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Authors: Jane Myers Perrine
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little uncomfortable. “You’ve gained weight.” She nodded decisively. “Makes you seem older, better looking.” She nodded again. “Not that you weren’t a good-lookin’ guy before, for a minister.” She snapped her mouth closed. “I’d better stop before I insult you any more. I came to talk to you.”
In the same way she’d studied him, Adam scrutinized Ouida—but only her face—for a hint of a hidden motive. Surely she wasn’t in cahoots with the Widows, was she? Was fatten you up code for “get you married”?
As Gretchen broke loose and ran to pet Chewy, Ouida glanced toward her daughter before she looked at Adam. “It’s about George. My husband.”
“Yes, I know who George is.” He shouldn’t have said that. If his professors in counseling had told him anything, it was not to stop communication with a smart answer. “I’m sorry. What about George?”
His reply had put Ouida off. She hesitated and studied him without saying a word.
“I really am sorry, Ouida. Sometimes I say the wrong thing.”
“We all do.” She took a deep breath. “We’ve been married for ten years.” She seemed to consider her words. “He wasn’t always like he is now, so very sober and driven and focused on work. I wouldn’t have married him if he had been.”
He remained silent but in a pastoral manner. His counseling professor had called it watchful empathy.
“George drives me nuts. At dinner, he eats one bite of chicken first, then one of potatoes, finishing with a forkful of green beans, then repeats that.”
“But didn’t you know that before you got married?” He stood and walked around the desk to sit next to his neighbor.
“Oh, yes, but back then I didn’t know about the other things. His closet is perfect, colors together. He hates disorder. He hates…well, he hates everything that is family life and children.”
“What? He has a wonderful family.”
“Yes, he does.” She shook her head. “He changed right after he began his own business seven years ago, right before Carol was born. Probably not good timing with the stress of a new business and a baby.”
“Tell me more about George when you first met him. Why did you fall in love with him?” There, that sounded ministerial but not overly so.
“Oh, he’s always been a little staid and controlling, but I did see moments of spontaneity, of exploration and joy.” She caught his eye as if attempting to sell him on her words. “We complemented each other, I thought. My messy life and emotions balanced his purposeful actions and solemnity. And…and I felt safe with him.” She sighed and glanced at Gretchen, who seemed too occupied with the dog to be listening. Nevertheless, Ouida leaned toward Adam and lowered her voice. “He was raised by his grandmother. His parents died when he was seven. She was strict and unemotional, which probably has a great deal to do with his being quiet and introspective. I loved him because I knew who he was inside, how much he needed me and how hard it was for him to show it.” She shook her head again. “I never should’ve allowed this isolation, his closing down, to happen to him, to the girls. They don’t know he loves them.”
“How can I help?”
“Adam, I don’t know.” She sighed again. “He’s getting worse, much more distant. I don’t know how to reach him anymore, especially since he’s not around.”
“Have you talked to him about that?”
“I tried. Didn’t get anyplace.”
“You know I’m always available to talk to. What can I do?”
“Thanks.” She smiled. “Listening’s probably all you can do now. I’m sorry I dropped all this on you, but it’s been building.” She tapped her chest. “Inside.”
When she stood, Adam got to his feet.
“I’ll talk to him again. Sunday, when the girls nap, I will.” She reached her hand out to her daughter. “Come on. Let’s go. Adam has work to do.”
Gretchen gave Chewy a final pat and ran over to Adam for a hug.
In the same way she’d studied him, Adam scrutinized Ouida—but only her face—for a hint of a hidden motive. Surely she wasn’t in cahoots with the Widows, was she? Was fatten you up code for “get you married”?
As Gretchen broke loose and ran to pet Chewy, Ouida glanced toward her daughter before she looked at Adam. “It’s about George. My husband.”
“Yes, I know who George is.” He shouldn’t have said that. If his professors in counseling had told him anything, it was not to stop communication with a smart answer. “I’m sorry. What about George?”
His reply had put Ouida off. She hesitated and studied him without saying a word.
“I really am sorry, Ouida. Sometimes I say the wrong thing.”
“We all do.” She took a deep breath. “We’ve been married for ten years.” She seemed to consider her words. “He wasn’t always like he is now, so very sober and driven and focused on work. I wouldn’t have married him if he had been.”
He remained silent but in a pastoral manner. His counseling professor had called it watchful empathy.
“George drives me nuts. At dinner, he eats one bite of chicken first, then one of potatoes, finishing with a forkful of green beans, then repeats that.”
“But didn’t you know that before you got married?” He stood and walked around the desk to sit next to his neighbor.
“Oh, yes, but back then I didn’t know about the other things. His closet is perfect, colors together. He hates disorder. He hates…well, he hates everything that is family life and children.”
“What? He has a wonderful family.”
“Yes, he does.” She shook her head. “He changed right after he began his own business seven years ago, right before Carol was born. Probably not good timing with the stress of a new business and a baby.”
“Tell me more about George when you first met him. Why did you fall in love with him?” There, that sounded ministerial but not overly so.
“Oh, he’s always been a little staid and controlling, but I did see moments of spontaneity, of exploration and joy.” She caught his eye as if attempting to sell him on her words. “We complemented each other, I thought. My messy life and emotions balanced his purposeful actions and solemnity. And…and I felt safe with him.” She sighed and glanced at Gretchen, who seemed too occupied with the dog to be listening. Nevertheless, Ouida leaned toward Adam and lowered her voice. “He was raised by his grandmother. His parents died when he was seven. She was strict and unemotional, which probably has a great deal to do with his being quiet and introspective. I loved him because I knew who he was inside, how much he needed me and how hard it was for him to show it.” She shook her head again. “I never should’ve allowed this isolation, his closing down, to happen to him, to the girls. They don’t know he loves them.”
“How can I help?”
“Adam, I don’t know.” She sighed again. “He’s getting worse, much more distant. I don’t know how to reach him anymore, especially since he’s not around.”
“Have you talked to him about that?”
“I tried. Didn’t get anyplace.”
“You know I’m always available to talk to. What can I do?”
“Thanks.” She smiled. “Listening’s probably all you can do now. I’m sorry I dropped all this on you, but it’s been building.” She tapped her chest. “Inside.”
When she stood, Adam got to his feet.
“I’ll talk to him again. Sunday, when the girls nap, I will.” She reached her hand out to her daughter. “Come on. Let’s go. Adam has work to do.”
Gretchen gave Chewy a final pat and ran over to Adam for a hug.
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