by Jen Doyle
Curious, Nate leaned forward in order to see who the new arrivals were: Claudia, Christopher, Seamus and Mrs. Donelli.
Well...shit.
The irony of it was almost enough to bring a smile to his face. Almost. They were here because of him. Because he’d told them about tonight when they’d been in Boston—Dorie hadn’t, as crazy as that had seemed to him. But he’d known how important it was to Dorie and he’d done everything possible to make sure her family knew it, too.
But their being here meant that he wouldn’t have this one last night with Dorie. This one last night to make his point—thoroughly—that this didn’t have to end.
Jamming his hands in his pockets, Nate was glad as hell he’d spent years perfecting his game face.
“I understand that some of Dorie’s family members have just arrived from Boston,” his mother was saying with a smile. “Welcome. I’m so pleased that you’ve joined us.” Taking in the rest of the crowd, she continued, “As you all know, the library has unfortunately fallen into a bit of disrepair over the past few years. For a place that means as much as it does to us, we just haven’t been able to give it the love it deserves. And when Aunt Laura came to me and said that we’d need to shake things up a little, my original idea was that we might have to look as far as Ames, maybe even Des Moines.” There was a ripple of laughter. “Imagine our surprise when this came in the mail.” She held up a piece of paper and then turned to Dorie and smiled. “Yes, dear, I’m afraid I’m about to embarrass you a little bit.”
Leaning back against the wall, Nate could see the deep breath Dorie took in before throwing an apologetic glance his way. That was interesting. Brave, actually, especially as she probably had no idea that his mother would never do anything of the embarrassing sort. Still, Dorie straightened her shoulders and glared at him when he smiled and turned his full attention to what his mother was saying.
“‘Your community has meant so much to so many people,’” his mother began reading. “‘I can’t even begin to explain what it meant to us halfway across the country watching five boys our own age take hold of a nation. Through teamwork and dedication and plain old hard work, they ignited a fire inside of us—inside of a thirteen-year-old me—and showed us that even if everything you’d known lay in ruins around you, or if you’d never quite built up anything beyond that foundation to begin with, that it didn’t matter.’”
Nate could feel Wash shifting uncomfortably next to him. It was always odd to hear about those years from someone else’s perspective, even when they had something nice to say. But hearing Dorie’s words from months ago—from before they’d met—just made it sink in even further. She got that it was about the five of them, about what they’d done together. About taking that fire and making it work for you. For something good. Which may have been why the only thing that had bothered him about that shrine of hers was how many pictures of Deke had been included in it. There was something about her that ran deeper; he might not have been able to put words to it so quickly, but he’d known it from practically the moment he saw her. Once she’d put some clothes on, at least.
“‘Because a dream doesn’t need walls or a pretty coat of paint. It needs the barest of foundations, a friend (or four), and a spark just strong enough to ignite the flame.’” His mother looked up, gave Nate a hard stare for whatever reason, then smiled as she started reading again. “‘I know that most people wouldn’t compare the story of The Iowa Dream to a now thirty-year-old girl’s love of libraries. But I’m not most people. If it was The Dream that ignited the fire inside of me, it was my library that fanned the flames. The stories there showed me how to lay that foundation and how to build those walls. The stories there inspired me, and it’s where I learned to dream.’”
Another look as his mother flipped over the page before continuing, “‘I realize that you may not have expected any applications from Boston, and I’m sorry to say that, despite my affinity for all members of The Dream, I am—and always will be—a Red Sox fan through and through.’”
That statement got some loud laughs, and there was more than one person who turned back to look at Nate. “Sorry, buddy,” one guy called out. “You can’t get all the girls,” said another.
Right. Hell. It took everything Nate had to give the easy smile that was expected when all he really wanted to do was pick Dorie up and carry her out of there. He wrapped his arms around his chest and jammed his hands into his armpits so hard it actually hurt. Wash looked at him curiously; Nate didn’t look back.
He did look directly at his mother who could, unfortunately, read every emotion playing over his face. Having been the mayor for thirteen years, she took it in and moved on. “‘But I’ve been carrying a piece of your town inside me for so long that it already feels like home.’”
His mother folded up the paper, her eyes surveying the crowd as she gave a knowing smile. “It’s hard for us to let someone in from the outside. I know that’s not something we generally say out loud. I certainly don’t.” She laughed along with everyone else. “But we’ve all been through a lot together. Some horrendously awful times followed by some truly wonderful ones.” With tears in her eyes, she looked over at Nate, her gaze taking in Wash, Deke and Jason next to him, before turning her attention back to the crowd.
“You know, when Nate decided to move forward with baseball, I asked him why he chose that over basketball as so many of us had expected.”
And now it was Nate’s turn to be surprised. Though he knew exactly what conversation she was talking about, he wasn’t entirely sure what it had to do with tonight.
“What he told me has stayed with me since then.” Her smile grew warmer. “He said that playing basketball could never be as good as it was when he was playing it with Wash, Deke, Jason and Cal. That it could never be as good as it was when he played it here, with us. Because they were his brothers; because we are his family. And because he couldn’t imagine anyone ever understanding that what happened here had nothing to do with a game. That it truly was a dream.”
This time Wash didn’t just shift beside him, the man actually straightened up and whipped his head around as he muttered, “You never told me that.” Deke and Jason seemed equally stunned, which Nate supposed shouldn’t come as a surprise. His mother was the only person he’d ever given a straight answer to for that question because she, unlike the rest of the world, had actually wanted to understand rather than talk him out of it as if he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life.
As if.
By the ripe old age of twenty-one, he’d already watched his house blow down around him as he huddled in the basement with Ella and Wash. As he’d spent that harrowing hour praying everyone else he loved was okay.
He’d learned the truth about his father, whom he’d thought was long gone, only to find that the man had been living three towns over with his replacement wife and daughter.
He’d struggled with the idea of Fitz and with his own reaction to her; had somehow made it to the other side of that, finally becoming the brother she deserved.
And when the scouts came calling and the offers had been made, he knew that the only thing that had kept him going through that horrific time had been his family and friends. The idea of playing basketball without his brothers—with Wash on an opposing team—hadn’t appealed even a little bit. So he’d gone the baseball route. He’d been handed more money than he’d ever seen—and that was after the Iowa Dream book and movie deals—to hit a ball with a stick and make a career out of it.
Choosing baseball over basketball was the biggest mistake he’d ever made?
It was laughable. With a shrug, Nate turned to Wash. The truth of the matter was, “You never asked.”
After a few seconds Wash just smiled. “It was magic, my brother. You don’t talk about that kind of shit or else it goes away.”
That made Nate laugh and sh
ake his head. Magic. This was starting to sound like a Jules conversation. “Yeah.”
Placing the folded-up piece of paper in her pocket, his mother took off her reading glasses. This time she directed her smile at Dorie. “The first time I read what Dorie wrote I was reminded of that conversation with Nate all those years ago. To be honest, it’s the first time anyone from the outside has ever come close to capturing what those of us who have been through it all together know to be true. But not only did she capture it with what she wrote, tonight she’s truly captured it in spirit.”
She turned back to the crowd and gestured to the oversize photographs hanging on the walls around them. “When I walked in and saw these pictures I was also reminded that, for too long, now, we’ve defined ourselves by what happened seventeen years ago, both the bad and the good. Although anyone who was at the high school watching the boys play a couple of weeks ago doesn’t need to reach for a distant memory to bring back the good, if you happened to have been at Deacon’s later that night to watch our newest citizen run them to the ground—” She gave a wicked grin as everyone laughed, the “boys” standing next to Nate included, “Then I’m sure you’ll agree that we have more good things ahead of us. It’s time to start dreaming again.”
There was a moment of silence as her words were absorbed. And then the entire room burst into applause as Fitz nudged Dorie forward, right up to where his mother was standing and saying, “And since she’s proven so well that she’s not an outsider so much as one of our own who just happened to have been born and raised halfway across the country, we have a small token of our affection.” At her nod, Tuck came forward and held up an Inspiration High basketball jersey for everyone to see. Although the applause grew even louder, it was clear that Dorie had no idea why until he turned and showed her the name on the back: Donelli.
“Wear it proudly, Dorie,” his mother said. “No matter where you go from here, you’re one of us.”
It wasn’t until that moment that Nate turned back to look at Dorie and realized she had tears running down her face; hell if his own cheeks weren’t a little wet. As the applause became deafening as the crowd signaled its approval, Fitz nudged her the rest of the way forward, right up to the front.
Dorie’s hands shook a little as she took the jersey from Tuck and stared down at it. She looked up at where her family was standing, no doubt beaming with pride. Her gaze turned to Ella and Jules, both of whom were shouting her name and yelling over the rest of the crowd, then to Wash and Deke and Jason, all roaring their approval. She was getting the Inspiration home crowd welcome. Nothing like it on earth.
Then her eyes connected with Nate’s and it was like everything else faded away. She seemed so small and vulnerable while, somehow at the same time, fierce and strong and larger-than-life. As though she’d found her rightful place without even realizing it and was there to claim it, not about to let anything stand in her way. She was the most beautiful woman Nate had ever seen. She was the one. There would never be anyone else for him.
Except then her eyes clouded over and she looked down, and, right there in that moment, he knew that she was done, that he’d gone down swinging. No matter how hard he’d tried to convince her otherwise, tonight she’d be telling him goodbye.
She wiped the tears away from her face and looked up again, this time careful not to look his way. As she appeared to be realizing at the same time Nate was, the noise had died down and everyone was waiting expectantly for her to give some kind of response.
“I, um...” She shook her head as though she was shaking out cobwebs. With a self-conscious smile, she said, “Mama Gin, I’m sorry to break this to you, but that wasn’t just a few words.”
That got the biggest laugh of the night so far, although her cheeks flushed enough for Nate to be pretty sure she hadn’t intended it as a joke at all. And other than her, there were only two other people not laughing—Nate, because hearing the words Mama Gin come out of her mouth had just cut him to the quick, and his mother, who hadn’t been offended by any means, but who had looked up at Nate. He saw on her face the moment the final pieces fell into place as she figured it out.
He’d avoided this conversation for weeks, having already invested too much into what he’d hoped was happening but not wanting to speak the words out loud. And now, here it was crashing and burning, and he was going to have to have it anyway. Absolutely fucking perfect.
Unaware of what was happening between Nate and his mother, Dorie shook her head again. “Sorry. I’m...I’m honored. Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”
“That’s a first, Luce,” Seamus yelled out, which got another laugh from the crowd.
With a glare at him, Dorie looked down at the jersey, her eyes sadder than anything he’d ever seen.
And it pissed Nate off. There was no reason she should be sad. No reason at all. She was the one who’d set a deadline, right? She was the one who had gotten everything she’d wanted. And the worst part was? She’d been entirely up-front that what she wanted wasn’t him.
Clearly working hard at fighting off a new rush of tears, Dorie squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Then she opened them up and pasted a huge smile on her face. “In that case, then, come dream with me. We have a lot more stories to write togeth—” She cut herself off as emotion took over her voice. Biting her lip again, she took a deep breath in through her nose and then exhaled. “Together.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dorie smiled and hugged her way through the next few hours, so close to a breakdown that she didn’t allow herself to stop moving for even just a second. But the feeling of emptiness grew inside her, seeping through her veins and clawing at her gut.
She watched as Seamus and Christopher greeted Nate as an old friend. By the end of the night, in fact, when just about everyone else had gone home, it was as though his family—Wash, Deke, Jason and Tuck included, of course—and her family had been friends forever.
She had put up her boundaries order to protect herself from this very thing, yet her family had slipped into his world as easily as she had. She was overwhelmed with emotion, not sure if she was angry—at him? At herself?—or just sad. Bone-deep sad. It was killing her.
This day—no, these entire three weeks—had been magic. But it had worked because they didn’t need to fit their lives together, diamond-encrusted square pegs into your run-of-the-mill holes. Here, in their little honeymoon period of infatuation, they were great. The second it moved into long-term, though... They just didn’t mix.
Why was it that he refused to see that?
“Dorie,” Mayor Gin said when Dorie returned from escorting the last of the guests out the door, “you’ve done an amazing job tonight. Why don’t you leave the rest of the cleanup to us so you can spend some time with your visitors?”
She shook her head. “I should be saying the same to you. And Mr. and Mrs. Grimes, you’ve put in way too much time today—you should be the ones going home. I can finish this up on my own.”
Meaning with Nate, of course. She needed to see this through. Needed to get it over with before she gave in to the fantasy and gave up everything else.
“That’s crazy,” Fitz said. “With all of us here, this will be done in no time.”
Which it was. All too soon, everything was cleaned up, packed away, all ready to greet the crowds Dorie hoped to see the next day.
“So, honey,” her mom said as she was getting on her coat. “Point us to the closest motel and we’ll see you as soon as you open up in the morning.”
“You don’t have rooms reserved?” Jules asked sharply, though not unkindly. “There’s a big basketball game in Ames tonight. I’m sorry to say, there probably isn’t a room around for miles.”
As everyone was bending over backward to offer her family a place to stay, Dorie brushed aside her sinking feeling and said, “Don’t be ridiculous.
Mom and Claudia can stay in my bed. Shay, Christopher and I can camp out in the living room just like old times.” Though she deliberately didn’t look at Nate, she could feel tension running through him.
Or maybe she was imagining it. When he spoke from beside her, his voice was as easy and friendly as always. “My car’s right outside. Between Wash and me, we can get you all over there with no problem.”
Good-nights were said, hugs and smiles were given, and before she knew it, Dorie was sitting next to Claudia in the backseat of the car while Nate gave her mother the history of just about every building they passed. It was all too much. Dorie avoided Claudia’s questioning look and stared out the window instead.
Thank God Wash was there, too, because focusing on him was the only way she could get through getting her family into her apartment and settled. And when he looked from her to Nate, saying that it was time for him to head back home, Dorie gratefully followed him out the door and closed it quickly behind her so that she didn’t have to hear Nate say goodbye.
“Nice job, librarian,” he said with a smile. “Best thing we’ve done in years was to steal you away from Boston.”
Considering that was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to her, the proper thing was most definitely not to burst into tears. But that’s exactly what she did, which prompted him to pull her into a hug. “It’s okay, D. Whatever it is, it’ll be okay. You just call us and—”
She felt him stiffen before she heard the click of the door as, presumably, Nate came out into the hallway and closed it behind him.
Wash pulled her in tighter. “Just call us. We’re here for you.”
Although she kept her back to Nate as Wash went to him, she heard him clap Nate on the back and tell him, “Same with you, my friend. Don’t be a stranger.”