Our Love Saga

"Nothing happened between Scott and me," she pleaded. "He wanted something to happen, but I shut him down immediately."

I continued unpacking as I said, "Part of our life was just you and me against the world. It was a connection we confirmed every time we held hands, every time we cuddled or kissed. We confirmed it every time we talked about our plans, about our love, or about our past. Now that's gone. Whatever happened this weekend, you've spent it sharing those parts of you with someone else instead of me. I'm sure you talked about our marriage with him, and especially about me. And the fact that you let him into your thoughts and feelings about us dilutes the intimacy we shared. Our marriage and even our friendship are cheapened."

"My God," Samantha said. "Is that how you really feel?"

"Don't!" I snapped. "Don't stand there acting surprised by how I feel. You knew how I felt when you told me of your plans and you damn well knew how I would feel if you went through with them. I had fucking divorce paperwork drawn up and you destroyed that as easily as you destroyed my trust and faith in your love for me. So, don't you dare act surprised."

"I... I," Samantha stammered.

I cut her attempt to speak off, "Everybody at Saturn Systems knows that our marriage was heading south except you apparently. I quit making excuses for why you were not including me at company events when Bruce Winters or someone else would call to find out why I didn't accompany my wife."

I stormed past her, across the hall to my office, and she turned to follow me. I picked my copy of the divorce paperwork off the top of my desk and tossed it to her. "This is your last chance to review the paperwork before it gets filed as-is. I want your response by this time tomorrow."

I walked past her again and returned to finish unpacking. Samantha stood in the doorway crying, while I ignored her. When I tossed the empty duffle bag into the closet, she said, "Please tell me where you were this weekend. I was so worried when I came home yesterday and you weren't here."

I stood staring at her with my arms crossed for several seconds before responding, "I spent the weekend with Marley."

Samantha visibly deflated when she heard my response, and I had suspected that she would. Marley Evans and I were high school sweethearts. We had reconnected at our last reunion and Samantha was convinced that Marley still carried a torch for me. She had discouraged me from spending any time with Marley alone on the few occasions where she and I attended the same conference or convention.

"What's the matter?" I asked with a chuckle. "Don't you trust me?"

I walked past her one last time, went into the guest bathroom, closed and locked the door. She was not waiting when I came out ten minutes later and went to bed.

~~~

I had noticed that a lot about a mile down our road was being staked out for a house foundation. I could tell by the slope of the land where the stakes were that significant excavation would be required to either level the land or dig out the partial basement level of the future house. I kept an eye on the lot, and as soon as I saw the excavation crew arrive, I went to talk to them.

They confirmed that they would be moving a lot of dirt on the lot, and planned to have a dump truck come by when the time came to haul the dirt away. I asked if I could take some of the dirt to fill a hole in my yard, and they said that as long as I moved it myself, they wouldn't mind.

Once the pile was large enough, I drove my truck to the lot and began shoveling dirt into the bed. The foreman of the excavation crew took mercy on me and had their skip loader to fill the bed of my truck with the dirt. I was on my own to unload the dirt back at my house, but only having to exert myself on one end of each trip made things much easier.

By the time that Samantha arrived home on Tuesday evening, the hole for the water garden had been refilled with dirt. I was physically exhausted as I asked, "I was going to grill a steak. Do you want me to throw one on for you?"

Samantha surprised me by giving me a quick kiss and saying, "Yes, please. I'll change and then make us each a salad. Do you want anything else?"

"I was going to reheat the ranch-style beans from last week," I said. "You can have some of those or make whatever else you want."

"Those will be fine," she said. "I'll be right back."

She gave me another kiss and hurried into the master bedroom to change. I went out to start the grill and decided to go ahead and feed the dogs while I was waiting for it to heat up.

When I came back inside, Samantha was flitting around the kitchen. I found it depressing to see her in a cheerier mood today than I had witnessed from her over the past several months. Tonight, she was supposed to provide me with her decision on the divorce petition, so maybe the prospect of our marriage ending is what was making her happy.

Over our dinner, Samantha spoke animatedly about her day at work, also something that she hadn't done for months. She seemed genuinely interested in my story about how I got the dirt to fill in the water garden, and sincerely apologetic about having changed her mind on the project.

When we had finished eating, I began to clear the dishes, but Samantha stopped me. "AJ, please let the dishes wait. Let's go into the living room and talk."

I didn't say anything, but simply walked into the living room and took a seat in one of the recliners. Samantha had gone into the master bedroom, I assumed to retrieve the divorce paperwork. When she entered the living room and saw where I was sitting, she took a seat on the couch across from me.

Holding the paperwork in her lap, Samantha sighed, and said, "I accept that you consider what I did last weekend as a betrayal of your love and that you feel that I destroyed the bond of trust between us. So, if we want this marriage to work again, we are going to have to rebuild our fundamental faith in each other from the ground up. I want to invoke section fourteen point nine of the maintenance agreement that we both signed after we first started living together."

She rose and handed me the paperwork that she had been holding. I saw that it wasn't the divorce petition, but the "Relationship Maintenance Agreement" that we had drafted right after we had moved in together. It contractually bound each of us to take certain actions that would nourish and sustain our relationship, but also specified corrective measures that one or the other of us could invoke should they feel that the relationship was in jeopardy.

She had folded several of the pages back so that the top page presented to me had specific paragraphs highlighted, I assumed by Samantha. It was the section that required both of us to agree to binding arbitration when we could not jointly agree on measures to restore the relationship to a functional state.

Samantha had returned to the couch. I looked at her and said, "Please explain."

Samantha had tears starting to form in her eyes as she said, "I talked to Dora today for hours. Needless to say, I didn't get a lick of real work done. As Dora and I talked, she helped me realize what I think happened to me. I say 'I think', because it's probably just one of several things that I need help to deal with. I'm hoping, no, I'm praying that you will go to counseling with me to help me understand everything I have done to make you give up on me, and on us."

I just stared at her for several minutes, glancing occasionally at the document in my hands. "I'm going to have to think about it," I finally said.

Samantha nodded, seemingly accepting that I wouldn't make any decision without considering things completely. She asked, "Will you return to our bedroom while you think about it?"

I shook my head no.

"Can I ask why?" Samantha said.

I didn't want to be mean or cruel, which is exactly how I knew that she would take my reasoning. The fact was that I would refuse to share a bed with her or any other intimacies until she showed me a clean bill of health, with no sexually transmitted diseases indicated. The problem was how to tell her that while still keeping a flicker of hope for our relationship alive. I knew what I had to do.

I ignored her question and asked, "How do you expect counseling to work with your busy schedule?"

"Oh, AJ, I know that I haven't shown it to you lately, but you are and will always be the priority in my life. I will quit my damn job before I risk losing you. The problem isn't with you. You don't need counseling, but I need you there with me to hear everything if I have any hope of restoring your faith in me. I know that. So, I'll find a counselor. I'll make the appointments, and I'll be at every one, pleading with the counselor and to you to help me understand why I have done anything to hurt the man that I love and cherish more than anything in the world. I will do anything it takes to win your love again."

"Please try to make the appointments on the same day of the week and at the same time if possible," I said. "That will make it easier for both of us to adjust our schedules so we don't miss any of them."

Samantha had an almost tentative smile on her face when she asked, "Are Thursdays at eleven in the morning good for you? I'm hoping that you and I could have lunch after each session to discuss what was said while it was still fresh in our minds."

"Have you already made the appointment?" I asked.

She nodded and said, "I knew that regardless of whether you agreed to accompany me, I needed to talk to someone about why I have changed where you and I are concerned. I hate what I have done, and I need to fix things or I wouldn't be able to live with myself, with or without you in my life."

"Well, I'm still in your life," I said. "Send me the details on where to be and I'll see you there on Thursday."

"Thank you, AJ. Can I show you something else?"

I merely nodded. Samantha stood and removed something from the back pocket of her jeans. She unfolded a piece of paper and handed it to me. She watched in anticipation as I examined it.

When she saw me glance up at her, she said, "I promise on all that is sacred that nothing happened between Scott and me. He tried every sad story he could, trying to convince me that he needed my physical comfort to help him get past his grief over Monica, and when he wouldn't stop when I asked him to, I checked into a hotel rather than remain at his house. That's the receipt so you can see that I'm not lying to you."

I held up the hotel receipt and said, "This is for Saturday night."

"I slept on the trundle bed in his daughter's room Friday night," Samantha said. "His kids were there when I arrived, so I got to meet them. Scott farmed them out to spend Saturday night with different neighbors so that he and I would be alone. When I learned of his intentions, I moved to the hotel."

I handed the receipt back to her as I stood. "Wait here," I said.

I went into my office and returned with a piece of paper that I handed to Samantha. As soon as she recognized it as a hotel receipt from my visit with Marley, a smile broke across her face.

"I'm going to sleep much better now," Samantha said as she handed the receipt back to me. Her expression saddened as she continued, "Not that I'm going to get much sleep knowing that you're sleeping in the guest room and it's my fault."

"Look," I said, as we stood feet apart looking at each other, "I'm not going to let you take all the blame for where we are today. I obviously did things that contributed to the situation, although I have no idea right now what they might have been. Hopefully, meeting with a counselor together will help us both understand. I hope so anyway."

Samantha's body fell against me so suddenly that I had no choice but to catch her and hold her to prevent both of us from falling. She cried, "God, you don't know how you saying that you have hope, even if it is just hope for understanding, buoys my spirits. I love you with all my heart and I want us fixed so badly."

I released her from our embrace and Samantha stepped back. She was looking up at me with an expression of hope. For the first time in months, I was able to see her love for me once more visible in her eyes.

"Try to get some sleep," I told her. "Rest knowing that I also love you with all of my heart, and as long as you're willing to work on us, I'll be right beside you."

Samantha nodded and we each retired to our separate bedrooms. I'm not sure if Samantha ever got any sleep in her room, but I know that she was sleeping soundly in my bed when I awoke the next morning.

~~~

It became obvious to me during our first session with Elizabeth Shilling, that more than anything else, Samantha needed a 'sounding board', or someone to explain herself to, other than me.

I suspect that it was her conversations with Dora over the past week that had provided Samantha with insights into what had changed, but she came into our first session with the counselor with remarkable confidence. She was also impatient to start discussing our current issues rather than wasting time describing to Eliza, as she preferred to be called, how we had met and evolved into becoming husband and wife.

Samantha reluctantly acquiesced to following the path laid out for our sessions by the counselor while we were with her, but she roared full-speed ahead with what she wanted to share with me while we were at lunch following the sessions.

"While we both knew that my hormones were going bonkers, I'm not going to use that as an excuse," Samantha said. "I stopped taking hormones after two months, but it was during the time that I was taking them that other things happened."

We were sitting in a diner across the street from Eliza's office, waiting for our lunch order to be served. "What other things?" I asked.

Samantha took my hand in hers and said, "I got the promotion at work to begin with. I didn't have to devote as much time to work as I did, but your actions made it too easy for me to do just that. I took advantage of you and began to resent you letting me."

"I was just trying to be supportive and make things as easy as possible for you," I explained.

"I understand that now, but try to consider things as they were happening back then. Right after I got the promotion, you broke your foot. I found myself vacillating between being disappointed in myself for not being there to take care of you and being angry with you for constantly denying me any chance to care for you even when I tried."

I didn't reply, but simply nodded my understanding. I realized that while I was trying to make Samantha's life as easy as possible, I had apparently given her the impression that I didn't need her. For someone as passionate about taking responsibility for my health and happiness, my actions must have seemed almost as devastating as her flying to spend the weekend with Scott Palmer.

Samantha continued, "I think the end result was that I no longer felt needed or appreciated by you and that you were purposely denying me my role as your wife to take responsibility for you, your health, your happiness, and your every desire. I now know that was wrong because I realize that everything you did to support and encourage me was done out of your need to be responsible for my health, happiness, and desires."

"Dearest wife," I said. "We need to be partners, but relationships are seldom a clear fifty-fifty split. There will often be times when one of us needs the other to bear a heavier burden, which is what I thought that I was doing in my efforts to support you and lighten your load. God, Samantha, if I ever did anything to make you feel that I don't appreciate and need you, I am sorrier than I can express with words."

"Oh, AJ, you didn't do anything but continue to be the best husband in the world. While my funk might have started while my hormones were screwed up, I should have taken more time later to think about what I was feeling and discuss it with you. I'm the one that twisted your love and support into anger and resentment. I'm the one that let someone else talk me into being appreciated by them instead of you."

I smiled at Samantha and waited for our meal to be served before asking, "So, does that mean that you will start cutting my hair again?"

Her smile lit up the entire restaurant, "First things first."

"Okay, I'll bite," I chuckled, "What comes first?"

Samantha winked and said, "We both do. No haircut for you until we both cum. Be ready to resume your husbandly duties the minute that I get home."

Chapter Thirteen

I never thought, and I certainly wouldn't have expected that watching a sixty-year-old woman putting on her bikini would turn me on as much as it did.

Of course, it helped that the woman in question had the body of someone forty years younger. While there were obvious signs around her eyes and a few other places that made it evident that Samantha was aging, her body was still as tight and toned as the first day we met.

Samantha had been a senior vice president at Saturn Systems for several years, earning a significant six-digit income when she took early retirement. My income had always been enough for us to live comfortably, so hers had been banked or invested. That, plus selling my consulting business for several million dollars gave us financial security for the rest of our lives.

As we approached almost thirty years together, we are as devoted to our future together as when we first became a couple. There were a few bumpy spots; some mentioned earlier and some not worth mentioning. Our counselor, Eliza, instilled in us a commitment to our partnership that we continually embrace. We collectively put one-hundred percent into our relationship every day. It's not always fifty-fifty, but one of us will acknowledge the need to do more, and the other will recognize the extra effort of their partner. It keeps working for us.

"Did you check the tide table?" Samantha asked as she slid into her sandals.

"Yep. Low tide should be just a few minutes after sunrise this morning," I assured her.

After I sold my consulting business and Samantha and I both decided to retire. We spent a couple of years traveling the world before deciding that we wanted to live someplace near the ocean. As residents of Texas, it would have been easiest for us to move somewhere along the Texas gulf coast, but the frequency of hurricanes shot that idea down pretty quick.

Next for consideration was someplace along the Florida panhandle so that we would be closer to Dora and Keith, who was then retired from the Air Force and working in property management. That idea was discarded when they informed us that Keith had been hired by a large resort management company in Myrtle Beach and that they would be relocating there.

We visited the Myrtle Beach area and felt that it was someplace that we would enjoy spending our retired years. Having Dora and Keith close by was an appealing added incentive.

When deciding to move to the Grand Strand of South Carolina, we planned to retire and buy or build a house in the Cherry Grove section of North Myrtle Beach, but we could never find either a house or a lot that met our requirements. We considered planned developments such as Grand Dunes but dismissed them due to the HOA restrictions. We finally found a beautiful half-acre lot on Forty-Sixth Avenue North in Myrtle Beach that was only a short one-block stroll to the public beach access.

In the seven months since our house had been built, we had made it a tradition to be on the beach every morning in time to watch the sunrise. Our requirements for the house were simple; it had to be located less than three blocks from the beach, it had to be single-story, it could not belong to an HOA, and it had to have a yard that could be fenced for the dogs.