Joel.
-11-
“Honey, can I talk to you?”
There was something ominous in Hannah’s voice. She was a woman with a lot of girl left inside of her. She usually spoke with something akin to mischievous glee in her voice, even after she came home from the hospital. She was always the person who could brighten the day of another simply by talking to them. Simply by showing them that she genuinely cared.
She was the one who was always so full of life.
But not this morning. No, this morning her voice was flat and lifeless. It was the voice of everyone else in the compound not named Hannah.
It was a voice of dread.
Markie was still sound asleep in the center of the couple’s bed. He’d crawled in with them around three in the morning and nestled himself between them.
Neither of them had minded. He missed his mother terribly while she was in the hospital, and was glad to have her back. And neither of them had voiced it, but each was certain he realized, even in his little mind, how close he’d come to losing her.
Hannah’s request, whispered in Mark’s ear as he stood shaving, wasn’t really a request.
Every husband knew the tone. A question from their wives that wasn’t really a question. It was a command disguised as a request. A suggestion that couldn’t be ignored or avoided. It was an ultimatum without sounding like one. It was a “Honey, can I talk to you?” that really meant, “We need to talk, stat.”
In Mark’s troubled mind, she was going to tell her she was sorry. But that she had fallen in love with Joel. That he was everything Mark wasn’t. He was brave and funny and full of life.
She was going to tell him she was replacing him. And there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing at all.
She whispered, “Let’s go into the dining room so we don’t wake up the bed stealer.”
It was a slightly softer tone, but it didn’t ease Mark’s concerns. Mark was convinced his marriage was over. That he’d been left behind for another man. That Hannah just wanted to spare little Markie the pain, the confusion, the sadness of overhearing his mother tell his father she no longer wanted to be married to him.
Men’s minds are guilty of many things. Women often think them overly dirty and rightfully so. Men, on the other hand, often chastise women as having minds which jump to conclusions, or are frequently illogical.
But men are often the very same way. Men often add two and two together and come up with nine. And in the absence of a sound-minded woman to rein him back in, the wrong conclusion sits there, and festers, and turns into a monster that Doctor Frankenstein would hold in envy.
Such was the case with Mark and his assumption that Hannah had fallen in love with Joel.
Yes, she loved him. But not in that way.
Hannah loved Joel as one would love a best friend. Like two men who’d shared combat. Like a favorite brother.
But not like a husband, or even a boyfriend. As much as Joel had flirted with her, as much as he’d professed his love to her, she wouldn’t love him in that particular way. Not now, not ever.
The truth was that Hannah was indeed withholding secrets from Mark.
But that wasn’t one of them.
She suspected that Mark thought he might be replaced soon. She could see it in his eyes. There was a sadness there any time Joel’s name came up in a conversation that was undeniable.
Hannah loved this man, and wanted to put his mind at ease. Wanted to reassure him that he was her one and only, and always would be.
At the same time, though, she knew that the news she had to share with him would rock his world.
She might as well get it over with.
It was still early in the
-11-
“Honey, can I talk to you?”
There was something ominous in Hannah’s voice. She was a woman with a lot of girl left inside of her. She usually spoke with something akin to mischievous glee in her voice, even after she came home from the hospital. She was always the person who could brighten the day of another simply by talking to them. Simply by showing them that she genuinely cared.
She was the one who was always so full of life.
But not this morning. No, this morning her voice was flat and lifeless. It was the voice of everyone else in the compound not named Hannah.
It was a voice of dread.
Markie was still sound asleep in the center of the couple’s bed. He’d crawled in with them around three in the morning and nestled himself between them.
Neither of them had minded. He missed his mother terribly while she was in the hospital, and was glad to have her back. And neither of them had voiced it, but each was certain he realized, even in his little mind, how close he’d come to losing her.
Hannah’s request, whispered in Mark’s ear as he stood shaving, wasn’t really a request.
Every husband knew the tone. A question from their wives that wasn’t really a question. It was a command disguised as a request. A suggestion that couldn’t be ignored or avoided. It was an ultimatum without sounding like one. It was a “Honey, can I talk to you?” that really meant, “We need to talk, stat.”
In Mark’s troubled mind, she was going to tell her she was sorry. But that she had fallen in love with Joel. That he was everything Mark wasn’t. He was brave and funny and full of life.
She was going to tell him she was replacing him. And there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing at all.
She whispered, “Let’s go into the dining room so we don’t wake up the bed stealer.”
It was a slightly softer tone, but it didn’t ease Mark’s concerns. Mark was convinced his marriage was over. That he’d been left behind for another man. That Hannah just wanted to spare little Markie the pain, the confusion, the sadness of overhearing his mother tell his father she no longer wanted to be married to him.
Men’s minds are guilty of many things. Women often think them overly dirty and rightfully so. Men, on the other hand, often chastise women as having minds which jump to conclusions, or are frequently illogical.
But men are often the very same way. Men often add two and two together and come up with nine. And in the absence of a sound-minded woman to rein him back in, the wrong conclusion sits there, and festers, and turns into a monster that Doctor Frankenstein would hold in envy.
Such was the case with Mark and his assumption that Hannah had fallen in love with Joel.
Yes, she loved him. But not in that way.
Hannah loved Joel as one would love a best friend. Like two men who’d shared combat. Like a favorite brother.
But not like a husband, or even a boyfriend. As much as Joel had flirted with her, as much as he’d professed his love to her, she wouldn’t love him in that particular way. Not now, not ever.
The truth was that Hannah was indeed withholding secrets from Mark.
But that wasn’t one of them.
She suspected that Mark thought he might be replaced soon. She could see it in his eyes. There was a sadness there any time Joel’s name came up in a conversation that was undeniable.
Hannah loved this man, and wanted to put his mind at ease. Wanted to reassure him that he was her one and only, and always would be.
At the same time, though, she knew that the news she had to share with him would rock his world.
She might as well get it over with.
It was still early in the
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