Читать книгу Dear Emily - Fern Michaels - Страница 8

Emily Thorn jerked to wakefulness, certain the sound grating on her ears was her husband Ian’s alarm clock. Then she remembered Ian was off on a business trip. So, what was the sound? She scrunched her head into the feather pillow to blot out the persistent noise, aware of the birds chirping on her windowsill. They were waiting for the seeds and crumbs she set out on the deck every morning. Damn, she must have overslept again. She squinted at the clock: 10:15. “Damn,” she muttered, “it’s the doorbell.”

A moment later she was out of bed, wrapping her robe about her as she stuffed her feet into felt slippers. By the time she got to the front door, struggled with the security alarm, the dead bolt, and the regular lock and opened the door, the Federal Express truck was halfway down the road. She leaned over, picked up the flat envelope, and carried it into the house. She didn’t bother to look at the address; obviously it was for Ian.

In the kitchen she fixed the coffeepot, turned on the oven, and slid in a tray of sticky buns, the butter and frosting oozing down the sides. She poked around the refrigerator until she found the butter dish. The microwave would melt it to perfection. She poured a quarter inch of light cream into her oversize coffee mug.

While she waited for her breakfast, Emily ripped the blue rubber band from the morning paper. She yanked at her hair until she got it into an unruly bunch; the rubber band snapped into place. She really needed to get a haircut. She was too old for the long mane she carried around. “Crowning glory, my ass,” she muttered. Today she would get it cut and styled. It would be something to do, a way to pass an hour or so.

She poured coffee, checked the sticky buns, decided she couldn’t wait for them to brown. They were warm and would soak in the melted butter. She used a dinner plate, lining the buns up side by side as she drizzled the butter over them. She ate all six in under ten minutes, finishing her first cup of coffee. She poured again, adding cream as she did so. Now, with her sweet tooth sated, she could glance at the day’s horror in the paper. As if she cared what went on in the world. Her own personal world was in such chaos she had neither the time nor the inclination to read about society’s problems.

Emily rummaged in the drawer for a cigarette. A filthy habit. Ian smoked and he was a doctor so why shouldn’t she smoke? She fired up, blew an artful smoke ring, propped her aching legs on the kitchen chair, and drew the paper toward her, bringing the Federal Express envelope she’d tossed on the kitchen table closer to her plate. Mrs. Emily Thorn. The sender was Dr. Ian Thorn. Emily blinked. Why would Ian be sending her a Federal Express letter? She pushed it away. He probably wanted her to do something. Ian always wanted her to do something. Someday, just for the pure hell of it, she was going to tally up a list of things Ian had asked her to do over the years. If she didn’t open the letter, she wouldn’t have to do anything. But then Ian would call for a progress report. Better to open it and get it over with. Whatever it was Ian wanted her to do could be done after she got her hair cut. Ian used to love her long, curly hair, said it made her look wanton when she tossed it from side to side. Emily snorted in disgust. Still, she made no move to open the Express envelope.

Emily was on her fifth cigarette and fourth cup of coffee when she snatched the cardboard envelope, opened it, and took out the letter.

The trembling started at the corners of her mouth, then spread throughout her entire body. She wanted to lean back in the swivel chair, but her body was too rigid. She wondered how she could tremble and be rigid at the same time. “Damn you, Ian, damn you to hell.” Emily clutched the arms of the chair, twin lifelines, and stamped her feet. She remembered another day, long ago, when a letter had arrived from Ian. On the eve of her wedding. So very long ago…

“I can’t believe I’m getting married. Do you believe it, Aggie?”

“I see the white dress and veil so it must be true,” Emily’s best friend said.

“I wish I wasn’t so tired. I still can’t comprehend that I worked last night. I must be out of my mind, but Friday night tips are so good I didn’t want to give them up. Two banquets and I made a hundred and fifty bucks. Not too shabby.”

“You look worn out. And yes, you were out of your mind to work until three in the morning. Emily, you are killing yourself.”

“Maybe so, but look what I have in the bank. It’s all paid off for Ian and me. We’re finally getting married, seven years late, I grant you, but in a few hours I will be Mrs. Ian Thorn, wife of Dr. Ian Thorn.”

Aggie’s eyes narrowed. “It’s that white shirt and tie thing, right?”

“That’s part of it, but I love Ian. I’ve loved him since we were in the ninth grade. He’s a part of me just the way I’m a part of him.”

“Right now, off the top of your head, don’t think, just blurt the answer…how many times have you seen Ian in the past seven years?”

Emily’s jaw dropped. “Seventy-five? That’s a guess…it’s probably more…that’s a stupid thing to ask me, Aggie. You have no idea how hard it is for Ian to get fifteen minutes to himself. Most of the time he’s half dead. We spoke a lot on the phone, sent cards. A day didn’t go by when we weren’t in touch. We agreed early on that sacrifices would have to be made. We knew what we were doing. We made it. Today is the big day. I’ve never been this happy in my life. Ian…he’s…he’s so happy he can’t talk straight.”

Aggie’s lips compressed. “I’m glad you’re happy, Emily. I could never do what you did.” She shook her head.

“That’s because you and Rob didn’t have a dream, a plan. Ian and I did. I’m not saying that’s wrong for you two. It was right for Ian and me.”

“You always said you weren’t going to have a backyard wedding with the potato salad in plastic bowls,” Aggie groused.

“I did say that. It was silly of me. This wedding is only costing four hundred and fifty dollars. I’d rather have this and money in the bank. Ian agreed. I’m wearing my aunt’s wedding gown and Ian is wearing his best dark suit. You have a lovely dress. It’s simple, but it’s what we can afford.

“Ian’s friend is going to take some pictures. You made the wedding cake as your gift to us. So, what’s missing?”

“Nothing, I guess. I just want you to be happy, Emily.”

“You keep saying that. Right now I am the happiest almost-bride in Scotch Plains, New Jersey.”

“Sit still so I can cover the dark patches under your eyes. Don’t blink,” Aggie said, sponging makeup under Emily’s eyes. “I’m going to use some extra rouge, your skin is too pale. A little sun wouldn’t hurt you, Emily.”

“No time for sunbathing. Do you know what I’m giving Ian as a wedding gift?”

“What?”

“The bank book. He has absolutely no idea how much money I’ve saved these past seven years. Do you believe he never asked? Not once.”

“How much did you save?”

“I’ve got twenty-three thousand dollars. It’s not all in the passbook savings account. I invested some of it. Ian’s eyes are going to pop right out of his head.”

“What’s he giving you?” Aggie asked.

“I have no idea. I don’t even know if he knows the groom is supposed to give the bride a present. Giving me his name is enough for me.”

“Don’t forget all those white shirts he’s giving you to iron,” Aggie said tightly.

“Am I wrong or don’t you like Ian?” Emily asked.

“I like Ian. He’s very charming. When he wants to be. But I do think he’s taking advantage of you. Emily, you have worked like a dog since the day you graduated. You’ve been working seven days a week forever it seems. You’re always tired and you don’t remember what it’s like to feel good. You’re only twenty-five and already you have some bad varicose veins. You should have a doctor look at them.”

Emily burst out laughing. “I think I’m going to have a doctor looking at them for a whole week. I’ll respect his opinion.”

“It’s not funny, Emily. Jeez, I’m going to miss you.”

“We’ll write. Not a lot, but I promise to stay in touch. Ian still has another year and then his residency and more schooling if he wants to specialize, which I think he’s going to want to do, and then, Aggie, it’s clear sailing for both of us. I can start school, get pregnant, and have the best of everything. A few more years aren’t going to matter. At least we’ll be together. Be happy for me, Aggie.”

“I am happy for you, Emily. All I can say is Ian better make you happy or he’ll have to take me on. Rob and I will straighten him right out.”

Emily’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Aggie, I want to show you something. I want to share it with you so you won’t worry about me. Last night when I got home, so dead tired I thought my legs and feet were numb, I was just going to fall in bed with my clothes on, but I turned on the light and taped to the outside of the window was a letter from Ian. He must have stopped by late and left it. It was so like Ian I cried and cried. I know it by heart, but I’m going to read it to you. Listen to this,” Emily said, pulling the folded piece of paper from inside her bra. “I want to keep it close to my heart. This will set your mind at ease where Ian is concerned.”

“Let’s hear it,” Aggie said, perching on the side of the bed.

Dear Emily,

I say “Dear Emily” because there is no dearer, sweeter person in the whole, wide world, than you, dear Emily. I love you so much I want to say all the right words, words poets write and talk about, but I don’t know them. Please, know in your heart that I love you more than life itself. I never dreamed anyone could love me the way you do. Know that love is returned in the same way.

You are my life, my reason for being. Without you I would not be where I am today and where we will both be tomorrow and all the tomorrows yet to come. I am going to dedicate my life to healing the sick and to making you happy. The day will come when I can give you everything your heart desires for the rest of my days.

These last years have been hard, especially on you, Emily. We’re going to see daylight soon. I promise to spend the rest of my life making it up to you for all your sacrifices.

I had to write this letter on this last night before we become one in every sense of the word. Thank you, Emily, for being you, for loving me. I will love you forever and ever. My heart is yours, dear Emily.

“That’s beautiful,” Aggie said.

“I’m going to read this every day of my life even though I know the words by heart. When I’m old and gray and sitting in a rocking chair with my grandchildren at my feet, I’m going to show them this and tell them that true love is worth waiting for, worth all the sacrifices that need to be made.”

Ian and Emily settled into their new life with gusto. Atlanta, Georgia, was far enough away from New Jersey that neither Emily nor Ian worried about family visits. Ian settled into the Emory School of Medicine while Emily got a job working at a tacky lounge called Sassy Sallie’s.

Ian studied. Emily worked. The only thing breaking the monotony was Ian’s days off, which were few and far between. Emily found herself working double shifts just so she wouldn’t have to be alone in the tiny apartment they called home. They were making it, though, unlike some of Ian’s married friends who couldn’t tolerate the long separations, the constant workload, and lack of companionship. Three couples had separated, the wives filing for divorce. At each new announcement by Ian, Emily hunkered down and worked more because of the worry in Ian’s eyes. “It won’t happen to us, Ian, I swear it won’t.” Constantly she reassured her husband that they were different and they both understood what was involved when they got married. “I want you to succeed, to fulfill your dream, and then I’ll get my turn.” Ian always smiled when she said that. The smile, the warmth in his eyes, was what kept her going. Until the day she started to feel ill.

“Listen, Emily, you look dead on your feet,” Carrie, the night hostess, said gently. “I’ve been watching you since yesterday. Go home and get in bed. You’re the only one who hasn’t come down with the flu, so it’s your turn. Sallie isn’t going to say anything. You’re the best waitress she’s ever had and she doesn’t want to lose you. You look flushed to me. Bet you have a fever. Get your stuff together and go home. We aren’t that busy. Look, the most you could make by staying till the end of your shift is maybe another ten bucks. Those guys drinking at the table in the corner are not big spenders. Go on, I don’t want to hear another word. Call in tomorrow and let me know how it’s going. If you can’t make it, don’t worry about it. Sallie has some reserves for the breakfast trade.”

Emily sighed. “I guess you’re right. Explain to Sallie, okay.”

By the time Emily arrived at the small apartment, chills racked her body. She made tea but could barely drink it, so she swallowed four more aspirin and crawled into bed, but not before she slipped into a warm flannel nightgown and piled all four blankets on the bed. It wasn’t until she was dozing off that she remembered that Carrie had slipped a bottle of brandy from the bar into her purse. She should have taken a few swigs.

Exhausted, she slipped into sleep.

The alarm shrieked at four-forty. Emily struggled to reach the button to turn it off so Ian could have an extra hour’s sleep. She always woke him when she was ready to go out the door. Not only did she wake him, she handed him his first cup of coffee for the day.

She knew when her arm refused to move that she was sick—really sick. Whatever it was she had, she’d felt it coming on the past two days. Her ears ached, her throat hurt, and her eyes were watering so badly she could barely see the numerals on the clock. She tried to move, but she was so cold her teeth chattered. The flu? Who got the flu in May? Nobody but her.

“Ian, wake up. I’m sick.” Ian mumbled something and then moved away from her. Without his body warmth she felt colder. Her teeth continued to chatter. “Ian, wake up. You have to call and tell my boss I won’t be in.” Ian bolted upright in the bed.

“What time is it? My God, it’s quarter to five. You’re going to be late, Emily.”

“I’m sick, Ian,” Emily croaked. “God, I can’t get warm and I have a fever. Will you get me some aspirin?”

“Jeez, Emily, you’re burning up.”

“I felt it coming on. I’ve been taking aspirin for the past two days.”

“That’s just like you, Emily, trying to doctor yourself. This damn flu is going to lay you up for two weeks. We’re going to lose ten days’ pay. That was dumb of you, Emily.”

Emily buried her face in the pillow. Was it her fault she was sick? Probably. Everything was her fault. Ian was right, it was stupid of her to try and medicate herself just to save ten dollars. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It was stupid. Don’t be cross with me, Ian.”

“I’m not cross with you. Look, put this heavy sweatshirt on and these wool socks. I’ll ask the super if he can give us a portable heater. They turned the heat off last week. The A/C is on now. We don’t have any more blankets, do we?” Emily shook her head. “I’ll fix you a toddy. Maybe you can sweat it out. What else can I do?”

“Call Sallie’s.”

“Right. I’m going to call in too. I’m staying here with you,” he said, his face a mask of worry. “You never get sick, Emily. In all the years I’ve known you only had one cold.” He took her temperature then looked at her, startled. “God, Emily, it’s a hundred and three. I’m going to call a doctor.”

“No. You’re almost a doctor. Just take care of me. There’s nothing they can do for the flu and you know it. Fluids, rest, and aspirin for the fever. Trust me, Ian. Don’t call a doctor.” All she could think of was the ten days’ pay they were going to lose.

“For now, but if your fever doesn’t come down, I’m calling a doctor,” Ian fretted. “Soup, do we have canned soup? I’ll get some when I go out. I was going to make you a hot toddy. We have brandy, don’t we? Coffee for me, maybe some toast. Do you want some?”

“Ian, go to class. Call me during the day.”

“Absolutely not. I’m staying right here with you.”

By midmorning Emily’s fever was down a degree. Ian had used the last of the alcohol to rub her down three different times. She was on her second toddy when he announced that he had to go to the drugstore for more alcohol and aspirin.

Emily could barely keep her eyes open. “Swear to me you won’t call a doctor. I’m feeling better, really I am. By this evening my fever will be down. I mean it, Ian.”

“What the hell kind of doctor am I going to make if I listen to you, Emily? You need a qualified physician. This is home care at its worst.”

“You’re the best medicine for me. I want your promise,” Emily croaked. “Besides, you’re going to be spending money at the drugstore. I feel better. It has to run its course.”

It took three days before Emily was able to shake the chills, the fever, and the sweats. The soreness in her throat eased some and her ears, with drops from the drugstore, ceased to ache. The toddies and the aspirin had finally worked. Or else, as Emily had said, the flu was running its course. She drank constantly, urged on by Ian, who sat at her side the whole time. “You look worse than I feel,” Emily whispered when she woke from a nap on the fourth day.

“I feel like shit,” Ian said quietly. “Sleeping in this chair has given me a permanent crick in my neck. Guess what, I ironed today.”

“Good, the job is yours,” Emily quipped. “It looks so nice outside today, Ian, open the windows and let’s air out this room. I don’t want you to catch whatever I have.”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” Ian said, banging at the window. He finally raised it. “If you think you can handle being alone, I’m going back to class tomorrow. You have to promise to stay in bed, though.”

Emily nodded. “I’ll be fine. How far behind are you going to be?”

“I’ll catch up.”

“I’m so sorry, Ian. I appreciate all you’ve done.”

“You were pretty sick. This is the last time I’m listening to you, Emily. This has been eating at me, your stupidity and my stupidity for going along with it. I know better.”

Which meant she was really the stupid one. She didn’t know better. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

“Emily, I was so worried about you. I felt so…helpless. You just lay there. I love you,” he said gruffly. “But no, I am not taking over the ironing. How about some scrambled eggs?”

“Sounds good. No toast, though. My throat is still a little sore.”

“Another toddy, okay?”

“Hey, I’m hooked.” She smiled. “I love you, Ian, with all my heart.”

“My heart returns the feeling.”

Emily scrunched herself into the mound of pillows. Everything happened for a reason. She’d gotten sick and Ian had realized how much he loved her. He’d taken care of her, putting his own life on hold for a few days. “Thank you, God,” she whispered, “for giving me such a kind, wonderful husband.” Another part of her mind shrieked, fool, fool, fool.

Only time would tell if she was a fool or not.

Ian was right, Emily thought as she stepped from the shower. The last three years had gone by in a giant, tired blur. How was it possible that they were approaching their third anniversary? What she wanted, the only thing she wanted was a long, hot bath and one of Ian’s soothing massages. A good dinner, a little wine, and then some lusty lovemaking. Instead she was going to celebrate her anniversary at a restaurant. She’d taken a shower instead of the long, soothing bath, and the dinner would be Chinese with carry-in beer. She did have a new dress, one that Ian said made her look like his own glorious rainbow. It was beautiful, she couldn’t quibble with the colors, but the style didn’t, in her opinion, suit her. Plus, she didn’t have a single pair of shoes that matched the dress.

This was it, the end of the long years of studying, of sacrificing. Life was going to move forward now. Now she would be able to quit her job, get pregnant, and perhaps start school. It was her turn now. Tomorrow was going to be the first real day of her life with Ian. Tomorrow afternoon she was going to register for the fall semester.

Emily found herself smiling. Thirty-one wasn’t too late to start her education. Tomorrow morning she was going to sleep in, then go by Sassy Sallie’s and give her notice. “Thank you, God, for finally giving me this day,” she murmured.

In the bedroom, Emily slipped on a robe before she settled down to paint her toenails. She was on her pinkie when Ian arrived. He picked her up, whirled her around, and then kissed her until she thought her chest would explode from lack of air. “Tell me we aren’t still newlyweds!” he chortled.

“We’re newlyweds, we’re newlyweds,” Emily laughed. “You’re a half hour early.”

“That’s because I finally said to that old bear, today is my anniversary and my wife needs me. I wish I had done it more often. You aren’t upset with me, are you, Emily?”

“Of course not. Do you really think I counted all the missed holidays, birthdays, and the last two anniversaries? And all those weekends when you had to cover for someone. Not on your life. That’s all behind us now. We really need to talk, Ian, about the future.”

“I know. Tonight at dinner. We’re going to…guess, Emily?”

“The Chinese Garden.”

“Wrong. We are going to, wait till you hear this, Adolpho’s. I made the reservation last week. I don’t care what it costs. Hovering waiters. Champagne. For you. You deserve the best and I’m finally going to give it to you. Listen, I know it’s money you earned, but right now I don’t have a pot to piss in. That’s going to change starting tomorrow. Tell me it’s okay, honey.”

Emily stared at her husband. He hadn’t changed a bit since their wedding day. His summer blue eyes could still beguile her. She fought the urge to brush back his wheat-colored hair. He didn’t like it when she did that. He looked so incredibly handsome in his white Arrow shirt and Fabil tie. There wasn’t a trace of a line or wrinkle in his face, whereas hers had several. Her early years in the sun, she supposed. The only thing was, Ian didn’t look right to her unless he smiled. Right now, this very instant he looked chagrined, like a small boy who’d done something wrong. She and she alone could wipe the look away and replace it with a smile. So what if tonight’s dinner would be two student loan payments? Once in a while you had to do something wild and crazy, and today was her anniversary. “Why don’t we say we both deserve this night out and who cares what it costs? Promise me candlelight or I’m not going.” Emily giggled. She could get into this; she’d had many years of practice making Ian smile. He did.

Ian smacked his hands gleefully. “I’m going to shower and then we’re both going to get into our new duds and split this place. When we get back, I’m going to love you all night long. What do you think of that, Mrs. Thorn?”

“I think that’s a splendiferous idea, Dr. Thorn.” Please, God, don’t let me fall asleep, she prayed silently. Let me get through this evening in one mental piece.

“I have a better idea, let’s get a head start. C’mon, Mrs. Thorn, we haven’t done it in the shower yet.” He kissed her then until she thought her teeth would rattle. Her adrenaline kicked in. It had been over a month since they’d made love. “Do that again,” she moaned. He did, all the way into the shower and while the shower was pelting them both. The exquisite release left her buoyant. They were both giggling like children when they left the apartment.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the restaurant.

“They give you a rose when you leave,” Ian whispered.

Emily smiled. A rose would be nice, something to remember the evening by. She’d press it into her photo album when it wilted.

Ian frowned. “Promise me you aren’t going to pick the service apart. Promise me you won’t roll your eyes if the waiter makes a mistake.”

“Only if you promise to leave a generous tip,” Emily muttered.

“Okay, it’s a deal. Forget that you’re a waitress tonight, and for God’s sake, don’t tell anyone, okay?”

The edge was off her happiness now. “Why, are you ashamed of what I do? What do you tell your friends I do, Ian?”

“I don’t tell them anything. It’s none of their business. And no, I am not ashamed. Nobody appreciates what you do more than me.”

“Appreciating it and being ashamed are two different things, Ian.”

“We’re getting off to a bad start here. Let’s back up two steps and start over. I for one still feel like a newlywed so let’s act like it. That’s an order, Emily.”

“Yes, sir,” Emily said, snapping off a smart salute.

Ian’s hand was on the doorknob when the door swung open. Ian stepped back, ushering Emily through the door as he nodded curtly to the doorman. Inside he maneuvered Emily to the secluded area where the head waiter stood discreetly with an immaculate white towel folded over his arm.

“Dr. and Mrs. Thorn,” Ian said imperiously. Emily flinched.

It was a small restaurant with only twelve tables and as many waiters hovering against the wall. One-on-one service, she thought. She knew immediately that this was the kind of restaurant where the tables did not turn over. One seating, and the dinner would take three hours, possibly longer if they dawdled over coffee and liqueurs.

Emily gave her husband a gentle nudge and whispered quietly, “Ask for the table by the wall. You don’t want to sit by the kitchen.” Ian bristled as the waiter led them to a draped table one table away from the kitchen door. Emily nudged him again. She could see Ian’s shoulders stiffen.

“This is unacceptable,” he said quietly.

That was good, Emily thought. When you said something was unacceptable, it left no room for discussion. The waiter veered to the right. Emily felt herself nod approvingly. Ian’s lips were compressed into a tight, white line when the waiter held her chair. If Ian wanted to pout, let him, she thought. If they were going to spend the kind of money she knew they were going to spend, then they deserved a good table. And if there was one thing she knew about, it was good tables.

“That really wasn’t necessary, Emily,” Ian said, smiling for the benefit of the other diners and the waiter as well.

“Yes, Ian, it was. We’re celebrating so we should get the best for our money. Or is it that it was my suggestion that’s bothering you?” She smiled sweetly to take the sting out of her words. “I guess this is the rose they give you,” she said, motioning to a single yellow rose in a bud vase.

“No, they hand it to you when you leave. I saw them in a box by the front door.” He always had to one-up her. There was no box by the front door on the little counter. She’d taken in the decor, everything, the moment they walked through the door. She let it go and nodded. “This is a lovely restaurant. I understand the food is wonderful, but incredibly rich. We’re going to gain weight, Ian.”

“I haven’t gained an ounce in seven years, Emily. You, on the other hand, are getting…love handles.”

It was true, she thought in dismay. She’d gone from a perfect size ten to an uneven size twelve. It was all the fast, greasy food she ate on the run, not to mention the sweets she was addicted to. Tomorrow she was going to go on a diet. “I know,” she said miserably. “Starting tomorrow I’m going to switch up and go on a vegetable and fruit diet.”

“Emily, Emily, you’re kidding yourself. They don’t serve fruits and vegetables in that dive you work in.”

Emily’s heart thundered in her chest, but she was determined not to spoil this evening. She leaned across the table to take her husband’s hands in hers. “I’ll give it a try,” she said. “Tomorrow is a new day and I’m looking forward to starting college and being a practicing doctor’s wife. How many committees do you think I’ll have to work on? Ooohhh, this wine is wonderful.”

“Have some more,” Ian said, refilling her glass just as the waiter arrived at their table to pour it for him. Ian waved him away. “I hate hovering waiters,” he whispered.

“Me, too,” Emily whispered in return.

“Bet nobody hovers at that place you work at.”

“You’re right. Ian, what’s the name of that place I work at?”

“What?”

“You know, the name of the lounge I work at? What’s the name of it?”

Ian shrugged. “It escapes me at the moment. It’ll come to me.”

“No, it won’t. You never asked me. I bank the checks so how would you know?”

“You told me, I guess. I’ve called you there.”

“So how do they answer the phone?” Emily persisted.

“Jesus, Emily, what is this, twenty questions? Just because I can’t remember the name of that joint doesn’t mean I don’t know it. I know the phone number by heart so why do I need to know the name of it?”

“What if something happened to me and you had to get there right away?”

“I’d call first. I have it written down somewhere. None of this is important, Emily.”

“Yes, Ian, it is. The dive I work at is called Sassy Sallie’s. That dive put you through medical school, paid our rent, bought our food, paid our utilities, helps to pay your student loans, paid for that suit, shirt, and tie, not to mention your underwear and shoes and socks as well as my new outfit. And this dinner. So, you see, it is important. To me. And it should be important to you too.”

“Emily, that isn’t what I meant. I meant the discussion. Dive is just a word. You’re the one who used it first when you first started to work there. I picked it up from you. I am appreciative. What is it you want?”

“Respect. Why did you tell me not to tell anyone what I do? You admitted you don’t tell people because it’s none of their business.”

“It isn’t. Do you tell people what I do?” Ian asked huffily.

“To anyone who will listen. I’m proud of you, Ian. Waitressing is honest work. Hard work. Look, let’s drop it. I guess I’m just tired.”

“You’re always tired, Emily. Are you taking those vitamins I got you?”

“I take two a day and I’m still tired. I can’t wait to sleep in and do nothing.”

Ian shrugged. Their salads arrived. Ian refilled their wineglasses a third time.

A long time later, their soup and salad plates gone, Ian said carefully, “Listen, I don’t have the foggiest idea of what I ordered for us. The menu was in French. I just pointed. I think it’s some kind of fish. Let’s not make a fuss if it’s something we don’t like. I’d hate to be embarrassed.”

Emily felt her hackles rise as she thought about the hours she’d worked, the hours she’d stood on her feet to pay for a dinner she might not even like just so her husband wouldn’t be embarrassed. She sighed and shook her head to show she would do as he wanted. She always did what he wanted. Always.

Ian ordered a second bottle of wine. It arrived when the dinner of salmon mousse was set in front of them. Ian beamed. Emily stared at her plate. She hated salmon. She’d rather have a greasy hamburger.

“You’re a good sport, Emily,” Ian said happily. “I love it when you look like you do right now.”

“How’s that?”

“Determined.”

Emily burst out laughing. “This tastes like…like my father’s muddy galoshes with a topping of Parmesan cheese.” Ian choked on his food and then burst out laughing. He finished the wine in his glass at a gulp, his face red. “Is everyone looking at us?” he whispered.

“Uh-huh. I think we need a little more practice before we eat in restaurants like this or else we need a crash course in French.” Emily giggled.

“I think you’re right, Emily. We’ll stop and get a banana split when we leave here.”

“Are you kidding? We’ll be too drunk to make it to the ice cream parlor. Besides, I thought you had other things in mind,” Emily said, leering at him across the table. “Oh, Ian, I can’t wait to give my notice.”

“You look so beautiful in candlelight, honey. When we finally settle in somewhere, let’s have candlelight every night.”

“Okay. You’re the handsomest man in this restaurant, Ian.”

“How blitzed are you?”

“I can still see straight. You are the handsomest. Look around at the men in here. Pot bellies, bald heads, I’d wager half the women in here are mistresses. You know how you can tell?”

“How?”

“They’re talking. Husbands and wives drink, eat, and leave. Lovers dally, smile, talk, and look into each other’s eyes.”

Ian looked around. “Jeez, you’re right. That’s disgusting.”

“Will you always be faithful to me, Ian?”

“Of course. What about you?”

“Always,” Emily said, her eyes shining with love. “I would never muck up what we have. Men…I’m not sure men feel the same way women do when it comes to affairs.”

“I feel just the way you do, Emily. We are going to have the perfect life to make up for all our sacrifices. We deserve the best and I’m going to make sure we get it. That’s my job.”

Our sacrifices, Emily’s head buzzed with the wine she’d consumed. She should be paying attention to what Ian was saying. She’d think about it tomorrow while she lay in bed. Maybe Ian would bring her breakfast. She didn’t realize she’d said the words aloud until Ian said, “It will be my pleasure. How about French toast with melted butter, warm syrup, and sprinkled with powdered sugar or maybe that spice you use?”

“That sounds wonderful, Ian. Let’s stay in bed till noon and have brunch.”

“Sounds good to me. Here comes our coffee and we finished the wine. I need to talk to you about something, Emily.”

“Okay, talk.”

“Emily, honey, I want us to go back to New Jersey. This is…I don’t know how to say it except to blurt it right out. I want to work for myself. I want us to open a clinic. I’ve talked, long distance, to a few bankers back home and the guy at First Fidelity said he didn’t think there would be a problem loaning us money for a clinic. I thought Front Street in Plainfield would be good. A walk-in-off-the-street clinic, open to everyone. I didn’t commit, said I had to talk it over with you. Two years Emily, if my predictions are right. Clinics are moneymakers. If you keep working, plus help out in the clinic, we can pay off my loans and the loan for the clinic. Two years. What’s two years, Emily? Twenty-four months. Seven hundred and thirty days. We can do it, Emily, if you pitch in. It will be ours. You won’t have to bust your ass anymore. I mean after two years. This is how I see it: You work mornings, seven to one, and then you can work the night shift at your old place, you know, what was it called, Heckling Pete’s? What do you think, Emily?”

What she thought was she wanted to die, right here at this very table where she’d consumed almost a whole bottle of wine and eaten salmon mousse.

She chose her words carefully. “That means I have to put school off again. How’s that going to look when I finally go back and everyone is years younger? I won’t fit in. I was so looking forward to starting school. Ian, I don’t know if I’m strong enough to put in two more years.”

“The first thing we’re going to do is some blood work on you. Build you up. That’s a must. You’re going to take a vacation and sit on your tail for ten whole days. I’m doing this for you as much as myself. If we don’t take hold of this opportunity, we might not get another one. I swear to you, dear Emily, I’ll make this up to you. I can’t do it alone. I need you at my side.”

“Oh, Ian, that means I’ll see even less of you and I’ll be working more hours. Before you said we were like newlyweds. That was wrong, we’re like strangers. You didn’t even know where I worked.”

“I remembered Heckling Pete’s and that was a long time ago.”

“You really want to do this, don’t you?”

“More than anything. We’ll be on our own, making money, and we’ll be our own bosses. I can treat people at affordable prices. It’s a moneymaker, Emily. Two years. Can you see it in your heart to give me two more years? I know what I’m asking. It has to be your decision, though.” His eyes pleaded with her.

Emily nodded because she was too numb to do anything else. Ian smiled, raised his hand for the check. “I’m going to make this up to you, dear Emily. The day is going to come when I will give you anything your heart desires. Anything. I promise, Emily.”

She managed to say, “I’m going to hold you to it.” She even managed a sickly smile for her husband’s benefit.

They tottered home, holding on to one another, their futures settled for the next two years.