Page 36 of His Loving Wife

“Yeah. I think you will.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Marsh seemed happy. Kate didn’t have to go into her reasons for joining the class, but it was clear Marsh thought it was a good decision. Kate felt good about it too. Doing something for herself. Something that made her better, both inside and out. Already, she knew she wanted to experience the sensation again.

This is what it was about. Fresh beginnings. Hope. She prayed that was what this new year would bring.

Noah’s class finished around the same time. He skipped out the door, high-fiving some of his peers on the way out. She was happy his class had improved his demeanor.

She welcomed the cold air filling her lungs when she stepped outside. The drive home felt like its own little luxury. She sang along with the radio, bobbing her head and waving her hands like she did when she first started driving as a teenager.

As usual, she stopped at the mailbox before pulling into the driveway. She was still humming a melody as she flipped through the envelopes. Bills. Flyers. And something else. A letter addressed to her.

She opened it, her eyes scanning the first few sentences. And the fear came flooding back, as though it had never left.

Chapter 18

Now

We don’t speak much after we return home. I think our minds are still at sea, reliving that horrific scene out on the water.

“Anyone hungry?” Andrew asks, making his way to the kitchen. It’s the first sentence he’s spoken since we started our trek back to shore.

“I think I might take a nap,” Willow says, walking lazily toward her room. I know what happened this afternoon scared her, and I’m sure she feels guilty for taunting her brother only moments before she risked losing him.

“I could eat,” Noah says. Always eager to please and also trying to pretend he wasn’t the focus of this afternoon’s scare. “Although, I am pretty tired.”

“Rest up. That would be good for you,” Andrew says. “I’ll order us some pizza in an hour or so. Something easy.”

Noah toddles down the hallway and closes the bathroom door behind him. It hurts, even having him out of my sight for a few seconds. We were so scarily close to losing him this afternoon. I turn and look at Andrew.

“Are you hungry now?” he asks, intentionally avoiding my gaze. “I could make you something.”

“You didn’t do anything,” I say. My voice sounds like it’s coming undone, an undercurrent of rage beneath.

“Kate, everything happened so quickly—”

“And you just stood there.” My body shakes. That’s how hard I’m trying to stifle my rage. “Our son was drowning in the ocean, and you took a fucking seat!”

“He wasn’t drowning.” He stops, reconsidering his response. “He was struggling, and I was shocked. I didn’t know what to do.”

“You do what I did,” I say, pointing my finger at him. “You do what you have to do to protect them. Jump in, throw a raft. You don’t sit there like some moron as we watch our son drown.”

He pauses, still refusing to meet my gaze. He’s silent. Then, “I was scared.”

“I was scared, too. I’m terrified of the water, and you know that, but I still jumped in because Noah needed me. You… you didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sorry—”

“No!” I’m yelling now, then lower my voice so as not to attract the attention of the children. “How am I supposed to go through life with someone who I can’t depend on?”

“That’s a low blow.” He waits, no doubt thinking about that night, how our fear has followed us both since then, tainting our actions. “It’s like Doctor Sutton said, our bodies have three reactions to trauma: fight, flight or freeze. Clearly, you’re the fighter between the two of us.”

“I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only person this family can depend on.” I break into sobs, as though I can physically feel the weight of all these worries atop me. “I thought we were making progress, Andrew. I thoughtyouwere making progress.”

“I am.” Finally, he looks at me, only for a moment. He’s ashamed to look any longer than that. “I messed up today. Thankfully, you were there to do what I couldn’t.”

“Why did you let go of the fishing pole?”

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