As if reading my mind, he says, “I know our marriage isn’t perfect. I know we have things to work on…but we make a really good team, Meredith. Can’t we just try a little harder to…to get some of that magic?”
I sigh, noticing that he said get, and not recapture, and tell him I don’t think it works like that; either the magic is there or it isn’t. “Besides,” I say, “isn’t that what we’ve been doing for the past seven years?”
Nolan shakes his head and says, “No. It’s not at all what we’ve been doing…because we weren’t being honest with each other.”
“I was,” I say, my defensive instinct kicking in.
“No, you weren’t,” he says, his face becoming animated. “You weren’t truthful in the dugout when you said yes. You weren’t honest on our wedding day…and even before that, you weren’t being true to yourself.”
I know he’s talking about acting and New York and law school and maybe even moving back to Atlanta and into my childhood home, and I can’t deny the charge. So I simply shrug, and tell him maybe he’s right.
“But now you know the truth about the night Daniel died,” Nolan continues. “And I know the truth about your feelings….Now we both know the truth….Isn’t that a clean slate?”
“I guess,” I say, though I’m not sure what a clean slate really gets us, other than forgiveness and understanding. These are no small matters, but not enough to create magic. “But where do we go from here?”
“Well. For one, I’ve been thinking about our house….I really think we should sell it.”
“We can’t do that,” I say, but I feel a rush of relief just considering the freeing possibility of living somewhere—anywhere—else.
“Sure, we can.”
“Mom would be devastated. Dad, too.”
“They’d get over it,” he says. “It’s just a house….It’s just not good for us, living there….Every time I walk by his room…”
“I know,” I say, sparing him the rest.
“And I think we should consider leaving Atlanta, too. At least for a while. We need an adventure. Just the three of us. We have enough money to do it…and I’ll always have a job to come back to,” he says, talking excitedly.
“Where would we go?” I ask, playing along for a second.
“Anywhere we wanna go,” he says. “New York City? You could act again….”
I shake my head and tell him that I think I’m finally over the city—and acting.
“Okay, then. Where would you like to live? What do you want to do?”
I tell him I don’t know, anything but the law. I’ve been back at work since the week of Thanksgiving, but I’ve already made the decision to resign, as I realize that it’s a lot easier to say what you don’t want than what you do want.
“Well, let’s think about it,” he says as we quicken our pace to try to keep up with Harper. “Let’s really, really think about it. Let’s think outside the box…like Josie….”
My shoulders immediately tense at the mention of my sister—whom I’ve yet to communicate with since she left New York in the middle of the night.
“Say what you will about her,” Nolan continues. “And I get it…she can be a real pain in the ass. But the girl knows how to think outside the box.”
“She’s selfish,” I say, the default tagline I give my sister.
“Is she, though?” he asks. “Or is she just trying to be true to herself? Having a baby alone is really brave.”
“She won’t go through with it,” I say. “She’s not that brave.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But we can be. Let’s be brave together, Meredith. Can you just keep an open mind and give it one more, last-ditch try?”
Always before, his idea of trying felt like faking, even lying. Having another baby. Making our parents happy. Going on family vacations to Disney World and the beach, smiling and posing for photos to promptly post for all the world to see. Going through the motions of pretending to be the perfect family. Daniel’s sister and his best friend, brought together by tragedy, yet utterly and totally “meant to be.” Hashtag blessed.
But suddenly now, his idea of trying feels authentic, and I see a small glimmer of possibility.
“Maybe,” I say.
He takes my hand, then stops walking, facing me. “Don’t say maybe. Say yes, Meredith. Not for Daniel or your parents or even Harper. But for us.” He is pleading, begging, yet still looks so strong.
I look into his eyes as it occurs to me that we are standing exactly as we did on our wedding day, before our family and friends, promising forever. Yet remarkably, I feel closer to him now, in this crossroad of crisis.
I hesitate, holding my breath, before I finally nod and say yes. It is a soft and shaky yes, filled with apprehension, but it is still a yes, and it is more sincere than my yes in the dugout all those years ago. Then, for the first time in forever, I take his hand, rather than the other way around, and we continue on our way, following our little girl along the lit garden path.
chapter thirty-five
JOSIE