Authors: Lisa Heaton
From their very first night together until that day, he felt loved by her; truly he did. He never questioned it. In every interaction between them, she was loving and giving of herself, so he never felt that sense of her holding back. Even though he knew it in his head, he never actually felt it. When they made love - Tuck sighed at the thought of their passionate and breathtaking nights together - she never, ever held back. She was so fully his in those moments that his mind would often dare to believe she was over John. Without hesitation, she loved him desperately and completely in those quiet moments alone. That wasn’t a lie, and no matter what it seemed at the moment, he refused to let go of that. At least then she was fully his.
Chelsea was wide awake, crying softly into her pillow. When Tuck had stepped into the room, she lay there quietly, thinking he was coming to bed. She planned to move in close to him and somehow force him to believe she loved him and that what he had heard was out of context of their time together overall. Her words that day to John weren’t her conscious, everyday feelings. Instead, it was a momentary lapse in – was judgment the right word? No. Maybe it was a lapse in memory. For just that moment, she was living in the
used to be
. It wasn’t intentional, and it certainly didn’t diminish the love she felt for Tuck. What they had was real and significant. Their marriage and family was everything to her. She never, ever longed to go back. That one day, though, it was as if she were falling backwards with no way to catch herself, and sadly, Tuck had been there to witness her land.
When he showered but then left again, she sensed it would be a mistake to follow him. He needed some time, and she would give him that.
Chelsea met with Irene the following morning, and as soon as she arrived, Chelsea asked her to follow her up to the bedroom. Once there, she pointed to John’s closet.
“I need you to handle it. I can’t open that door again, and the rest of the room, will you finish it?”
There was nothing more in their bedroom that she would be taking with her to her new life. All of it was painful reminders of John and would only upset her, which would upset Tuck.
When Chelsea began to cry, Irene reached for her hand. “I’ll take care of everything.”
Since John’s death, Irene had managed things from L.A. Even more than Chelsea knew, Irene made decisions that John would expect of her. She watched over Chelsea’s interests and micro-managed every aspect of her finances and investments. It was what John had wanted, her as trustee. She took her position with Chelsea, and now with Tuck, so seriously that she was considering moving to be closer to them. When Tuck was ready to have her help him more, she would. Mark had the KI aspect of things under control. If anyone could be trusted with John’s family, it was Mark. There was never any doubt about that.
While Irene presumed she was crying over John, the truth was, Chelsea was hurting desperately because Tuck was hurting desperately. A million miles apart, they were both grieving together. As much as she wanted to tell Irene what had happened, she didn’t dare. She was ashamed and filled with such regret over how she had hurt Tuck. Not only was it not intentional, what he overheard was not an accurate representation of her heart. Deeply and completely, she loved her husband, but she had a feeling he would never believe that now. That day, Chelsea truly feared she had damaged their marriage irreparably. What Tuck overheard could possibly cause him to pull away from her for good. How could she possibly go on if she lost him? This wasn’t at all how an epic tale was supposed to go.
The following day after dropping Lucy at school, Chelsea stopped by the house to see Irene. Since her mom was off that morning, Sara Beth stayed with her so that she and Irene could accomplish more than playing in the back yard. Surprisingly, Irene turned out to be quite grandmotherly, not a trait Chelsea would have expected of her. Sara Beth could talk her into most anything. This day, she needed Irene’s attention, so playtime would have to wait.
Besides what she had asked Irene to take care of, they had some other Keller Foundation issues to discuss. Irene had proven invaluable. Early on, Chelsea was concerned over Irene’s abrupt manner when dealing with the moms, but she had come to learn that when dealing with people, especially people who tugged on her heartstrings the way they did, often it took someone willing to make the tough decisions. At times, a no to a request was what was required. Neither Chelsea nor Karen, the full-time administrator of the program, could easily say no. Irene certainly could, so when Chelsea or Karen was in a bind, they would call Irene, and she could work through most of the tough issues.
“Hello,” Chelsea called out when she didn’t find Irene anywhere downstairs.
“I’m coming down.”
Irene had spent the afternoon before packing John’s things away. She had cried late into the night. It wasn’t the first time either. Having worked together for so long, John and Irene long since passed a usual business relationship. For all the years she worked with him, she was tremendously loyal, and rightfully so. He was loyal in return and the best boss and friend she could have hoped for. Early on after his death, she felt lost. There wasn’t so much to handling Chelsea’s finances since she bought almost nothing, there was no travel to arrange, and the trust required little of her. She missed John. She missed his high energy and even higher expectations.
Chelsea could read the sadness on Irene’s face even before she reached the last step. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard, but I can’t imagine anyone else doing it.”
“It was very hard.” Uncharacteristic of her, she leaned in and hugged Chelsea, and even more unlike her, she admitted, “I cried most of the night.”
“I fell apart yesterday.”
“Then I’m glad you called. It’s my job to fall apart for you.”
Chelsea smiled. “It helps to have someone who understands, someone who knew him and misses him.”
“That’s me.”
Irene read more on Chelsea’s face than missing John. Her expression was strained. “You know you can talk to me. Nothing you say will ever, ever be repeated.”
Chelsea turned away as tears began to sting her eyes. “Yesterday, Tuck came in while I was so broken up. Now he doubts me.” Shaking her head, she admitted, “I can hardly blame him. He heard me saying how much I love John still.”
“Oh,” Irene sighed. “Well, he had to have known going in that there would always be feelings to remain. John is Sara Beth’s father. You’ll always love him, if for nothing else, then for that.”
“It was a tough night. I’m kind of lost this morning.”
“I’ll keep track of you.”
Irene had come to care so deeply for Chelsea that seeing her hurt in the aftermath of John’s death and her attempt to live again was just as painful as if it were one of her own children.
Glancing over at the journal on the entry table, Irene hesitated for a moment. She had to give it to her, but in Chelsea’s current state, it hardly seemed timely. “I have something for you.”
“What is it?”
Chelsea figured it was something of a business nature and never suspected to see John’s handwriting on the front cover of one of his journals. He had written,
For Chelsea.
“I found this in the drawer of the nightstand, beneath some other papers.”
Without actually taking the journal, Chelsea reached out to touch her name. His writing was so distinct, and the sight of it made her smile. Finally, she grasped it and looked back at Irene.
“You can wait. You don’t have to read it today. Your emotions are charged enough as it is.”
Thankful for such permission, Chelsea said, “Maybe I should wait.”
After the day before, the last thing she wanted was for Tuck to show up and find her crying over her other love. Chelsea regretted even thinking that term,
other love
. Tuck should be her only love.
Settling in at the breakfast table, Chelsea and Irene discussed pressing matters, but all the while, Chelsea could think of little but the journal. Because she had read the others, she knew it was his final one, the one he was working on when he died. When she had come to the last journal in the box, she had assumed he had stopped journaling. Just like she saved the graduation box, though, she decided she would wait to read it. At the moment, she was hardly strong enough to read his final prayers and keep herself from falling apart. If Tuck were to see or even suspect that, things would only get worse. No matter what, she wanted to protect him.
Time hardly lessened the severity of damage to their marriage. Weeks went by and Tuck remained distant from her. He was always kind and caring toward her, much more so than that first night, but there was a crack in their foundation. Chelsea was miserable. No longer were her thoughts ever focused on run-down farmhouse issues or packing the old place; instead, she thought about and prayed constantly for Tuck and for their marriage. They were in real trouble.
As many times as she had asked him to talk to her, just as many times he refused. Each time he said there was nothing to talk about. His words were, “We are where we are.”
She knew what he meant by those words, that there was no going back, which she knew to be true, but what did they mean for their future? The more time that passed, the more she wondered if he wanted a future at all. With the girls he was just as he always was, but with her, he was disengaged. Upon arriving home from the barn, if she tried to greet him with a hug, he would hold his hands up, warning her he needed a shower. Off he would go to take one, but rarely would he come and hug her or kiss her hello. Instead, he would go sit with the girls while she cooked dinner. That was assuming he even came in before dinner. Many nights he was so late that she had to hold him a plate. In his absence, she missed him so much that she cried way too often. The girls had caught her crying more than once, but she was never able to explain to them what was troubling her.
In the weeks since it began, the gulf between them was widening rather than closing. She was becoming certain she was going to lose him. He rarely reached for her anymore. It was she who initiated it most any time they made love. She missed him so much she ached inside, as if she had an open wound that never healed. From the very first moment they made love on their wedding night, she felt this deep and abiding connectedness between them, but that feeling was slowing fading, only adding to that sense of fear that he might eventually walk away. Some days, she feared there was nothing left. Never again, not once since he heard her say those words, had Tuck whispered
I am so in love with you.
Not while making love to her, not anytime. If she told him she loved him, he would smile and simply say he loved her too, but it never seemed as heartfelt as before. There was no desperation in his love for her, not like it used to be.
Often he slipped out of bed and left the house. She was pretty sure he was at the new house site. He would stay gone for hours, and when he finally did come back, he would shower and quietly crawl into bed with her. On more than one occasion it crossed her mind that maybe he was meeting someone else, another woman. As ridiculous as that seemed, she still wondered, especially as he took his second shower of the night. The few times she was tempted to ask him, she quickly chickened out, fearing he might confirm her suspicions.
This night, after about half an hour of lying in their bed all alone, missing him and regretting what he had overheard, she flung the covers back and turned on the light. She was determined to track him down and somehow try to sort things out. If they never discussed it, how could they ever move forward? No matter how he felt about a future with her, she wasn’t going to sit back and lose him. He was her future. They were a family. She wouldn’t have it any other way and was prepared to fight for him.
On her way downstairs, she left a note on Lucy’s door just in case one of the girls woke to find them gone. Then she raced down the stairs and to her car. Before long, she was bouncing up the gravel drive leading to her future home, their future home. As she crested the top of the hill and her headlights shone on the front of the shell of the house, Tuck appeared at what was supposed to be the front door. He was simply standing there, watching her as she came to a stop.
When she climbed out of the car, she stormed over to him, demanding, “Come home. Nothing will ever be the same if we don’t work this out.”
He didn’t know what to say to her. He rarely did anymore. She was in her pajamas and looked as beautiful as he had ever seen her, there standing in the stream of headlights.
He smiled a little. “I am home.”
Her tone softened. “You know what I mean. Come home with me. I need you.”
The look on her face was sad, which made him sadder than usual.
Not at all an excuse for avoiding her, he said, “There are things here that need to be done.”
“We have crews for that.”
Moving slowly down the front stairs, he reminded her, “Yeah, but the more I do the more I don’t have to pay for.”
She wouldn’t dare bring up money. As delicate as things were between them already, she would never open that can of worms, or at least not anytime soon. He absolutely refused to use any of her money to build the house. Maybe that was what had so frustrated her about the condition of the farmhouse early on. They lived as if they had nothing, all to save his ego. Even minor things she suggested they do to the farmhouse to make it more comfortable while they waited for the new house, he refused to allow her to do.
When setting out to find him, she had every intention of confronting him, of forcing him to talk, but seeing him standing there in a sweat soaked t-shirt, she hesitated. He was working himself to death, all for their family. How could she ever wonder what he wanted for the future? Certainly, in part, he left in the night to get away from her, but ultimately, he was working for them, but would there be a
them
if they didn’t somehow cross this great divide between them?
“Tuck.”