What Did You Do Last Summer?

A few months after moving to the little town, I needed a break. About the time we got settled in our house, I started traveling for work two weeks out of every month. While it was not hard travel -- I got to stay in nice hotels and rent decent sized cars -- my days on the road were filled with meetings. I was occasionally able to catch up with old friends along the way, but more often than not, I spent my time with strangers.

I decided to tack a few days in one of my favorite places on to the end of a business trip. I asked my husband if he wanted to come along, expecting that he'd decline. He had been working night and day throughout the summer, and I always gave him a lot of leeway where work was concerned. Shortly before I met him, he quit his job and went into partnership with a couple of guys to build a business from scratch. They put up most of the capital, and, for a modest buy-in and a lot of sweat equity, my husband got an equal share of the business. This enterprise was his "lifelong dream," and one of the biggest reason why I moved to the little town in the first place.

I was surprised when he said that he'd join me for a long weekend -- he'd fly out on Friday afternoon and back on Tuesday morning. He was upbeat when I picked him up from the airport, in a much better mood than he'd been in some time. All the tension of the spring and summer blew away in the salt breezes, and we slipped back into the easy patterns of our courtship. For the first time in months, I was relaxed enough around him to remember why I turned my life upside down for this man. It felt good.

It was raining when we woke up Saturday morning. The coastline was shrouded in fog, and it was hard to tell where the sky ended and the ocean began, everything was the same steely shade of gray. We didn't care -- we were on vacation in a place that was out cell phone range. As we headed out the driveway in search of adventure, he turned to me and said, "I suppose we should set a date."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I think it's time."

"What were you thinking?"

"Soon. Before the end of the year."

And that was the end of that. After giving me months of grief, we settled the issue in three short sentences. We didn't talk about it for the rest of the weekend -- we were going to keep it simple, so there wasn't much to discuss. I never wondered too much about what prompted his change of heart. I was only glad that he'd worked through whatever issues he'd had, and that he was ready to finish what he'd put in motion almost a year earlier.

I probably should have wondered more. I'm certain I would not have been so eager to make any plans had I known that he broke off a long-term affair the day before he got on the plane for our vacation. She didn't know that it was over; he only told her that he was going away with me (under great pressure) for a few days. But once he made up his mind, he was ready to be done with her and move on with me. He'd leave the messy part until later -- mostly, I'm guessing, to guarantee that she wouldn't sabotage his plans.

Maybe I should be thrilled that he picked me. But it hurts. It hurts like hell every time I think about it. And the only reason I didn't leave immediately is that I can't find any evidence that he's been unfaithful for the past 15 months. I'm still not certain that's enough, but right now, it's all I've got.

The Wife Who Knows