In All Deep Places

by Susan Meissner

  “Why didn’t you write to me?” The tone in Norah’s voice surprised Luke as much as the question did. He raised his head to look at her, and the images of the cemetery, the shoebox, and Kieran fled. She sounded young again, as if the expanse of seventeen years had collapsed and the two of them were back where it had all started. He felt young as well when he answered.

  “What?” he said, though he had heard her.

  “Why didn’t you write me?” she repeated, but this time she sounded aged with cares and woes. He felt a prickle of fear crawl up his neck. She sounded like she’d been cheated out of something very precious. She was angry. He wanted to believe he didn’t understand why, but… When Belinda had come back and Kieran got shot and Nell went to jail—when Norah’s entire world got thrown off kilter—she’d wanted him to come to her rescue. And he hadn’t even tried.

  “I didn’t know what to say, Norah. I didn’t know what to do.” He remembered how much he’d wanted to forget everything. “I was only seventeen.”

  Something dark and fiery veiled her eyes. He didn’t realize until after he’d said it that he’d said the wrong thing.

  “And I was sixteen!” Her eyes were bright with anger. “I was sixteen, and I was alone, afraid—and in love!”

  The words shot out of her mouth like darts. He could not keep himself from trying to back away. He felt the chair back against him and stiffened. Hot tea spilled onto his fingers. The words he least expected to hear from her churned in his head. In love. In love. In love.

  “How could you have done that to me?” She continued in a softer voice, but the sting in her accusation was no less. He felt it and flinched. He knew she meant, how could he have given up on her? But he was wondering how he could not have seen she’d fallen for him. He’d known she was alone and afraid. And he had wanted to help her but didn’t know how without sinking deeper himself.

  But he’d never wanted to consider that while he had managed to avoid falling in love with her, she had been unable to do that with him. And he’d eventually willed himself to forget her—a little more each day—because that was what he figured made the most sense. It had never occurred to him she would do the exact opposite. That she would spend every day—for who knows how long—waiting for him to come to her rescue, while he spent every day waiting for the memory of her to fade. An image of Téa came to mind, and he suddenly realized when his waiting had ended. He wondered for just a split second when Norah had stopped waiting.

  “How could you have done that to me?” she said again.

  “I didn’t know what to do,” he repeated.

  “Is that really the best you can offer?” she said wearily, like she’d already heard this excuse many times before and it meant nothing.

  “I’m sorry.” The silence that followed screamed at him. “Norah, did you ever try to call me after… after…” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence. After what? After he forgot about her?

  “I called Matt.”

  She said the three words expressionlessly. They fell about his ears like stones.

  “When?”

  “The summer you turned twenty. The summer you brought your girlfriend Amy home to meet your parents. I called him to see where you were. He told me.”

  Luke slumped back in his chair. He put the mug he held on the table next to him. “Why didn’t you just call me?” he said, looking up at her.

  “All those years I spent protecting myself from falling for you,” Norah said quietly, as if she were not addressing him at all. Then she fixed her gaze—and her voice—on him. “I gave your father my address! Wasn’t it obvious I expected you to write me? You just sent that one pitiful note that said nothing. I shouldn’t have had to call you, Luke. I shouldn’t have had to chase you down. You kissed me, remember?”

  “Norah, I—”

  “I never expected that you, of all people, would just turn and walk away from me. Especially then.”

  The unbidden memory of running over to Nell’s house while the civil-defense siren wailed and ushering Norah and Kieran safely into his basement filled Luke’s mind. He had come after her then and led her to shelter. The tornado had whirled above their heads, sucking roofs off houses, but she’d been safe with him. But after that horrible day nearly a year later, everything had changed. He couldn’t charge in on his white horse and save the day. He hadn’t known where to begin. He hadn’t been sure he wanted to.

  “I didn’t know!” he said.

  “You didn’t know because you didn’t want to know!” she said, angrily, but very much in control. Luke felt his own anger enveloping him and became aware he was shaking. Norah was not.

  “You stopped caring about me,” she added, clearly enunciating every word.

  “That’s not true, I…” He stopped in mid-sentence. It was true. He had stopped caring. He had made himself stop.

  Luke eased back down in his chair. But he didn’t look at her. “If I had known—”

  “If you had known what?” She folded her arms across her chest. “That I was afraid? That I was mired in grief for what had happened to my brother? That my mother went right back to her drugs? That I wanted you to come for me? You didn’t already know these things?”

  “I didn’t know you were in love with me!” At least that much was true. To a point. He hadn’t known how deeply she’d fallen. He’d thought she’d been able to walk away from it as easily as he had.

  She held his gaze, as if challenging him to withdraw his last comment. When he didn’t, she spoke.

  “How could you not have known?” she said, simply.

  He had an unexplainable sense that Norah suddenly pitied him. That she pitied someone who couldn’t see love when it was right in front of him.

  Had he really missed it? Had he really been that dense? He searched his mind for glimpses of the person he was when Norah was taken from him. He was suddenly aware of two truths. He’d been afraid. Afraid of two things. He’d been afraid for her, and he’d been afraid of her. He’d been afraid of her need for a savior because he knew he couldn’t save her from anything. And he hadn’t known how to point her heavenward. No, it wasn’t that he hadn’t known how. He’d just given up trying. It had been easier to give up. It had been easier to forget.

  “I’m so sorry, Norah. I should never have kissed you that day in the tree house.”

  She seemed to recoil when he said this. As if she’d been struck. And then she laughed sadly. “Why did you, then?” she whispered. “That was the only moment in my life when I felt like I really mattered to someone.” She had turned her face away, as if she were speaking to no one.

  “You’ve mattered to a lot of people, Norah. Kieran loved you. Your mother loved you. And despite all of her rough edges, I think Nell loved you, too.”

  “Ha!” Norah said, laughing again, but clearly in pain.

  “The second time you went to your aunt’s house in Minnesota, Nell cried outside on her back porch, Norah. I was in the tree house. It was the saddest thing I’d ever heard. I could hardly bear to listen to her. That was the day you and Kieran left.”

  “You heard her that day on the driveway, Luke,” she countered. “When I found out I wasn’t really her granddaughter—”

  “That was fear talking! She was desperate at that point. When Belinda first came up the driveway, Nell told her she wasn’t taking her grandchildren. She yelled it. Don’t you remember how angry and afraid she was, Norah? She never wanted to have to choose between the two of you.”

  More seconds of silence fell between them.

  “Why did you come here?”

  “I wanted to see you. I wanted to see how you were doing. I know how close you were to Kieran. I know you probably miss him very much.”

  She watched him for a few seconds in silence. “That’s it?” she said, incredulous. “You disappear from my life for seventeen years, and then you just suddenly decide you want to see me? You came all this way to see how I’m doing?”

  Something told
him he should say, No, there’s more, but he just swallowed and said, “Yes. I came to see how you were.”

  “Well, as you can see, I am just fine, Luke.”

  She started to walk past him, like she was heading to her front door, ready to send him on his way. He reached out and stopped her. His hold on her arm was tender but firm.

  “Norah, please.”

  She looked down at his hand on her arm and then eased herself out of his grip.

  “What do you want from me?” she said bitterly, searching his eyes for an explanation.

  He hesitated a moment, afraid to reveal his selfish reason for wanting to see her. But he knew he owed her an honest answer.

  “I want to know how it ends,” he said quietly.

  She could only look back at him in confused silence.

  “I want to know what happened in San Diego, Norah. I need to know what really happened to Kieran.”

  Twenty-four

  Norah studied his face, surely searching for a motive. Luke made no attempt to disguise his reasons for wanting to know the truth about Kieran. Amid all the miscalculations he had made about Norah, he needed to be assured he was right about one thing—that she couldn’t possibly have killed for money. His mind provided an image of Eden Damaris, wearing the green dress and sitting in a windowsill signing the words, A woman like Clarice Wilburt doesn’t kill for money. She kills for love.

  “You surely read all about it in the newspapers,” Norah finally said. “I killed Kieran for his half of the money. Everyone knows that.”

  “That’s not true,” he didn’t take his eyes off hers. “I refuse to believe it.”

  “So what? Who cares what you believe?”

  “That note was real, wasn’t it?” he continued, ignoring the insult. “Kieran wrote that suicide note, didn’t he? He just couldn’t take it anymore, could he? He didn’t want to go on living without the use of his legs. Even the money couldn’t make him happy. He was tired of pretending he didn’t mourn the death of his dreams. It wasn’t just an ordinary whale-watching trip, was it? He didn’t just hurl himself overboard when you weren’t watching, did he?”

  Norah’s eyes were wide and unmoving. She said nothing.

  “Kieran probably needed help,” Luke continued. “He couldn’t do it alone. Not the way he wanted to go. You had to help him.”

  He paused for a moment to hopefully let this fresh revelation calm her into trusting him.

  “It wasn’t about the money at all, was it?” he added a few seconds later.

  For the first time since he’d arrived, she looked weak. She felt for the sofa arm behind her and sank into the cushions. Luke resumed his seat across from her.

  “It never was about the money, was it, Norah?” he said softly.

  She closed her eyes and took several long breaths. Then she opened her eyes and looked at him.

  “I don’t have to explain anything to anyone.”

  He waited.

  “I did what I did because I loved my brother,” she said after a moment. “He deserved to have what he wanted. He should never have suffered the way he did. He just wanted to swim with the whales. That’s all he ever wanted. So I let him.”

  She fell silent as two tears escaped her eyes and glided down her cheeks. She was looking past him to the long panes of glass in the living room, but he knew she wasn’t really looking outside. She was looking at a frothy ocean, choppy from March winds, broken here and there by occasional flukes and barnacle-covered sides. Below her was a man in the water, desperately trying to swim without the use of his legs. He was heaving himself toward the rolling beasts, smiling.

  “Tell me what happened, Norah.”

  At first she looked as if she had not heard him. But then she opened her mouth to speak, her eyes glassy and unfocused as the words came.

  “He tried to do it by himself. But he just wasn’t strong enough. He tried to do it when I wasn’t looking. But I heard him struggling to get himself over the railing. We were at the back of the ship. All the schoolchildren were in the front. We were alone.”

  The words tumbled from Norah’s mouth in rambling fragments. Luke sensed she’d spoken of this to no one. He said nothing.

  “I turned and saw he was out of his wheelchair and half over the railing. I ran over and tried to pull him back, and when I did, he said my name in the saddest way. That’s when I knew he wanted to go over. He wanted it. ‘Kieran, don’t!’ I said. And he just said my name again in that sad way. ‘Norah, let me go,’ he said. ‘I’m so close. I can see them.’ And I looked out over the water, and I saw two whales breaching, filling the air above them with spray. And then I helped him get his legs over the sides. He held onto the railing. And I held onto him.”

  Norah paused for a bit, poised at the moment of recollection. Her cheeks were wet and shiny.

  “Then he told me again to let go. And at first I couldn’t. I was crying into his hair and shaking and I wanted so badly to pull him back over. ‘Let me go, Norah,’ he said again. He said it so gently. I tried and I couldn’t. I kept saying his name over and over. And he kept saying, ‘Let me go, Norah. Let me go.’”

  She paused for a moment. Luke could see she was reliving the horrible moment when she did what Kieran had asked of her.

  “I took my hands off him and stepped away from the railing. And he just hung there by his arms for a few seconds. Then… he let go. I ran to the railing and looked out and he was trying so hard to swim. He was digging his arms into the water like he was digging for treasure, trying to get as close to the whales as he could. And I was crying. I wanted to be happy for him, but I couldn’t. Then someone from the other side of the boat saw him, just before he… slipped under. People were running over to my side of the ship and I was standing there, sobbing and shouting Kieran’s name.”

  Luke was vaguely aware that tears had begun to form in his eyes and were slipping down his cheeks.

  “There was a siren, or horn. It was so loud, and it scared all the children. Someone threw in a life preserver. Then a lifeboat went into the water. But he was already gone. The Coast Guard came. I don’t remember much else. I don’t know when we got to shore. The next thing I remember is sitting by an ambulance. The Coast Guard wanted to take me to a hospital. I hadn’t been able to tell them anything. I just kept calling his name.”

  She stopped. She was still so instantly that he feared she’d withdrawn into some distant place in her mind where she wouldn’t hear him anymore. He started to reach across to her to try to bring her back. But she turned slowly toward him as he leaned forward, and he could see in her face that a portal had closed. She had retreated behind the wall of her bitterness. It seemed there would be no more honest moments between them. Not today.

  “Norah, I—” he began, but she didn’t want to hear whatever it was he was going to say.

  “I’d like for you to go now, please,” she said flatly.

  “Norah, I don’t want to leave you like this,” he began, not realizing the deadly irony of his words. But she began to laugh.

  “Oh, that’s good, Luke! You don’t want to leave me like this? Like this? Like this? This is nothing compared to how you left me before.” She stopped laughing, but she was looking at him with a hard grin on her face. “Besides, I have Kieran’s half of the money, remember? I am rich. I have this nice house. A new Jeep in the garage. Acres of privacy. I’ve got it all. So go ahead, Luke. Leave me. Leave me like this!”

  Her words hit him hard. But he tried to shake them off. He couldn’t leave her there alone and in misery again. He had to get her away from her wretched place of isolation, if only for a little while. If he could somehow convince her to come back to Connecticut with him… She could stay in The Lab while he and Téa figured out a way to help her. God, help me, he pleaded in his heart. Help me reach her.

  “Norah, I don’t want you living the rest of your life alone and bitter like this. It’s not how we’re meant to live!”

  She sat back on the sofa, see
mingly untouched by what he said. She narrowed her eyes and the focus of her voice.

  “This isn’t about what you want, Luke. And who are you to say I’m bitter? You know nothing about me anymore. And what makes you think I’m alone? You think I’m still pining away after you? I’ve had lovers, Luke. Plenty of them.”

  He knew she meant for her words to cut him to the heart. He tried not to recoil.

  “I’m not talking about having money and someone to share your bed. I’m talking about having peace. And having people to share your life.”

  She sat unmoving on the sofa, studying him, saying nothing. He wondered if maybe she was on the brink of surrender.

  “You live a fairy-tale life, Luke,” she said, without anger or malice. “You always have. It’s just like Nell always said about you and your family when Kieran and I lived with her. We lived next door to Paradise. That’s where you lived. That’s where you’ve always lived. You don’t have the faintest clue about what it’s like to truly suffer. You go ahead and live happily ever after. Go ahead.”

  He could only stare as her words fell on him. He didn’t know what else to do.

  “Please come with me, Norah. It’s not a fairy “tale—it’s the real thing. Please come with me. Téa and I have room at our house—”

  She interrupted him with a laugh. “Téa and you? You are naive, Luke.”

  He ignored the comment. “Please, come with me,” he tried again.

  She blinked but held his gaze. A few moments of loaded silence hung between them.

  “No.”

  He suddenly knew it was fruitless to try and convince her. It would not happen today. He couldn’t picture it happening at all, but he would not do what he’d done seventeen years ago. He would not forget her. He rose slowly, ready to go, and sad from the knowledge of how it ended. At least for now. Then he suddenly thought of what lay in his pocket—the poem Norah had once written about creatures that cannot see the world of light and air above them. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded piece of paper, wondering if through her own words she would see what he could see.