Hindsight

Part 1

"I keep remembering your telling me that if I wasn't sure, to back out—better than going through life with the wrong woman—but I was so sure that Laura was the right one." Adam sat on the low table and gazed into the fire. He hadn't even bothered taking off his jacket or gun belt but his hat lay on the chair next to him.

"Adam," Ben said as he leaned forward in his chair, "I think that everyone in any marriage-any marriage that goes on for a few years—doubts if they've made the right choice. I understand how…" Ben realized that he wasn't getting through to Adam. He wanted Adam to know that he supported him, had noticed that for the past two years, Adam's marriage to Laura had been strained but there were other things to consider; a person couldn't be selfish and think only of their own wants and needs. "Adam, I love Laura and Peggy both and I'm pleased that you're married and have your own home, your own corner of the Ponderosa, but sometimes, we just have to give up what we think is the ideal of being happy and just live life. I mean really, what is happy anyway?"

Adam laughed disdainfully. "I can't say, Pa, but I can tell you what unhappiness is; I'm a walking definition."

"Give things time, Adam. Life changes, circumstances change and…"

"You don't understand, Pa, because I haven't told you everything…" Adam sighed heavily. "I've been discontented with my marriage and with Laura since the moment I said 'I do,' went to kiss her and she pulled away. It was slight, almost imperceptible but I knew it and she saw in my eyes that I knew she didn't want me and it's been like that since. I haven't felt love…no, that's wrong. I haven't felt desire for Laura in quite a long time and she certainly hasn't encouraged me to. I do love her though but she…in a way, I think she's happy that she doesn't have to deal with me and all the messy aspects of marriage and I thought I could settle for our life being that way—more like friends, both wanting the same things for Peggy, the same things in life. I mean the older a man gets, the less important things like physical intimacy become, right? Tenderness and affection—that's more important than passion. That's what everyone thinks, that's what the pastor told me when I talked to him. But I can't believe that it has to be that way and I try but I don't know how to make things better. I really do try. Every day I try."

Ben leaned back into his chair and rubbed his forehead. It was as he had suspected; Adam had made a mistake when he married Laura but a man had to live with his mistakes and make the best of them, especially when other people were as crucially involved as Peggy was.

Just last week, Laura confided in Ben after Sunday dinner that for months now, Adam had been distant and morose and had been leaving the house many evenings. He claimed that he was feeling suffocated by the confines of walls and needed to be out in the open. He would be gone for an hour or so, not long enough to go to town and back so she said that Adam must just be out riding or going to the lake as he was wont to do when he was upset and thinking. Laura said that if she asked Adam where he had been and what he had been doing, an argument would erupt and he would sleep in the spare room or just leave again to sleep in a line shack. Laura asked Ben what she should do and he had told her not to worry—he was sure it would pass. They were all under stress; beef prices had dropped and the Ponderosa was looking at a loss this year and things didn't look too good for the next. And then Ben had patted her arm and said that he would talk to Adam.

Laura had smiled and Ben noticed the tears welling in her eyes. Ben told her that time was all that Adam needed—just time. But Ben hadn't convinced himself—just Laura.

"Adam," Ben said, sitting forward again, "there's not another woman, is there?"

Adam smiled again. "I wish there were. That's the worst part—there's no one else. I need to make my marriage the best situation—it was my choice and I knew what Laura was like—she had told me but I thought that I could save her and make everything better; how presumptuous of me—how smug, but Laura complains that I don't pay enough attention to her but when I do, she accuses me of only wanting to wrangle her into bed—that I don't really love her. I can't win. But I still keep trying to think of ways to make her happy."

"Maybe you should stop over intellectualizing and just go with your feelings."

Adam looked his father in the eye. "If I did that, I'd leave her."

Ben sighed. Adam had stopped by the house as Ben had requested, after his trip to town to pick up feed for his own stock.

"Loss for words, Pa?" Adam gave a disdainful chuckle directed at himself. "There's nothing you can say to help me. I've said it all to myself already. There's nothing else except more of the same and I need to become resigned to it." Adam stood up. "I have to go, Pa. If I'm late, Laura will chew me out and it takes everything I have not to respond by leaving for good."

Ben stood up to walk Adam to the door. "Things will get better, Adam, I'm sure of it. Just give it time. Laura had a difficult time with the miscarriage and all that so she's still adjusting."

"That was almost two years ago and she was the same before as she is now. I'm grateful that you're trying, Pa, and don't take this the wrong way, but I would appreciate it if you stay out of all this. Even if Laura comes to you complaining, I don't want to discuss it anymore. Feel free to talk to her all you want but not me. Myself, I've talked about it with the pastor, with Paul, in case it was a medical issue and now you. I'm through talking." And Adam put on his hat and walked out of his father's house to head to his own.

Ben looked sadly after his eldest son. He understood the situation even though Adam would never believe it. Ben knew he had been the most fortunate of men to have found love so many times—so many times. And he understood why Adam was so sad at the thought that he would never find love and passion again. And Ben grieved for his son's and his pain.

Once home, Adam rubbed down his horse. He realized that he was taking his time because he didn't want to go in the house. He lightly slapped the horse's flank as he moved the animal into the stall and replaced the bar. The horse turned around once inside to eat the oats and alfalfa that Adam had placed in the trough. "Enjoy your dinner, boy, and be glad that you can eat alone—you won't get a sour stomach."

He walked across the yard to the house he had built. Originally, he had thought it was perfect. It sat protected by a hill on one side and a stand of trees behind. It had seemed to be an enclave of warmth and safety but now he saw nothing but flaws, things he would have done differently. He should have even built it on another spot. "Just like my life," he said to himself. "What was I thinking?"

Adam opened the front door and at the sound, Peggy came running to him. Laura stepped out of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron.

"How's my favorite girl?" Adam said, swinging Peggy up and then placing her back down. At almost eleven, she would soon be too big to be swung up in the air and Adam knew that he would miss it and so would she.

Peggy laughed. "Really good. Today in school…"

"Peggy," Laura interrupted, "go finish setting the table."

"But I want to tell Adam about the medal I won."

"Don't talk back. Just do as you're told." Laura stood stiffly and Adam knew there would be an argument soon. And he had just walked in.

"Is it a medal on a ribbon?" Adam asked bending down to be on eye level.

Peggy nodded, grinning widely. "It's for spelling."

"Peggy! Do as I say. Now!"

Adam glanced at Laura. Her mouth was tight. "Go set the table like your mother said and then run and put your medal on—you can wear it at dinner like the winner you are. And then tomorrow, I'll get off early and the three of us can have dinner in town to celebrate the best speller in the fifth level!"

"Okay, Adam. It's on a red ribbon. You'll see!" Peggy skipped off to set the table and Adam removed his trail jacket and started to unbuckle his gun belt.

Laura glared at him. "You're just like Frank. The only reason you come home is to see Peggy."

"Well," Adam said, coiling up his gun belt and laying it on the table by the door. "That's not true but if you were as glad to see me as she is, things might be different."

Laura huffed and the turned back to the kitchen. Adam went to the washroom that was connected to the house and cleaned off the dirt from the day. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, at the lines that were forming around his eyes and the deepening creases across his forehead. The hair at his temples was graying and he swore his hairline was receding. That, he thought, was the Stoddard blood. The one time he had seen his grandfather, the man lay dying and Adam had searched the dying man's face for some resemblance and saw a slight one and noticed the man had a bald pate with vestiges of what had once been a full head of hair on the sides and back of his head. And Adam couldn't help but wonder if he would look like the old man when he died—if he was lucky enough to live that long—or wanted to.