Reborn

3

Carol was sitting in the living room a short while later, waiting with her nails digging into her palms, when she heard the back door open. It was Jim. He came out of the kitchen and stood there looking all around the room, anywhere but directly at her. Finally, with his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his jeans, he walked over to where she sat and plopped down next to her on the couch. She noticed how badly he needed a shave. He didn't say anything for a while, just stared straight ahead.

Carol watched his troubled profile, aching to touch him, to throw her arms around him, but holding back, waiting for him to make the first move.

Finally, when the tension within her had reached the screaming level, he spoke.

"You shouldn't have thrown out those journals," he said, still staring straight ahead.

"I had to," Carol said as softly as she could. "I had no right, but I had to."

After a pause he said, "I thought about what you did. I think it was the right thing to do, and pretty damn brave."

She put her hand on his arm and ran it down to his hand; his fingers grabbed hers when she reached them.

"But neither of us can erase what we learned from them. That's there to stay, like a brand. It's—" His voice broke and he swallowed. "It's kind of funny, isn't it? I spent all those years trying to figure out who I am, now I've got to figure out what I am."

Carol saw a tear slide down his cheek, and her heart broke for him. She drew his head down onto her shoulder.

"You're my Jim. That's the who and what of you. That's all you have to be as far as I'm concerned."

He began to sob. She had never seen him cry, and she held him close, aching with the wonder of it. Finally he straightened and pulled away.

"Sorry," he said, sniffing and wiping his eyes. "I don't know what started that."

"It's okay, really."

"It's just that it's such a shock. I'm kind of torn up inside. Don't know which way to turn. Didn't mean to go wimpy on you."

"Don't be silly! You've been through hell these past few days. You've earned it."

"Did you really mean that… what you said about it not mattering? I mean, it matters a hell of a lot to me, so why doesn't it matter to you?"

"It doesn't change a thing. What we had before we have now—if you'll allow it."

His eyes searched her face. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"Of course! If I didn't, those journals would still be here and I'd be gone instead."

He smiled for the first time. "Yeah. I guess you're right." He grasped her hand. "Carol, if I can believe that, hold on to that, I think I can make it. The more I think about it, the more I see you were right to get rid of the evidence."

"Thank God!" she said and really meant it. "I thought you'd never forgive me!"

"Neither did I. But now I see that I've got to go on just as before. I can't let this thing own me. Only you and I know about it. I can live with that. I can adjust to being a… to being what I am."

Carol decided then that it would be a long, long time before she told him where the journals were hidden.

"Just go on being the same Jim Stevens I married," she said. "That's what's really important."

He smiled again. "You sure you don't want any changes? This is probably your only chance to put in your order."

"Just one, maybe."

"Name it."

"Next time something upsets you, don't keep it to yourself like you did this time. Share the load. We're partners in this. There shouldn't be any secrets between us."

He slipped his arms around her and squeezed, almost crushing her. Carol wanted to laugh and wanted to cry. He was back—her old Jim was back.