The house on Maple Street was completely dark when I pulled into the driveway at five o’clock. I let myself in through the back door, the quiet of the kitchen wrapping around me like a cold sheet.
I had just set my purse on the counter when the front door opened, and Derek walked in.
He did not take off his coat. He stood in the kitchen doorway, his shoulders rolling backward as he stared at me.
“Where have you been?” he asked, his drawl smooth and slow.
“I was at the grocery store,” I said. “And then I stopped by to see Megan.”
Derek walked toward me, his boots heavy on the linoleum. He reached out and grabbed my purse from the counter, dumping the contents onto the table.
My keys, my wallet, and the legal clinic pamphlet spilled out onto the wood.
I quickly reached out and snatched the pamphlet, sliding it under a stack of junk mail before he could look at the cover.
“Give me your phone,” Derek said, his voice dropping an octave.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because you have been hiding it lately,” he said, holding out his open palm. “Give it to me.”
I hesitated, then pulled the phone from my coat pocket. I quickly swiped to the home screen, opening a recipe app for chicken pot pie before handing it to him.
“I was just looking up dinner ideas,” I said.
Derek stared at the screen, his thumb scrolling slowly through the list of ingredients. He looked up at me, his eyes dark and empty.
“You do not need to hide things from me, Emily,” he said, handing the phone back.
“I know,” I said.
He turned and walked toward the living room, leaving the clutter of my purse scattered across the table.
I stood there for a long time, the silence of the kitchen pressing in on me. I reached into my coat pocket, my fingers finding the small brass key Megan had given me.
Slipping the brass key deep into my winter coat lining.
I smoothed the heavy wool over my pocket and stood by the closet door as Derek stepped inside. He did not look at my coat, nor did he notice how my hand stayed pressed against my hip to keep the brass key from jingling against my house keys.
He held a bunch of pink roses wrapped in clear, crinkling plastic. A few wet leaves dropped onto the linoleum by his leather shoes.
“For you,” he said, holding them out with a small, careful smile.
I reached for the stems, keeping my left sleeve pulled down over my wrist so the faded gray bruises would not show. The thorns caught on the green knit of my cuff, pulling a tiny loop of thread loose before I could pull away.
“They are beautiful,” I said.
“I know I have been difficult lately,” Derek said. He took off his heavy winter jacket and hung it on the brass peg, his movements unusually slow and quiet. “The new project at the office has been keeping me up at night. I took the stress out on you, and that was not fair.”
I carried the flowers to the kitchen sink and searched for a glass vase in the dark cupboard under the counter. My fingers brushed against a bottle of lemon-scented dish soap before finding the dusty glass.
“It is fine,” I said, keeping my voice level.
“It is not fine,” Derek said. He stood in the doorway, watching me fill the vase with cold tap water. “I want us to get back to where we were. Before all the arguing started.”
The water spilled over the rim of the vase, splashing onto my fingers.
“We can try,” I said.
“Good,” he said, turning back toward the hallway. “Because my mother is coming over for dinner, and I told her we would have a nice evening.”
The kitchen clock showed ten minutes past six.
I trimmed the rose stems with the kitchen shears, one by one, dropping the wet green leaves into the trash bin. My mother-in-law, Linda, was always prompt, and I still had to set the table before she knocked.
Linda arrived exactly at half past six, her boots making a sharp clicking sound on the porch before she entered. She wore a beige wool coat and smelled of lavender soap.
When she handed me her umbrella, she nervously adjusted her gold necklace, her eyes scanning my jawline where the heavy makeup had been patted in layers.
“You look a little tired, Emily,” Linda said, her fingers sliding the gold clasp of her chain back and forth.
“I am fine,” I said. “Thank you for coming.”
By seven o’clock, the dining table was set with three white ceramic plates and the silver forks we only used on holidays. Linda sat across from me, her fingers resting on the thin gold chain around her neck. She adjusted the small clasp twice before she picked up her fork to taste the carrots.
“The roast is very tender, Emily,” Linda said, taking a small bite of the meat.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Derek was telling me how hard he worked this week,” Linda said, looking between the two of us with a bright, tight smile. “He really does try so hard for this family. We all have our little storms, but the sky always clears eventually.”
Derek reached across the table and touched my hand, his fingers warm and dry.
“We had a very good talk before you got here, Mom,” Derek said.
“I am so glad to hear that,” Linda said. She patted her lips with a paper napkin, her eyes scanning my face for any sign of cosmetic cover-up. “Every young marriage goes through a dry spell. You just have to remember why you chose each other in the first place.”
I chewed a piece of carrot, swallowed, and kept my eyes on my plate.
“We are doing much better,” I said.
Linda smiled, her shoulders dropping as if she had just finished a difficult chore. “You know, he was always so determined. When he was ten, he tried to bake me a chocolate cake for my birthday all by himself. He forgot the sugar entirely, but he made me eat every single bite of that bitter brick.”
Derek let out a genuine laugh, the sound surprisingly light. “It was like chewing on a piece of charcoal, but you said it was the best cake in Ohio.”
“It was,” Linda said, her eyes softening as she looked at her son. “Because you made it.”
I watched them laugh together, and for a brief second, the warmth in the room felt real. I wanted to believe her. I wanted the eight thousand dollars to be safe in the bank, and I wanted my husband to be the man who laughed at his mother’s kitchen table.
“You see?” Linda said, turning her gaze back to me. “I told you she would understand. You two are past the rough patch now.”
I cleared the plates while Linda talked about her garden club’s upcoming autumn flower show. My left wrist began to ache under the heavy fabric of my sweater, but I kept my hands busy with the dirty dishes, rinsing the grease from the plates under the hot tap.
Linda stayed for another thirty minutes, talking about her sister’s new house in Columbus. When she finally said her goodbyes, Derek walked her to the porch, his voice low and pleasant as he thanked her for coming.
The kitchen was quiet when Derek came back inside. He did not go to the living room to watch television. Instead, he stood near the refrigerator, holding a white envelope in his hand.
“I wanted to make things right, so I put every dollar back where it belongs,” Derek said.
He laid the envelope on the clean counter next to my purse.
“What is that?” I asked, turning off the water faucet.
“Your savings statement,” he said. “The teller at the bank printed it for me this afternoon. Go ahead and look.”
I pulled my sleeves down to my knuckles before I reached for the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of standard white paper, folded in three.
“I had to transfer some funds around to clear up those old credit cards,” Derek said, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. “I did not mean to worry you about the balance.”
I looked at the black letters at the top of the page. The logo of the Oak Creek Bank was printed in the center, just above my name. The statement date was listed as October twelfth, but the alignment of the date was slightly off-center compared to the name above it.
“The balance says eight thousand dollars,” I said.
“Just like it was before,” he said, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I told you I would fix it.”
I looked down at the account number listed below my name. The last four digits on this sheet were nine-three-one-four.
“Thank you, Derek,” I said.
“Are we good now?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.
“Yes,” I said.