Ten Million Reasons Read online

  In the wee hours of the morning, she heard a voice calling her name. Genevieve fought through the fog of sleep to find herself in an unfamiliar location. In her state of half-sleep, she couldn’t identify her surroundings and wasn’t even sure if what she was hearing was real or part of a dream. The voice calling her name became increasingly insistent, frantic even. “Gen? Gen?” Suddenly surrounded by blinding light, Genevieve covered her eyes and burrowed further into the couch cushions. “I couldn’t find you.” She felt herself being wrapped in a strong embrace that warmed her as she drifted back off to sleep.

  ****

  Sunlight was streaming through the windows. Genevieve could feel it on her face. She began to stretch and then realized something wasn’t right. Her hands didn’t hit the table by her couch, and her toes weren’t curled up between the couch cushions. “Mmm,” she said, “I think that’s the best sleep I’ve had in weeks. Richard’s couch is way more comfortable than mine.” Saying his name reminded her that he’d not come home last night. Her eyes flew open, and she reached for her phone to try to call him again. When her hand found nothing but soft bedding where the table was supposed to be, she tried to fight off the remnants of sleep and get her bearings.

  Confused, she stared fuzzily at the blanket clutched in her left hand. It wasn’t her blanket, and she wasn’t on the couch. Whirling around, she saw Richard sitting there, watching her. “I didn’t want to wake you,” he said.

  “Where am I?” Worst question ever!

  “Well, I’d say in bed, but I could be mistaken.” A glint of humor and something else she couldn’t name lit his blue eyes.

  Genevieve shook her head, rubbed her eyes, and stared at Richard where he sat. On his bed. A few feet away from where she’d been lying as she woke. “You didn’t come home last night. I was worried.”

  “I didn’t get your message until I pulled into the garage,” he said. “I’m sorry you worried. I had a meeting in DC. I thought I’d told you.”

  “I made dinner.” Stop babbling!

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stand you up.”

  “When you didn’t come home, I didn’t know what to do. I lay down on the couch in your sitting room to wait for you.”

  Genevieve knew he had to be exhausted, but somehow Richard managed to look rested and content. That shouldn’t be possible. When I’m tired I look it!

  “I had originally planned to stay the night in DC but decided at the last minute to come home. It was three in the morning before I made it back.”

  “Oh.”

  “I was listening to your message when I came in through the garage, so I thought I’d stop in your room to let you know I was home, but you weren’t there. Once I checked all your rooms and couldn’t find you, I started calling your name. You didn’t answer.”

  “I thought I was dreaming,” she said. “I remember hearing my name.” A frown starting to pull at her mouth, she added, “I guess I should apologize for not being where you’d put me.”

  Giving her an odd look, Richard said, “This is your home. You can be anywhere you want. When I found you in my rooms, I was…relieved.”

  Looking around her, Genevieve asked, “How did I end up in your bed?”

  Smiling, Richard said, “I put you here. Then I lay down and got some sleep. I wanted you where I could keep an eye on you. And I figured that way, if you woke up, you’d know I was home.”

  Suddenly feeling shy, she asked, “Did, uh, did…” and then let her voice trail off as she realized she didn’t know how to ask the question.

  Richard laughed, “Well, my dear, if we had, and you couldn’t remember, then I’d be quite disappointed in myself. As it is, all we did is sleep.”

  Rolling her eyes, she said, “Dumb question. Sorry. My brain’s not awake yet.” Richard stood up and stretched. My, he looks magnificent.

  “I mean it, Gen. I’m sorry. I thought I’d told you about the meeting.”

  “You probably did. I’m always forgetting to put things on my calendar. Or I enter them into different calendars without realizing it.” Genevieve cast her eyes about the room, trying not to look at him as he took his time stretching. He’s my husband. It can’t be wrong to want to stare. Her eyes landed on the clock. She gasped and said, “Aren’t you going to be late for work?”

  Richard gave her a broad smile and said, “I’m taking the day off. Why don’t you go take a shower, and I’ll do the same, and then I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast?”

  “I’m not a very good cook,” she said in reply. “I barely know how to fix a couple of passable dishes. My family used to take pity on me a lot and bring me casseroles so I wouldn’t starve.”

  “I wasn’t asking you to fix me breakfast,” he said, clearly puzzled by her remark.

  She shrugged, self-conscious, and said, “It seems that a wife ought to cook for her husband is all. I—I’m not sure I’m a very good wife in that regard.”

  “Lucky for you,” he said, watching her intently, “I happen to enjoy cooking.” He looked as if he wanted to say more, but then he flashed that grin that made her weak in the knees and said, “I’ll meet you downstairs in a few.” As Richard wandered into his dressing room, Genevieve got off the bed, found her phone, and headed back to her own room.

  ****

  I woke up in bed with my husband and don’t even remember how I got there. This has got to be the most bizarre marriage ever. Genevieve entered the kitchen to find Richard deftly dishing up omelets and pouring coffee. “Much obliged,” she said as he handed her a steaming cup.

  Once they were both seated at the table, Richard said the blessing. “Thank you, Lord for your provision. Please bless our marriage.”

  He wouldn’t pray for our marriage unless it mattered to him.

  Genevieve tilted her head and said, “There’s something different about you this morning.”

  “I hope so,” he answered.

  “That’s a bit cryptic, don’t you think?”

  “Have you been sleeping on a couch all these weeks?” Genevieve immediately broke eye contact and concentrated on her plate. “When you woke up this morning,” he went on, “you said something about my couch being more comfortable than yours.” She continued to studiously stare at her plate, and he said, “It’s only a question, Gen. I won’t get mad.”

  She finally peered at him and said, “I looked at that big bed on our wedding night, and I couldn’t make myself sleep in it alone. The bed is massive, and the room is so cavernous it sounded hollow. So I slept on the couch. It kind of became a habit after that. I’ve been sleeping on it ever since.”

  Richard seemed sad as he asked, “Should I have done something different on our wedding night? I didn’t want to rush you.”

  Genevieve no longer felt like eating. She put her fork down and picked up her coffee instead. Her hands needed something to do. “I had a long talk with God yesterday, and He pointed out a few things I’d been ignoring about myself, things that were affecting our relationship. We’ve been heading in two different directions and living two different lives. That’s not what I want for my life, for my marriage.”

  “I came to the same conclusion. Yesterday, in fact. That’s why I returned home instead of spending the night in the capital.” Richard took a bite of his omelet and chewed thoughtfully before saying, “Do you want to tell me what you learned from spending time with God yesterday?”

  “I’m a night owl, Richard. I always have been. You’re a morning person. You go to bed as I’m starting to get my second wind. I need to change.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being a night owl.”

  “No, there’s not, but there is something wrong with putting myself above our relationship. You have to keep a certain schedule for work. I don’t. It’s easier for me to change. Our marriage needs to be important enough to me that I’m willing to change. If it’s not, then I never should have gotten married.”

  Richard stilled at her last remark. “Do you regret it?”r />
  Genevieve scanned the room hoping to find inspiration. When she found none, she answered him honestly, “No, I don’t regret marrying you. I wish things could have been different. I wish we could have had more time to get to know each other. We’re still strangers in a way, which makes me sad. At the same time, though, I haven’t done anything to change that, which I do regret.”

  The tension left Richard’s shoulders as she spoke “Okay, then,” he said. “For the record, I, too, wish I’d have handled some things differently these past weeks, but I don’t for a minute regret marrying you.”

  “I shouldn’t have rushed the wedding,” she told him, emotion tugging at her until her words sounded hoarse. “Looking back on it, I’m not sure what I was thinking, but I should have told my family and allowed them to be at the wedding.”

  Richard gave a slight bob of his head and said, “We can always have another ceremony and reception. It can be as big as you want with as many people as you’d like.”

  Genevieve sighed in relief. “I’d like that. Thank you.” It took her a minute to build up her courage to finish what she needed to say. Evidently sensing her need to talk, Richard remained quiet, slowly eating his omelet. She finally took a deep breath, and the words rushed out. “I handled things wrong with my family by not telling them before we got married. Then I felt guilty about it, but I didn’t want to admit to having been wrong, so I blamed you. I let my own guilt twist around into something that I used to hold you at arms’ length, an excuse not to bend and meet you halfway these past weeks. I’m going to tell my family how sorry I am, but I needed to tell you first.”

  Richard looked at her, and peace filled his eyes. “Apology accepted, and I’m sorry for letting it fester as long as it did. I knew something was wrong, but I was afraid that if I pushed too hard, you’d pull even further away.” He sat back in his seat and said, “So what do you say to a fresh start? Where do we go from here?”

  Genevieve smiled at him and said, “I’m going to start setting an alarm in the morning so I can get up and have breakfast with you.” After a beat, she asked, “When do you get up, anyway?”

  Richard laughed and said, “I’m up at five-thirty.” When Genevieve winced, he said, “but I don’t eat breakfast until seven, and then I’m usually out the door by quarter of eight.”

  “I can handle seven,” she said, brightening. “Then, I figured, I should set a work schedule for myself so I get my work done during the day when you’re gone. That way I’ll be able to spend the evenings with you once you get home.”

  “I’d like that,” he said.

  “There might be a time now-and-then when I try to fix you dinner, but I’m warning you now, unless there’s a miracle, you’re probably going to end up wishing I hadn’t.”

  “I don’t mind fixing something when I get home,” he said. “Who knows, maybe we could even go out in public together once in a while, get a bite to eat, something like that.”

  I like it when he jokes with me.

  “Or — and this is a novel idea — maybe we could go jogging together sometime. I usually stick to a treadmill these days, but I think I’d like running a lot more if I were with you.”

  Genevieve shook her head. “You don’t want to jog with me.” When he lifted an eyebrow in question, she said, “My family tells me I’m scatter-brained. I’m still not sure I entirely agree with them, but the truth is, when I run, I’m all over the place. I speed up, slow down, wander in every direction, and basically don’t do any of the things I’m probably supposed to be doing.”

  “Okay,” he said with an indulgent smile. “We’ll revisit that one since all you’ve done is make it sound more appealing rather than less.” Then he asked, “Did you have anything else you wanted to talk about?”

  “When you have out-of-town meetings, I’d like to go with you.”

  “I would enjoy that,” Richard said. “A lot.”

  Genevieve sat back in her seat. She had made such a habit of keeping him at arm’s length that she wasn’t entirely sure how to go about letting him in. Making time for him in her life was a good start, but she needed to open up to him more about her thoughts and feelings.

  With that in mind, she said, “When Maureen’s husband left, I gave her a lecture about how she hadn’t been intentional in her marriage, how she hadn’t made a point of putting her husband first. She then lectured me — quite vehemently, I might add — about giving advice about things of which I knew nothing. And she was probably right to do that. Recently, I was reminded of those words, and I realized I haven’t been intentional with you. Like I said, if I’m not willing to make room for you in my life, then I was wrong to get married.”

  A shuttered look came over Richard’s face, chasing away the hurt that showed for the briefest of moments. She rushed on to say, “I’m willing. I am. It just took me a little while to realize why I’ve been acting the way I have.” I need to think before I speak. He hides it well, but he has to have insecurities, too. Who wouldn’t with the way his parents treated him?

  “While we’re laying all the cards out on the table, can I bring up an awkward subject?” When Genevieve nodded her consent, Richard said, “We need to talk about our physical relationship.” Genevieve took a drink of her lukewarm coffee and hoped the mug would hide her blush. “I would like to know what your expectations are.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “I know I said I’d give you as much time as you needed and that if we never went down the road to physical intimacy together, it would be okay. The problem is, I can’t read your mind, and I don’t know what you want.”

  Finally braving eye contact, Genevieve said, “I’m not sure how to answer you.” She bit her bottom lip and then said, “I don’t think I know what I want, but I’m also not sure that, if I knew what I wanted, I’d know that I knew it.”

  Confusion on his face, Richard said, “You do know that I’m a man and could not have possibly understood what you just said, right?”

  Chuckling, Genevieve said, “Okay, maybe that wasn’t my best sentence ever. Here’s the thing. I don’t have a lot of experience with men. I’m not sure I would realize it, even if I had figured out what I want, as far as the physical side of marriage goes.”

  Puzzling over her words, Richard asked, “Then how would you like to handle it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Okay.” Richard got up a couple of minutes later to clear the dishes from the table. Genevieve kept her seat, not sure what to say in order to tear down the wall that had gone up between them at the mention of intimacy. Then, from behind her, she heard Richard’s voice, “It’s like this, Gen.” She swiveled around to give him her attention, and he continued, “I got home last night and couldn’t find you. I was terrified you’d left or worse. I didn’t want to face that possibility. When I found you…”

  It seemed like Richard was struggling with what to say. “Once I had you in my arms, I didn’t ever want to let you go. And I know you were asleep, but you wrapped your arms around me and I felt like a king. I want that. I want to be able to kiss you and hug you and hold you. If we don’t have sex today or tomorrow or next week or next month, it’s fine. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. In the meantime, I want to feel I have the freedom to reach out and touch you. Right now I’m afraid to, because I’m not sure if it’s something you’d welcome, and I don’t want to scare you away.” Richard ran his fingers through his dark blond hair and then asked, “Does any of that make sense?”

  Genevieve nodded then set her coffee cup down on the table. She stood and walked over to where Richard stood. She settled in close to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head against his chest. It took all of two heartbeats for Richard to wrap her in a tender hug. He held her close in the circle of his arms and rested his cheek against the top of her head. Neither of them said a word as they stood there together, united in an embrace.

  ****

  That night after d
inner, Genevieve told Richard she was going to turn in early. “Tomorrow’s the weekend,” he replied, “so you don’t have to set an alarm for breakfast.”

  “It’s okay. I should start getting in the habit now so I’m not too crabby come Monday morning,” she said.

  Then she went up to her rooms and dug through her closet until she finally found what she was looking for buried in the far left corner in an overnight bag under her suitcase and a couple boxes of shoes.

  ****

  A short while later, Richard decided to retire as well. He stopped by Genevieve’s rooms and said, “Goodnight,” through the door. When he got no response, he assumed she’d fallen asleep and headed down the hallway to his own rooms. As he stepped across the threshold, the moonlight reflected off something by his bed. He swiveled to see what it was, and all thought fled. Blood pounded through his veins as he took in the sight of his wife in a silky white nightgown climbing into his bed.

  “Gen?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. She watched him but said nothing. “Gen, before I get into that bed with you, I need to know what you want.”

  Richard advanced to the bed but didn’t sit. As he got closer to her, he was able to see the blush on Genevieve’s face and the embarrassment the moonlit shadows had hidden.

  Taking both her hands in his, he said, “Gen, I will never force myself on you. You have my word. You’re in my bed though, and you look… so good. If this doesn’t mean what I think it means, you have to tell me. I will honor your wishes, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me.”