As each photograph came in, I tried to recall the moment in which it was taken. At first, my memory was like the snapshot itself—a brief, self-contained image—but I found that if I closed my eyes and concentrated, time would begin to roll backward. And in each instance, I remembered what I’d been thinking.
This, then, is the other part of the album. On the page opposite each picture, I’ve written what I remember about those moments or, more specifically, what I remember about you.
I call this album “The Things I Should Have Said.”
I once made a vow to you on the steps outside the courthouse, and as your husband of thirty years, it’s time I finally made another: From this point on, I will become the man I always should have been. I’ll become a more romantic husband, and make the most of the years we have left together. And in each precious moment, my hope is that I’ll do or say something that lets you know that I could never have cherished another as much as I’ve always cherished you.
With all my love,
Wilson
At the sound of Jane’s footsteps, I looked up. She stood at the top of the steps, the hallway light behind her obscuring her features. Her hand reached for the railing as she began moving down the steps.
The light from the candles illuminated her in stages: first her legs, then her waist, then finally her face. Stopping halfway down, she met my eyes, and even from across the room, I could see her tears.
“Happy anniversary,” I said, my voice echoing in the room. Continuing to gaze at me, she finished descending the steps. With a gentle smile, she crossed the room toward me and I suddenly knew exactly what to do.
Opening my arms, I drew her close. Her body was warm and soft, her cheek damp against my own. And as we stood in Noah’s house two days before our thirtieth anniversary, I held her against me, wishing with all my heart for time to stop, now and forever.
We stood together for a long time, before Jane finally leaned back. With her arms still around me, she stared up at me. Her cheeks were damp and shiny in the dim light.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I gave her a gentle squeeze. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
I led her through the living room, toward the rear of the house. I pushed open the back door and we stepped out onto the porch.
Despite the moonlight, I could still make out the Milky Way arcing above us like a spray of jewels; Venus had risen in the southern sky. The temperature had cooled slightly, and in the breeze, I caught a scent of Jane’s perfume.
“I thought we could eat out here. And besides, I didn’t want to mess up any of the tables inside.”
She looped her arm through mine and surveyed the table before us. “It’s wonderful, Wilson.”
I pulled away reluctantly to light the candles and reached for the champagne.
“Would you like a glass?”
At first, I wasn’t sure she’d heard me. She was staring out over the river, her dress fluttering slightly in the breeze.
“I’d love one.”
I removed the bottle from the wine bucket, held the cork steady, and twisted. It opened with a pop. After pouring two glasses, I waited for the fizz to settle, and then topped them both off. Jane moved closer to me.
“How long have you been planning this?” she asked me.
“Since last year. It was the least I could do after forgetting the last one.”
She shook her head and turned my face to hers. “I couldn’t have dreamed of anything better than what you did tonight.” She hesitated. “I mean, when I found the album and the letter and all those passages you wrote . . . well, that’s the most remarkable thing you’ve ever done for me.”
I started making more noises about it being the least I could do, but she interrupted me.
“I mean it,” she said quietly. “I can’t even put it into words how much this means to me.” Then, with a sly wink, she fingered my lapel. “You look awfully handsome in that tux, stranger.”
I laughed beneath my breath, feeling the tension break slightly, and put my hand on hers and squeezed it. “On that note, I hate to have to leave you . . .”
“But?”
“But I’ve got to check on dinner.”
She nodded, looking sensual, looking beautiful. “Need any help?”
“No. It’s just about done.”
“Would you mind if I stayed outside, then? It’s so peaceful out here.”
“Not at all.”
In the kitchen, I saw that the asparagus I had steamed had cooled, so I turned on the burner to reheat them. The hollandaise had congealed a bit, but after I stirred it, it seemed fine. Then I turned my attention to the sole, opening the oven to test it with a fork. It needed just another couple of minutes.
The station I’d tuned the kitchen radio to was playing music from the big band era, and I was reaching for the knob when I heard Jane’s voice behind me.
“Leave it on,” she said.
I looked up. “I thought you were going to enjoy the evening.”
“I was, but it’s not the same without you,” she said. She leaned against the counter and struck her usual pose. “Did you specifically request this music for tonight, too?” she teased.
“This program has been on for the past couple of hours. I guess it’s their special theme for the night.”
“It sure brings back memories,” she said. “Daddy used to listen to big band all the time.” She ran a hand slowly through her hair, lost in reminiscence. “Did you know that he and Mom used to dance in the kitchen? One minute, they’d be washing dishes, and the next minute, they’d have their arms around each other and be swaying to the music. The first time I saw them, I guess I was around six and didn’t think anything of it. When I got a little older, Kate and I used to giggle when we saw them. We’d point and snicker, but they’d just laugh and keep right on dancing, like they were the only two people in the world.”
“I never knew that.”
“The last time I ever saw them do it was about a week before they moved to Creekside. I was coming over to see how they were doing. I saw them through the kitchen window when I was parking, and I just started to cry. I knew it was the last time I’d ever see them do it here, and it felt like my heart broke in two.” She paused, lost in thought. Then she shook her head. “Sorry. That’s kind of a mood spoiler, isn’t it?”