Chapter 18 #2
“I needed to understand the physical realities of a covered wagon — what it looked like, what was in it, what it felt like, what it smelled like. But more than that, I needed to get into my characters’ heads and understand how they viewed their world.
For them, making that journey was momentous.
Nearly everything they experienced was new and different.
The people they met, the terrain they crossed, the wildlife they encountered, the weather and altitudes they endured — all of that was exotic and unfamiliar.
Every day brought something strange, exhilarating, frightening, life-changing. ”
“New challenges every day,” Penny said.
“The difficulties were relentless. Plus, they were on their own. If something went wrong, no one was coming to the rescue.”
“Meanwhile, compared to today….”
“The world we live in is profoundly different. Travel for most of us is easier, safer, more available, more affordable, more predictable….”
“I’m glad I live now versus back then.”
“Same. If you want more examples of how hard life was in the 1870s, we could discuss food — what folks ate back then was basic and limited compared to the choices we have now. And then there’s medicine — talk about a horror show.”
“No, I’m good. I’m getting why the research for the book became quite involved.”
He nodded. “Looking back, it’s the research that led to the first friction between me and my wife.”
“Because…?”
“She was used to me being with her. The first year of our marriage, we were together constantly. She’s very social and does a lot of fund-raising for charities, so we were always going to events, luncheons, dinners, galas, weekend getaways….”
Penny shook her head. “Honestly, that sounds like a lot.”
“It wasn’t for me, at least not at first. I wanted to understand her and her world. I was happy to jump in and experience it all.”
“How did she respond when your book research pulled you away?”
“She was good about it initially, but I could tell she wanted me to spend more time with her.”
“Did she understand the amount of work required to write that novel?”
He shook his head. “She didn’t. Neither did I, at least until I got into it.”
“So what happened next?”
“She started going to events without me. We didn’t talk as much or see each other as much. ‘Our day’ became ‘her day’ and ‘my day.’”
“You grew apart.”
“About six months into the research and writing, I signed up to attend an academic conference that looked like a great way to meet several historians whose books I’d been impressed by.
I had questions for them and hoped they’d have answers.
And then my wife told me that she and her boarding-school friends were planning a getaway for that same week. She wanted me to go with her.”
“Let me guess,” she said. “You didn’t go with her.”
He shook his head. “I went to the conference.”
“Which upset her.”
“One of the people at the getaway was her ex. He grew up with her and he’s always been in love with her. They dated in boarding school and broke up, dated in college and broke up, and dated in New York and broke up.”
“Why did they keep breaking up?”
“I should rephrase. She kept breaking up with him.”
“Why?”
“She wasn’t ready to commit.”
“Because…?”
“Because — this is my take — she wanted to experience more of life than she could experience with him.”
“What’s he like?”
“He’s a good-enough guy, I suppose. They’re part of the same crowd. He and I never hit it off, for obvious reasons.”
“Are they together now?”
He nodded. “They just announced their engagement.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“Fine,” he replied without hesitation.
She didn’t sense any doubt or regret, but she needed to make sure. “You’re totally fine with that?”
He shrugged. “They’re better suited for each other.”
Penny hoped she wasn’t pushing too much. “Was he the reason for the divorce?”
He sighed. “Technically, Mabel was right. My wife met someone, except the person she met was someone she met twenty years ago.”
“I’m sorry. That’s rough.”
“Finding out about them hurt — a lot.”
“How did you find out?”
“I didn’t know at first. They were discreet. But then one of her friends told one of my friends, and he told me. When I asked her if it was true, she said it was. I moved out and several months later, after a few rounds of will-we-or-won’t-we-get-back-together, we agreed to divorce.”
“That must have been difficult.”
“It was, especially at first. But I’m okay with it now. It took time for me to accept the truth of our marriage.”
“Which is?”
He took a deep breath. “She and I should not have gotten married. I was meant to be the boyfriend she had before she went back to her first love.”
“A final fling before she settled down?”
He nodded.
“How do you feel about that?”
“I’m okay with it now. The tension, the hurt, the resentment have faded. Our connection was real, but we weren’t right for each other. Not for the long term.”
“Do you regret marrying her?”
“I regret things I said to her, and things I didn’t say to her, when the marriage was unraveling. But marrying her — no, no regrets.”
“Is this where the goal of learning from your mistakes comes from?”
His eyes took on a shine. “Very much so.”
Penny’s heart thumped as she considered her next question. She wanted to ask — but what if the answer wasn’t what she wanted to hear?
“So,” she said, summoning her courage. “Are you over her?”
He blinked back emotion, his gaze fixed on her. “A few months ago, I’m not sure I could have given you a clear answer.”
“But now?”
“Now,” he said, his dark eyes intense with feeling, “I know I’m ready to look forward, not back.”