In Sickness

It was an unseasonably warm day for mid-November. The sun cast a golden light on the browning trees, and a light wind caused the remaining leaves to flutter gracefully to the ground on the front lawn. Ben turned from the window to smile at his wife.

“It’s a perfect autumn day out there,” he said. “I wish we could get outdoors and enjoy it.”

 “Why shouldn’t we?” Claire asked.

“Don’t be silly,” he said. “It’s best enjoyed from the window this year.”

Claire shifted restlessly on the couch before finally standing to join him at the window. She wrapped her arms around his waist, nestling into the warmth of his sweater vest. She had knit it for him last year, and had said she was uncertain about whether he would like it. It might not have been his first choice, but he would never admit that to her. He made a point of wearing the brown and cream houndstooth vest regularly on cold winter weekends.

“It really does look perfect,” she murmured.

He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Claire said suddenly. “It needn’t be far, but I’m itching to get out and breathe the crisp fall air.”

“That’s not a good idea, Claire,” he said slowly. Would she ever learn her limitations?

“I’ll be fine!” she insisted. “I’m getting my coat now—you can either come with me or stay at home and watch the world from the window.”

She had already reached the coat hook by the back door before he had turned around. She was nothing if not stubborn at times… Ben shook his head. Perhaps she would see reason after a block or two. Though, as he knew only too well, it was doubtful.

A few moments later, the two were strolling down the sidewalk arm in arm, Claire’s cane beating out a slow staccato on the cold pavement. The scent of decaying leaves hung heavy in the air, and the wind held a bite that promised winter would be fast on its heels.

“This time of year always makes me feel so alive,” Claire breathed. Her face was turned up to the sky, her eyes closed as she took deep breaths. Ben grinned at her obvious enjoyment.

“It reminds me of when we first met. Do you remember that autumn?” He smiled at the memories that played across his mind.

“Of course!” she cried. “How could I forget?”

“You were teaching back then, the young schoolmistress with the beautiful red hair,” he teased. She scowled at him.

“Yes, and you were the stodgy banker with nothing but sums and columns of numbers to look forward to in your future.”

Ben laughed out loud.

“You couldn’t have been more right,” he said ruefully.

“I thought you were boring,” she admitted. She bit her lip as she looked up at him.

“Truly? I thought you were the most magnificent creature I had ever seen.” Ben feigned offense.

“You did not,” she laughed. She tugged at his arm, swinging it lightly as she walked. “Either way, I’m glad we both came around eventually.”

“Me too.”

“Before the year was out, you had asked me to be your wife,” she smiled.

“I came around quickly,” Ben grinned.

Claire rolled her eyes.

“What do you suppose young, newlywed us would think of where we are now?” Claire asked.

Ben snorted.

“I suppose we would find us old and boring,” he said.

“And sad,” she added pensively.

Ben turned to glance at her profile. She gazed straight ahead, but there was a distant look in her eyes. All traces of the earlier playfulness had vanished from her face.

“It’s not quite what we imagined, is it?” he asked quietly.

“No,” she said. She turned to look up at him. “Though we shouldn’t be surprised. On our wedding day we promised to be faithful in sickness and in health. But no one really expects it to come to that, do they?”

Ben rested one hand over her hand in the crook of his arm.

“Not yet, at least,” he said. Certainly not yet.

“Do you ever feel cheated?” she asked. Her gaze remained fixed at some distant point ahead of them on the sidewalk, as though she was afraid to look at him when he answered.

Ben’s heart wrenched. Was that what she feared?

“No,” he said quickly, firmly. “Not at all.”

“But I’m not much of a wife,” she said softly.

“Do you feel cheated?”

Now she turned and looked at him, her beautiful hazel eyes large with surprise.

“By what? You’re healthy and strong and… and… well, you’re fairly handsome,” she smiled, a spark of humor making her lips twitch.

“I’m glad to see you’ve finally noticed,” he joked.

“I’ve known for years,” she said, waving her free hand. “I just didn’t want it going to your head.”

He smiled as he watched the sidewalk for a few steps. His gaze traveled up into the winding limbs of an almost-bare oak tree.

“Neither of us is perfect,” he said, his tone serious once more.

“Far from it,” she agreed.

“I don’t love you less for it,” he said. “In fact, sometimes I think I love you more.”

“For my imperfections?” she asked, incredulous.

Ben nodded and tightened his grip on her hand.

“How could that be?” she asked.

“They make you vulnerable and real. The Claire that emerges from your broken places has no pretense or falsehood. And even with the scars and open wounds—and the absolutely infuriating quirks, I might add—they’re the places I see glimpses of your soul.”

Claire swallowed hard next to him.

“That’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“Yes, well, once in a while I come close to perfection,” Ben attempted a light tone. In spite of the effort, he felt a lump in his own throat.

“I used to think the ‘happily ever after’ of my fairy tales had to do with being perfect and everything being at peace,” Claire said.

“Perhaps it has very little to do with that,” Ben said. “Perhaps it has more to do with the choices that we make when things are less than ideal. Or with our actions and words when we fall short of the mark of perfection.”

“I think you’re on to something there,” Claire mused quietly.

Ben took a deep breath.

“If that’s the case,” he said, “then we have the capacity for the greatest ‘happily ever after’ in history.”

Claire smiled faintly.

“You would still choose me?” she asked after a moment.

“Every time,” he said. “And you?”

Claire glanced up at him with a mischievous smile.

“I might shop around first,” she said.

Ben laughed out loud and pulled her arm in close to his side. Yes, they were far from perfect.

But then, happiness didn’t require perfection.

This short story is an excerpted “deleted scene” from my novel, “The Patient Wife,” which is currently in the querying stage.