Lisa Gardner - Love You More

At ten p.m., I took a hot shower and changed into a clean uniform. Did not remove the duty belt from the safe. Did not trust myself with my state-issued Sig Sauer.

At ten-fifteen, my husband finally walked through the front door, carrying a giant bag and his downhill skis. He was whistling, moving with the kind of loose-limbed grace that comes from spending an entire day engaged in intense physical activity.

He leaned his skis against the wall. Set down his ski bag. Tossed his keys on the kitchen table, then was just starting to remove his boots when he spotted me. He seemed to notice my uniform first, his gaze going automatically to the clock on the wall.

“It’s that late? Crap, sorry. I must’ve lost track of time.”

I stared at him, hands on my hips, the epitome of the nagging fishwife. I didn’t fucking care.

“Where. Were. You.”

The words came out hard and clipped. Brian looked up, appeared genuinely surprised. “Skiing. Didn’t Sarah tell you that? The girl next door. She brought Sophie home, right?”

“Funny question to ask now, don’t you think?”

He hesitated, less certain. “Is Sophie home?”

“Yes.”

“Did Sarah do okay? I mean, Sophie’s okay?”

“Best I can tell.”

Brian nodded, seemed to be considering. “So… why am I in so much trouble?”

“Mrs. Ennis-” I started.

“Shit!” he exploded, jumping immediately to standing. “I was supposed to call her. While driving. Except the roads really were crap, and I needed two hands on the wheel, and by the time I got to the highway and better conditions… Oh no…” He groaned. Slumped back down in his seat. “I screwed that up.”

“You left my child with a stranger! You took off to play, when I needed you here. And you panicked a perfectly wonderful old woman who will probably have to double her heart medicine for the next week!”

“Yeah,” my husband agreed, mumbling. “I messed up. I should’ve called her. I’m sorry.”

“How could you?” I heard myself say.

He went back to work on the laces of his boots. “I forgot. I was going to drop Sophie off at Mrs. Ennis’s house, but then I met Sarah and she’s right next door-”

“You left Sophie with a stranger for the entire day-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. It was already eight. I figured you’d be home at any time.”

“I worked till after one. And I’d still be working, except Mrs. Ennis called dispatch and had them emergency page me.”

Brian paled and stopped fiddling with his boots. “Uh-oh.”

“No kidding!”

“Okay. Okay. Yes. Definitely. Not calling Mrs. Ennis was a first-class fuckup. I’m sorry, Tessa. I’ll call Mrs. Ennis in the morning and apologize.”

“You don’t know how scared I was,” I had to state.

He didn’t speak.

“The whole way… driving here. Have you ever held an infant’s skull in your hands, Brian?”

He didn’t speak.

“It’s like cradling rose petals. The unfused segments are so paper thin you can see through them, so light that if you exhale, they’ll blow out of your cupped hands. These are the things I know, Brian. These are the things I can’t forget. Which means, you don’t screw up with a woman like me, Brian. You don’t hand over my kid to a stranger, you don’t ditch my daughter just so you can get out to play. You guard Sophie. Or you get the hell out of our lives. Are we clear on that?”

“I screwed up,” he replied levelly. “I get that. Is Sophie all right?”

“Yes-”

“Did she like Sarah?”

“Apparently-”

“And you called Mrs. Ennis?”

“Of course!”

“Then at least things turned out all right in the end.” He returned to his boots.

I crossed the kitchen so fast I nearly caught flight. “You married me!” I screamed at my new husband. “You chose me. You chose Sophie. How dare you fail us!”

“It was a phone call, Tessa. And yes, I will try to do better next time.”

“I thought you’d died! I thought Sophie had died!”

“Well, yeah, then isn’t it good that I’m finally home?”

“Brian!”

“I know I screwed up!” He finally gave up on his boots, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m new at this! I’ve never had a wife and daughter before, and just because I love you doesn’t mean I’m not sometimes stupid. For chrissake, Tessa… I’m about to ship out again. I just wanted one last day of fun. Fresh snow. Powder skiing…” He inhaled. Exhaled. Stood up.

“Tessa,” he said more quietly. “I would never intentionally hurt you or Sophie. I love you both. And I promise to do better next time. Have a little faith, okay? We’re both new at this and we’re bound to make some mistakes, so please… Have a little faith.”

My shoulders sagged. The fight left me. I let go of my anger long enough to feel the relief that my daughter was okay, my husband was safe, and the afternoon had worked out in the end.

Brian pulled me against his chest. I allowed his embrace. I even slid my arms around his waist.

“Be careful, Brian,” I whispered against his shoulder. “Remember, I’m not like other women.”

For a change, he didn’t argue.

I remembered this moment of my marriage, and others, as the nurse stood back and gestured for me to take my first awkward step. I’d managed to eat dry toast at six a.m. without throwing up. At seven-thirty, they’d moved me to the chair next to my bed to see how I’d do sitting up.

The pain inside my skull had flared the first few minutes, then settled into a dull roar. Half of my face remained swollen and tender, my legs felt shaky, but overall, I’d made progress in the past twelve hours. I could stand, sit, and eat dry toast. World, look out.

I wanted to run, madly, desperately, out of the hospital, where by some miracle I would find Sophie standing on the sidewalk waiting for me. I would swing her into my arms. Mommy she would cry happily. And I would hug her and kiss her and tell her how sorry I was for everything and never let her go.

“All right,” the nurse said crisply. “First step, let’s give it a whirl.”

She offered her arm for balance. My knees trembled violently, and I placed a grateful hand on her arm.

That first shuffling step made my head swim. I blinked my eyes several times, and the disorientation passed. Up was up, down was down. Progress.

I inched forward, tiny little hiccups of my feet that slowly but surely took me across the gray linoleum, closer and closer to the bathroom. Then I was inside, gently shutting the door behind me. The nurse had supplied toiletries for showering. Second test of the day-seeing if I could pee and shower on my own. Then the doctor would examine me again.

Then, maybe, just maybe, I could go home.

Sophie. Sitting on the floor of her room, surrounded by painted bunnies and bright orange flowers, playing with her favorite raggedy-haired doll. Mommy, you’re home! Mommy, I love you!

I stood at the sink and stared at my reflection in the mirror.

The flesh around my eye was so black and engorged with blood, it looked like an eggplant. I could barely make out the bridge of my nose, or the top line of my eyebrow. I thought of those scenes in the early Rocky movies, where they’d razor-opened his swollen flesh just so he could see. I might have to give it a try. Day was still young.

My fingers traveled from my black eye, to the laceration two inches above it, the scab just now forming, pulling at the roots of my hair. Then I reached around to the prominent lump still protruding from the back of my skull. It felt hot and tender to the touch. I let my hand fall away, holding on to the edge of the sink instead.