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"What?" It threw him off-balance, seeing her so shiny and bright. She looked happier than he could ever remember. Maybe it was because she liked being away from him.
"I applied to grad school. "
"Grad school?" Whatever hed expected, it sure as hell wasnt that. He felt a rush of pride that immediately turned cold. "Where?"
"Oh, I thought Id try . . . New York. " She smiled up at him. "Thats where my husband lives. I didnt see any reason to go to school somewhere else. "
He could breathe again. "Im proud of you, baby. I always knew you had talent. "
"They might not accept me. "
"Theyll accept you. "
"If they dont, Ill try again next year, and the year after that. Maybe Ill go for the Guinness Book of Records. " She smiled.
"They offered me the NFL Sunday show. "
"Thats great. When do you start?"
"I havent given them an answer. I told them I needed to talk to my wife. "
"Youre kidding?"
He dared to reach for her. When he took her hand, she let him lead her to the sofa. He thought about all the words hed come prepared to offer. I love you, Birdie. Those were the ones that mattered most of all; everything else was frosting. Somewhere along the course of two dozen years, theyd let that simple phrase erode into rote. Now he wanted to have it back, all of it. "I dont want to live without you anymore. "
"You dont?" Her easy smile faded away. There was a new look in her eyes, something he didnt quite recognize. It frightened him a little, reminded him that she had Changed.
"Youre my center, Birdie. I never knew how much I loved you until you were gone. "
She leaned forward and kissed him, whispering, "I missed you," against his lips.
The words hed been waiting for. And just that easily, he was home.
After the kiss, he drew back slightly, just enough to look her in the eyes. "This time its our life, Birdie. I mean it. Nothing matters more than us. Nothing. Thats why I didnt agree to take the job yet. "
"Oh, Jack. " She gently touched his face, and the familiarity of the gesture was almost painful. "Ive learned something about dreams. They dont come true every day. And love . . . love might be fragile, but its also stronger than I ever imagined. Take the job. Well find a nice loft in Chelsea or TriBeCa. Somewhere I can paint. "
They would make it this time, he knew it. After twenty-four years of marriage, and two children, they had finally found their way.
"Show me your work," he said.
Her face lit up. She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. Hand in hand, they walked through the kitchen. She let go of his hand just long enough to dart into the pantry, then came out holding a huge painting.
She set it up against the cupboards and stood back. "You dont have to pretend you like it," she said nervously.
He was too stunned to say anything.
Her painting was a haunting, sorrowful stretch of coastline in winter, painted in grays and purples and blacks. In the distance, a lone figure walked along the beach. It saddened him somehow, made him think about how fast life could pass a person by, how easy it was to walk past what mattered because you were busy looking into the future. "Jesus, Birdie . . . its amazing. " He turned to her, said softly, "You were painting the first time we met, remember? Near the marshes at the edge of Lake Washington. There was a dock in your painting and it looked lonely, too, like this beach . . . abandoned. I remember wanting to tell you that the picture made me feel sad, but I didnt dare. "
She tilted her chin up. "I cant believe you remember all that. "
"I forgot it for a long time. But nothing felt right without you. My world went from color to black-and-white. " He touched her face, felt the warmth of her skin. "You take my breath away, Birdie. "
"I love you, Jack. Ill never forget that again. "
This time, when Jack leaned down to kiss her, he was the one who cried.
