Rebecca’s surprise visit had a profound effect on Desmond. The moment she walked through the door all the gains Desmond had made in accepting his current life were completely blown away. As soon as he saw her, he knew he had to have his family back. By the time she exited the church all the emotional wounds were reopened and his entire existence was once again thrown into utter chaos.
Desmond had worked long and hard to accept being alone. He had waged a fierce battle against a lifetime of fond memories in an attempt to win back his freedom. He never totally won this battle, and had paid an emotional price for any progress he made. Desmond, though never content, took pride in the progress he had made in getting on with his life.
Shortly after Christmas he had removed all the family pictures and packed them away in the basement. It had taken him months to even consider the possibility of finding new companions, and even longer to overcome the feelings of disloyalty such a contemplation aroused in him. Yet, through it all, his strength of character had proven itself superior to fate.
Desmond spent the first twenty-four hours following Rebecca’s visit in a state of shock and emotional exhaustion. No matter how difficult things had gotten Desmond had always found a way to resist the impulse to try and force his family to listen to his side of the story. Through all the turmoil Desmond had retained his patience and his respect for Rachel and Rebecca’s feelings. His efforts to resist placing any pressure on Rachel or Rebecca to return had taken its toll on him. He felt weakened by his desire to honor their feelings by repressing his, and angry at having his compassion and understanding taken for granted.
When the shock from Rebecca’s visit wore off, Desmond decided he could no longer sit back and allow his feelings to go on being ignored. Why was he the only one who couldn’t act on his emotions? Why was Rachel allowed to walk away from over twenty years of marriage without an explanation? Why was Rebecca allowed to abandon him and then return when it suited her needs and desires? Rachel and Rebecca, Desmond recalled with a sense of self-righteousness, left him because he showed no emotion. Yet, when did they ever give him an opportunity to express his feelings?
Never comfortable with such selfish sentiments Desmond spent the better part of a day reassessing his feelings of being slighted. In reviewing his actions Desmond decided it had been wise to give Rachel and Rebecca time and space to work through their feelings. Yet, sooner or later everyone had to invest and commit themselves to a plan of action. He felt justified in expecting them to come to a decision regarding the future of their family, and of their individual relationships.
Desmond realized he was partially to blame for the excessive amount of time in which this stalemate regarding the Prouty family had lasted. In being honest with himself, he had to admit fear as well as compassion had played a significant role in his patience. The first month or so, he held his feelings in to avoid needlessly pressuring Rachel and Rebecca into a quick decision. Yet, for most of the other time his patience had been fueled by a fear of being rejected.
After a great deal of anguish Desmond decided that regardless of the ramifications, the time for resolution had come. No matter how devastating, Rachel’s choosing divorce would be far better than continuing to live in this tortuous emotional limbo. The permanent exclusion from Rebecca’s life would be far more acceptable than the insufferable pains of perpetual indecision.
Over a ten day period, Desmond wrote three letters each to Rachel and Rebecca. The letters written to Rebecca were sent in separate envelopes ending the pretense of Rachel’s need to be a censor.
These letters were assertive, direct and emotionally honest. Desmond talked of how much he loved and missed them, and his need for them to come to a decision regarding him. In explaining his sudden change of attitude to Rachel, he found it necessary to describe Rebecca’s visit, and the profound effect it had on him. He apologized if disclosing the visit was a breach of confidentiality with Rebecca, but firmly added he no longer wanted to be part of any family secrets.
On numerous occasions he stated he was willing to suffer any hardship involved in his fight to reunite his family. He told both of them that he was only going to give them a short time to respond, and soon he would be stopping by to talk to them in person. In every word and in every way, Desmond told them they needed to come back, or pledge to remain away. He in turn pledged to accept anything from full reconciliation, to friendship, to complete separation. The only thing he professed he could no longer accept was indecision.
Desmond was quite sure Rebecca would come back to him. The emotional testimonials she gave and the genuine warmth pervading her short visit were evidence enough of her inevitable return. She still respected him as her father, and took pride in the depth and stability of their relationship.
Rachel was quite a different story. Even in his most insecure moments Desmond believed Rachel would not forever turn her back on the beautiful history of their marriage. Though certain she would remember the good times, he was quite unsure if she would want to try to resolve their differences.
Rectifying things with Rebecca seemed relatively easy. All she had to become was a daughter who visited once a week. Rachel, on the other hand, would have to be a wife, living with him 24 hours a day for the rest of her life. Not liking being pushed or rushed, Desmond figured Rachel might be inclined to choose a friendship over marriage.
Desmond could easily see her wanting to just be friends, finding the foreignness of his belief systems too overwhelming to deal with. Yet, if Rachel were unwilling to change, compromise, or even to take his feelings into consideration, what chance, Desmond asked himself, did they have in the long run?
Desmond’s determination to acquire some stability in the status of his personal life did not prevent him from feeling anxious. Doubts and nervous reconsiderations entered his mind the moment he placed one of his bold letters in the mail. Each mailing provoked a good hour or so of personal debate in which Desmond would finally convince himself of his need to remain assertive.
With each passing day without a response Desmond’s anxiety grew. He wondered if they were upset by his ultimatums, or had just decided to ignore them. He found it hard to imagine that they were not talking to each other about his recent letters, and wondered if their delayed response was somehow tied into their conversations.
Maybe they were trying to reach a mutual decision before contacting him. Rachel, in particular, loved family meetings and counter proposals. Everything from family vacations to Christmas presents were turned by Rachel into the Paris peace talks.
Rachel wasn’t so much enamored with diplomacy as she was with the art of debate. She had been the star of her high school debate team and never lost her love of a good verbal battle. Her debating style relied on emotional appeal, on belief rather than on reasoning. What Rachel lacked in logic she more than made up for in conviction and moral certainty.
Rebecca was far more logical than Rachel, yet just as willing to debate. Desmond could recall countless times during Rebecca’s rebellious years when he had to intercede in his wife and daughter’s passionate quarrels. Desmond knew that if they were now joining forces they would be a formidable duo. Yet, Desmond could just as easily imagine Rachel, as a matter of principle, demanding Rebecca to reach her own conclusions and refusing to do anything as a cooperative effort.
After sending off the third batch of letters Desmond decided he’d wait a few days before writing a final set of letters warning them of his coming to see them. He felt the three letters had sufficiently expressed the sense of urgency he felt. Additional letters would only be badgering Rachel and Rebecca while duplicating the sentiments he had already stated.
The wait went on for over a week. Almost three weeks had passed since he sent the first letters expressing his need for a quick and solid resolution. The time had crept along without a single letter or telephone call from either Rachel or Rebecca. Desmond, though quite afraid of its consequences, began to write his final letters.
Seated in his most comfortable chair Desmond tossed draft after draft into the wastepaper basket he had placed at his feet. Each attempt he made to inform Rachel and Rebecca of his intentions to go and seek them out seemed like a weak threat rather than a conviction. Every time he wrote of his intention to see them face-to-face, he felt like the wolf in a children’s story. Whatever way he chose to tell them he needed to see them, he heard himself saying, “ready or not here I come,” or “I’ll huff and I’ll puff…”.
When the doorbell rang shortly after 9:00 P.M. Desmond was thankful for the diversion. He walked to the door to greet Carl who had promised to drop off a book for Desmond to read. Since Carl was a rather accomplished poet, Desmond figured he could wheedle him into giving a little assistance with the letters. Desmond stopped dead in his tracks when instead of Carl his gaze fell upon Rachel.
In her down jacket, scarf and hat, Rachel’s face was framed in the soft porch light like a little flower. Desmond, completely stunned by the sight of Rachel, stood frozen for a few seconds. His face went white than flushed with embarrassment over her catching him in the middle of writing his kamikaze letter to her.
Rachel, showing no signs of nervousness, waited patiently for Desmond to get a hold of himself. When he did, he fumbled his way through inviting her inside. His awkwardness continued as he asked to take her coat and invited her to sit down. As he hung up her coat in the front closet, Desmond thought of how strange it felt to treat her as a guest in her own house.
Nervously Desmond cleaned up his mess of papers and returned the waste basket to its normal position in the den. Rachel positioned herself on the sofa and quietly watched Desmond as he anxiously scurried about the house. Desmond immediately offered Rachel something to drink when he emerged from the back of the house to rejoin her in the living room.
Rachel said, “no thanks” to his offer, and resumed her quiet inspection of the house from her seat on the sofa. Desmond’s urge to sit next to her on the sofa was dwarfed by his panic. Desmond unconsciously rubbed his hands together in nervous anticipation and then sat down in his comfortable chair.
Seated directly across from her, Desmond studied her face as he searched for something to say. They looked at each other for a good span of time before either of them found the courage to speak. While staring into the face he knew better than his own, Desmond felt his house change back into a home. Without her presence, the house was just a collection of wood, nails, windows and furniture. Yet, for Desmond, Rachel’s body was the electricity which produced all the warmth and brought the entire house to life.
A kaleidoscope of feelings and thoughts spiraled through Desmond as he stared at Rachel. Though her expression barely changed, Desmond saw all the emotions and events of his life in her cool blue eyes. In her eyes was the young woman he courted, the new wife and mother he became infatuated with, the mature woman he shared his adult life with, and the old woman with whom he had looked forward to spending the rest of his life.
Her eyes were the grounding wire which made every emotion he ever felt clear and meaningful. Without her the experiences in his life had become weak, one dimensional shadows. In her presence he seemed to be seeing things more sharply, and his shallow breathing became deep and full. She lifted the veil from his life and held up the promise of rich sensation.
Life with Rachel was more defined. The possibility of deep rich aromas and full exploding tastes re-entered his life under the knowing gaze of her eyes. Every emotion he felt was more powerful, more intense when holding her hand or coddled in their history together.
Filled with gratitude at the powerful effect she had on the quality of his life, Desmond finally was moved to speak. “I can’t tell you how nice it is to see you…I’m not really sure what to say, other than thanks for stopping by.”
“I guess I should be the one talking,” Rachel said with a slight hint of nervousness. “After all, I’m the one who showed up unexpectedly on your doorstep.”
They both smiled anxiously and then Rachel continued, “I want to thank you for all your letters, for they helped me a lot over the last few months.”
Desmond smiled and nodded in acceptance. Rachel sighed and took a breath to calm herself. Pulling her hair back with her hand she continued, “In your letters you stated that you felt there were a number of things we needed to talk about. I agree, and now feel ready to start to talk these things over.”
“Your last few letters were right in pointing out that I’ve been focusing on Rebecca’s and my feelings while basically neglecting yours. Though I admit this, I am uncomfortable with your need for me to make an immediate decision regarding our marriage.”
“Oh God,” she said looking somewhat flustered, “I really have been dreading this conversation.”
“You mean you’ve been planning this?” Desmond asked pleased with the thought of her thinking of him.
“Of course I have,” she stated with embarrassment. “The first month I left I don’t think I gave much thought to talking to you. I was too angry with you, and too concerned with Rebecca’s ability to cope with Andrew’s death to consider talking to you. Your rather sedate response to Andrew’s death and loyalty to Alan Bell made it easy for me to stay angry at you, to focus on every fault I’ve ever seen in you.”
“After the first month,” Rachel confessed with growing tenderness, “my anger stopped being the major reason I stayed away. My daughter needed me, and it was her anger with you that kept me from seeing or talking to you. Since she was so upset with you I was afraid she’d be unable to accept my support if I came home to you. Though I missed you, my desire to help Rebecca remained my highest priority.”
“When Rebecca’s anger started to subside I probably should have contacted you. Yet, I was too proud, and too afraid to do that. I didn’t feel right just coming back, and your letters were convincing me that we had to talk first anyway. The subjects you felt we needed to talk about are ones you certainly know I’ve never felt comfortable talking about…I still don’t,” Rachel admitted pointedly.
“Shortly before Thanksgiving I almost wrote you a letter, but then Rebecca got worse again and I felt my contacting you would only alienate her from me. No matter how angry she had been with you, she always read your letters the day we received them. That was the case, at least, until the holidays came. I believe she still read your letters, but she no longer read them right away or talked about them. The holidays were very bad for Rebecca, myself and even Mark who only came home to sleep and eat.”
“I guess I’m telling you all this,” Rachel admitted with a weak smile, “to explain why I haven’t contacted you sooner. I guess I’ve got no real excuse, except to admit that I’ve been afraid and unsure of what to say to you.”
“I have no problem admitting that I care for you deeply, and that I treasure the life we’ve spent together. Yet, I also have to be honest and say that your reaction to Rebecca and me following Andrew’s funeral made me feel very distant from you. You became a stranger. A stranger who I had lived with, yet never really gotten to know.”
“That’s such an odd thing to say, especially since I can’t think of a couple we know that has shared more than us. I can’t even recall a single day in which I felt like we didn’t talk or spend enough time together. I always viewed us as being not only close, but very involved with each other’s lives. Yet, soon after I left, all I was struck with was how little I knew about your basic views of life and death.”
Desmond was relieved to hear Rachel say these things for she never before had admitted a need to discuss anything. He was encouraged and somewhat excited by her willingness, no matter how slight, to address their differing spiritual and moral views. He listened attentively to her every word hoping she would not suddenly close the door to their communication which she was apparently opening.
Rachel took a few minutes to expand on the parts of their marriage which she fondly remembered and missed. She talked with admiration about his dedication to their family, and to the kindness he freely gave to all he met. She praised his involvement in parenting Rebecca and gave him credit for fostering many of her and Rebecca’s stronger qualities. Without his stable influence and support, she professed, she would never would have become the confident and independent person she had.
Her praise, though warm and sincere, maintained a measure of distance. Even when her voice was filled with love and gratitude her body remained somewhat stiff and unyielding. Her entire demeanor told Desmond that she had no intention of touching or being touched by him. His internal fantasies that she would stay the night were suffocated by the reality that all warmth and affection on this cold evening would only be able to be expressed verbally.
Desmond basked in the compliments and fond memories Rachel recalled with a sense of familial pride. Though generally quiet and attentive Desmond took advantage of several opportunities to compliment Rachel or recall a special memory he had which echoed a sentiment she had made. Sure that Rachel intended to bring up less pleasant topics, Desmond tried his best to prolong the warmth of their current discussion.
When Rachel shifted in her seat, Desmond knew the flow of the conversation was about to change. Her eyes lost their compassion and her face became quite serious as she sadly admitted, “My life since I’ve left here has not been a happy one. I’ve missed you, and our life together very much. Yet, I don’t want to come back just because I miss you or our history together. I don’t want to come back just because I’m unhappy with my current lifestyle. I certainly don’t want to come back here because you’ve given me some ridiculous ultimatum.”
Desmond smiled sheepishly at her last statement, but remained quiet. He was not quite sure where she was going with this, but was almost certain she was about to break his heart.
“I came here tonight because you deserve an explanation, and I want to talk. Through your letters I’ve had the unfair advantage of knowing exactly what you’ve been thinking and feeling, while you have remained completely blind to my feelings. I’ve come to rectify that disadvantage and to treat you as fairly as you have me.”
As Rachel talked her eye contact became fleeting and uncomfortable. Desmond’s heart began to pound in anticipation of bad news her discomfort was signaling. Why was she now talking as if she were about to reveal her real feelings? Wasn’t all she said so far real and true? Didn’t she value the good times she had just spoken of?
“If I were to come back to you, it would only be because it is the best thing for me.”
Desmond breathed a sigh of relief to hear Rachel pose her return as a possibility.
“I refuse to come back unless it were the best thing for the both of us. I don’t want to settle for anything but the best, and I don’t want you to either. I respect you too much to live with you under anything but ideal circumstances.”
“In your letters you pointed out how different we are in many of our fundamental beliefs. You also pointed out how these differences were at the heart of my leaving you. I now agree with you, and see how my refusal to discuss our fundamental differences has caused me to see you as someone quite foreign from the man I fell in love with.”
“I can’t come back to you now, because I don’t know you. Yet, because I do love you and cherish the life we have constructed together, I am willing to talk to you to see if we can reach some common ground. I will not come back to a stranger, or to a man whose beliefs I oppose.”
“If you force me to make up my mind right now, you will lose me forever. Even if you choose to be patient and accept my offer to talk things over, I can’t promise you anything. I’m not sure when I’d be able to make a decision, or what the decision would be. I won’t blame you if you decide its a waste of time or too painful to give me more time…”
“I’m not in such a hurry,” Desmond consoled, “I just need to feel like we were going somewhere. Though I’m more confident than you seem to be that our differences can be resolved, I’m very willing to take as much time as is needed to work things out.”
“I may be ready to talk but not everyday,” Rachel warned.
“How often do you want to talk?” Desmond asked softly.
“I’m not really sure.”
“Could you please give me some idea?” Desmond asked sounding a little irritated. “Do you plan on talking once a week or even once a month?”
“I’m sorry Desi, but I just can’t commit to any schedule. I’m not even sure how I feel right now. How can I predict what I’ll feel next week?” Rachel said sounding flustered more than stubborn.
“How about if we get together next Monday night?” Rachel offered.
Desmond nodded while feeling badly about being so confrontational with her.
“Do you mind me coming here again?”
Desmond nodded again.
“About seven?”
“Sure, that would be great,” Desmond said with restrained enthusiasm.
Though Rachel stayed and talked for another fifteen minutes or so, nothing more was said regarding their situation. Instead, they focused on catching each other up on the events in their lives. Rachel talked about her students, the other teachers and her plans for the remainder of the school year. Desmond talked of his new duties and his mixed feelings towards Rev. Coleman.
Rachel updated Desmond on how well Rebecca had been doing of late, and the difficulties Mark and Rebecca were still working through. The conversation, though pleasant, seemed hollow when compared with what they knew they soon would be discussing.
Sensing Desmond’s desire to immediately begin talking about more personal matters, Rachel took advantage of the first silence to announce she was leaving. Their farewell was even more awkward than their greeting, as Rachel fidgeted about nervously with her scarf and hat in an attempt to escape a goodnight kiss from Desmond.
After her departure Desmond wondered what actually had been accomplished this night. Her visit, he decided, resolved nothing and promised very little. Yet, it did relieve him of the responsibility of writing the letter he had so dreaded composing earlier in the evening.
Tired and fairly confused Desmond quickly prepared himself for bed. That evening he spent little time reviewing the conversation just completed and instead chose to think ahead with nervous anticipation to his date with Rachel on Monday.