understand was that she was destroying everything he believed in. He had been good to her, he loved her, he loved their kids, he had never wanted her to work, because he wanted to take care of her, to love, honor, cherish, and protect her. And now she hated him for it and wanted to go back to school, but worse than that, if she went back to Harvard, she would have to leave them. It wasn't school he objected to, it was where it was, and what she would have to do to them to get there.
“Are you telling me you're leaving me? Is that what this is about? Are you walking out on us? And just exactly how long have you known that?”
“I only got the letter of acceptance this afternoon, Oliver. I haven't even absorbed it yet myself. And no, I'm not leaving you.” She tried to calm down. “I can come home for vacations and weekends.”
“Oh for chrissake … and what are we supposed to do? What about Mel and Sam?”
“They have Agnes.” They stood in the snow, shouting at each other, and Sarah wished with all her heart that she had waited to tell him. She hadn't even sorted it out herself yet.
“And what about me? I have Agnes too? She'll be thrilled to hear it.”
Sarah smiled at him. Even in anguish, he was decent and funny. “Come on, Ollie … let's just let this thing cool down. We both need to think about it.”
“No, we don't.” His face was suddenly more serious than she had ever seen it. “There should be absolutely nothing to think about. You're a married woman with a husband and three kids. There's no way you can go to a school almost two hundred miles away, unless you walk out on us, plain and simple.”
“It's not that simple. Don't make it that simple, Ol-lie. What if I really need to do this?”
“You're being self-indulgent.” He unlocked the car, yanked open the door, and slid behind the wheel, and when she got in, he stared at her, with fresh questions. “How exactly do you intend to pay for this, or are you expecting me to put you and Benjamin through Harvard?” It was going to be something of a strain on them having one child in college, let alone two when Mel went. And adding Sarah to their burdens seemed even more absurd, but she had long since figured that out, in case she was ever accepted.
“I still have the money my grandmother left me. With the exception of the new roof we put on the house, I've never touched it.”
“I thought that money was earmarked for the kids. We agreed that money was sacred.”
“Maybe it'll mean more to them to have a mother who does something worthwhile with her life, like writing something that might mean something to them one day, or getting a job that does someone some good, or doing something useful.”
“It's a lovely thought, but frankly I think your children would rather have a mother than a literary example.” He sounded bitter as he drove the short distance to the house, and then sat huddled in the car, outside the house in the driveway. “You've already made up your mind, haven't you? You're going to do it, aren't you, Sarrie?” He sounded so sad, and this time when he turned to look at her, she knew that the tears in his eyes weren't from the wind, they were from what she had told him.
Her eyes were damp too as she hesitated, looking out at the snow, and then she turned to face him. “I think maybe I have to, Ollie … I don't know if I can ever explain it … but I have to. It won't be for long, I promise … I'll work as hard as I can, as fast as I can.” But she wasn't kidding anyone. They both knew it was an intense two-year program.
“How can you do this?” He wanted to say “to me,” but it sounded too selfish.
“I have to.” Her voice was a whisper as a car pulled up behind them, and the lights from the headlights behind them lit up their faces. She could see tears rolling down his cheeks and all she wanted to do was hold him. “I'm so sorry … I didn't want to tell you now … I wanted to tell you after
“Are you telling me you're leaving me? Is that what this is about? Are you walking out on us? And just exactly how long have you known that?”
“I only got the letter of acceptance this afternoon, Oliver. I haven't even absorbed it yet myself. And no, I'm not leaving you.” She tried to calm down. “I can come home for vacations and weekends.”
“Oh for chrissake … and what are we supposed to do? What about Mel and Sam?”
“They have Agnes.” They stood in the snow, shouting at each other, and Sarah wished with all her heart that she had waited to tell him. She hadn't even sorted it out herself yet.
“And what about me? I have Agnes too? She'll be thrilled to hear it.”
Sarah smiled at him. Even in anguish, he was decent and funny. “Come on, Ollie … let's just let this thing cool down. We both need to think about it.”
“No, we don't.” His face was suddenly more serious than she had ever seen it. “There should be absolutely nothing to think about. You're a married woman with a husband and three kids. There's no way you can go to a school almost two hundred miles away, unless you walk out on us, plain and simple.”
“It's not that simple. Don't make it that simple, Ol-lie. What if I really need to do this?”
“You're being self-indulgent.” He unlocked the car, yanked open the door, and slid behind the wheel, and when she got in, he stared at her, with fresh questions. “How exactly do you intend to pay for this, or are you expecting me to put you and Benjamin through Harvard?” It was going to be something of a strain on them having one child in college, let alone two when Mel went. And adding Sarah to their burdens seemed even more absurd, but she had long since figured that out, in case she was ever accepted.
“I still have the money my grandmother left me. With the exception of the new roof we put on the house, I've never touched it.”
“I thought that money was earmarked for the kids. We agreed that money was sacred.”
“Maybe it'll mean more to them to have a mother who does something worthwhile with her life, like writing something that might mean something to them one day, or getting a job that does someone some good, or doing something useful.”
“It's a lovely thought, but frankly I think your children would rather have a mother than a literary example.” He sounded bitter as he drove the short distance to the house, and then sat huddled in the car, outside the house in the driveway. “You've already made up your mind, haven't you? You're going to do it, aren't you, Sarrie?” He sounded so sad, and this time when he turned to look at her, she knew that the tears in his eyes weren't from the wind, they were from what she had told him.
Her eyes were damp too as she hesitated, looking out at the snow, and then she turned to face him. “I think maybe I have to, Ollie … I don't know if I can ever explain it … but I have to. It won't be for long, I promise … I'll work as hard as I can, as fast as I can.” But she wasn't kidding anyone. They both knew it was an intense two-year program.
“How can you do this?” He wanted to say “to me,” but it sounded too selfish.
“I have to.” Her voice was a whisper as a car pulled up behind them, and the lights from the headlights behind them lit up their faces. She could see tears rolling down his cheeks and all she wanted to do was hold him. “I'm so sorry … I didn't want to tell you now … I wanted to tell you after
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