He took the elevator to his floor and let himself into the cluttered dorm room. Almost without thinking, he crossed to his desk and picked up the phone. No. Wait. He set the receiver back in its cradle.
He sighed. What was really going on? As he had awakened to the spiritual side of himself, he had learned that his motives were often different than even he realized. “Show me the truth, Lord,” he whispered. “What’s going on here? With me? Show me your truth.”
He slumped into the desk chair and put his head in his hands, purposefully quieting his mind, listening for the still, quiet voice that had so recently become familiar to him.
After a while, a feeling of peace settled over him. And as though someone had drawn a diagram, he suddenly knew what was really eating at him. He smiled to himself, thinking that if his roommate were to walk in now and see him carrying on this conversation, he would never understand.
Now his smile faded as he faced the revelation of his motives. He had gone to sleep just three nights before feeling deeply convicted that he needed to confess to Natalie the role he had played in the accident—even in her being convicted of the DUI charge.
But now he saw a deceitful, scheming side of himself that had hoped to “capture” Natalie—or at least her affections—before he made his confession. He had sought to give her a deeper incentive to forgive him. How unfair that would have been to her. He resolved that moment that he would not go forward one more step with Natalie until he had asked for her forgiveness. And he would accept the “verdict,” whatever it might be.
He sent up a hopeful prayer that he would be granted the gift of Natalie’s forgiveness. He didn’t dare to pray that he might also, eventually, be beneficiary to the gift of her love.
Natalie slid from behind the cramped desk, hiked her backpack onto one shoulder, and filed out of the classroom with the rest of the students. High-tech tennis shoes and Gore-Tex boots echoed on the tiled floors of the antiquated Anderson Hall.
When she reached the exit, Natalie was surprised to see that it was raining. Rats! She’d not thought to bring an umbrella. Sara would never have been caught umbrella-less. She smiled at the thought. Thanks to Maribeth’s indoctrination, Sara Dever could always be counted on to have rain protection in her car, in her book bag, in her locker. The girl must have owned half a dozen umbrellas. It had been one of her delightful quirks.
Natalie stood in a portico by the door, waiting for the rain to let up, watching the chaos the downpour had created. Students raced across campus, books and backpacks tented over their heads. Several girls sought shelter in Anderson Hall, yelping and groaning as they wrung icy rainwater from their hair and clothing.
Natalie thought again of Sara, and waited for the familiar ache of sadness and regret to come over her. Perhaps they would have gone to different colleges, gone their separate ways by now, but she couldn’t help but think for a minute what fun it would have been to have Sara here on campus. Maybe even sharing a dorm room. Natalie and her roommate, Amy Stinson, got along fine, but Amy was no Sara Dever. No, there would never be another Sara. Never.
“Nattie! Hey!”
A familiar voice broke into her reverie, and she looked up to see Jon Dever standing in front of her, water dripping in rivulets down his face, off his nose.
“Jon! Oh, you’re soaked!”
“Tell me about it. And the sad thing is I’ve got the world’s best umbrella right here.” He grinned awkwardly, with that same twinge of sadness that Natalie had seen on his face before and patted the soggy knapsack slung over his shoulder. “I was halfway across campus and the sky just opened up. I was drenched before I could even say ‘umbrella.’ ” He slid the knapsack off his shoulder, unzipped it, and knelt down to rummage inside.
Nikki and Jon were still dating and as serious as ever. Of course Natalie knew Jon was here at K-State, but in the month since school started, this was the first time she had run into him. She felt suddenly uneasy, wishing she knew what to say to him to make things right. Nikki and Maribeth had both tried to make excuses for him, assuring Natalie that Jon would “come around.” But she wondered.
“Are you headed to class?” he asked, standing up with the umbrella in hand.
She nodded. “I’ve got a ten o’clock in Denison, but I refuse to arrive looking like”—she pointed at his wet attire—“like that.”
He gave a short laugh. “Well, hey, I’m heading that way. Would you … want to share an umbrella?” He pushed a button, and the canopy mushroomed, filling half the entryway.
She hesitated a moment, feeling a tug at her heartstrings. Jon still had a beloved place in her affections—maybe he always would—but at this moment it was more that he reminded her of Sara. How strange that Jon should appear just when she had been thinking of her friend. And with an umbrella, no less.
Deciding suddenly, she pulled her jacket tight around herself and ducked under the canopy beside him. “Let’s make a run for it.”
Without another word, he pushed open the heavy glass door, maneuvered the huge umbrella through the space, and took her arm. They ran, skipping over puddles on the sidewalk, heads together, trying to stay dry.
It was disconcerting being so close to him. Memories of her childhood crush fell with the rain. Natalie breathed in the citrus scent of his shampoo and felt a twinge of guilt at the thoughts that danced at the edge of her consciousness.
Jon delivered her to Denison Hall dry, save for her boots and the hem of her jeans. They stood under the awning that covered the walkway in front of the building that housed the English department.
“Well, thanks for the … rescue,” she said, feeling awkward and uncertain.
“Anytime,” he said. His smile seemed genuine.
Natalie surprised herself with her next words. “You know,” she said, pointing to his umbrella, “I always think of Sara when I see an umbrella. She would have loved that one.”
“It was hers, actually, Nattie.”
Was she imagining the hard edge to his voice? “Oh … it was?” Tears sprang to her eyes.
“Yeah.” He looked at the ground, and Natalie wasn’t sure if he was fighting the emotion of missing Sara, or if he was fighting feeling angry with her.
“I’m sorry, Jon. I’m so sorry.” She felt better just for having said the words.
Head still bent, he looked up at her through hooded eyes, holding out a hand as if to keep her at a distance. “I know. I know you are, Nattie.”
For an awkward minute they stood, not speaking. “Well, thanks again for the umbrella,” Natalie said finally. “I’ll probably see you around.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Jon had just turned to leave when Natalie spotted Evan Greenway coming out of the building.
“Hey, Nattie!” Evan shouted when he noticed her.
Jon heard Evan and turned around. Natalie didn’t miss his slight hesitation when he realized it was Evan Greenway who had called out her name. But Jon didn’t turn away. He came to meet Evan, putting out a hand. “Hey, man. How’s it going? I didn’t know you were up here at school.”
Watching them, Natalie could tell that Evan, too, was apprehensive about seeing Jon for the first time since Sara’s accident. But the two shook hands.
“It’s been awhile,” Jon said now. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since I graduated.”
“Yeah,” Evan said. “I heard you were up here, but you know how that goes. It’s a big campus. Natalie’s the only one from Bristol I’ve even crossed paths with yet.”
“I just ran into Nattie today for the first time too,” Jon told him. He turned to her. “So, you knew Evan was here?”
She felt her face flush. “Yes,” she told Jon. “We ran into each other, like, the third week of school.”
“ ‘Ran into’ being the operative words,” Evan told Jon, with a wry grin. “She practically killed me.”
Natalie laughed, but inside she cringed at Evan’s use of the word killed. Every word seemed ripe with double meaning.<
br />
But their conversation was polite enough. Natalie stood and listened while they caught up on each other’s lives.
After a while, Jon nodded toward Evan’s crutches. “So, how are you getting along?”
“I’m all right,” Evan told him. “I’m through with surgeries at least.”
“That’s good.” Tension filled the air again, and finally Jon looked at his watch and gave a low whistle. “I’ve really got to run,” he said. “But, hey, good seeing you guys.”
“You too,” Evan and Natalie said together.
When Jon had gone, Evan draped an arm casually around Natalie’s shoulders. “He’s a nice guy. I … I’m not sure I could have stood there and been so nice—to us.”
“I know,” she said.
“Speaking of which … I’d like to talk about that, Nattie …” He kicked at a leaf that the rain had plastered to the cement. “There’s something I need to get off my chest. Could you meet me at Derby for dinner tonight?”
She looked at him carefully, knowing her curiosity was emblazoned on her face. “Okay. Sure. What time?”
“Maybe six?
“So I’ll just meet you there?”
“Six o’clock.”
She nodded, and they hurried off to their separate classes.
She may as well have skipped her next class for all the attention she paid the lecture. She wondered what Evan wanted to talk to her about. She couldn’t imagine, but he’d seemed awfully nervous and uncertain. Perhaps it had to do with Jon.
Running into Jon like that, and being reminded of Sara and all that had happened, had certainly left her emotions in a knot. She wondered how many years would have to pass, how far from Bristol she’d have to go, before the reminders would stop catching her unawares. She wondered if anyone could ever truly forgive what she’d done.
Twenty–One
The cafeteria was crowded, and it took Natalie a few minutes to spot Evan. But there he was, leaning on his crutches, waving madly, flashing that charismatic smile—one she was quickly coming to adore. She snaked her way toward him through the crush of bodies.
“Hey, Nat,” he said when she was within hearing.
Sara was the only one who had ever called her that, but she liked Evan’s nickname for her and smiled when she heard it. He closed the short distance between them and gave her a quick hug. She was learning that Evan was a physical person. It had been disconcerting to her at first, always having him reach out for a hug or to throw an arm around her shoulder, but she had quickly become comfortable with it, realizing that it was simply his way of showing friendly affection.
“What’re they serving tonight?”
“Can’t you smell?”
She took a whiff. “Mmm, something Italian. Lasagna?”
“Spaghetti, I think,” he said.
They went through the line and found a table. Natalie tried to make conversation, but Evan seemed preoccupied. Her curiosity about what he wanted to talk to her about edged up a notch.
When they’d cleared their table and had started back toward the dorms, Evan turned to her. “Did you remember that I want to talk to you about something?”
She gave him a sidewise glance and nodded.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked. “I think Tom’s studying for a test tonight, so the dorm probably isn’t a good idea.”
“I’m not sure what Amy’s doing,” she said. “Do you want to go to the library?”
“Sure. That’d be good.”
They crossed campus and entered Hale Library. The massive facility was built in the gothic architectural style to match the original wing. Inside, they found a quiet spot in the first floor study hall. They claimed two overstuffed chairs flanking a low end table, then took off their jackets and piled them on a nearby table. Natalie slipped her boots off and curled up, stocking-footed, in the chair. Evan sat slumped in his chair, his hands tented in front of his face, one foot nervously tapping the carpet.
“Okay,” she said, trying to keep her tone light. “Out with it.”
He looked at her out of the corner of one eye, barely turning his head. “I don’t know where to begin.”
“At the beginning?”
He cleared his throat. “Man, Nattie. I’ve been trying to get up the nerve to talk to you for a week now. I … I don’t even know where the beginning is. Seeing Jon kind of brought everything crashing back.”
She waited, suddenly afraid of what he was going to say.
Evan scooted up in the chair, turned slightly toward her, and took a deep breath. Eyeing a couple of coeds engrossed in conversation at a table at the opposite end of the large room, he dropped his voice to a low whisper. “Nattie. I … want to talk about the wreck. About that night. I don’t know what you remember about … about the party …”
He waited, as though he hoped she would fill him in, but she wasn’t going to make it that easy.
“There’s something I need to get off my chest.” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “I know that I— I gave you something to drink that night. You might not remember … I mean, I hardly remembered it until recently. But Brian and I had bought a whole cooler full of stuff that night, and I was handing it out like candy at Halloween. I was so—” He stopped short, looked at the floor, and raked his fingers through his hair before he spoke again. “I was so glad to see you walk up that night. You don’t know how many times I’d fantasized about that—about you coming to one of the parties out there, and us, well, you know … being together. I wanted to impress you so badly. Anyway, I gave you a beer … maybe more than one, I honestly don’t remember—”
She reached out and put a hand gently on his arm. “Evan, I do remember that. But I’ve never blamed you. Not once. I mean, it’s not like you were forcing it down my throat. I could have said no. Sara managed to refuse you.”
He shook his head. “I guess I never thought about that. Man, I hate what I was back then, Nat. It’s just so weird. I thought I was so stinkin’ cool. I look back not even a year later now, and I wonder, what was I thinking? Where was my brain? You know?”
She nodded. Oh, how she knew. She’d asked herself those very questions again and again.
“I hope you know that I’ve changed since then, Nat.” His eyes had the hopeful shine of a puppy at the pound.
“Oh, Evan, of course I know that. Hey, you’re looking at someone who knows exactly what you’re talking about. I thought I was pretty cool that night too.” A lump lodged in her throat, and she bowed her head. “What I wouldn’t give for a do-over of that night.”
He nodded slowly. “I know. I’ve thought that myself … a thousand times. Still … I want to ask your forgiveness. For my own sake.” He looked at her now and leaned across the low table between them to take her hand. He sandwiched it between both of his, and a tiny shiver went up her spine. “Will you forgive me, Natalie? I’m so sorry for my part in the whole thing. Please forgive me.”
His voice was steady, and she had the impression that he had rehearsed his speech. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she swiped at them with the back of her free hand. His hands felt wonderfully warm, and his touch was excruciatingly tender.
“Of course I forgive you, Evan,” she whispered. “I’m just sorry it’s bothered you for so long. You should have said something long before this. There was no reason to … to … agonize over it all this time.”
“Oh, but there was.”
She met his gaze with knitted brows. “What do you mean?”
He sighed and brought her hand to his lips. “I probably don’t have to tell you that I’ve been crazy about you half my life.”
She smiled, but underneath, her mind was racing, scared to death that he was going to say something they’d both regret—like “marry me.”
He returned her smile and said, “I don’t want to rush you. Maybe we aren’t even—I don’t know—meant to be. But I couldn’t go one more step with you until I was sure that you knew the truth about my role in the acciden
t and until I knew that you would forgive me for it.”
She shifted in the chair. He let go of her hand, but she sensed his reluctance to do so.
“You know,” she said wryly. “It’s actually kind of nice to be on the other end of this forgiveness thing for a change.”
He smiled, and the sweetness in his expression emboldened her to try to explain to him how deep her guilt ran, how confused and alone she sometimes felt. It was after ten o’clock when they left the library. Evan walked her back to the dorm, and when he left her at the door, he gave her the usual hug. He didn’t try to kiss her, but she guessed that they both sensed something had changed tonight; and that first kiss wouldn’t be long coming now.
To her surprise, the thought made Natalie’s heart feel lighter.
Thanksgiving Day dawned cold and clear. Daria Hunter awakened with a light heart. For the first time in almost three months, her family was all together under one roof, Natalie sleeping in Nicole’s old bed in the room that Noelle now had to herself.
Though they’d talked on the phone often and exchanged e-mails several times a week since Natalie left for college, she had not been home until now. Cole and Daria were both elated by the changes they saw in their daughter.
“It’s like we have the old Nattie back,” Cole had whispered in Daria’s ear last night as she lay in his arms before they drifted off to sleep.
It was true. The bitter, wounded child who had lived in this house before had seemingly been replaced by a more mature version of the carefree little girl they cherished so much.
In the few short hours Natalie had been home, they’d heard the name Evan Greenway no less than a dozen times. Daria couldn’t help but wonder how much the boy had to do with Natalie’s newfound happiness. She prayed that it wasn’t merely a case of the wounded comforting the wounded. And yet, from the things Natalie said, it seemed that Evan Greenway had done some growing up himself in the months since the tragedy.
The anniversary of Sara’s death had passed quietly a few weeks ago. Daria wondered too if traversing that milestone had been a relief to Natalie. It had certainly been so for her and Cole.
After the Rains Page 18