At the June visit, Ruth brought down a cushion she had kept on the empty side of our bed. She set it beside Nadine and asked whether it should stay upstairs now. Nadine touched the worn piping and smiled before looking at me. I understood from that glance that a conversation had taken place without me, and I waited for somebody to tell me which one.
"Your mother says she's coming home soon," Tessa said.
Nadine folded her hands over the cushion. "I said we would be a household again. That we're working toward it."
"You said soon," Ruth said. "I asked if that meant before school."
The room went quiet. Through the open window I could hear somebody dragging a bin along a driveway. I wanted to wait until the girls left, to spare them the sight of another disagreement. But they had been given a promise. Leaving it standing until I could correct it privately would make me part of giving it.
"We haven't decided when or whether your mother will move back," I said.
Ruth looked at Nadine. Tessa looked at me. I kept my hands on my knees because I wanted to make the correction without pointing, physically or otherwise, at their mother.
"We are working on things," I continued. "We're going to keep seeing each other. But there isn't a homecoming date, and you shouldn't plan around one."
"Is it because of her work?" Tessa asked.
"Some arrangements still aren't ours to change. But your mother and I also have decisions to make together. I won't blame her work for those."
Nadine drew in a breath. For a moment I thought she might argue the wording in front of them. Instead she said, "Your father's right. I spoke too soon."
Ruth picked up the cushion. "So where does this go?"
"Where you want it for now," I said. "It isn't a sign you have to put in the right place."
We finished the visit. Nadine helped Ruth with something she had brought to show her, and Tessa went upstairs after asking whether she was needed. I told her no. When the girls were occupied, I asked Nadine to step into the kitchen.
"I thought we agreed not to promise that," I said.
"I didn't give them a date."
"You gave them soon. Ruth was already moving things."
Nadine stood beside the sink. "I wanted them to have something hopeful."
"Then tell them you're glad to see them. Tell them you want a future with us. Don't tell them a decision we've never made."
"Do you hear how careful I have to be about everything I say?"
"Yes," I said. "I have to be careful too. I've already had to take back assurances I couldn't support."
She looked tired, older than she had when she arrived. That hurt me, and for a moment I wanted to take away the tiredness by agreeing to the thing she had promised. I recognized the bargain before I offered it.
"I'm not refusing contact," I said. "I'm not asking you to earn time with your daughters. But I'm not going to resume living together on a timetable you've announced for both of us."
"And if I can't live indefinitely with being evaluated?"
I let the question remain there long enough to feel what it might cost. "Then we'll have to face that honestly. I don't want a marriage where either of us can only say yes."
She turned toward the window. I couldn't see her whole face, and I didn't try to supply what it meant. When she spoke, her voice was quieter.
"I thought wanting to come back would be enough."
"I thought wanting you back would be enough. It isn't."
We didn't settle it that afternoon. Before she left, we confirmed the next family visit through the same arrangement we had been using. It felt almost painfully ordinary after what we'd said, but canceling it would have turned the girls' time into leverage, and neither of us proposed that.
At the door Nadine said she needed to think. I told her I did too. I watched her walk away without asking her to turn around and reassure me. Upstairs, Ruth moved the cushion back to her own room. I left it there.