A look into Henry and Elizabeth's rough patch post Elizabeth leaving the CIA.

This isn't the first time I've found myself sitting in a Catholic Church. There have been Christmas and Easter masses with Henry's family. I went with Henry and my kids on Sunday's when the kids were little and Henry was exposing them to his religion that he holds so close. I've sat in many a churches while with the CIA waiting for informants, as they are the unofficial safe meeting place. But this is the first time I've ever gone into a church to pray. I was not bestowed the gift of faith. I remember the day I realized that. I was eight years old, sitting between my mom and dad during Sunday service, and I had a thought. It started small, but then it screamed out, these aren't just stories, fables to teach life lessons. People actually believe these things. They believe with their whole hearts that God and Jesus exist, that they exist and that they are our creator and savior. And I just… well, I just don't. Henry does, even if his faith has evolved as time marches on and age makes us wiser. The first time I went to Mass with him and the rest of the McCord clan, I watched him intently. As he knelt down expertly at just the same time as everyone else. I awkwardly followed him down, my knees hit the pad of the kneeler harder than I expected. Watching Henry pray was nothing new for me at that point, he did it before every meal, and before bed every night. He still does. It didn't take me very long to notice that it's not a show he puts on for other people. He does it for himself, a form of comfort. Sometimes I wonder how he was blessed with such faith. It surprises me that his faith is so sure, yet not blind at all. I've never believed in anything, the way that Henry believes in his God.

His prayers have been different lately. Quieter and much more private. I know it's because he's asking his God to help me. To help us find our way back. Maybe it's good that we are both so afraid of losing each other. Maybe that means we will find a way to make it work again. But, there's the voice again, scared and whisper quiet, you're not happy anymore. And if I'm honest, I'm not. It's not Henry, it's really not. He's trying so hard. He built me a barn, and let me buy a couple of horses to live in it. He got Jason into a preschool, so I don't feel like a trapped stay-at-home-mom. He bought me a laptop that I could write my dissertation on. But yet, I just feel so lost, and there isn't anything he can do about that. And… well he put me here. Because he made me choose and I chose him. And now, I can barely hang onto why. I left the CIA, a job I loved and that I was good at. A job that gave me purpose and made me feel important and needed. And I gave it up. I gave it up because I believed that my love for Henry was enough, because I was terrified of losing him. Terrified of forward deploying for a year and coming back to no one. But now, I've been thinking quite a lot about the ultimatum in the first place. How was it going to be so easy for him to leave me?

So now, here I am in a church. Trying to pray. Even though, I don't really know how to pray. Asking God, to save my marriage. Even though I know he can't. I know that Henry and I have to do it together. Which is really hard, because we can't even talk to each other without it completely turning into a whispered screaming match that we hope our kids can't hear. But, I close my eyes and start somewhere. Lord, please… Please… Please… I don't want to lose him. And I don't want to feel like this anymore.

"Hey." I'm startled by my husband's smooth voice as he takes a seat next to me in the pew. His hands folded in his lap. He's looking at the big crucifix behind the altar, not working to find my eyes, not after the fight we had this morning. The fight that was an actual screaming match, that begun after I dropped the kids off at school. The fight filled with curated insults and anger and resentment. The fight that ended with a Fuck you and a slamming door, before I sped away from the farm in the family car.

"Hi." It's not want I want to say. I want to say what are you doing here? How did you find me? He says silent for an uncomfortable amount of time. I can tell he's not praying this time though. There is no reverence on his face, just contemplation.

"I love you, Elizabeth." he says, finally bringing his eyes to mine. And he means it, the simplicity of the statement fills it with a kind of sincerity only he is capable of.

"I love you, too." And I mean it, in the same sincere way that he does. But his eyes leave mine. They find the Jesus painting serving in this church as the eleventh station of the cross. The pain depicted on the saviors face as he is nailed to the cross pales in comparison to the deep pain I see on Henry's face.

"It's not enough is it?" I want to lie to him, to say, of course it is. But now is not the time for lying, not if we are going to save it.

"I don't know." It's the truth. There was a time when I thought it was, but love isn't all that makes a marriage.

"How do we fix it?" I'm almost relived that we are both equally lost. It's the most in synch I've felt with him in months. I grab his hand and he squeezes mine back and looks at me, tears are filling eyes, though not yet running down his face.

"I don't know that either." More brutal honesty. He opens his mouth to say something and then hesitates. I give his hand a gentle squeeze begging him to not clam up on me now. Trying to give him a subtle promise that I won't blow up on him again.

"Do you want to fix it?" He finally asks, sounding like he's terrified of the answer.

"Yes." I don't hesitate, because I do want to fix it.

"Me too." He smiles slightly, and moves closer to me. His hand leaves mine as he moves his arm around me. I tuck my head into his chest and he kisses my hair. We exist together in a comfortable silence, surrounded with uncertainty. And for the first time I feel it, I feel God or the universe or something. It tells me that everything will work out.

"Henry?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Let's go home." We walk out of the church hand-in-hand. And while nothing is yet solved, I know that Henry and I will both fight to make it out of this.