"I don't think so, Will," I said eventually. "You needed time away from me at that point. If I'd come back to Buffalo at Christmas pregnant with your baby, God knows what would've happened. Your family needed time to heal from your dad's death."
We both knew what I meant-that Vi Vi had needed time. She'd teetered on the brink of insanity in the aftermath of her beloved husband's early demise. My pregnancy, caused by her son, would have sent her over that brink. had needed time. She'd teetered on the brink of insanity in the aftermath of her beloved husband's early demise. My pregnancy, caused by her son, would have sent her over that brink.
"I never intended to keep Angie from you, Will. Not forever."
"I don't know, Deb."
An icy finger cooled my anger while stirring long-buried fears.
"What are you saying?"
"You were pretty comfortable when I showed up. You had a job, a wonderful babysitter and a nice home, for a graduate student. Is there any reason I should believe you would've told me about Angie any sooner?"
"Why are we having this conversation thirty-five years after the fact? You never mentioned any of this before, never questioned my motives for keeping Angie away from Buffalo in the beginning."
"I was younger. I was so damned relieved to have found you that I didn't care."
"Why care now?"
"The same reason you're rethinking us, Deb. The grandchild on the way. Despite everything we've given our children and tried to instill in them, Angie's made the same mistake."
"Mistake? We aren't a mistake, Will! Our children-none of them-are mistakes. And I don't think Angie would take kindly to you saying her baby is a mistake." We aren't a mistake, Will! Our children-none of them-are mistakes. And I don't think Angie would take kindly to you saying her baby is a mistake."
Will's sigh rumbled through the receiver against my ear. I pictured the exasperated expression that must be on his face. But although this wasn't the easiest of conversations, I was grateful as I always was when Will opened up.
I needed to bite my tongue and listen so he wouldn't think I was judging him or his opinions.
"I'm sorry, Deb. We should've had this conversation years ago and not in the middle of a blizzard. I can't even get home to talk to you in person."
"That's just as well." I didn't add that I thought maybe we were both cowards when it comes to spilling our guts.
"What are you thinking?" His tone was softer.
"Nothing. No, let me change that." I took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm thinking that you're stuck in your office with no reasonable amount of work to do, so you've redirected your type-A efforts toward me. It's giving you enough of a distraction to get through this time."
"That's not very nice, babe. You must think I'm a real bastard."
"C'mon, Will, you know that's not true."
Silence fell over the line and I stared out our bedroom window. I could barely see the outline of the fir trees in the distant yard. Too much snow obscured my view.
The ache in my chest had lightened, but I knew Will and I still had some talking to do.
"It's better that you're not here, or trying to get here. The wind's blowing like crazy."
I heard footsteps over the phone, and the clap of what must have been Will's window shades.
"Yeah, you're right. It's blowing all to hell here, too."
We each hung on, no words exchanged, but knowing he was on the line comforted me, even if he was still angry.
"We've been through a lot, haven't we, Will?"
"Yes."
"This is just another blip on the radar, isn't it?"
"Of course it is, honey. Why would you even think otherwise?"
"We can never take anything for granted. Didn't we learn that earlier than most?" I reminded him.
"Yes, yes, we did."
"I love you, Will."
"I love you, too."
And I knew he did. He'd always loved me, as I loved him.
But was it still enough, enough to sustain not just our partnership but also to buoy our children and now their their kids, too? kids, too?
"I need to go check on your mom."
"Aw, talk to me a bit more."
"What about?"
"Hell, I don't know. When's the exhibit?"
"In three weeks."
"Are you working on anything new or do you have all the pieces done?"
"Both. I'm going to include pieces from the chest, things I've made for spring and summer over the years, and I'm also working on a huge tapestry of the skyline."
By "skyline" I referred to the Buffalo night silhouette.
"How many days will it be at Albright-Knox?"
"A month. But I have to take it to New Orleans, Denver, Seattle and Atlanta after that."
"How far is the tapestry from being done?"
"One, maybe two weeks. I need to stay focused on getting it finished, but it's hard with all the other things I'm doing for the display."
"Don't forget you have more boxes of knitting in the attic."
Will's hint to clean up my storage made me laugh for the first time since we'd started this conversation.
"Yes, dear," I said demurely.
"Fine, laugh at me. But if you find a great idea for your exhibit and it's too late to include it because you waited, don't blame me."
"Okay, I won't." Will loved to "help" me with my work.
"Talk to you later," he said.
"Bye."
CHAPTER TWENTY.
Present Day Buffalo, New York Debra I STAYED IN OUR ROOM for a while after I hung up with Will. for a while after I hung up with Will.
If I dwelled on our conversation I'd end up in a slump, or worse, too frazzled to get any work done.
I'd learned more patience with each year of being married to him, learned to be grateful for the times he opened up. When we were first married, he wasn't ready to talk about his emotions. And I wasn't ready to listen. All I wanted to do was fix things.
The garish half set of golf club covers stared up at me from the chest. I'd hung on to them as a means of punishing myself, I supposed.
Maroon and white, they were the colors of the high school the kids went to. And a reminder of the near-fatal blow the golf coach had been to my marriage.
Lyle Blackburn had been everything Will wasn't. Single, a long-term bachelor, earning the modest income of a public schoolteacher, supplemented by his tour on the pro circuit.
And white.
Shame pushed heat up my neck and face.
April 1989 Buffalo, New York "GREAT DRIVE, BRIAN."
Lyle Blackburn clasped Brian's shoulder and smiled. "You'll take us to the state championships with that swing."
Debra watched the scene and wished Will could see how much Brian's stroke had improved. Will had been preoccupied with work, and she'd been so preoccupied with the kids' schedules and her own that she hadn't really filled him in.
"Hi, Debbie."
"Hey." She never corrected the nickname he used. It sounded so fresh, so alive, when he said it.
"Your boy's got real talent."
"Thanks." She smiled at Lyle and immediately berated herself. She was not going to be like all the other moms who ogled him. For heaven's sake, she'd been married for almost two decades! A new car or weaving loom was more appropriate for her than a lustful fantasy about Lyle Blackburn.
"Keep it up, Brian. Ten more and you're done for today."
"Okay, coach."
Lyle walked over to Debra and lightly grasped her arm. He guided her to a picnic bench not far from the driving range but far enough to give them some privacy.
"Have you ever golfed, Debbie?"
"No, I'm not really the athletic type."
"Golf isn't about athletics, Debbie. It's about the mental aspect. I even like to think it has a spiritual side."
Lyle's green eyes sparkled with the concentration Will once had. A complete focus, on her.
But she wasn't looking for a substitute.
"Coach Blackburn, I can barely keep up with my kids' schedules as it is. Fitting in four or five hours a week to hit a little white ball around the green isn't something I can do." Debra ignored his effusive charm.
"All the more reason to take some time for yourself."
Lyle looked at her, and Debra squirmed under his un-abashed assessment.
"You do so much for Will and the kids. When's the last time someone did something for you?"
"I don't do more than any other wife." She pretended not to notice the sexual innuendo in his tone.
"Sure you do." He motioned at the area surrounding them. "How many wives and mothers do as much as you, Debbie? No one. The rest of the kids walk home every night. Not your boys."
Debra knew that. She often gave rides to Brian and Blair's classmates. But most of the other moms had real jobs, not artistic ones like hers.
"My work gives me a little more flexibility..."
"Stop making excuses for yourself. You're a great mom and you deserve a husband who worships you."
His come-on was kitschy, his method transparent. But Debra hadn't been the object of any adult attention-male attention-in so long that even Lyle's tackiness boosted her ego.
Just a bit.
She got up from the table and said goodbye.
"I'm in the car when you're ready, Brian," she called.
She went to the station wagon and locked herself inside. She needed something to remind her why she stayed married to a man who worshipped his career more than his wife.
Present Day Buffalo, New York Debra "HELLO?" CALLER ID indicated it was Maggie from the knitting group.
"Deb? I wanted to call and thank you for helping me with Dave's sweater. I've managed to fix the entire length of that dropped stitch."
"Good, I'm glad." I knew the sickening stomach twist that occurred when a garment I'd been knitting for weeks seemed to be ruined due to one mistake.
"Me, too! I was driving Dave crazy with my ranting about how much work I'd done, and how I didn't think I had it in me to start over."