Page 119 of Call Off the Dark

“Isaac really is gone,” she repeated firmly. “He disappeared with the fire. It’s over.”

Wade studied her with a circumspect expression, as if he’d always known there was an underground world inside her. But still, he didn’t ask. Instead, he nodded, his relief palpable as he accepted her simple explanation.

Then he rubbed his face and glanced around, taking in the mess. “Your garden.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Don’t worry. We’ll replant it.”

As she stared at the smoldering remains, Helen realized she’d gotten her wish to burn all the damn Brussels sprouts. “No, Wade,” she said. “We won’t.” Then she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Wade said. “I love you.”

They sat with their arms around each other for several long moments until Helen asked, “But do you like me?”

“What?”

She let go of him and sat back so she could see his face. “Do you like me?”

“I just said I loved you, didn’t I?”

“I know. And I believe you do, in your own way. But do you like me?”

Wade scoffed. “What’s the difference, Helen? Isn’t loving your wife more important than liking her?”

“In some ways, yes. In other ways, no.”

“Stop with the riddles.”

“Oh, Wade.” Helen sighed. “You don’t even like the way I talk.”

“What? You’re picking a fight now? After everything?” Wade gestured helplessly at the mess around them.

“No, that’s the thing. I’m not picking a fight. I’m just pointing out how different we are. We’ve been through a lot together. I don’t think any of this has been easy on either of us. But we’ve also led very separate, lonely lives out here. We don’t know each other that well, not really. And we don’t like each other nearly as much as we should.”

“That’s a ridiculous thing to say.”

“Do you though?” Helen pressed. “Do you like me?”

After a long beat, Wade turned to her and said, “Lots of husbands don’t like their wives all that much.”

“But Wade,” she said. “They should.”

Chapter Fifty-One

In the bedroom, Helen stripped off her dirt-caked dress and left it in a heap on the floor. Wade could throw it away if he wanted, but she was never going to hand-wash an article of clothing in the cold water of a wooden basin again. She put on a pair of his work pants and used one of her fabric dress belts to cinch them at the waist, then pulled on one of his undershirts.

Outside, she and Wade had talked about a separation. Neither of them had said the word divorce, but Helen felt certain they both knew it was going to come to that. That meant Wade would either live out here alone, or he’d eventually sell this place and move on to something else. The thought made her feel sad for him, but she couldn’t stay with him out of duty.

Helen understood now that she’d chosen Wade in part because she’d recognized that he didn’t want to truly know her. She’d lied to herself that she was coming out here to escape her grief, but in the end, she’d fully shrouded herself in that grief. She’d disappeared further inside herself, all the while playing house with a man who couldn’t tell the difference. Isaac had come along and pierced through that grief. It had been reckless and it had been wrong, but God, it had been exciting. Even if it had made her fall further into the despair and the madness, it had also created a glimmer in the dark: hope. Because now here she stood. Now ready for a different kind of fall. Maybe this time she wouldn’t fall apart but instead finally start to fall back together.

Helen heard a floorboard creak in the hallway, and then Wade appeared in the open doorway with a serious expression. She tried to give him a smile, but there was so much heaviness between them.

“If you buy produce from the market,” she said, “you can store it in the cellar easily for a few months.”

“I know.”

“The thermometer’s on the shelf next to the canning supplies.”

“I know.”

“You should be good on spices for a while. Except cumin. That’s low.”