Moments We Forget by Beth K. Vogt

Author:Beth K. Vogt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Christian / General, FICTION / Contemporary Women
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2019-05-06T16:00:00+00:00

Today, this morning, I would ask Geoff why.

But first he had to wake up.

I’d found my husband asleep next to me in our bed, dark circles under his eyes, his brown hair matted to his forehead. Geoff hadn’t even taken the time to hang up his clothes but tossed his khaki pants and button-down shirt on the wooden chair beside his dresser. The longing to be near me hadn’t kept him in bed this Saturday morning—the sheer inability to wake up had.

Fine. I’d take it.

I’d stayed next to him for a while, appreciating the warmth of his body beside mine. The sound of his breathing. Resisting the urge to turn and curl closer to him. Rest my head on his chest. Touch his hair.

Even there, in the stillness of our bedroom, the questions snuck in, disrupting what little peace I’d gathered while lying next to my husband and pushing me from the bed. Geoff, my Geoff, with his jokes and his laughter and his kindness . . . what were his reasons for saying no to children? To expanding our family to include a son or a daughter?

Two hours later, I’d made breakfast—now brunch—in our almost-complete kitchen, the cement floor beneath the plastic covering cold on my feet. A quiche—using Johanna’s favorite recipe. And the coffee would be hot and fresh, if not fancy. Winston had enjoyed a brief walk in the neighborhood, the cold hurrying us back into the warmth of the house. Now, at last, Geoff’s footsteps sounded on the stairs.

“What time is it?”

“Ten thirty.”

Geoff brushed his hair back, adjusting his glasses. “Sorry. I must have been really tired.”

Was he apologizing for being home?

“You’ve been working hard, what with those extra projects. And I know you’re already prepping for the conference, too.” I pressed my lips together. I wanted my response to be pleasant, so shorter was better.

“Yeah. Just preliminary stuff, but I want to give it my best, you know? I’m researching the topic options, as well as presentation methods.”

“Good idea. I took Winston for a walk. Wanted the house to be quiet so you could sleep.”

“Thanks.”

“Coffee?”

“Sure.”

“Are you hungry? I made a quiche—Johanna’s recipe. And fresh fruit.”

“I thought something smelled good.” Geoff nodded. “Sure.”

He settled onto his heels, calling to Winston and scratching behind his ears, as I prepared the coffee and filled our plates. We pretended everything was fine. Easing our way around the kitchen. Around each other. Around the remnants of conflict that shadowed our days. We carried our breakfast into the dining room, Geoff sitting at the head of the table, me sitting next to him.

The room filled with silence. No easy banter. No laughter.

Maybe I should let go of my plans to talk to Geoff. Choose to relax. Have a pleasant day. See if I could get my husband to smile again. To look at me again.

No. This was a chance to talk—possibly our only opportunity, with Geoff so intent on avoiding me.

I waited until he was halfway through breakfast—and on his second cup of coffee—before broaching what had happened a week ago.

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