At First Sight - Nicholas Sparks [95]
“Sorry for squishing you,” she said. “I know I’m getting heavy.”
“It’s no problem. Anytime you want to sit on my lap, feel free to do so.”
She stared at him before finally letting out a long sigh. “I haven’t been fair with you,” she confessed.
“What are you talking about?”
“All of it,” she said, tracing an invisible pattern on his shoulder. “I haven’t been fair since the beginning.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” he responded, ignoring her touch.
“All of it,” she said again. “I’ve been thinking about all you’ve done in the last nine months, and I want you to know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter where that life brings us.” She paused. “I know I’m not making any sense, so let me get to the point. I married a writer,” she continued. “And that’s what I want you to do.”
“I’m trying,” he said. “That’s all I’ve been doing since I’ve been down here. . . .”
“That’s my point,” she said. “Do you know why I love you? I love you because of the way you’ve been ever since we found out about Claire. Because you always sound like you’re sure everything’s going to be okay, because every time I get down, you seem to know what to say or what to do. But most of all, I love you for who you are, and I want you to know I’d do anything to help you.”
She clasped her arms around his neck. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about what you’ve been going through. I don’t know . . . maybe it was just too much. Look at all the changes you’ve made since January. Marriage, the house, the pregnancy . . . and on top of all that, you moved down here. Your job is different from mine. For the most part, I know what I’m going to do every day. Granted, there are times when it’s tedious or frustrating, but it’s not as if I think the library will close if I don’t do my job. But your job . . . it’s creative. I couldn’t do what you do. I couldn’t come up with columns every month or write articles like you do. They’re amazing.”
Jeremy didn’t bother to hide his surprise as she ran a finger through his hair.
“That’s what I’ve been doing at the library when I have a few extra minutes. I think I’ve read everything you’ve written, and, I don’t know, I guess I just don’t want you to stop. And if living here is what’s stopping you, I can’t ask you to make that sacrifice.”
“It’s not a sacrifice,” he protested. “I wanted to come down here. You didn’t force me.”
“No, but you knew where I stood. You knew I never wanted to leave. And I don’t, but I will.” She met his gaze. “You’re my husband, and I’ll follow you, even if that means moving to New York if you think that will help.”
He didn’t know what to say. “You’d leave Boone Creek?”
“If that’s what you think you need to write.”
“What about Doris?”
“I’m not saying I won’t visit. But Doris would understand. We’ve already discussed it.”
She smiled, waiting for his response, and for an instant Jeremy considered it. He imagined the energy of the city, the lights of Times Square, the illuminated outline of the Manhattan skyline at night. He thought of his daily runs in Central Park and his favorite diner, the endless possibilities of new restaurants, plays, stores, and people . . .
But only for an instant. As he glanced through the window and saw the whitewashed bark of cypress trees standing on the banks of Boone Creek, with the water so still that it reflected the sky, he knew he wouldn’t leave. Nor, he realized with an intensity that surprised him, did he want to.
“I’m happy here,” he said. “And I don’t think moving to New York is what I need to write.”
“Just like that?” she said. “Don’t you want some time to think about it?”
“No,” he said. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”
After she left, he started straightening up his desk and was just about to shut off the computer when he noticed Doris’s journal near the mail. It had been on the desk since he’d moved in, and he realized he should