to trip and tumble headlong back into the past. Excruciatingly painful yet beckoning at the same time, the sight of his clothes lined there neatly in row after row of memories of him was all it took to cause her to momentarily forget her heart was newly given to another. Chelsea walked to his wool coat, the one he had worn the night he came for her, and took hold of the lapels. She leaned her head against the scratchy fabric. With eyes closed and as if he were standing there with her then, she cried, “I am so in love with you. I am so in love with you.”
Tuck stood in the doorway watching her. She was weeping, and his heart broke for her. He had come to town planning to take her to lunch, hoping they might find a rare moment alone. Instead, what he found was his wife weeping in the imaginary arms of her true love, so he stepped in and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. Pulling her back to him, he whispered, “I’m sorry you’re hurting.”
Chelsea turned to face Tuck and fell into his waiting arms. Sobbing aloud as he rocked her back and forth, she said, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He had to wonder if she was sorry that she loved John still or if she was sorry that he had overheard. After another moment of thought, he felt certain she wasn’t sorry for loving John.
Finally, when she calmed a bit, he took a step back from her, saying, “I better get back to work. I came for lunch, but I’m not so hungry now.”
Reaching for him, trying to grab hold of his arm before he could walk away, Chelsea said, “Please don’t go.”
Quickly, Tuck drew his arm away from her. “I should go, Chelsea. I’ll leave you here with him.”
Tuck drove slowly, intentionally trying to keep his mind focused on the road ahead of him. Everything was foggy; he could hardly think clearly. Part of him hoped that he would wake up, but his mind continually taunted, “Are you really so surprised?” Many times he whispered aloud, “Not really.” It was a long drive back to the farm they now shared.
Chelsea sat on the side of the bed looking at the closed door. Less overtaken by the past, she was instead grieving over the devastated look in Tuck’s eyes. Of all moments, why did he happen in when he did? He almost never came into town in the middle of the day, and if he did, he would call her first. She kept recalling the words she was certain he had overheard. It was the words Tuck whispered to her as he made love to her. From the night they married and each and every time since, he had told her he was so in love with her. Those were the words she intentionally never spoke to him in return. Instead, she had always simply said she loved him.
Until this day, it wasn’t all that common that she allowed her mind to travel backwards, away from the man she loved and toward the one with whom she was in love. In the weeks since they had been married, and even in the week prior to their marriage, she had packed most of John’s things away without breaking down the way she did this day. It was something about seeing his clothes, ones still filled with the scent of his cologne, that sent her spiraling back in time. His suits brought with them flashes of memory that grabbed hold of her heart and twisted and turned it until she feared it would come right through her skin.
Why in that moment had Tuck come?
Chelsea dug her phone out of her back pocket. Three missed calls from Tuck appeared on her screen. She sighed heavily. How could what he overheard ever be forgotten? He must be hurting desperately, which hurt her just as much.
She dialed his number, hoping he would answer. He didn’t. She tried again. Again, no answer. Next, she dialed Irene. Crying into the phone when her friend answered, she choked out, “I need you.”
“I’m on my way.”
Irene rarely heard Chelsea upset, so the sound of her tears created a bit of a stir in her heart. Over the years she had come to love Chelsea and admire her and know exactly why John loved her as he did. She was kind and sweet, yet strong and solid. Since John’s death, Irene had come to feel for Chelsea as the daughter she had never had. Having raised two boys, boys older than Chelsea, Irene had never known what she was missing by not having a girl. Theirs was a unique relationship, a blend of necessary business, deepening friendship, and the day-to-day operations of Chelsea’s single mom ministry. Irene had become much more involved than she ever intended. Since she had raised her sons alone after their father left, Irene underestimated the impact on her that helping single moms would have, and she loved every aspect of those things in which she was involved.
Most months, she traveled to Oklahoma at least twice a month on a business or ministry matter. She didn’t mind it at all. As a matter of fact, her time there had opened the cover on what Irene supposed was a closed book in her life. There was a man, Dale, and he owned the dry cleaner just down from the B&B where she stayed while in town. They had dinner twice and had begun to talk most days. Each conversation included him asking when she would be back around. With a smile on her face yet concern for Chelsea in her heart, she ordered the plane to be made ready for instant access.
Tuck stayed in the barn as long as he could. It was well past dinnertime, but he was far from hungry still. At first, he ignored Chelsea’s calls, but eventually he answered, knowing how badly he would feel if some emergency had arisen and he had ignored her. She apologized. He said she had nothing to be sorry for. She didn’t. Hadn’t he always known what he was getting himself into? The call lasted under a minute and ended with him assuring her he would be up soon. Soon was already passed, and he knew he had to go up and face her.
When he walked in the door, the smell of pot roast reminded him of just how long it had been since he had eaten. Sara Beth ran to him, babbling about something he could hardly focus on. It was about a coloring page. “That’s beautiful, sugar.”
Sara Beth went back to her colors and paper, and Tuck made his way into the kitchen. He had already seen Chelsea in the doorway waiting for him. The soft expression on her face caused a stirring deep within him. She knew he was hurting, and he could see how much she regretted that he found her the way he had. All afternoon, he wondered many things, but especially if she had been going to that closet and crying like that every day since they married. It explained why she insisted on going there while he worked. He had assured her they could pack together on the weekends, but she wouldn’t hear of it, saying he worked too hard during the week to spend his weekends loading boxes. Finally, he understood.
“Hi,” she said.
Chelsea wasn’t sure what to do. As much as she wanted to go and hug him, the look on his face seemed to welcome most anything but that.
“Hi.”
Cracking open the oven door, he wondered aloud, “Save me anything for dinner?” His question was answered when he found a heaping plate of roast and veggies in there. There was a half-full skillet of cornbread warming in there as well.
As he walked to the table with his plate, Chelsea followed along. “Mind if I sit with you?”
He shook his head and then bowed.
She waited as he prayed. When he lifted his head again, he intentionally didn’t look at her. It was obvious he was avoiding eye contact.
Tuck took a small bite and forced it down, but no matter how his stomach grumbled, he was unable to shovel in another bite. With her watching him, clearly hoping to discuss what happened, he eventually said, “I think maybe I’ll take my plate out onto the porch.”
Chelsea only nodded and watched him leave.
The night wore on painfully slowly. The girls both sensed something wasn’t right but neither asked. Eventually, they went to bed. Chelsea sat and watched the program Tuck was watching. Neither spoke much, and he intentionally set apart from her, something he had not done since they married. His rule had been, no one between him and mama, which was a source of great agony for Sara Beth. Still, he wouldn’t budge on the matter, and no matter how often she tried to wedge herself in between them, he would tickle her until she stopped. She was allowed to sit on either of their laps while they sat together, but never in between. This night, Chelsea wanted nothing more than to go back and undo the damage she had done, damage so severe that her husband couldn’t even stand the thought of sitting next to her.
Occasionally, trying to end the agonizing silence, Chelsea would comment about something on TV. Tuck would acknowledge what she said with as few words as possible. Once, she asked if they could talk. He said no, not yet. She respected his wishes. When she finally went to bed, he said he would be along later. She left him alone, fearing things might never be the same. How could they be?
When he was sure Chelsea was in bed for the night, Tuck drove out to the house site. It was dark out with no stars visible, a gloomy night and rightly so. He walked along broken ground that was to be their home. Not soon enough for either of them, they would have their own place, what he thought was to be their new and old beginning. Viewing it tonight, though, it didn’t exactly bring with it the anticipation of a fresh start as it usually did. Instead, all he could wonder was how he might possibly recover from the blow she dealt him. It wasn’t even a sucker-punch; he had always known the truth would come out eventually. He just didn’t expect it to arrive as it did, not in an outright expression of her love for John. Leading up to that day, he half expected she would call him John’s name mistakenly or that she would say his name in a dream. Never, not once had he prepared himself for her
to
whisper how in love she was with John, the very words she had withheld from him. At least she wasn’t a liar. He would give her that. Since their wedding day, no matter how many times he had told her he was so in love with her, not once had she said the same. It was intentional. There was always this lesser degree of love she expressed and that day, for the first time, he felt it.