An unexpected sob rose from my throat, shaking my entire body. Jack placed the small coffin on the coffee table before taking my cup from me and wrapping me in his arms. “Don’t, Mellie. Please don’t. You did nothing wrong. The only person at fault is Michael Farrell. The rest of us would have died if it hadn’t been for you and Jayne.”
“And Beau,” I sobbed.
At some point I would need to dissect what had happened in the attic and Beau’s part in getting us out. But not now. I had more important things to work through first.
“And Beau,” Jack agreed. “But you didn’t mess anything up. You couldn’t. You have never done anything where the motive wasn’t based on the love you have for those around you. You have quirky ways of doing things for sure, but that’s you. And I can’t change it.”
I sat up to look at him, wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you need to delete your ‘new Melanie’ spreadsheet.”
My chest constricted, my heart shrinking. “Why?” I asked, even though I knew. Whether I was the new or old Melanie didn’t matter. He had found the flaw he couldn’t live with.
“Because I shouldn’t expect you to change.”
Anger yanked away my hurt and confusion, propelling me to stand and face Jack. As usual, the words poured out of me before I had a chance to check them. Everything that I’d bottled up over the past months erupted from my mouth uncensored. I no longer cared if it was spoken by the new or old version of me—it simply came from Melanie, the woman I was now.
“You know, Jack, I shouldn’t be the only one trying to change. You have to meet me halfway. Because did it ever occur to you that you’re at fault, too? That it’s unrealistic if not downright cruel to believe that all of my insecurities should be banished just because you said you loved me? Maybe I just needed a little more understanding. A little more help. I agree that I need to stop pushing everything unpleasant under the carpet and to confide in you more. But changing my stripes is hard all by myself. Maybe I shouldn’t have to change all of my stripes anyway. Needing to be organized and having an independent nature aren’t things that need to be fixed. They’re not addictions that need to be cured.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but I barely drew a breath before continuing. “And one more thing. You left me because you said you couldn’t trust me because I’d gone off on my own to figure out where those rubies were hidden. Because you had the flu, for crying out loud! But even still, you said it was an issue of trust. Sure, I probably should have let you know what I was doing, and I’ve learned from that. And yet here you are, creating a whole scenario about a missing half of the Hope Diamond with an assumed identity and not telling me anything. Talk about lack of trust. And, sure, I understand that your male ego has been sorely damaged by everything that’s happened in your career. You have nothing to prove to me. You’ve already shown me what love is between a husband and wife and what an amazing father you are. That’s all I have ever needed. I’m just sorry you don’t feel the same way.”
He stared at me without saying anything.
“And, yes, you’re right. I was wr—” I paused, trying to form the unfamiliar word. “I was . . . wrong to talk to Suzy without telling you. I’m sorry.”
I stood there, my chest heaving, waiting for him to stand and leave. And take my heart with him.
Instead, a small twitch appeared at the side of his mouth. “You’re right, Mellie.”
“About being wrong?”
“Well, that, but about the other stuff, too. I’ve been a complete idiot. Everything you’ve just said is true. All of it. We’re equally to blame for everything that’s happened in our marriage. What is it that Yvonne said we should do? Admit it and then take a leap of faith?”
I stared at him, my words of protest dying on my lips. I blinked. “What?”
He stood as well, facing me. “I don’t want a do-over. Unless we can re-create exactly the happiest years of my life so far. And I don’t need or want a new version of you. You’re my Mellie. You’re perfect the way you are—quirks and all—and I don’t want to change a thing.”
“Even my labeling habit?”
“Especially that. I’ve come to realize that a house isn’t a home without the constant clicking of a labeling gun.”
I gave him a wobbly smile. “Then maybe we take that leap of faith and see where we land.”
He pulled me toward him and kissed me the way he used to, and I felt as if I’d been away for a long time and finally found my way home.
I lifted my head. “Do you really think we’re going to be okay?”
He kissed me again, gently this time. “I do. No matter what. As long as we’re together, we’re going to be okay.”
The grandfather clock began to chime, the sound muffled against the carpet. Our eyes widened in mutual surprise before we both turned toward the clock.
“I thought it was broken,” I said.
“Well, it hasn’t chimed or ticked since it fell, so that was my assumption.” Jack looked at his watch. “It’s six thirty. Why would it be chiming now?”
We stood next to the clock, looking down at it, feeling the vibrations from the chimes beneath our feet. I counted ten more chimes as we stood there. “I don’t think it’s going to stop. Maybe we should call Rich and beg him to try again to lift it without the special equipment? Maybe with us helping that would be enough?”
Jack nodded slowly, his brow furrowing. He glanced at Charlotte’s coffin lying on the coffee table. “There has to be a reason why Evangeline is still here and why the clock is chiming now when it hasn’t made a sound since it fell.”
I looked at my phone, confirming that it was now six thirty-two, and then at my watch, noting that the big hand and little hand were both pointed near the six. I jerked my head up. “Wait a minute. Evangeline’s grave marker. The clockface on the front. It showed six thirty.”