Brooke Holland for The New York Times
ROCKPORT, ME., AUG. 7 The couple married on Beauchamp Point, overlooking Penobscot Bay, on property bought in 1895 by the bride’s great-grandfather.
By CHRISTINA SOBRAN
Published: August 13, 2010
LAST weekend, Abigail McIntosh Chatfield, known to all as B, married her man of letters.
Brooke Holland for The New York Times
Thirty or so letters, to be inexact — at times longing, heartfelt, hilarious and maddening — written in longhand by Samuel Patrick Howard, on page after loose-leaf page.
In one of them he wrote: “I write to clap hands, not wring them. Here’s to you at your best, waltzing tall in all that color and noise, full of heart.”
Opening them, she recalled, she usually rolled her eyes.
“He’d write floridly, sort of idealizing what we had had,” Ms. Chatfield said. “I was so skeptical of what I perceived was the disparity between what he did and what he said.”
Mr. Howard was a sophomore at Oberlin College in Ohio in 1997 when he was drawn to Ms. Chatfield, a freshman — “this willowy, intriguing, foxy sort of girl,” he said. Another student, Samantha Seneviratne, said that Mr. Howard and his identical twin, Nathaniel, also were conspicuous on the close-knit campus. “Everyone knew them, or at least knew who they were,” Ms. Seneviratne said. “They were ‘the hot twins.’ ”
Ms. Chatfield, now 32 and a designer for Mathews Nielsen Landscape Architects in Manhattan, first observed Mr. Howard in geology class, amusing peers with bad puns about schist and gneiss. “I was trying not to snort, laughing,” she said.
They didn’t speak to each other until the next year in an English class, after which each would hover, hoping for more.
Mr. Howard, now 33 and a writer for Law360, a news service in Manhattan for business lawyers, recalled being thoroughly daunted. “She was plainly intelligent, and there’s nothing foolish about her,” he said. “She was sort of at a wry remove from it all.”
Eventually, a cup of coffee with a splash of merry banter led to a kiss in someone’s dorm.
“After that we were just sort of together,” Ms. Chatfield recalled, adding that the two had shared a comfort and a natural bond that she would not realize until many years later was rare indeed. “Life was so easy,” she said.
Although their friends describe Ms. Chatfield as the more practical of the pair, it was she who was first moved to say “I love you.”
Of that time, Ms. Seneviratne recalls: “I think she let him infect her with his dreaminess. He kind of softened her up a little.”
Things moved along “splendidly,” Mr. Howard said, at least until spring 2000, when Ms. Chatfield, then a junior, left for a semester abroad in Bolivia.
Before she left, they chose to split amicably. “Life just didn’t seem that serious back then,” Ms. Chatfield said. “Both of us figured, we’re single, we’re young. He was about to graduate — the odds were against this working out.”
Still, they left the door open a crack, agreeing to tell each other about any serious new relationships.
In Bolivia, she casually dated others. Meanwhile she received several “long, rhapsodic letters” from him describing nights spent alone, drinking, missing her.
That summer, she was back in the United States, teaching field hockey at camps, when he called from Portland, Ore., where he had relocated following his graduation from Oberlin.
“He said: ‘I really want to see you. I can’t not see you,’ ” she said. “I bought a plane ticket, spent the money that I’d just earned and we had this amazing week. We had a wonderful time together. I was totally back into it again — back in love with Sam again.”
There was one problem.
Mr. Howard said he had failed to tell her that “I had shacked up with someone else for the last semester of college.” Although it was over, he said, “I never told B about it because I knew that B would be absolutely livid.”
Once she was back on campus, someone else did. “I was holding a beer can and literally crushed the beer can with a look of shock on my face,” she said.
The can wasn’t all that was crushed.
Yes, they had agreed they might see other people. But to her, that Mr. Howard had failed to tell her that he had lived with another woman was a devastating betrayal. Her mind went reeling back to the letters he had sent to Bolivia.
“I felt foolish,” she said. “The fact that he’d been seeing someone wasn’t the issue. He had waited until I had fallen back in love with him, and he had not told me.”
Mr. Howard tried to apologize for his “perfectly idiotic maneuver” and for not having “the backbone to tell her.”
No matter. It was over.
Come spring, Mr. Howard returned to campus to celebrate with other friends in Ms. Chatfield’s graduating class.
“I grudgingly said ‘Hi,’ ” she recalled. “My friends were very supportive of me, but Sam’s also a very funny and dear person, so it’s hard to hate him for a long time.”
They crossed paths from time to time, but she managed to sustain a fairly strong dislike.
Both moved on and into other serious relationships, yet he kept writing, mostly “silly ironic trivialities” he hoped would amuse her, he said. “I wasn’t holding out for another relationship, I was very distraught at the possibility of losing her entirely.”
In November 2006, Ms. Seneviratne was organizing Ms. Chatfield’s 28th birthday party at a New York bar when she received an e-mail from Mr. Howard. On a whim, she invited him.
“She was definitely annoyed,” Ms. Seneviratne said of Ms. Chatfield.
Yet when Ms. Seneviratne saw her beloved college sweethearts laughing together at the party, she knew all was forgiven.
Ms. Chatfield said she finally was able to forgive Mr. Howard, reasoning, “Ultimately, what he did wasn’t even that bad.”
They began dating again and in January 2008 moved into an apartment in Brooklyn, where they still live.
“I adore her, and it’s all very uncomplicated,” Mr. Howard said. “We never really have any disagreements. There’s not a lot of negotiations. She’s very understanding. We’re very lucky in having a partnership that doesn’t require a lot of conscious effort or maintenance.”
Ms. Chatfield, who is working on the South Bronx Greenway project for her firm, said he helps her to enjoy life and not take it too seriously.
“I think they surprise each other,” Ms. Seneviratne said. “They keep each other guessing in a most wonderful way.”
She added: “They’re not exactly alike, but they complement each other well. I’ve seen them go through sad times and happy times, and they take care of each other. They put each other first.”
The couple were wed on Aug. 7 by the Rev. Dr. Thomas F. Pike, an Episcopal priest, on Beauchamp Point in Rockport, Me., on property bought in 1895 by the bride’s great-grandfather.
About 175 guests attended the late-afternoon ceremony in a field overlooking Penobscot Bay, a southwest breeze helping push an occasional schooner or lobster boat toward Rockport Harbor. Dinner and a reception followed under a tent nearby. Keys to the Streets of Fear, a Boston band for which the bridegroom was once a bass player, rocked at the reception.
“I’m still pretty incredulous that she’s with me,” Mr. Howard said on the eve of the wedding. “If anyone’s doubting the futility of a romantic endeavor, this is a shining endorsement for perseverance and hopefulness.”