Chapter 17
Forgiveness
Nadine
Sliding into an empty spot along the main street, I parked the car and got out. I hadn’t left the house for two days and I was going slightly stir crazy.
The winter sun lit up everything in sight and there wasn’t a hint of wind. It was one of those days you could almost smell on a postcard. Clean, crisp, and new.
I was ready for something new. Aaron was right. I needed a dream of my own.
I don’t want to waste time chasing after a dream that will take more of me than I’m willing to give.
What exactly was I willing to give? There were restaurants in town, I could go back if I wanted. But I didn’t. Long nights and weekends away from Aaron were the last thing I wanted. I’d raised my kids. I deserved a reward. And I’d decided that reward would be getting back to the us we used to be.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t have something sweet just for me.
I weaved in and out of the streets, stopping at The Beanery to enjoy a coffee and one of their famous chocolate croissants. They may not have been famous for all of Sage Ridge, but they were practically a staple at Max and Wren’s. She told me he picked up a box for her every Friday.
Circling back to the car, I passed Artitude, Wren’s art studio. The pretty window beckoned me inside, but she wasn’t there. Wren was almost forty years old, only five years younger than I was now, when she pursued her art. It wasn’t too late for me to begin again.
I still loved cooking, but in recent years I’d honed my skills in Artisan breads and savoury pastries, muffins and unleavened loaves, focaccia and flat bread pizza. I could almost smell the yeasty goodness. Mm. I’d have to stop at Beach Buns before heading home to pick up cheese buns.
Now Beach Buns actually was famous in Sage Ridge for their cheese buns and the chili they made in the winter months. Alone, they were delicious. Together? Spectacular.
Aaron loved that stuff. Hopefully it would lift his mood.
After only a week back at work, Aaron was back where he started before we went to Moose Lake. The change in his demeanour shocked me. I’d been so wrapped up in my own suffering, I’d failed to notice his. I’d been hesitant to embrace the changes he sought for us before, now I was full steam ahead.
I wanted my husband back.
At the sign on Beach Buns’ door, my plans came to a screeching halt.
Aaron
One day back at work felt like a week, one week felt like a year. I lost every bit of progress I’d scraped together up at Moose Lake and had already slipped back into an emotional coma.
Walking into the office without the weight of Lynda’s stare pregnant with a sick, desperate, hope loosened the knot in my stomach but did little to relieve the tightness in my chest.
Vera announcing her upcoming retirement in six months ensured, if I stayed, that I would have an entirely new staff.
The man I used to be loved meeting new people. This shadow version of myself wanted to hide.
After interviewing several candidates, Max had narrowed it down to three possibilities. Next week we planned to meet with each of them together. I had the final say seeing as I would be the one working with them.
How could I tell Max I no longer wanted to be here after everything he’d done for me?
Especially after he had confessed, multiple times, that he felt good leaving his patients in my hands.
I wrapped my hand around the back of my neck and squeezed. Hard.
That was not nearly as painful as the noose that tightened daily.
Friday, the earth suddenly remembered it was winter.
The temperature dropped dangerously, the type of cold that froze the inside of your nose withing seconds.
The view from my office window was gray and bleak.
The old furnace worked double time and still my hands were cold.
When my final appointment of the day canceled, I packed up and headed home to the warmth of our cocoon.
The short drive seemed interminably long, and when I finally rolled in the door, the cold stayed with me.
Nadine was waiting in the family room. She looked up, a hesitant smile on her face. “Hi, honey. Are you hungry?”
With a book open on her lap, she looked the very picture of what I’d always wanted for her.
I shook my head. “Not really.”
She frowned. “Did you eat today?”
I looked away almost too tired to answer. “I’ll get changed and then we’ll eat.”
Slogging my way to our bedroom was like walking through hip-deep water.
My legs ached.
My brain lagged.
My fucking hands shook.
The bed called to me. If only I could peel back the covers and slip underneath, pull my wife’s soft body into the curve of mine, and sleep with my nose buried in her hair.
But I’d worried her enough.
Shedding my clothes, I tossed them into the hamper, grabbed a pair of trackpants, and pulled on an old band T-shirt. Breathing deep, I repeated Max’s words of wisdom, ones he’d shared with me time and time again.
Sometimes the only way around is through.
And I could get through this.
I could get to the other side.
Nadine’s worried gaze found me as soon as I returned to the family room. I sent her a hopefully reassuring smile and dropped into the armchair, utterly thankful for the blinds that shut us away from the rest of the world. “Tired.”
Moving to the corner of the couch closest to me, she tucked her legs under her and leaned over the side, her hands clasped. Her serious gaze pinned me to my seat. “For two weeks you were back to your normal self. One week at work and I feel like I’m losing you all over again. What is going on?”
I met her stare.
She’d always been my anchor.
“I feel trapped.”
She leaned in closer, her eyes soft and concerned. “Trapped how?”
I rubbed a rough hand over my face.
My true north.
“In my job.”
Eyes that saw clear through to my soul flitted between mine as her brow furrowed. “Why are you trapped? If you really want to do something else, what’s stopping you?”
My purpose and direction.
Her honey-blond hair tumbled over her shoulders. I pictured her as she was when I got home, curled up on the chair with a book. I wanted her to have the freedom to do whatever she wanted.
And I would work my fingers to the bone to make it happen, but I hoped I could do it another way.
I spread my hands out to my sides then dropped them to the arms of the chair.
“This is not meant to make you feel bad in any way, okay? Without this income, we can’t afford to keep this house, help the kids, go on vacations, cover the cost of the cars…
I could get a different job, but chances are it won’t cover everything. ”
She gave her head a small shake as if confused. “Can we circle back to the house and expenses in a minute? What I don’t understand, is why it happened so suddenly. One day you were fine, then seemingly overnight, your mood plummeted, and you suddenly hate your job? There must be more to it.”
The winter wind battered the sides of the house, and I felt it inside. I leaned forward and dropped my chin to my chest.
The cold spread.
If I couldn’t tell her now, I’d never be able to tell her.
Bracing my elbows on my knees, I bounced my fingertips together in time to the ticking of the clock that got louder the longer the silence stretched between us.
Tick.
If I couldn’t tell her, she’d never understand how badly I needed this change.
Tick.
If I couldn’t tell her, I’d have nothing left of myself to offer her.
Tick.
I was so cold now I struggled to still the trembling taking over my body. “I had a patient. A young one.”
Ryan.
I couldn’t say his name out loud, but it looped on repeat for hours on end in my brain.
“Okay.” She nodded encouragement.
The soft light from the lamp on the side table turned her hair to molten gold. She was fire, and I needed her warmth to melt the ice inside me.
“Easy, baby,” she murmured, her sweet lips curled in a small smile as she nodded for me to continue.
She was here with me. For me. She always had been.
I took a deep breath and explained, “He was having difficulties at school.”
Tick. Tick. Tick.
I swallowed the bile stinging the back of my tongue and cleared my throat.
“I suggested we have a meeting with the staff at the school along with his parents to explain everything that was going on. The patient refused. I wanted to push, but I didn’t want to send him back into his shell after all the progress he had made.”
“That’s understandable.”
My inhale rattled my chest. “Two days later he tried to take his life.”
She gasped loudly. “Aaron…that’s horrible,” she whispered.
I nodded briefly but kept my eyes trained to the floor between my feet.
“Honey,” she breathed. “Is this child over sixteen?”
I nodded again, a hint of relief beginning to chip away at the walls I’d built so thickly around my heart.
“You were bound to confidentiality,” she paused. “Did they give you any indication they were considering that?”
“No,” I shook my head then admitted my greatest fear. “I must have missed it.”
My body trembled and shook.
“Aaron, you couldn’t have known…”
The sound of shuffling reached me right before she broke through my tapping fingers to pull my head to her breast.
I blinked hard and closed my throat, my hands cupping the backs of her thighs.
She tunneled her fingers through my hair and pressed her mouth to the top of my head.
I shivered at her touch.
“I’m sorry.”
But at her words, my entire body went rigid.
She lightly scratched my scalp and pressed tender kisses to my forehead. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to support you. I’m sorry your patient is struggling.”
My hands tightened on the backs of her thighs as I shut my eyes tight and gulped, my lungs working like a bellows.
Her soft touch graced the back of my neck. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered.
The sob I’d held back so valiantly came out through my nose, a harsh, violent, bark of pain.
This wasn’t who I was, who I was supposed to be. I tried to pull away from my sweet wife, but she only tightened her arms around me.
I should have pulled myself together, but I needed her so badly.
“It’s not your fault.” Tears thickened her voice.
Her tears broke me.
I latched onto her hips and yanked her close, hiding my face in her sweetness. “It is,” I barked, almost choking as I tried to hold back.
She began to gently rock me back and forth. “My beautiful man, you’re going to make yourself sick. It’s not your fault.”
It’s not your fault.
Wrapping my arms around her, I pulled her onto my lap. My fingers dug into her sides as I tucked my face into her neck and faced off against the doubt and remorse that had, left untended, festered inside me.
My tears soaked her neck.
The last time I’d cried like this was when I told my mom we I were pregnant. I’d let her down, rendered her sacrifice worthless, or so I believed at the time.
But there was no precious baby at the end of this mistake. I let my patient’s family down on a far greater scale. They almost lost their child because I failed to do my job.
I clenched my jaw, despair physically rocking me.
I gasped as agony reverberated through my chest. No matter how many times Max assured me I’d done the best I could, I wasn’t good enough.
Her body soft and warm and pliant in my lap, hands stroking my hair, she calmly whispered, “I love you.”
Her profession picked at the edges of the wound.
“I have always love you,” she murmured against my temple, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.
Her reminder of the years between us ripped it off.
“I will always love you.”
But her promise lanced it.
“Nadine,” I rasped.
“It’s not your fault, baby. It’s not your fault.”
I breathed her in. My safe place. My love. My life. My reason for everything.
Her sweet scent that spelled home and family and safety filled the space in my lungs and reset the rhythm of my heart.
My breathing became deep and even, lulling me into a sleepy trance.
“You should have told me,” she murmured against my temple.
My voice rasped in my throat. “I didn’t deserve your forgiveness.”
“Baby,” she whispered. “It’s not mine you need.”