The service at Elise’s Mennonite church on Saturday morning was quiet and respectful, with the congregation carefully reciting Sarah Klassan’s favorite hymns and solemnly remembering Elise’s mother as a pillar of their community. Her burial service was similarly simple, and the meal afterward at the Klassan Farm only included Hans Klassan, his daughters, and their husbands. It was a somber lunch, but afterwards—as the women washed the dishes and tidied up the house—Preston felt a palpable release of tension as he hung out with the men on the front porch in the afternoon sun. They swapped stories and laughed more than they had in days, talking about their plans for farming the end of the summer and teasing each other good-naturedly. To Preston, it seemed as though the last of the funeral rites had been observed and life was resuming.
Sure enough, when Elise finally exited her father’s house, she found his eyes with a tender smile, then started saying her goodbyes. Wednesday was her first day of filming and Preston had already missed two days of work without much notice, she explained. It was time for them to return to Pennsylvania, and after tearful hugs and promises to come and visit again soon, they left the farm and packed up their dingy little motel room. As they refolded clothes and zipped their suitcases, they agreed that Elise would come home with him and tomorrow, Sunday, they’d have their Marriage Summit and figure out “what happens next.”
After reaching over to kiss Preston in the car and tell him once again how grateful she was for his company this weekend, Elise had curled up in her seat and promptly fallen asleep. And knowing what a long, emotional few days it had been for her, Preston was relieved to see her relaxed and recharging. Plus, it gave him some much needed time to think.
By the time they’d returned to their motel room last night, it was very late, and they’d been too tired to do anything but crawl into bed and hold each other until morning. And he wasn’t necessarily complaining, because Preston would never get tired of falling asleep beside Elise or waking up with his wife warm and soft in his arms, but the reality was that Preston wanted more. Much more.
He wanted a stable long-term plan that included a permanent home on the east coast and holidays that alternated between her family and his—the kind of life into which they could add children one day. Since she’d mentioned having children, it seemed like all he could think about. And why not? Brooks was having his first child with his fiancée, Skye, in March, and with Jessica and Alex getting married so soon, they could easily be next. Preston wanted his children to grow up with theirs… and with Abby’s little ones, too. He wanted family. He wanted normalcy. And he wanted it with his wife.
He looked over at her angelic face in slumber and grimaced. As much as he wanted to believe her words about staying married, making a plan for their lives together, and—God, please—even having kids one day, he was still worried that being at the farm, with the sorrow of her mother’s passing so sharp and fresh, may have impacted her judgement. He feared that when she returned to Philadelphia and immersed herself back into her Hollywood lifestyle, those precious words would suddenly become less valid, less true—emotional promises made at an emotional time. And he didn’t know how he would bear it if she slowly started pulling away again.
Taking a deep breath, he kept his eyes on the road, hoping that by the time they reached Haverford, he’d figure out a way for them to move forward while still leaving the worst parts of the past behind.
***
“Sweetheart,” he was saying, “Sweetheart, wake up. We’re home. We’re here.”
Elise stretched in her seat, her eyes rebelling against having to open. The car was dark and warm and Preston was right beside her. She could have slept for hours more. As her lids fluttered open, she turned her head to look at Preston and smiled.
“Hi,” she murmured.
“Hi,” he said, smiling back at her, reaching for her hand.
“Are we at your place?” she asked, finally turning her neck to look out the windshield. She blinked in confusion. They weren’t in downtown Philadelphia. They were parked in front of Chateau Nouvelle. “This isn’t…”
“It’s Chateau Nouvelle,” he said, reaching out to caress her cheek. “I need to talk to you. Let’s get out and walk for a few minutes, okay?”
He dropped his hand and opened his car door, closing it quickly behind him. She glanced up at the rearview mirror as he took her suitcase out of the trunk and her heart plummeted as he wheeled it to the front walkway.
What was going on? They’d decided to go to his apartment in the city and have their Marriage Summit tomorrow. What were they doing in Haverford? Why had he brought her back here and what did he want to talk about?
She dragged her hands through her hair, her stomach buzzing and flipping uncomfortably as she wiggled her feet into her shoes. Had he re-thought their tentative plan to stay married? Did he decide that he couldn’t trust her enough to give her another chance? Maybe it wasn’t worth the risk of another broken heart. Her own heart started to race painfully at the thought of losing him, and she noticed that her hand was shaking as she opened her car door and stepped outside on wobbly legs that had less to do with waking abruptly from her nap and more to do with fear.
Preston walked around to her side of the car and took her hand.
“I can hear you overthinking,” he said softly, pulling her along beside him. “Stop. We’re just going to talk.”