Leanne Davis - Natalie (Daughters Series #2)

by Natalie (Daughters Series #2)

  ****

  Sam is up early and all packed when I come out of my room the next morning. His gaze is weary as he tracks me across the too-small living room. “I would like to drive back with you. I don’t want you driving alone across half the country again.”

  I yawn and scratch my leg. It’s too early for me to hear this. I’m still in my pajamas and I was up late in one of the most emotional and intense talks of my life with Jessie. Not quite ready to go back to this dark, heavy and depressing stuff. I’m really not in the mood for it… ever. Right now, it isn’t that important to me. I’m simply tired of all the drama and my emotions being roller–coastered in such extremes. I roll my eyes for effect. “I don’t need you to drive me home. I’m the one who has the gun, for God’s sake, Sam. I’m the trained cop who knows how to use it; I highly doubt I’ll need your big, bad protection to keep me safe. And I can drive as well as you.” I push my heavy mass of snarled hair off my face.

  He is spic-n-span clean, shaved, groomed and ready to go. “I wasn’t trying to protect you. But I think anyone is safer when there’re two people.”

  “No. You fly home. I’ll drive my car, same way I got here.”

  His shoulders droop. “What happens then?” His tone sounds tired; maybe he’s as tired as I am of this.

  “We separate,” I reply finally after a long pause. “I think there is no other choice.”

  “There are other choices.”

  “Not right now. For me, there isn’t any other choice.”

  “I’ll move out of the house then.”

  “No. I will. I never really liked that place. It’s too big and unfriendly for my taste. I already spoke to Dustin and he said there’s a vacant unit in his building. He’s going to get it for me.”

  “When did you do that?”

  “I don’t know. I called a few days ago, I guess.”

  “Were you going to tell me?”

  “Yes. But then I got those letters… and we slept together and…” I trail off in my lame response.

  His gaze searches mine. “Is it just over? Are you filing for divorce?”

  “No. But neither am I pretending it didn’t happen. Any of it. We feel impossible to me right now, and I honestly don’t know what I want, or where it leaves us. But I need space, Sam. Real space. Not just a week spent with new acquaintances. I understand your urgency to find me. Maybe in a lot of ways, it was good this week happened. No other situation would have made me listen to you. I would have simply, and quite easily, hated you for the rest of my life. Yes, I was ready to divorce you. There is a lot here. A lot we’ve done to each other. My apathy. Your reactions. Whatever. It all arises from two people who are not happily married to each other. Otherwise, none of this would be as it is.”

  “You sound an awful lot like this week gave you a sense of closure.”

  I shake my head. “I honestly don’t know right now, Sam. I can’t give you an answer. What I can tell you is, I can’t live with you. I can’t go back to the life we formerly shared. I’m going to get my own place.”

  He closes his eyes and I can almost feel his weariness. “Okay. You’ll need money. There should be plenty in the savings account.”

  “I know where our money is, Sam.” Our. I flinch and so does he. One thing we rarely fought about was how we spent and saved our money. Neither of us ever monitored the other because we were both so good at budgeting.

  Silence descends like a fog with the frigid chill of the future, the unknown, pervading it. It feels somehow like our entire relationship just comes down to his solemn acceptance of what I want.

  Sam leaves before I do. He takes his rental car to the airport and I say goodbye to the women who are no longer a total surprise to me or total strangers. I easily hug the younger two. Christina and I also embrace and she squeezes my hand in support. “Come back, Natalie. Please, come back and be part of our family.”

  It’s a seductive thought to believe this family wants to include me in it. Yet, I can’t commit to such an invitation. This has been an intense week. Unprecedented for me. I honestly don’t trust how I feel about anything right now. I need space, on all fronts, and time to process everything that happened to me and because of me. A long drive sounds like the perfect escape from everything. I finish loading my stuff in my car and slam the trunk before turning finally to Jessie, who’s standing close. “That’s it, I guess.” I’m desperate to control the odd, uncomfortable energy between us. There is so much more between us now. Not just the anger or resentment of her being a stranger. We share understanding, sympathy and care even.

  But still, we’re almost strangers.

  “Drive carefully. Please call one of us when you get home to let us know you arrived safely.”

  The maternal nature of her request makes my heart shift. I temporarily forgot what it felt like to have the presence of mom–worry in my life. Everyone ignores it, or rolls their eyes, but once it’s gone, like after your mother dies, you miss it for every single day of your life thereafter. I used to think my mom would always be there for me no matter how busy or careless I was about calling or visiting her. I know now not to believe that. “I will. Besides, I promised Melissa I’d get her some pictures of me in my uniform. She doesn’t really believe I’m a bad–ass girl–cop. Her words, not mine.”

  Jessie grins and steps forward. She sets her hand just below my elbow and her other hand on my shoulder. Pulling me towards her, we clasp in a half hug. She quickly lets me go. “Goodbye, Natalie, please don’t be a stranger. Is… is it all right if I call you? You know, just to check in?”

  I could so easily be done with her. I still harbor issues about us being strangers for so long. But the stronger urge is, I want to get to know her. To know… my mother. “Yes, I’d be glad to hear from you.”

  She nods, pressing her lips together. I see her physical release of breath. She’s relieved and pleased with my answer.

  I wave after I get in my car and start it. Heading down their isolated road, I realize I found things I never thought I wanted, or was looking for here. That opened up a bunch of possibilities for a future I never suspected. It also allowed Sam to find me. So many other things came out. I’m calmer than the day I pulled in here. But it’s all too fresh and raw to say I feel any better, or can finally decide anything. For now? I’m going home.

  The first thing I do when back in town is visit my dad. I hold his hand and listen to him ramble and ask me several times who I am. We have lunch and watch TV until he zones out, clueless, and eventually falls asleep. I get up and kiss his forehead, and my heart is heavy as my lips touch his wrinkled skin. Tears fall down my cheek. “Bye, Dad, until Friday,” I say as I quietly take my leave.

  That is my greeting from the world I left behind for over a week. No one really missed me or even knew I was gone. Other than work and Sam’s family, I don’t have anyone in my life. Loneliness fills me. I miss my mom and dad. I miss that feeling of safety from having your family there and present in your life. I even kind of miss the Hendrickses and the things I was starting to feel and experience with them.

  I most of all miss Sam. But not the relationship I had with him over the last year. No, I miss the relationship with him I had started to remember while in Ellensburg. But I know there is no place now for those memories in what if left of us.

  I go back to work. And back to my life. I am still trying to figure out how to live it now that Sam is no longer a part of it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sam

  Natalie takes three days to return to the house. I learn from Dustin that she’s in regular contact with him and subletting his friend’s apartment. Voila! Natalie has her own place. We are officially separated. She stops by and gets some furniture, linens, and kitchen things that we split up. I’m generous, trying to push it all on her out of guilt. But she doesn’t take advantage of it like she could, so I’ll give her kudos on that. She asks that I not be there when she comes by our house. So, I comply.

 
; I get the pleasure of facing my mother, who is beyond disappointed in me. No yelling, just that look and her plaintive, “Oh, Sam!” are enough to have me cringing in shame for the next decade. Mom is worried to death about Natalie and contacts her several times after she returns, while leaving me pretty much alone.

  Everyone calls Natalie. I become a pariah. I have nothing to do. No job to go to. I have no friends left because all of them were connected in one way or another to work or Jayden. During the week I disappeared, he pretty much blackballed me. What a juvenile prick! I need a new place to live. Everywhere at the house screams Natalie and me. And yet, I now realize the three years we spent here weren’t happy memories; but rather, a lot of strained, awkward silences and petty, picky fights. We were two strangers occupying the same air space. I pack up my stuff, giving away half of it to charity. Suits, shoes, ties; all of the design wear is mostly gone. I keep a few suits in case I ever have a funeral to attend, but as far as I am concerned, I am finished with the corporate world. I have no idea what I will do. No one in my family particularly wants to hang out with me. I don’t really want to hang out with me. I do nothing. I have hours and hours to think about what I did, why I did it and where the hell is my life going? I have no answers. It feels like nowhere.

  There are days the stir–crazy becomes too much and I have to get out. I find myself sometimes wandering back to the apartment building we first lived in when we got married. Another day, I walk to the street we grew up on. And that takes me down to the lot where we spent all our free time.

  The park. That park was Natalie’s haven. It was fun for me. I spent most every afternoon after school there and many weekends. But I know it was Natalie’s version of a backyard and a familiar place where she fit in. It was the place where she excelled and felt safe. She was accepted and applauded there.

  I sit now on one of the dilapidated benches. It’s askew, and broken on one end. Covered in graffiti like almost every other surface of the park, the lawn is overgrown, full of weeds and has ugly, bald spots. The baseball backstop is hanging on one end where a large branch took it out and no one bothered to repair it. The lot is small. Just a dumpy baseball diamond, and farther off, double goals for soccer or impromptu football games. There are abandoned concession stands with broken glass and garbage as their only commodities. The small basketball court has more weeds than pavement, sprouting through myriad cracks. I’m surprised the lot is still here and not torn down to accommodate the latest version of median–income apartments like we grew up in. The area has gone downhill from the working class residents that occupied it when we were young. Now it’s people who are not working, but rather broken down and depressed. This park seems like a reflection of the once decent, respectful, friendly neighborhood.

  Who owns it now? Who allowed it to get like this? Does it even matter? It doesn’t seem like it matters to anyone at all.

  Except me.

  I sit there for two hours. Some teens wander by, razzing each other as they walk along. They show no interest in sports, or teams, or hanging here.

  Not like we used to. I can picture the sun setting, turning the park black against the peach sky as the breezes stir and we; me, Natalie, Dustin and kids from the neighborhood, pitch one last game, or play one final game of soccer. I see myself racing Natalie home… and usually winning, despite her angry reactions to my victory. A smile curls my lips. Those were the best, and most innocent nights of my life. Dustin, Natalie, me and a half-dozen neighborhood kids ranging in all ages.

  Teens nowadays don’t seem to do anything here. They pass by quickly, sometimes using it as a shortcut. They eye me suspiciously for being here. The place is just a shithole now, and more than likely provides a backdrop for drugs than any other kind of recreation.

  What a huge shame. It kept me and my friends out of trouble for many years while my parents worked and couldn’t always supervise us. It would have been easy to follow the wrong path. I glance around. There is nowhere safe. Or fun. Or even appealing left around there.

  It takes me a week before I bother looking up who owns the lot now. It used to be owned by a now defunct youth center. A local landowner bought it, who already owns more than a dozen buildings, convenient stores and the like in the area. After a few days, I finally contact the owner.

  “You want to know about what?” His tone is incredulous. “That old lot next to the abandoned rec center? Why the hell do you want to know about that?”

  “Just curious. I grew up there and it used to be a pretty decent place for kids to hang out after school. The local sports teams played their games there. Why not anymore?”

  “Gangs. Drugs. Sex. Take your pick. It ain’t the neighborhood of your youth. I keep waiting for the area to turn around so I can sell it. Why? You interested?”

  “In what?”

  “The lot? You want it? You can have it cheap. It’s a pain in my ass! Always having the cops contact me about some incident going on there or another. Be my guest.”

  What the hell would I do with an old park? I know nothing about it. The sum he asks for is also ridiculous, especially considering the condition of the land, the park and the area.

  But somehow, all I can think about is Natalie and me, and the fun we had there. Young. Happy. Friends. The best of friends.

  We have money. I made enough from BorderLine Solutions to grow a substantial nest egg. Considering we’ll most likely be dividing it all in half, I could buy the land, but I’d have almost nothing left over to live in or on. I’m not sure if I should risk it.

  After receiving notice from the company to vacate the house, I honestly can’t wait to comply with their terse order. I find a craphole apartment and bring my favorite chair, the spare bed, some clothes and ditch the rest. Natalie says I could do whatever I want with what was left, as she’d already taken what she wanted. Fantastic. I am stuck with a house full of pretty furniture and a shithole to take it to.

  That’s why I give it almost all away.

  I have figured out a lot of things. Everything I did before I cheated gave me a false sense of who I was and what I wanted. Everything that happened before was really what eventually led to this. So I decide to change everything about myself, my life, my occupation, where I live, how I dress and what I do all day.

  So I set myself up with the basics and decide to buy the old park. I go over there with a rake one afternoon and get started. I rake the bald spots and rent a lawn mower to mow down the weeds. I get there each day a little earlier as I start to see some progress. I fix the fencing here, add new chain link over there, and bring in an entire new row of benches. I replant the grass and continue raking. I find plenty of broken glass, used needles, tin cans and other garbage. Bags and bags of it. I collect it all and start scrubbing out the graffiti. I scrub and scrub and paint and paint. There is a lot of it.

  I look up one afternoon to find my brother, still in his uniform, his sleeves rolled up, standing there. He eyes me cautiously as if approaching a rabid grizzly bear or an escaped mental patient. “Sam?” His tone is curious and gentle. “What is this? What are you doing?”

  I sit back on my heels and throw my hands up, as if to say, Look around you. “Duh. I’m weeding at present.”

  “I see that. But why? What are you doing? I know you told Mom you bought this place, but we can’t figure out why. They are worried about you. You don’t answer their calls. Nor mine. You sold everything. You chucked a good job and lifestyle you’ve been chasing your entire life. Is this some kind of early mid–life crisis or something else?”

  I stay on all fours, still weeding. I’ve found if I pull them out by hand, it keeps them away longer. I have to be careful what I pick around. “I don’t want all the shit anymore. It never made me happy.”

  Dustin sighs as he squats near me. “I know. This is a reaction to Natalie, but you don’t have to get rid of your entire life. There is nothing wrong with having ambitions and goals and working hard. You made a mistake, Sam. You don’t have to
give up on everything you ever did before because of it. You don’t owe it to Natalie to go that far. No one, none of us, want to see you destroy the rest of your life too.”

  I sit back on my haunches and pull my gloves off to wipe my sweaty forehead. I’m sure I smear more dirt in with the sweat. “Don’t you get it, Dustin? I already destroyed the only ‘it’ that mattered. The depth. The love. The care. The thing that made me a better person was Nat. I betrayed her. Therefore, I betrayed myself. I’m not losing my mind, or punishing myself. I want to be different. Better. I think this is different and better.” I swipe my arm around as if encompassing the whole ramshackle lot. Okay, there is a lot of work to do. But I’m determined. And I have nothing else to do. Dustin watches me for a while. I wait for him to leave, or further comment, but instead, he slips his coat off, squats down about twenty feet from me, and begins pulling some of the weeds, as well as picking up the miscellaneous garbage. After a few hours, we stand, our knees sore and our backs groaning.

  “Thank you, Dustin.”

  “You’re welcome,” he says as he slaps my back, but not too hard. “Just don’t totally lose your mind, Sam. No one wants that, not even Natalie.”

  I don’t know about that. She has yet to serve me with divorce papers, but she does not respond very often to my requests to meet. Or talk. She communicates about everyday matters since we still are legally married, but only by text or email. I saw her cruising one afternoon in her patrol car. She didn’t see me. I was coming out of a hardware store when I saw her pass. She had her hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her hat over her eyes made her look so harsh and austere. There is something intimidating about her in uniform when she’s in her official capacity.