When they finished, they’d cleared the room of almost everything in it. They carried it all down to put into Nash’s truck to go to the dump.
As the days passed, the storm moved away. True autumn arrived, with its crisp air and pumpkins. Nash worked on the construction crew every day, returning home to Darcy and dinner and television or sometimes dinner out. Often, they simply sat talking about everything, sharing anecdotes of school days and family foibles. They took long walks on Sundays, crunching through the forest at Squam Swamp or viewing the darkening ocean from the Bluff Walk in ’Sconset. During the winter, when blizzards kept them indoors, they went around the house more carefully, deciding if there was anything they’d really like to have. Gradually, Darcy and Nash freshened up Penny’s room. They swept it clean and washed the floor and windows. They painted the walls a pale cream with marshmallow-white woodwork. They leaned shoulder to shoulder in front of the computer, discussing and comparing furniture, and one day a beautiful, sleek, king-size bed arrived. For weeks they slept in the bed, with nothing else in the room. The bed was quite enough.
All this time, they spent most Sundays touring houses with Marlene deCosta. They saw houses in the quaint small village of ’Sconset and on the other end of the island in Madaket. They saw historic houses that “needed work” and newer houses in pristine condition. They saw houses with small yards and houses that bordered the moors and seemed to have yards going on forever. They ran spreadsheets on mortgage rates and real estate taxes. They discussed the advantages and disadvantages of Penny’s in-town house for the children they just might have in the future.
One gray Sunday in November when the rain fell steadily and the temperature dropped to the low forties, they lay together in bed, drinking the coffee Nash had brewed and brought up. It was almost noon. They’d spent much of the morning making love and napping. Now it really was time to get up.
“Let’s talk,” Nash said.
“Mmm.” Darcy murmured, but her pulse began to race. “I know. I know we should talk. I’ve been dithering about, but I’ve made a decision. About the house.” If she could do this now, while they were sitting here in what was practically heaven for them both, she knew she loved Nash more than anyone or anything she had ever loved.
“Okay,” he said quietly, waiting.
“I’ll sell the house. It’s okay. I want to be with you anywhere. It will be hard, but I can do it. This house is my past. You are my future.”
Nash took her mug from her hand and set it on the bedside table. He pulled Darcy against him and held her to his chest. She could feel his heart beating. His breath came faster than usual. She could sense how he was struggling to contain his emotions. Men did not cry, but she wanted to cry not only for the loss of the house but for the enormity of her feelings for Nash, her love for him that had opened her heart to all kinds of love.
He ran his hand over her hair, nuzzled his chin against her, and when he spoke, she felt his breath on her skin.
“Darcy.”
She nodded, swallowing back her tears. The way he said her name said everything. This was a moment they would never forget. This was the moment of their marriage.
Nash pulled away. He cleared this throat. He said, “I suppose my main objection to living here is that it’s not my house. It’s your house.”
“True, but—”
“Hang on. Let me finish. I don’t think we’ve found anything special when we looked at other houses. Nothing that makes us say, ‘Hey, this is it! We’ve really got to live here!’ ”
“True…”
“What if I made this house half mine?” Before Darcy could question him, he hurried on. “By giving you exactly one half of the value of the house.”
“You mean, money?” Darcy asked.
“I mean, money. We’ll have the house appraised and I’ll give you half its worth. We’ll have the deed changed to reflect our joint ownership.”
“That’s a lot of money….”
“I’ve got a lot of money. At least enough to buy half the house.”
“Oh, I like this plan.” Darcy’s pulse sped up. Hope shot through her like a lightning bolt. “And we could do something symbolic, like planting a tree in the backyard.”
“Or,” Nash said, “we could do something practical, like having the fireplace chimney in this bedroom repaired so we can have fires here in the winter.”
“Oooh. Brilliant.” Darcy closed her eyes, envisioning how Penny’s old bedroom/Darcy-and-Nash’s new bedroom would look with amber flames flickering, the only light in the room at night when they made love and when they slept.