Part 28 (1/2)
”I'm not denying the importance of it,” I reply, knowing there is only one weapon I have in my corner, only one way to defend myself against the world that seems determined to lure my husband into exotic, distant places where I can't go.
”I get that it's big and ill.u.s.trious and not nearly on the same level as a town festival,” I say, disliking the strident note in my voice, ”but you just gave me a lecture yesterday about asking for help when I need it. And you told me weeks ago you would help us with the festival. That you would help me.”
”Liv, I'm sorry.” He shakes his head, his mouth tightening. ”You also told me countless times you have plenty of volunteers, and you didn't have a specific job for me anyway.”
”That's not the point.”
He straightens to look at me. Because I know him so well, I see the guilt, anger, and frustration warring inside him, right next to his deep-seated certainty that the United Nations task belongs to him alone. No one except Professor Dean West can do this... and he knows it. So do I.
”What is the point, then?” he asks. ”You making me feel like an a.s.s for leaving when you've spent the past three years not wanting my help?”
”I haven't-” My voice sticks in my throat.
I'm too late. The realization that he's right hits me with the force of a blow. I waited too long, tried too hard to do everything by myself. And now that I'm finally admitting I need Dean's help... he's already agreed to be there for someone else.
A hot flush of pain sweeps over me. I hate my fear, my desperation, my panic-induced attempt to play this card even though I know how unfair it is.
”When I told you about the festival, I gave you a chance to say no,” I remind him. ”You didn't.”
”d.a.m.n right I didn't.” Dean turns, anger darkening his expression as he grabs another sheaf of papers from the table. ”Don't you know by now I can never f.u.c.king say no to you, Liv?”
”You're doing it now.”
”Because this isn't about you!” he snaps, slamming down the lid of his briefcase. ”I know you like it when I'm at your beck and call, but believe it or not, I do have obligations to other people.”
”You think I don't know that? You think that hasn't been shockingly clear every time you've gone to Italy or France?”
”I've asked you countless times to go with me.”
”And for the first time ever, I haven't been able to go where you want,” I reply caustically. ”I know you like it when I follow you around like a puppy, but believe it or not, I have obligations to other people too.”
”Right.” Dean spreads his arms, his jaw tightening. ”So you go deal with your obligations and I'll deal with mine.”
It's not the end of the world. I know that. I'll have to scramble, but I'm sure I can find another suitable auctioneer for the Chair Fair. It won't be someone who is as good as Dean, but-as I keep reminding myself-I've done a lot of things without Dean over the past couple of years. I can stage a successful auction without him.
But somewhere deep inside me, in a place where I'm still captivated by a handsome medieval history professor who came to the rescue of a girl upset over college credits, I feel as if our lives are starting to run parallel. We converge around Nicholas and our home life, but if everything else is separate...
I pull in a breath. Maybe this is just what happens when a marriage stretches and lengthens, when a couple's careers expand, when you realize there are only so many hours in the day and you still have so much to do.
Maybe it's supposed to be this way-my husband and I now putting our other responsibilities first, focusing together on our child and giving each other whatever is leftover.
It doesn't feel right, though. In fact, it feels horribly wrong. Dean and I have never been each other's leftovers.
I turn to the door, hating the anger still lingering between us, the discovery of problems neither one of us knows how to fix. Problems that have nothing to do with the United Nations or town festivals.
”What time do you leave?” I ask.
”Flight leaves Wednesday at seven.”
”Email me your hotel and flight information.”
”I already did.”
I pause and turn back to face him. ”When are you coming back?”
”I don't know.”
”You don't know?”
”Depends on the vote.” He doesn't look at me, but his voice is tense with regret. ”Simon and I are heading to Altopascio afterward, see if we can start the earthquake repairs. I should know by the end of the a.s.sembly.”
We're both silent. The resignation and sorrow simmering between us almost breaks my heart in half.
Come back to me. The wish blooms bright and hard in the center of my soul, the place where our unbreakable relations.h.i.+p, our everlasting marriage, has always lived.
I can't remember the last time I'd hoped for anything more desperately. But hope and reality are two very different things. And because there is nothing else I can say, I turn away from my husband and walk slowly back down the spiral staircase.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
OLIVIA.
After Dean's departure, the b.u.t.terfly House takes on an air of vastness and empty s.p.a.ce. Without the secure familiarity of the cafe to keep me occupied, I'm thrown off balance even more, as if the ground is once again s.h.i.+fting beneath my feet. I try to focus on the final preparations for the festival, even more fiercely determined to make it a success, and spend a great deal of time with Nicholas.
One afternoon, in need of a friend, I find Kelsey in the garage of Archer's shop, crouching on top of a huge, custom-built, storm-chasing truck armored with sixteen-gauge steel plates and a Kevlar coating.
A circular radar device and large antenna sits on top of the vehicle, along with a bunch of little tubes that Kelsey is working at with a wrench. Her hair is covered with a ratty baseball cap, and her tank top and cargo pants are streaked with dirt and grease.
”What are those?” I ask, gesturing to the tubes.
”Cannons.” She peers down, flas.h.i.+ng me a smile of greeting and pride. ”They shoot instrument probes into the tornado to measure and collect wind speed, pressure, and temperature data. This is the first season we're taking Dorothy out, so we'll see how she does.”
”Dorothy, huh?” I can't help smiling.
”You and Allie are a bad influence on me. So is the movie Twister, which Archer has the poor taste to actually like.” She pats the roof of the vehicle affectionately before hopping off and approaching me. ”Speaking of Allie, she called me and said something about a birthday party gone wrong?”
I sigh and sit down on a nearby bench. As a silent partner in the cafe, Kelsey stays out of the daily operations, but Allie and I have always involved her in big decisions and kept her informed when something changes.
I suppose the birthday disaster qualifies.
”It was my fault,” I admit. ”I'm taking a leave of absence from the cafe until the festival is over. And speaking of the festival, please tell me you're still going to be in town for it.”
”Sure. Archer and I are working at the kids' stage, right?”
I nod. ”Did you check the forecast for me?”
”Everything looks great. Nothing on the radar, but I'll check the day before too.”