Staring at the flames in the fireplace with his head resting on the back cushion of the couch, Tom waited for his wife to come home from her job in Grand Rapids. Her commute from the city would bring her out to the small farming town where their house sat back in the woods down a long private drive.
Coming home to their A-frame house usually brought them both such peace, but Amanda was going to be anxious when she heard his news. There was no good way to tell her, other than directly.
The sound of the kitchen door opening from the garage caused Tom's stomach to clench. He lifted his head off the cushion to look into Amanda's warm, brown eyes.
"Hi, honey. What are you doing home so early? Are you sick? Did you catch the flu?" she asked.
Lines creased her usually smooth forehead as she walked over to him and laid the back of her hand against his cheek. With her other hand, she pushed her shiny, brown hair over her shoulder, out of her eyes.
His chest felt tight and heavy, and he wished it was from the flu. Amanda would insist on putting him to bed with the heating pad. She would make him soup and toast and bring him Tylenol. Then he would fall asleep with his head in her lap as she stroked his hair and read to him from a novel.
Yeah, he wished he had the flu. The truth was going to make her sick with worry.
"I'm not sick. I've been laid off. Today was my last day." He told her straight and fast like ripping off a band-aid. It would sting like hell at first, but hopefully the pain would quickly fade.
"What? They didn't give you two week's notice?" She stepped back from the couch, looking indignant with her shoulders thrown back and her hands on her hips.
"They did...two weeks ago," he confessed.
"And you're just telling me now that you've lost your job?" Her voice rose on the last three words.
"I didn't lose my job. I know exactly where it's gone... Down the drain like the rest of the Michigan economy." His energy had also gone down the drain, making him wish he could sleep until the nation's economy recovered.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she asked.
He blew out a breath between his pursed lips. This was the part he'd been dreading. "I didn't want to ruin our Valentine's weekend. They told me that Friday, right before we left for our trip to Chicago."
"Damn it, Tom. You should have told me sooner. You shouldn't have had to deal with this on your own." She narrowed her eyes as she stared at him.
Standing in front of the couch with her feet firmly planted, she looked like she was ready to slay dragons. Her long, slim body was strong from the kickboxing workouts she loved. He didn't doubt she could have kicked some serious dragon butt.
"Maybe I should have told you, but it's over now," he said.
"Okay. Let's think about what we need to do." She paced closer to the fireplace and ran her fingers through her hair. "With my salary, I can cover the mortgage and our living expenses if we cut out our luxury spending."
This was what he loved about her. He knew she would turn practical once the emotional hit subsided.
Then why hadn't he told her sooner?
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