Page 41 of The Inn on Bluebell Lane
“Yes, you can.” She gave Ben another quelling look. “Look after your sister, as well.”
“Why do I—?”
“I mean it, Ben.”
Once they’d trooped downstairs and outside, Ellie decided to go find her errant husband. Or not errant, she told herself as she came to stand in the doorway of their bedroom, but struggling, as Gwen had told her. She needed to remember that.
Matthew was sitting in an armchair by the window, his plastered arm resting gingerly on the armrest, his moody gaze on the distant hills, their peaks already lost in darkness.
“How are you doing?” Ellie asked quietly. She came into the room and closed the door behind her.
Matthew shrugged. “The same, I suppose.”
“This is hard, I know.”
He gave a restive sigh. “There’s nothing all that hard about sitting around watching TV all day.”
“For you, there is,” Ellie returned gently. “You have always been a doer, Matt.”
“Well, I’m not now, am I?” he replied, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from telling him not to feel so sorry for himself.
She knew this had all been challenging for her husband—being made redundant, almost losing their house, and now this latest setback—but she hadn’t acted like it, Ellie knew. The truth was, she’d struggled with her own resentment at Matthew’s setbacks, and that wasn’t really fair.
“No, you’re not,” she agreed. “Not right now. But it won’t last forever, and we can handle a few weeks off, can’t we? Besides, you could still be involved with the architectural plans and things. Maybe we can see the silver lining, that this gives you time to get a proper business plan in place.”
“Maybe…” Matthew replied, sounding both unconvinced and unenthused.
And just like that, in the space of a few seconds, Ellie’s resolution to be patient and understanding went right out the window. “Matt, it’s not the end of the world,” she insisted. “And meanwhile there are four children who still need you. Ben misses playing football with you—”
“I’m still here, Ellie,” he replied, an irritable edge to his voice. “I read Ava three stories before bed last night. I watched Ben play some alien-shooting game. I did a puzzle with Josh, and I tried to talk to Jess, but she wasn’t having it. I know I can’t do the active stuff, but I am trying, even if it’s not enough for you.”
Ellie suppressed a sigh. She didn’t really need the laundry list of how her husband had shown he was a good father. She needed him present, emotionally as well as physically, in a way that she knew he wasn’t, no matter how much he said he was. But she wasn’t sure how to explain that without getting his back up even more, and that was something she definitely didn’t want right now.
“I know you’re doing stuff,” she said carefully. “And I appreciate it, truly. But sometimes it feels like you’ve checked out a bit… mentally, I mean. From us.”
He rolled his eyes. “Wow, thanks.”
“Matthew.” Ellie couldn’t hide the hurt from her voice. “We’re on the same team, you know?” she reminded him quietly. “We’re in this together. I want to help you. I want to make this work… for all of us.”
“And all the while you’re counting the days until you can reasonably suggest we move back to Connecticut,” he finished with something of a sneer.
“What?” Ellie jerked back. “That’s not true.”
Not exactly, anyway. She knew there was a kernel of unfortunate truth to her husband’s words, but no more, and she was trying… just as he’d said he was. So why were they still at odds with one another? Did their marriage only work when life was easy and untroubled? She never would have said so before, but that was when life had been easy and untroubled. This was hard… and they were making it even harder on themselves.
Matthew sighed and rubbed his face with his good arm. “I’m sorry, Ellie. I’m being a jerk, I know I am. My arm really hurts and I’m… I’m mad at myself, for getting into this situation in the first place. I shouldn’t take it out on you, though. I know that.”
“You can’t help breaking your arm—” she began, but Matthew shook his head, his expression turning grimly obdurate.
“I don’t mean that.”
They were both silent, while Ellie tried to think of how to reply. Before she could, Matthew continued in a low voice, not looking at her.
“I mean… losing my job. Almost losing the house. Not being able to provide for you or the kids. Making us move. I’ve failed on a lot of fronts, as a father and a husband.”
Ellie’s heart ached to hear him being so honest. She’d known he’d struggled, but she hadn’t realized quite how much. “These things happen, Matt,” she said gently. “They weren’t your fault. And we both chose to move, to help your mom. Because it felt right.” And it certainly had been the right decision, considering Gwen’s diagnosis. Not that she could tell her husband about that now; it was Gwen’s to share, not hers.
He glanced at her, a painful honesty lighting his eyes. “Do you really believe any of that?” he asked.