“Just knowing you’re here in our home while I’m away makes me feel like I’m with you.”
As they walked into the living room, Ethan’s arm still snugly around her, she noticed the packing boxes scattered around.
“You did get home early,” she exclaimed. “You’ve already started the packing, I see.”
Ethan smiled. “Yeah, I didn’t want you having to do too much. The guys are coming over later to help move the furniture and Ma and Rusty are on their way over now to help pack the smaller stuff.”
Just thinking of her family filled her with a warm glow that never failed to vanquish the shadows of the past. She was loved, and she was whole again. The emptiness that had gnawed at her for so long had finally been filled.
“Guess I should get to it then,” Rachel said, staring around at the living room.
“Uh no,” Ethan said, his voice firm. “First you’re going to sit down, put your feet up, and I’m going to crack open a bottle of wine to celebrate your first day at work.”
She sighed. “You spoil me shamelessly.”
He cracked a grin. “Yup, that’s me. Completely shameless. Park it while I go get the wine.”
He took her briefcase and carried it with him toward the kitchen while she settled onto the leather sofa and, as he’d directed, propped her feet on the ottoman.
Her gaze wandered over the living room, taking in all the details. Details that hadn’t changed since they’d moved in. The piano still occupied the same spot. The framed pictures—of their wedding and of other family times together—were still neatly in their places.
Ethan hadn’t changed anything in the entire year she was presumed dead. Nothing had been changed since her return.
She was ready for that next step. Ready to embrace the new and move away from the old. It was a matter she’d only discussed with her therapist in the sessions that Ethan didn’t attend, but she firmly believed the last step in her recovery was to remove herself from the house that held so many painful memories for her.
There were still gaps in her memory. Maybe she’d never fully regain everything of her past. A year hooked on drugs and the emotional and physical trauma she’d endured had perhaps altered her mind enough that there were simply things she’d never remember. Maybe it was better that way.
It was difficult for her—since she’d lost her memory of so many events—when they did come floating back, she experienced them all over again. Some were hurtful and vivid, and it took days and even weeks to come to terms with them.
It was hard to tell herself it happened four years ago when it was so fresh in her mind. The arguments. The stony silence between her and Ethan. The miscarriage. Ethan being gone. And the accusations that still stung if she let herself dwell on them.
The man Ethan was today wasn’t the man Ethan was in the early stages of their marriage. She knew that. But it was hard when those memories came back to her. New. As if it had happened yesterday.
Her gaze drifted to the bookcase where those damnable papers had been hidden. Immediately the image flashed of that last terrible day when Ethan had stood in front her, his expression impassive as he calmly handed her papers that would effectively end their marriage.
He’d told her not to bother coming back.
And she hadn’t.
For an eternity she’d remained a prisoner in unimaginable circumstances, her mind shattered. She’d clung to the only thing she’d known. Ethan. He’d been the one constant. He would come for her. He wouldn’t let her die in hell. Thank God her mind had protected her from the awful reality of the way they’d parted, or she would have never survived or held on to the hope that he’d come.
“Rachel? Are you okay?”
Ethan’s concerned question drifted through the painful memories, and she blinked, turning in the direction of his voice.
He was holding two glasses of wine, and his brows were drawn together, his sharp gaze peeling back layer after layer until she worried he’d know exactly what she was thinking.
She smiled, mustering all her control to prevent the shaking that usually accompanied the flashbacks. She reached for the wine and nodded. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”
Ethan handed over the glass and then settled on the couch beside her.
“Whatever you were thinking, it couldn’t have been good. You were pale, and your eyes were so distant that you didn’t seem to be here at all.”
“It was nothing. I’d rather focus on us. And the move to our brand new house.”
She held up her glass, and he gently clinked his to hers.
“I’m going to miss this place,” he said. “Lot of memories tied up here. I can understand why Mom and Dad are reluctant to relocate. They’ve been in that house my whole life. I can’t imagine them anywhere else.”
She swallowed and then sipped at her wine.
“You sure this is what you want to do?” he asked.
Her eyes widened. “We’re certainly beyond that point now. The other house is already built! What on earth would we do with it if we decided not to move?”
He shrugged. “Van and Joe haven’t built houses yet. One of them could always take it.”
She shook her head. “No. I love that house. It’s perfect. I’m excited to move into it.”
He studied her a minute as if deciding whether to state what was on his mind. Then he leaned over to put his glass on the end table.
“You aren’t happy here, are you?” he said bluntly.