I didn’t have to think for long. There was a souvenir shop inside the main gate. I ducked inside and approached the guy behind the cash register.
“Excuse me. Is there anyone by the name of Nicola working here?”
He shrugged and shook his head.
Helpful fellow.
I scanned the store, not sure what to do next. A girl in a blue apron approached me.
“Did you say you were looking for Nicola?”
“Yes,” I said, almost leaping on her. “Do you know her?”
“Do you mean Nicola Clarke?”
“Um, I guess.”
“If it’s Nicola Clarke you’re after, she works in the Tower Shop by the Crown Jewels exhibit.”
I nodded my thanks and escaped the store, scanning the brochure’s map as I jogged up the steps leading to the middle of the fortress, a square surrounded on two sides by Tudor-style buildings. A chapel was straight ahead, and the castle tower rose up on my right.
According to the brochure, the Crown Jewels display and gift shop were in the building opposite the center tower. So now what? My pulse beat in my ears, and suddenly I felt like a fool. What if Daniel was fine? What if he was in the store having a perfectly civilized discussion with the girl? I’d look ridiculous, barreling in there.
He could have told me his plans—explained that he wanted to talk to Nicola today—but not only had he failed to tell me his intentions, he’d contrived to keep me out of the way by booking me a spa treatment and then turning off his phone. For some reason, he’d wanted to do this alone. I was meddling, plain and simple. I shouldn’t have come.
On the other hand, how could I have gone blithely skipping off to have a pedicure after Jeremy’s worried call?
I sank onto the stone curb, wishing Daniel had been more forthright about how he was feeling, but also realizing I was partly to blame for his reticence. I’d lost track of how many times I’d said to him, “The past is the past. I don’t want to talk about her.” After reading those files with all of his musings from the beginning of the term, I’d told him I never wanted to hear her name again.
No wonder he’d shut me out.
It wasn’t too late for me to redeem myself, though. I was here now, and if he needed me, I would help him. I stood, unsure what to do, but not prepared to idly twiddle my thumbs. I spun around slowly, and that’s when I saw him.
Daniel was in the middle of the square, staring at the entrance to the Crown Jewels exhibit. I resisted the urge to run to him. Instead, I hid behind the tree to watch him undetected. He turned, a bewildered expression on his face, but then he staggered to a nearby bench and sat down, bowing at the waist. As his head dropped forward and he reached up to rub his left shoulder, memories of Daniel gasping for breath in his father’s office on that snowy March day flashed before my eyes.
This was exactly what Jeremy had been afraid of.
Daniel
Chapter 32
Take the Current
On such a full sea are we now afloat;
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.
(Julius Caesar, Act IV, Scene iii)
I BENT FORWARD, filling my lungs with air, trying to center myself. I was okay. I could do this. I took in another long breath, letting it out slowly.
Jesus, I was pathetic. Surely I could talk to the girl without having a meltdown. I’d been fine ten minutes ago when I’d gone into the store in the first place. And if Nicola hadn’t been on her lunch break, I could’ve gotten it over with. Waiting for her to return was the kicker. Now I had time to second-guess myself.
A few more minutes and she’d be back. What would I say to her? She’d probably have a conniption, seeing me here. What if seeing her made me have a conniption? After everything she’d put me through and the trauma she’d caused in my life, could I do this without losing my shit?
I checked the time again. Aubrey would be finished with her spa treatment by one o’clock. I didn’t have to do this alone. I could leave her a message, telling her to phone as soon as she was finished at the spa. She could hop in a cab…
Yes, that’s exactly what I’d do—what I should have done in the first place, and might’ve if I’d given myself a chance to think. I’d leave Aubrey a message and then have an hour to compose myself while I waited for her to call back.
Satisfied with this methodical course of action, I turned my cell phone back on and stared at the screen as several alerts appeared. There was a text from Jeremy imploring me to call him. There were three unheard phone messages as well, no doubt also from Jeremy. My text to him had been brief and cryptic, but he would have understood the implications of my words. He was probably freaking out. I’d text him after leaving Aubrey a message.
Without another thought, I dialed and waited for the voice mail to kick in. It didn’t. Aubrey answered after the second ring.
“Daniel?”
“I was going to leave you a message. Aren’t you in the middle of your pedicure?”
“It’s a long story. I ended up not going.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. It’s not important. Tell me what’s happening with you. Are you all right?”
At the sound of her worried voice, all of my methodical thoughts went out the window, and a stream of doubts flooded in to take their place.
“I’m an idiot, Aubrey. Don’t hate me. I don’t know what possessed me to be so impulsive—”
“Daniel, it’s okay—”
“No, it’s not okay,” I interrupted. “You’ll never believe where I am.” I paced in front of the bench. Christ, what would she say when she heard what I was planning? “Please don’t be angry…”
“Tell me what’s going on. I promise I won’t be angry.”
I squinted at the stone face of the building in front of me.
“I’m at the Tower of London.”
“Okay…And?” she prompted.
“Nicola works in a souvenir shop here.” I let a beat pass and then added, “I came here to talk to her.”
“And have you already spoken to her?” she asked, strangely not sounding the least bit surprised at my confession.
“I haven’t seen her. I thought I’d be okay doing this alone, but now that I’m here, I’m not so sure…”
“What do you want me to do, Daniel?”
I ran my hand through my hair, feeling like a fool, but her voice was so strong and determined. She didn’t sound angry at all. I could almost feel her presence. She was holding out a lifeline, so I grabbed hold.
“I know this is a lot to ask, but can you get a taxi? I’ll wait for you at the admission gate to the Tower. When you get here, I can explain why I feel like I have to talk to her.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” she said. “Turn around, Daniel.”
I spun around, and there she was, no more than fifty feet away from me. There was no point saying anything else. She was dashing across the pavement, and I stood, immobilized by the shock of seeing her. I couldn’t pull the words together to ask how she’d known where I was. She wrapped her arms around me, and I closed my eyes, letting her comfort wash over me. She stepped back at last, looking up at me anxiously.
“Are you okay?”
“What are you doing here? How did you—”
“Jeremy called me,” she said, placing her hands on my chest. “He caught me as I was heading out the door to the spa. Don’t be mad at him. He was worried about you. If you wanted to talk to Nicola, you should have told me, and I would’ve come with you. You didn’t have to contrive to keep me out of the way.”
“You think I planned to come here today?”
“Are you saying you didn’t?”
“Of course I didn’t. I booked that spa treatment for you because you deserve to be spoiled. End of story. I wasn’t planning this. If anything, I’ve been trying to avoid coming here. I didn’t want to come to London at all, but I knew you had your heart set on it. Wh
y do you think I had every minute planned yesterday? When we were at the London Eye and you said you wanted to visit the Tower—”
“You started sweating and almost blacked out.”
“Because it was the last thing I wanted to do.”
“But you suddenly decided half an hour ago that it would be a great idea to come here and talk to her?”
Exasperated, I reached for her hand, leading her to the bench.
“I told you there was an errand I needed to run and that’s what I did, but on the way back to the hotel, the cabbie drove across the Tower Bridge and started babbling about Henry the Eighth and all the executions that happened here. Then he mentioned the legend about the Tower falling if the six ravens were to ever leave the fortress.”
I cringed, remembering the epiphany I’d had in the back of the taxi, a moment of understanding so profound my head had snapped back with the force of what I’d realized.
“All I could see was a girl being executed, holding out her hands to me, pleading for my help, and me struggling to get through a mass of people to reach her, the crowd holding me back, and giant black birds attacking me from above so I couldn’t get to her…”
“Oh my God—Daniel, your nightmares? You think they take place here?”
I nodded. “Over and over again I had that same dream—the crowd of people, the birds—the girl being executed was Nicola. As soon as I understood that, I had to speak to her. I texted Jeremy to put the idea out there—to force myself into action. Then I turned off my phone so he wouldn’t be able to talk me out of it.”
“If all you were doing was putting the idea out there, why Jeremy and not me?”
I laughed wryly. “Maybe I pictured myself coming back to the hotel after talking to her and saying, ‘Guess where I’ve been,’ like a warrior returning from battle or something. I wanted you to be proud of me. But if I’d crumbled and changed my mind…”
“I wouldn’t have known any different.”
“Essentially, yes.”
Aubrey lowered her eyes, gazing at our joined hands. “I want to support you, Daniel, but I don’t understand why you’ve come. Jeremy told me you suspected your dreams were about Nicola. Now you’ve confirmed it. So…what? Going in there to confront her—it’ll open old wounds.”
“It’s not about me knowing Nicola is the girl in my dream,” I explained. “I think I actually understand the dream. She needs help. She’s dropped out of school, moved out of her parents’ house. She’s living in some rundown apartment in the suburbs and working here full-time. Her life has gone off the rails.”
“Which she brought on herself.”
I shook my head and looked at her pointedly. “A few days ago, you said you couldn’t imagine everyone being held forever accountable for the dumb things they did at the age of eighteen.”
She rolled her eyes. “I was referring to stupid things like experimenting with marijuana, shoplifting lip gloss, or drinking too much at a house party—not creating life-ruining false accusations.”
“The sentiment still applies. She was young, and she made a bad decision. Her behavior was appalling, but does that mean she should pay for what she did forever? Would it make a difference if I told you she feels remorseful and has thrown everything away because she can’t live with her mistake?”
“What do you mean?”
“Nicola didn’t have her bursary renewed, but she couldn’t bring herself to use the money from my dad to pay for her second year at Oxford. Apparently her parents insisted she use the money to finance her tuition, but she refused. That’s why she moved out.”
“You learned all this from her Facebook wall?”
“And now I can’t go back and erase what I know. When all this stuff with Jeremy going to France came up, maybe subconsciously I recognized I might be able to help Nicola the same way he’s helped Anita. Maybe forgiveness is the only option I have left.”
Aubrey bit the inside of her lip, mulling over my words.
“She turned my life upside down with a few words, poppet. What if I can help her with a few of my own? I have to do something before we get on that plane tomorrow. Cursing her existence isn’t working for me.”
After briefly scanning my face again, she sighed. “Okay. You’ve made up your mind. Now what?”
“She was on her lunch break the first time I went in there. She should be back by now.”
“So, we walk in and demand to speak to her?”
“I guess.”
“You guess?” She laughed shortly. “Figures you’d pick today to become impulsive.” She stood and held out her hand. “All right, I’m ready when you are.”
We entered the shop as inconspicuously as possible, standing in a corner behind a rack displaying fridge magnets. I scanned the store. I didn’t see Nicola at first. In fact, I heard her before I saw her, a muffled voice coming from behind the cash register as she spoke to another employee.
As she turned around, her blond hair obscured her thin face and pale eyes. I took a quick breath, waiting for the familiar heart-pounding and spotted vision, anticipating the sensation of the ground lurching away beneath my feet and the sound of my pulse racing in my ears.
There was nothing except for a faint quickening of my heart rate—an understandable reaction—and the sweatiness of my hand. After watching my face for a moment, Aubrey finally snuck a peek across the shop.
“Is that her?” she whispered.
“That’s her,” I confirmed, stepping behind the safety of the spinning rack.
“Daniel, she’s a kid…”
“She’d be nineteen now.”
“She looks so much younger.”
I stole another look across the store. Aubrey was right. Nicola had always been slender and petite, but now it seemed as if a strong wind could blow her over. Funny how our ghosts take on such mythic proportions in our tortured imaginations.
“Her appearance helped to demonize me in the eyes of the administration. She was the epitome of the helpless victim,” I said.
“I guess.” Aubrey drew her hand from mine, rubbing her palm on her jeans. “You’re not shaky or light-headed or anything?”
“I think I’m good.”
“Should I give you some space?”
“If you don’t mind.” I took a step, but then I hesitated, turning back. “Don’t go too far, okay?”
“I’ll be nearby if you need me.”
With Aubrey’s comforting words sustaining me, I took a few steps forward, not sure how best to approach Nicola. In the end, my decision was made for me.
Her back was turned, her attention focused on a shelf in front of her on which she was stacking books, but she spun around and looked directly across the store—straight at me. Her wide-eyed expression and backward stagger might have been comical if not for the fact that she was so obviously in shock.
I paused as she blinked and brought her hand to her heart. For a second, I wondered if she might have a panic attack. Then her brow furrowed, and she mouthed my name. I held up my hand, part comforting gesture and part wave. The maternal voice of Nicola’s coworker, Marjorie, the same woman I’d spoken to earlier, interrupted our bizarre exchange.
“Oh, Nicola, this is the young man I was telling you about—the one who was asking after you when you were on your lunch break.”
Nicola nodded and steadied herself on the counter.
“Hi, Nicola. You must be surprised to see me.”
She nodded and looked vaguely at her workmate.
“Can you slip away for a few minutes?” I asked, drawing her eyes back to mine before she could speak. “I’d like to talk to you.”
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I just got back from lunch…”
“Oh, go ahead,” Marjorie said as she bustled over to the cash register, eliminating Nicola’s excuse, if that’s what it was. “I’ll be fine. Go on.”
She pushed Nicola around the corner, smiling at me like some sort of co-conspirator.
“We’ll go outside, shall we?” I suggested.
“Um…okay.”
With Nicola walking reluctantly beside me and Aubrey tagging along behind us, we emerged into the midday sun. I gestured to the bench Aubrey and I had been sitting on a few moments earlier. Nicola perched stiffly on the edge of the seat while I sat back comfortably. Aubrey settled onto a curb stone across the courtyard.
“How did you know where to find me?” Nicola whispered, her eyes trained on her tightly clasped hands.
“Your Facebook page is quite informative.”
She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, God…”
And then she started to cry. No, cry wasn’t the right word. Sob was a better description. I waited for her get out whatever feelings she needed to purge. I snuck a look at Aubrey who was cringing, her hand over her mouth. But then, just as quickly as Nicola had started crying, she stopped, sniffed, and rubbed her face with her sleeves.
“I don’t blame you if you want to shout at me, Daniel. Go ahead. I deserve it,” she said through her sniffles.
She still hadn’t looked at me. I didn’t blame her. Her shame was palpable.
“I’m not here to shout at you, Nicola.”
Now she looked at me—a quick sideways glance of disbelief. “You’re not?”
“No.”
She frowned at the ground, baffled.
“You quit school,” I said.
“I had to. My bursary wasn’t renewed.”
“My father gave you money.”
“I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t use the money.”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Because I’m a horrible person. I didn’t deserve to go back to Oxford. I didn’t belong there in the first place. I was out of my league. But you knew that, didn’t you?”
Her tone was bitter.
“A lot of first year students take a while to figure things out. You didn’t give yourself time to find your footing.”
“I was too busy trying to find the easy way out,” she said, staring listlessly at her thin hands. “And I ruined your life in the process.”
The Truest of Words Page 29