For the second time in a week, Nancy was in shock.
She stared at Frank in disbelief as he wept and begged for her forgiveness and swore—swore—that it was nothing he ever wanted to happen and nothing that would ever happen again.
Didn’t this man understand what she’d been through? Didn’t he understand how cruel he’d been—and how cruel it was to tell her now, when she was helpless and bandaged and looking like three hundred miles of bad road? She almost died. And now Nancy felt like Frank was trying to kill her. He might as well be trying to choke her. That’s how hard it was for Nancy to breathe as she listened to Frank talk and talk.
First, he talked about how weak he’d been. How lost he’s felt ever since the children left home.
Then he talked about Suzanne and how she meant nothing to him. She’d pursued him, Frank told Nancy. And it’d been so long since he’d been pursued by a woman.
Frank had been flattered by it, nothing more. He’s vain, as well as weak. Girls and greed had always been his weaknesses. He was a sinner; he knew it. But what he needed for Nancy to know was that it’d all been just a fling.
It wasn’t that other woman he loved. It was her flattery.
Seeing Nancy like this was what’s shown him the need to come clean about the affair, Frank told her. It’d made him realize how much he treasured her.
Only now did he understand the true value of the twenty-eight years they’d spent together.
In sickness and health, he said. Isn’t that what it’s really about?
Hitting his stride now, Frank began to cry. He needed Nancy to believe him now. He needed for her to need him. Because if she needed him, she’d never suspect that he was behind her shooting.
And so, Frank told Nancy that he knew how much time it would take to fix this. He knew Nancy might never forgive him. All he could do was ask her now—now that he’s being completely honest—could she try? He’d come back to her, decided that he’d never want to just throw their marriage away. Maybe Nancy could find it in her heart to do the same thing?
But Nancy was crying as well. Crying out of pity for Frank and how foolish he’d been. Crying for having finally learned the reason for all the distance she’d felt in her marriage—for the way Frank had taken to acting around her.
Crying because she was wondering, even now, if she had done something to push Frank away. Crying because now that she knew, she was wondering if there was a way through the ordeal.
And so, as she cried, Nancy’s disbelief began to turn into acceptance—something like acceptance, at least. Something that she’d have to live with and pray on.
She never had had it in her to hate.
Even now, with Frank having done this terrible thing, she had to admit that she loved him. She couldn’t imagine what she’d do without him. And it didn’t cross Nancy’s mind for one second—would not cross her mind for one million years—that Frank had it in him, for years now, to do something far more terrible.