16

Our relationship changed after that night, in most ways for the better. There were still problems, of course. Any couple has them. But they weren’t earthquakes that rocked our foundation – they were simply storms here and there in an otherwise perfectly clear sky. Tom and I spent more time talking about the way inviting Jake into bed made us feel. We talked about what might come next. We both decided we had gone far enough for the time being, and that more would come later – much later. Right now, we were content with each other and occasionally with Jake.

The morning after the first threesome was a slow and easy awakening. I made love to each of them while the other watched. There were no crazy positions and no wild extremes. We were simply getting comfortable with each other. Since then, Jake had shown up every few weeks for dinner, and spent the night in bed, fucking me in every way imaginable. Tom and I seemed to come closer to each other after every time with Jake.

There came a morning that autumn, right about the time the leaves began to fall, when the decisions swirling around in my mind had finally been put to rest.

‘I’m going to take a drive,’ I said. ‘There’s something I need to do.’

Tom looked at me with understanding eyes. ‘Exorcising old ghosts?’

I smiled at how well he knew me.

‘Something like that.’

‘I’ll be here waiting,’ he assured me.

‘I will come home.’

‘I know,’ he said immediately, and the conviction in his voice was strong.

I drove to the lake highway and headed east. I drove for hours, until I saw the mountains in the distance, and then I sped up. Saying goodbye was never easy, but the sooner it was done, the better. I had a good man waiting back home.

Darkness fell as I navigated the streets in the shadow of the mountain. I was a bit surprised at how easy it was to find my way in the dark, even after all this time. I pulled off onto the sweet-smelling grass at the side of the road and killed the engine.

I sat there in my truck and laid my head on the steering wheel. Crickets started to sing. One of them had somehow got into my open window and was underneath the seat. It occasionally chirped while I watched Michael’s house from across the street.

I sat there quietly, taking it all in. I knew it would be the last time. When I left here I would go back to Tom, and I would start our new life in earnest. I would move forwards, the wounds would turn to scars, and like most scars they would be forgotten until something happened to remind me it was there, and then it would become a nostalgic remembrance, a story to tell the friends who asked me where it came from, what happened to me to leave that mark?

But tonight, right now, I could sit here and remember.

I sank down in the seat. The radio played a soft slow tune. The house was silent and dark. Michael was at work, I knew, sweating in a noisy factory while his head filled with dreams. He was always like that – grounded and practical, a dreamer whose thought took flight while his life held him back. He had often said that he was born in those mountains and he would die there in them, without a chance to get out of that small town he called home.

I sat there in the truck and looked at the house he had lived in since he was a child, the mountains nestled right up against his back door, and the quiet serenity of knowing where you were going to be for the rest of your life. What wasn’t there to be grateful for?

A few tears fell as I thought of the way things had been, and how one or two different turns would have led me to a life with him in that house he loved so much. But those tears were of remembrance, not of pain, and this time I was grateful for Michael – because, without Michael, there wouldn’t have been Tom.

I finally knew where I belonged.

I had just put my hand on the key to fire up the truck and head out of town when I saw the headlights turn into the road. Quickly I sank back in my seat, hoping no one would see me and wonder why in the world I was sitting there in the darkness so far from home. I had intended to drive by Michael’s factory, to take the road out of town that would lead me past the lake he loved so much, and then I would be gone for good.

The headlights slowed. There was no turn signal. The truck pulled into Michael’s driveway and up into the carport. I watched as the driver cut the engine and the lights flickered into darkness. Only one person would have driven so confidently into that carport – the person who had lived there all his life.

Fresh tears stung my eyes when Michael stepped out of the truck. He looked almost the same as I remembered him. His hair was a bit longer under that baseball cap he wore. He was just as muscular, as broad and powerful as he always had been. He walked with the same kind of stroll. He looked about him with the same kind of attentiveness.

When he saw my truck, he stopped.

Even though I knew he couldn’t see me in the deep shadows, I froze right where I was, almost unable to breathe. I thought about opening up the door and getting out to let him see who was waiting there for him, to walk towards him and say hello. But I also knew that doing such a thing would undermine the hard work Tom and I had put into our relationship over the last several months. I was a stronger person now, and part of that strength was in knowing what my weaknesses were – and my big weakness was still, and might always be, that man standing there in the driveway.

I let out the breath I had been holding. Michael kept watching, but finally decided there was nothing there to be concerned about. He turned for the house.

His phone rang.

I could hear the tone from across the street. Michael flipped open the phone and started to talk. His demeanor changed. His shoulders relaxed. He smiled. His voice was different from what I was used to hearing, and I realized with no small jolt of surprise that it was the voice I had known in the beginning – it was filled with the tenderness he once reserved for me.

There was someone else in his life, after all.

At that same moment, I realized that I was glad.

I watched him walk into the house. The lights came on, one at a time, until he was upstairs in the bedroom. After a few minutes, that light went out. I sat there in the darkness for a long time, thinking.

I hoped Michael was happy. I hoped he wouldn’t treat her badly. I hoped he had found someone who was meant to be with him, someone who would make him feel all the things that he should feel. I no longer felt like a failure in that regard. I had done the best I could. I hoped this new woman would do it all better.

I started up the truck. I stared at the window of Michael’s bedroom, knowing it would be the last time I would wonder what might have been.

When I flicked my headlights on, they shone across the front of the house. Two empty rocking chairs sat there on the porch, side by side.

‘Take good care of him,’ I said, to someone I would never know.

I put the truck in drive and headed home.

The sun was already up when I pulled into the driveway. The first thing I heard was the sound of the hammer ringing out into the trees every time it struck a nail. The faint scent of sawdust was on the air. The squirrels scampered out of the way of my truck. Leaves and gravel crunched under my tires. I came to a stop and looked out the windshield at Tom.

He was standing over a long section of wood, hammer in hand, nails clenched between his teeth. He didn’t acknowledge my presence, though we both knew he heard me come up the drive. I watched as he drove one nail after another, the muscles in his bare back working with every stroke, the new deck becoming sturdier with every nail driven. Sweat rolled off his shoulders, even though the brunt of the autumn heat hadn’t rolled in yet. The sunlight touched his back in dappled waves. He stood up once to wipe the sweat from his brow, and I tapped the horn to get his attention.

He looked at me through dark sunglasses, but his lips were curled up in the faintest smile.

I leaned out the window. ‘I’ve been looking for a place around here – a nice little cabin to move into. I need some space and some wilderness. If it comes with cable and a fireplace and a dishwasher and a handsome hunk of a man already installed, that would be nice. Would you happen to know of any place like that?’

Tom squinted up into the sun, as though he was thinking about the request. He looked back at me and spoke around the nail that was held between his lips. ‘Don’t have a dishwasher here, sorry.’

I laughed. Tom flipped his hammer in his hand and, with two strokes, drove in another nail.

‘So, if I could live without a dishwasher, what do you think?’

‘Dunno. Tough to live without a dishwasher.’

He drove in another nail.

‘What if I said I was willing to trade in the dishwasher for a four-wheeler?’

He tapped his hammer against his thigh and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. ‘Four-wheeler costs extra. But we could dicker. What can you bring to the table?’

I chuckled. ‘Sex?’

Tom shook his head. ‘Well, well. We might have something to talk about after all.’

I climbed out of the truck and walked towards him. He didn’t turn around, but he did sigh when I wrapped my arms around him and laid my head on his back. Sawdust tickled my cheek and made me sneeze. The smell was sharp and pungent, a reminder of good things and hard work.

‘Are you looking for a home?’ he asked.

‘I’m looking for a home,’ I agreed.

Tom considered his answer for a long while.

‘I’ve been thinking about getting a dishwasher,’ he mused.

‘I could live without one.’

‘So you’re just looking for a home, huh?’

‘Yep. Know of where I might find one?’

‘You’ve already got one,’ he told me.

I smiled against his back. ‘Do I?’

Tom chuckled. The sound rumbled up through him.

‘You know you do. Are you ready to accept it now?’

I let go of him and took a step back. When he turned to face me, I stared into his eyes. What I saw there was promise.

I dropped to my knees.

Tom dropped the hammer. It made a thunking sound on the new wood. The small impact shuddered through my legs. Nails fell from his hand, one by one, and ticked merrily against the boards.

‘Will you marry me?’ I asked.

Tom’s hand shook as he touched my hair. He slowly sank to his knees before me and together we looked at one another, surrounded by singing birds and lumber and sawdust and the promise of a future with no ghosts.

‘Yes,’ Tom said.

Our wedding was like everything else in our life: we kept it simple. It was just us and a few of those closest friends – Jake, and Ronnie, and his wife. They were waiting with the preacher on the shore. The squirrels were there, too, chattering at us from the trees.

There were speedboats on the lake. Jet skis kicked up wakes. A boy rode by on an inner tube, hollering all the while. The sun beat down through the trees and it all appeared the same as it had been a year ago, but it was all different.

Tom took my hand and led me to the water.