A Nantucket Wedding(58)

    Jane’s hand flew to her throat. “That’s terrible. Poor little boy. You must have been so frightened.”

“Yes. I was frightened.” Scott turned. He met Jane’s eyes. Tears glimmered in his own. “My father never hit me. Nor did my mother. They did their best to care for me, but they were joined in some kind of sick pattern that they couldn’t help repeating. After their fight, after someone hit someone, the quiet would come, like after a storm. Then, for a while, Mother didn’t drink and Dad came home for dinner, and we were like a normal family. Except I was always on guard, always anxious, waiting for the pattern to start over again. Mother drinking. Dad not noticing. Mother drinking too much. Dad getting angry. The fight.”

Jane’s heart twisted with pity. “I’m so sorry, Scott. I wish you had told me this before.” Her words made anger flare inside her. “And why didn’t you? How could you have kept this from me all these years?”

Scott hung his head. “Would you have married me if I’d told you?”

“Of course I would have!” Jane crossed the room, wanting to embrace her husband, wanting to heal his sadness.

“Don’t, Jane.” Scott stepped back. “I never wanted you to know this about me. I’ve seen a therapist. I’ve learned to cope. But it’s part of who I am. I can’t make the memories disappear. And I won’t have a child. Because I don’t know what kind of father I would be. Frankly, it terrifies me to think of being a father. Just the thought gives me nightmares.”

“But, Scott, you and I are different from your parents!”

    “Yes, because we keep ourselves in control. I thought you were in complete agreement with me on this. Isn’t our life full and rich enough for you?”

“We do have a wonderful life. But I want children and I know in my heart that you and I would be good parents. Please, let’s go to a therapist together.”

Scott sniffed. “You mean, go to a therapist who will help me change my mind?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Be honest. Of course that’s what you meant. You want to change me. Why don’t you change yourself?”

“Scott—”

“What am I saying?” Scott said sadly. “You already have changed. You want children, and you’re not going to stop pushing me for them. You wanted to go to Wales, and now you don’t. I knew I shouldn’t tell you. I knew it would change us, what we have together.”

“But it hasn’t.” Jane swallowed her tears. “I am heartbroken about your childhood, Scott. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you. About us. I love you. Oh, Scott, I’m so so sad about your parents. But I’m glad you told me. It makes me feel even closer to you. I want to hold you, I want to kiss you, I want to tell you that nothing you say will make me stop loving you.”

“And when I say I refuse to have children, you will still love me?” Before she could answer, Scott threw down the gauntlet. “Now that I’ve told you all this, now that you understand me more, will you give up this crazy idea of having children?”

Her breath caught in her throat. “I still want children. With you. I know you, Scott. You are an amazing man, a wonderful, loving husband. You’ll be a wonderful, loving father.”

Scott shook his head sorrowfully. “No, Jane. I mean it. I will not have children with you or anyone.” Abruptly, he pulled his suitcase toward him and zipped it shut. “I’m going now. I’ll be in touch.”

“Scott, wait! At least kiss me goodbye!”

But he walked away, down the hall, and out the door, which he closed very gently. She was alone in the apartment. She knew Scott was shaken by his confession. She understood him enough to comprehend how difficult it had been for him to tell her about his childhood. She understood him so much more clearly now, why he defended himself against intimacy, why he needed to travel. As if he were afraid to stay in any kind of home.

    She felt shattered. She sank onto the bed and stared at the wall, this wall that had heard their most wrenching confessions. This weekend she wasn’t going to Nantucket, and good thing, because she was a completely confused, maudlin mess. She stayed in the apartment with the air-conditioning set to high while she huddled in her favorite sweater and a blanket, watching old black-and-white movies and crying. She was not the bright, decisive, professional Jane. She was the miserable, confused, soggy Jane. But she knew what she had to do. She had to choose what she would give up. What she wanted most.





nineteen


On Thursday, Jane received one terse text from Scott. It’s amazing here.

No Wish you were here. No Miss you. No I love you.

Miffed, she’d texted back: It’s amazing here.

And that was so not true. It was hot. It was humid. She had slogged through the heat from their apartment to her office and home again. She hadn’t enjoyed her privacy as much as she’d thought she would. After eating too much popcorn and ice cream while watching old movies Wednesday night, she called friends and met them for dinner. Liz had just had an ectopic pregnancy and had been in the hospital and now had only one ovary. Belinda was getting divorced. Jane told them she was mad at Scott, but their problems were momentous and she was too confused about what she wanted to tell them any more than that.