Changed Somehow

by Chloe Flanagan

  He cocked his head. “You think I’m crazy?”

  “No, not at all. I honestly think that’s about the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  “Oh, good!” He awkwardly rubbed his chin again, then exclaimed, “Oops! These are for you.”

  He held up a bouquet of roses. “Well, I mean … obviously, they’re for you. I don’t walk around toting flowers for no reason.”

  She laughed again as she accepted the bouquet, and this time, he joined in. “Thank you, Glenn. They’re lovely.”

  During the taxi ride, Natalie was relieved when they reverted to their usual easygoing conversation, but she did sense an underlying excitement—for both of them.

  When the car stopped, she looked out the window and realized they were at Astor Place in front of the large, red-bricked building that was once the Astor Library. Now it was the Public Theater, housing multiple theater spaces and Joe’s Pub, which was a restaurant in addition to a music venue. Since Glenn had mentioned cooking when he’d asked her out, she assumed they were going there.

  As he helped her exit the taxi, she said, “Live music? I’m intrigued!”

  “Yah, I heard there was a good band playing at Joe’s tonight.” He sent her a wink. “Might say it’s a hot band.”

  She chewed on his words, then abruptly came to a halt. “Wait, the Hot Sardines? Are we here to see the Hot Sardines?”

  He grinned and shrugged. “I knew you were a fan so …”

  A squeal of delight escaped her, and she squeezed his arm. “You’re amazing!”

  It was easy to see why the venue was so popular, with its excellent acoustics, cabaret ambience, and delicious cuisine. Once the band came on stage, though, it was tough to focus on any of that.

  Right from the first number, the performance was everything she had anticipated and more. One of the reasons she’d always wanted to see the band live was that she knew she was only getting part of the story when she listened to the albums. But now they were experiencing all of it: the band’s pure talent coupled with electric energy, the witty on-stage banter, and the rhythm of the band’s tap dancer, who was like a one-man percussion section.

  Every time she glanced at Glenn, he appeared to be just as thrilled with the music as she was. No doubt it was particularly enjoyable to him as a musician.

  She was still reeling from Glenn’s thoughtfulness. The fact that he had been observant enough to remember her favorite music and bring her here tonight was such a lovely gesture.

  As she relaxed back into her seat and sipped her mocktail, the band’s lead singer began her sweet, soulful rendition of the Fats Waller tune, “Keepin’ Out of Mischief Now.” For a second, Natalie closed her eyes and savored the tune.

  I don’t go for any excitement now; books are my best company,

  All my opinions have changed somehow; I’m old-fashioned as can be.

  She opened her eyes and felt the corners of her mouth lift. How apropos.

  As strange and too-good-to-be-true as it felt, she knew in her heart she had been changed by love. God had reached out to her and gifted her with forgiveness and grace through the kids at the camp, through Darla’s friendship, and through the frank generosity and regard of the man sitting beside her.

  But Glenn was fast becoming so much more to her than a means to an end, no matter how wonderful that end was. He was becoming so much; in fact, she couldn’t even put a name to it or fully wrap her heart around it yet.

  But as the dulcet notes of the song’s trombone solo stirred around her, a simple truth was stirring inside her as well: Glenn deserved to have someone care for him and, although she might be ill-equipped, she wanted that someone to be her.

  Stunned by the revelation, she took a moment to study Glenn from his head all the way down to where his hand tapped the table in time to the music.

  Tentatively, she lifted her right hand—startled to find it trembling a bit—and slipped it across the table underneath his.

  His body jolted and he stared down at the table where they touched. But he didn’t move.

  Her pulse was throbbing a staccato rhythm that would’ve made the tap dancer jealous. Could Glenn feel it? He still wasn’t moving. Had she been too forward? She had made subtle and not-so-subtle first moves on many guys before, but this felt different. Maybe she’d misunderstood his attentions. Maybe—

  His strong, warm fingers closed around her hand and squeezed it then, and he shifted to give her a look so intense that it made her breath catch. Seconds or hours passed until she nearly forgot where she was.

  When he finally turned to face the stage again, he wrapped her arm in his and brought their joined hands to rest against his heart.

  Nope. She definitely hadn’t misunderstood.

  22

  Natalie awoke Monday morning reflecting on what was probably the best weekend she had ever spent. Thinking about it energized her so much that she decided to get up and make use of the apartment building’s workout room.

  As she put on her exercise clothes, her eyes fell on the Metropolitan Museum of Art pamphlet that was on the dresser.

  She and Glenn had decided to spend all day Saturday walking around the city, alternating between showing each other their favorite haunts, and exploring places they’d never taken the time to go before. She’d never known how captivating Manhattan could be when exploring it with someone who mattered.

  Once she was dressed, she looked out the window, toying with the idea of jogging outside instead of using a treadmill. But when she saw rain droplets beading on the windowpane, she decided against it. Making her way to the workout room, she selected a treadmill and set a brisk walking pace.

  It had been raining off and on since the afternoon before. On Sunday morning, she’d accepted Glenn’s invitation to accompany him to church.

  As she increased her pace on the treadmill, she laughed at herself for being intimidated when they’d first entered the church. The building’s architecture was so large and foreboding that she’d expected the people inside to be straight-laced, formal, and aloof. But they weren’t. Everyone—from the ushers, to the people seated in the pews around them, to the clergy—was courteous and welcoming. The congregation was made up of people of diverse ages and nationalities, but despite their differences, they seem unified when they followed the elegant worship structure together.

  Afterwards, there had been a coffee hour, where they caught up with Darla. As best as Natalie could tell, Darla was genuinely pleased to see her and even more so to see her with Glenn. Actually, that part hadn’t required guessing.

  “Being right is a very satisfying feeling,” Darla had quipped.

  After church, the three of them had an enjoyable lunch. It was nice to find that the camaraderie they had established at the camp remained intact.

  Natalie picked up her pace on the treadmill again, but slowed when her phone buzzed at her. When she saw it was a text from Glenn, she laughed in surprise. She hadn’t expected to hear from him much, since he’d gone out of town for work, and he didn’t strike her as much of a texter.

  Glenn: Good morning. I just wanted to say I’m glad I’m a lousy baker. If I hadn’t almost set fire to my kitchen, I never would’ve met you.

  Natalie: I’m glad too. But I’m thinking I probably need to teach you a few more cooking skills. I wouldn’t want some other female luring you away with her baked goods.

  Glenn: There couldn’t be anyone like you.

  Her cheeks warmed as she started to respond, but suddenly the phone started ringing and Kyla’s name filled the screen.

  Immediately, her stomach dropped fifty feet. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and answered. “Hello, Kyla.”

  “I got your voicemail.” Kyla’s tone was sharp, hard, and cautious—so different from the bubbly and good-natured lilt she’d had when they were roommates.

  She hung her head and leaned on the treadmill handlebars. That change was probably her fault.

  “I don’t want t
o take up much of your time. I just have two things to say. First of all, I’m really sorry for what I did to you. You offered me genuine friendship, and I didn’t appreciate it. Instead, I stabbed you in the back. You were in a relationship with Sebastian, but that didn’t matter to me. I latched on to him because I thought he would make a good meal ticket. I’m ashamed to admit that, but it’s true. And I’m really sorry for that.”

  Kyla snorted. “Why are you sorry, did he dump you or something?”

  Natalie winced. She deserved that. “Yes he did, actually, but—”

  “Ugh! I don’t know what you want from me, Natalie, but I have to go.”

  “No, wait, please! I don’t want anything, I swear. This is nothing more than an apology. Things have happened recently that have made me …” She was getting off track; she just needed to say her piece and let Kyla get back to her own life. “Anyway, long story short, things happened and I—I’ve changed, and I’m sorry.”

  “What? Are you trying to tell me you found God now or something?”

  Natalie drew in a shaky breath. “Would you think I was nuts if I said yes?”

  Kyla remained silent for a whole minute until she finally said, “What was the second thing?”

  “The second thing is—and I wouldn’t blame you for not wanting to listen to me of all people on this—but nothing that happened reflects on you, Kyla. Sebastian threw you over because of me, but you deserve better friends than that and you certainly deserve a better man. You’re a thoughtful, talented woman, and you deserve good things and—and that’s all I want to say. Thanks for hearing me out.”

  There was another long stretch of silence until Natalie had almost decided to hang up. Finally, Kyla spoke again. Her tone was softer, but still cautious. “I don’t really know what to do with all of that. I guess I’ll have to think about it. I didn’t really mean to hear you out. I only called back because someone called the apartment a few weeks ago and left a message for you. It sounded important enough that I figured I better tell you.”

  “A message?”

  “Yeah, she said her name was Marion Sloan, and she needed to talk to you about an urgent issue. She didn’t say, but by the way she talked, I got the feeling she was some kind of cop or fed. I’ll text you her number.”

  “Oh, okay. Thank you.”

  Kyla sighed. “I really do have to go now.”

  “I understand. Take care, Kyla.”

  “Goodbye.”

  A minute after the call ended, Kyla texted the phone number.

  Natalie stared at the phone. Honestly, she could use a few minutes to process the conversation, but the phone call Kyla had mentioned sounded too important to put off.

  A cop or a fed? What would someone like that want with her? True, she’d done some dishonest things when she was back home, but not really criminal. It seemed doubtful that any of them were significant enough to follow her now.

  With a shaky sigh, she grabbed a towel and exited the workout room. Back in the apartment, she perched on a kitchen stool and punched in the number Kyla had texted her.

  The phone rang twice, then a low, firm female voice answered, “This is Sloan.”

  “Yes, my name is Natalie Rivers. One of my former roommates told me you were trying to get in touch with me. She said it sounded serious.”

  “Yes. It pertains to EJ Handler.”

  Natalie gasped. “EJ?”

  “I’m a private detective trying to help him out with a difficult situation, and I’m wondering if you might have some information that could help. Would you be willing to meet the two of us for coffee in the city tomorrow?”

  Her mind was a whirl of confusion. “Well … probably so, yeah. But I don’t know what help I could be. I haven’t seen EJ in years.”

  Sloan wasn’t deterred. “I appreciate your cooperation. Would ten o’clock at the espresso shop near Penn Station work?”

  “That’s fine.”

  23

  Natalie had been staring at the corner of her open suitcase for several minutes, unable to bring herself to reach into the inconspicuous zipper pocket and pull out the envelope she always carried with her but hadn’t opened in many years. Finally, she murmured a plea for strength and retrieved it.

  She sat on the bed, opened the envelope, and pulled out the thick stack of folded papers. The first document was the certificate of her marriage to EJ, dated September 2003, and the second was a divorce decree from November 2004.

  Just over a year. But the truth was, she hadn’t lived with or even spoken to EJ six months prior to the divorce being finalized.

  Her eyes squeezed shut and her stomach churned as she remembered one of her last conversations with EJ.

  “How did this happen? How?” Hot tears were pouring down her cheeks. “He loved you more. You always acted so superior. Mr. Child Expert! How could you not see something was wrong?”

  “N-Natalie, listen. I had no way of knowing,” he stammered as he approached and tried to put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Don’t touch me!” she screamed, turning to point her finger at him. “This is on your head. It’s your fault, and you’ll always have to know that.”

  There were tears standing in EJ’s eyes, and his face was pale as death itself. He simply nodded, as if he’d already accepted her words as fact.

  The rustling sound of the papers falling from her lap to the floor startled her from her memory.

  As she bent to pick them up again, a single tear fell on the envelope. She had blamed EJ when little Timmy had suddenly become ill and died. Back then, she hadn’t been able to see anything but her own pain, but now she could see that EJ was already consumed with guilt … and grief. He had loved that baby fiercely. She couldn’t imagine him being any more loving if Timmy had been his own son.

  And she had added to his suffering with her blame. A sob shivered through her. Dear God, how could she? How could she?

  ◆◆◆

  Natalie gazed at the espresso shop across the street and clenched her hands. Her palms were still sweating, just as they had for nearly the entire subway ride to Penn Station.

  Since the street corner where she stood was uncharacteristically free of pedestrians, she took an extra minute to pause and steady her nerves. Standing tall, she focused on taking a deep breath that expanded her diaphragm, then slowly releasing it again. She’d done it countless times before a performance, but this time, she added a simple prayer for help.

  Once she was calmer, she crossed the street and entered the shop. Almost immediately, she spotted a familiar, lanky figure seated at a table near the back. As she approached, the woman he was sitting with looked up first, but he soon turned and clambered to his feet.

  When their gazes met, his eyes widened. Truthfully, she was taken aback too.

  In the past fourteen years, EJ’s face had lost its boyish features. His tall, lean frame had filled out some, and his jaw was firmer, more determined somehow.

  He held out his hand to her, slowly, carefully, as if he was uncertain whether she would take it. But she did, surprised to feel a smile warm her face. “My gosh, EJ. You look really good.”

  Shaking his head, he pulled out her chair for her. “So do you, Natalie. Thank you for meeting us.”

  He nodded toward his companion, a slender, dark-haired woman who looked to be around their same age. “This is Marion Sloan. I think you talked to her on the phone.”

  Right, the private investigator. As they shook hands, Sloan didn’t bother to hide her cool scrutiny.

  When she asked how he was, EJ caught her up on what he’d been doing, but it was hard to focus because of the underlying tension of whatever had brought the three of them together.

  Finally, Sloan spoke up. “Ms. Rivers, I’ll be frank with you. EJ and the friends he works with have recently been receiving threatening communications and blackmail attempts. The notes mention specific details about EJ’s past that only someone well acquainted with him would know. We are here today to find ou
t if you know … anything about that.”

  Sloan’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly once she’d finished. She was watching for Natalie’s reaction. That much was obvious, as was the real question behind the generic-sounding inquiry.

  Turning to EJ, she asked, “You want to know if I am trying to blackmail you?”

  Sloan didn’t blink, but EJ squirmed and avoided her eyes.

  “That would be like me, wouldn’t it? Always taking, taking, taking. I guess it is sort of a habit with me. Or it was. Something has happened, though. I met someone and—things are different now.”

  She struggled to explain things, but it felt like she was only babbling. “I think he really cares about me. I don’t think anyone’s ever cared about me like that except you. I was too young and stupid to see how good you were to me back then. But now I do see. I see it with Glenn—that’s his name—and it makes me want to care too. I want to try to give love for a change, if I can.”

  EJ only stared at her for a moment, but when she finally looked him in the face, a small smile lit his eyes. It was like he could hear the part of the story she wasn’t telling. She’d forgotten how perceptive he could be. “Wow,” he murmured. “I’m really happy for you, Natalie.”

  “So you live in the city now?” Sloan cut in, her expression still serious and suspicious.

  Natalie didn’t recoil. “Yes, I’ve been living here for the last few months. And you don’t have to believe any of this, Ms. Sloan. You can keep looking into it, if you want, but it will be a waste of time. You’ll see that I had nothing to do with the blackmail. And I don’t know anything about it.”

  She returned her attention to EJ. “I’m glad to see you now, EJ, because I’ve been wanting to tell you something. I don’t blame you for anything that happened all those years ago. I know I did back then, and I’m sorry for that. You’re a wonderful person, and you always have been.”

  It seemed to take him a minute to absorb her words, but once he had, he suddenly leaned close and kissed her cheek. She closed her eyes and savored the grace of the gesture. Then, returning the kiss, she whispered, “Take care of yourself, honey.”