This was the downside of caring, though. Or call it what it was. Of loving. That you put your heart on the line.
Then put it there, he told himself. All the way. You can’t make the catch if you don’t jump for it. And said, “Come on. One more thing to show you. We’ll take the fancy stairs this time.”
Not into the living room now. Down the hall and into the master bedroom, a serene place with huge mullioned windows on two sides, looking out on the vineyards, the hills, and Mt. Hood in the distance.
“Check out the bathroom,” Dyma said, as if she’d noticed how subdued Jennifer had become. “Soaking tub of your dreams, Mom. I wouldn’t call this bathroom eco-friendly, because it must have taken a whole quarry full of marble, but it’s as beautiful as a spa. Also a walk-in closet that’s as big as my bedroom upstairs. Annabelle and I decided the master bathroom is the coolest thing about the house. Except the game room, because the game room’s going to be amazing. And the pool. And maybe the basketball court.”
“It’s beautiful,” Jennifer said. “It’s a great house.”
Everybody else was silent. Looking at each other, telegraphing awkwardness. Telegraphing a desire to be anywhere else.
Harlan thought, One more try. He said, “There are two offices down here. I figured, who needs two? I thought …” He opened the door. And held his breath.
It was a nursery. A beautiful one, all serenity. A simple white crib, a dresser with a changing-table top, and a white wicker rocking chair in the corner, complete with padded footstool. A pastel-striped rug, and a white wicker bassinette with a canopy.
Harlan said, “This is what I was doing when I said I was playing golf. I put together the crib, and Owen and the girls hauled the rest. I’ve been keeping it all at Owen’s place. I just got the keys today, because there were some glitches at the end, so we had to throw the nursery together fast to have it ready for you. The wicker rocking chair is the kind my mom had, and I thought …”
When he’d thought about saying this with everybody listening, he’d imagined a more receptive audience.
Do it. “I thought about you rocking in it, feeding our baby,” he said, and to his horror, he’d choked up. “And it felt right. But not just because of the baby. The baby is just what made me see what I wanted. What I needed. What I’ve been missing. And it’s you. When I saw this house, I thought … this is us. This is how forever feels. Room for a family, the whole family we’ve got together. Dyma and Annabelle and Nick and anybody else who comes along. Room to put up a play structure in the yard, and with the kind of breakfast nook that makes you want to hang out with your coffee in the morning before you kiss your wife goodbye. Room for a whole life. The real kind. The kind you can count on forever.”
He was getting something else now, because her hands were at her lips, and her eyes were filling with tears. He opened the top dresser drawer, pulled out the blue velvet box, and opened the lid. And then he got down on one knee and took her hand.
“I did this twice before,” he told her. “Once exactly wrong. I couldn’t believe I’d blurted that out and made you cry, but I think now that I must have known it was right. Seems like my head’s been behind my heart this whole time. When you saw those wolves in Yellowstone, and you said that white wolf had my eyes, and he stared at you and made you turn around and kept you safe. When I heard those great horned owls calling to each other that same night, and I thought about my mom making me stop and listen, telling me they mated for life. It’s like life’s been giving me every signal it can, all along the way, and I’ve been refusing to read them. Baby—I’m reading them now. I know what I want, and it’s you.”
He still couldn’t tell, because there were a few tears rolling down her cheeks, and the hand in his was shaking. He said, “You haven’t run away this time, and you haven’t told me we’ll talk about it later, so I’m hoping those tears are a good sign. I love you, and all I want in this world right now is my ring on your finger. I want to grow some babies and some flowers here with you, and watch the rosebushes and the kids get taller. And I sure do wish you’d say something, because I’m real nervous here.”
“It’s … it’s my house,” she said. “Our house.”
He stared at her. “What? Of course it is. What did you think?”
“I thought …” Her hand was shaking like crazy now. “I thought you were just … asking for my opinion. Because I’m … good at this stuff. At details. You haven’t said anything, and I … I …”
She couldn’t go on, and he couldn’t stay down here when she was crying, could he? He stood up, took her in his arms, and said, “Hey, now. Hey. It’s OK. We’ve got this.” He pulled her into his shoulder and tried to laugh. “Last time I said it, you didn’t seem to think I meant it. So I thought—maybe if I buy you a house. A family house. Maybe you’d believe me then.”
She was standing back, wiping at her eyes, trying to smile. “Sorry. I just—I’m surprised, that’s all. This is why Grandpa, and, uh … everybody. Why you got everybody here.”
“I thought, because I embarrassed you before,” he said, “that I could make it right.”
“Then,” she said, still going for that smile, even though it was wobbly, “could you show me the ring again? I have a feeling it’s nice.”
He laughed out loud, and so did everybody else. The kind of laugh when the awkward part’s over, and the good part starts. He said, “It’s pretty nice, yeah. I remembered how you don’t like fussy things, so I made it simple.”
A round stone, two carats of flash set into an elegant, sleek platinum band. No sharpness to any of it, and nothing aggressive about it. Nothing but rounded curves, all of it looking like the light shining in the right woman’s eyes, glowing with the warmth of her love. A love that was strong enough to set you straight when you were wrong, and to hold you up when you were weak.
And a promise strong enough that she could let herself fall and believe you would catch her. Every single time.
She said, “It’s so beautiful. And I love you, too. I love you so much. I can’t … Could you put it on me?”
“Is that a yes? This is forever, you know. I want to make sure.”
“Yes.” She laughed, even though she was crying. “Yes. Oh, Harlan. That’s a yes.”
64
Clutch Play
Harlan stood in the tunnel on an October Sunday, focused on his breathing, and got his head right.
It didn’t matter that they were playing the Patriots, in the rematch of the game where he’d come up short on that Hail Mary. It didn’t matter that the Devils were four and one so far, because records didn’t win games. It didn’t even matter right now that Jennifer was due in two weeks, and that his announcement that he was taking a week off after the baby had been met with scorn and disbelief and chatter about his entitlement, especially since they were playing the Chiefs on the first weekend in November, and that was going to be a tough one.