The Light Before Us

by Stephanie Vercier

  There is no hint of emotion when my father speaks again. “This feeling you have with him,” he says, nodding toward Jack, “It’s childish. You want to play house is all. He’s a widower who can’t get over his dead wife, a predator who preys on a trusted friend’s daughter. I’d expected much more of you, Jack.”

  Jack tenses, his grip on me tightening, but he says nothing.

  “I’ll ask you very politely to come with me,” my father continues. “We can fix all of this. Michael will have you back, even with what you’ve put him through. But he won’t forgive you forever. If you stay here, things will fail. And I won’t allow you to come running back home when it does.”

  “I won’t speak for you,” Jack says to me quietly, his embrace as firm as ever. “But I want you to stay.”

  “Thank you,” I say, allowing my smile to fall when I return my attention to my father. “You’re wrong about us,” I tell him. “I’m not going with you. I have a job here, and I’ve learned to support myself. I want you and Mom in my life, but—”

  “Just stop right there,” he says, putting his hand up. “You won’t have us in your life if you stay here, if you have this child. And if you think for one second you’ll be going back to Stanford on our dime, then you’re sorely mistaken.”

  “It will be on mine, then” Jack says, defiant.

  A sharp sound of disgust passes through my father’s lips as he shakes his head. I can see without him saying a word that he’s done here, done with me, done with his only daughter, his only child.

  As strange as it seems, I want to tell him I love him as he walks out the door without saying a word. I want him to turn on his heel and hug me, to tell me he couldn’t go another day or a week or a month without seeing my expressive eyes and that, upon second thought, he’ll accept my life choices because, at the end of the day, he loves me too damn much to do otherwise.

  But I let him leave without protest, only walking toward the door to watch him go. He is not the kind of father to easily forgive or to love regardless. He doesn’t see me for who I am, doesn’t see how following your heart doesn’t have to mean the end of the world—and maybe he never will.

  “I’m so, so sorry,” Jack tells me, joining me at the front door where I watch my father get into his car, slam his door shut, peel out of the driveway and speed down the road, disappearing into the trees. “This isn’t fair to you. Are you really sure you want to stay here with me, knowing it might forever destroy your relationship with your parents?”

  Jack’s expression is downcast, as if my father’s ultimatum might make me reconsider.

  “I’m right where I belong, Jack.” I slide my hands around his waist and ease my head against his chest, his heartbeat thrumming. “My father—maybe my mother too—doesn’t want to see that because it doesn’t follow their perfect trajectory… but it’s true.”

  He embraces me, bringing safety and warmth. Our child will feel that too. He or she will be loved completely and without condition.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  JACK

  Waking up with Natalie in my arms, her silky naked body against mine, is so very right. But our relationship is costing her. Lincoln and Sharla are wrong about us, wrong to think she should be with someone she doesn’t love. But as misguided as they are, they remain her parents. And I’m not sure how to feel about her potentially losing that connection, no matter how flawed.

  I hold her a while longer, dragging my fingers through her soft hair and reveling in her thick eyelashes and her upturned lips and the sprinkle of freckles over her nose. It’s a kind of torture slipping away from her without her waking up with me, without us doing what we do so well in the mornings. But she remains soundly asleep, and she needs the rest after yesterday’s confrontation.

  I pull on a pair of jeans, throw on a T and head downstairs. I brew some coffee and say a good morning to Blue who excitedly runs circles around my feet, brushing up against my legs and meowing loudly. I feed the little guy, get him fresh water, then fill my own mug with coffee. Sunshine beckons through the kitchen window, and I decide some fresh air would do me good. As I begin to make my way out the back, I stop at the counter where my wallet sits. Setting my mug down, I open it and pull out a small picture I keep inside. I slip it into my back pocket, then pick my mug back up and get on my way.

  It’s calm and peaceful here as always, the water lapping against the pilings of the dock I now find myself at the end of. Having slipped the photograph back out of my pocket, I hold it in front of me.

  “I’ve made a mess of things, haven’t I?” I say, looking at the photograph, Blue skittering around my feet. “I know in my heart I’m the right man for Natalie, but then why the hell can’t I find a way to make peace with her parents? Is she going to hate me one day for not being able to fix it?”

  My arm falls to my side, taking the picture with it. I won’t get a clear answer from the dead, but I’m hoping for some feeling or words of wisdom embedded in my memories of those who are now gone. I sit at the edge of the dock, pulling my pant legs up and dipping my bare feet in the water. Temperatures will rise into the 90s today, but the water remains cool, almost chilly. Blue flops himself down on the worn boards of the dock, his feet nearly touching me, his purrs loud and content as the sun warms his fur.

  “I miss sitting across from you,” I say, looking out across the surface of the sparkling blue lake water, a place as close to heaven as anyone might find. With my mug in one hand, the picture in the other, I no doubt look like a madman out here continuing to talk to what would seem like myself. But I’m still speaking to those who are gone, who I miss, and who I don’t only want to talk to while standing above their cemetery markers.

  “Talking to Blue?”

  I turn to see Natalie, and I’m startled by her sudden appearance. She must have tiptoed her way along the dock, and I didn’t even notice.

  She’s in a tank top and shorts, her hair shining more gold in the morning light. But it’s her eyes I’m drawn to, the windows to her soul.

  “I’m not sure Blue would understand me.” I scoot over, leaving some space between me and Blue. “Come here. Come sit down next to me.”

  Easily, she sits at my side, her feet disappearing under the water, the smell of her, the sight of her, every single thing about her enticing. I wrap my arm around her and breathe her in.

  “You really do miss her, don’t you?” She’s looking down at the photograph I still hold in my hand.

  “I miss both of them,” I say, just now realizing I’d inadvertently turned the picture onto its opposite side.

  Her eyes are quizzical. “Them?”

  “My parents,” I say, flipping the photo back over to reveal a portrait of my mother and father. Marjorie isn’t the only person I’ve lost. “I didn’t get to have the years I’d wanted with them. It seems like they’ve been gone forever, and I miss them.”

  “Oh.” She places her hand on my thigh. “I thought it was of Marjorie.”

  “Well, I do miss her too,” I say, keeping my voice light. “I always will. But I love you, Natalie, no less than her. You know that, don’t you?” I’ve asked the question before, and she’s always responded affirmatively, but there are times I can’t help checking to be sure.

  She nods. “I do, Jack.” After a quick look out over the lake, she asks, “May I see the picture?”

  I hand the worn copy over to her. “It was taken at Alki Beach about a year before my mom passed away. It was just the three of us there that day. It was a really long time ago.”

  “Your mother was beautiful,” she says, admiring the photograph. “And your father—he’s very handsome. No wonder you turned out so well.”

  Damn if she can’t still make me blush. “If you say so.”

  “I do.” She lifts her hand and drags her thumb along my jaw line, my nerves standing at full attention with her touch.

  “I’ll pay for your school, just like I’d promised. It won’t be a problem.”


  Me changing the subject seems to surprise her, but she still turns her lips up into a small smile. “Thank you, but I’ve already looked into scholarships and loans and maybe a work-study program.”

  “You won’t have to do that, Natalie. I have money. Even before the clinic, my parents had made some sound investments.”

  “Then we’ll keep it as a college fund for our child.” Her smile widens, and she places her hand over the one I’ve got looped around her.

  “We can do that too, but I don’t want you to struggle. It’s still Stanford you want, isn’t it?”

  She nods. “Yes, I’d like to finish there—I at least want to try. But I’d like not to have everything handed to me if I can help it.”

  I sigh, shaking my head, but how can I argue with her if that’s what she wants? “Will you want me there with you at least?”

  “Of course, Jack! I want you wherever I go. Will you be okay with leaving the cabin, though? You’ve talked about winter coming, about getting a new boat.”

  “We can always come back,” I say. “I just want to be sure you’ll have the experience you want, to spend time with friends, some freedom without me as your ball and chain?”

  She leans into me. “I can still see my friends with you there. And remember that I’m going to be pregnant through most of it, so it’s not like I’m going to be going out getting hammered.”

  I chuckle. “No. I guess you wouldn’t be. I just want to be sure you won’t end up resenting me.”

  I’ve probably made myself sound confused and faithless, but I do believe in she and I and our ability to make it. It’s just that there are so many little things that have the potential to pull us off track, and it’s easier just to set them out on the table and discuss them, to think about the decisions that need to be made now rather than leave them to the last minute.

  “I could never, Jack. Remember that I’m making my own choices now, and I choose you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Right back at you, babe.” I pull her in tight, wishing I could take a picture of her and I together here on the dock so that one day our kid could look at it, the way I’d looked at the photo of my parents, and see how in love we are.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  NATALIE

  Blue makes a run for the trees as Jack and I walk back toward the house, our hands clasped together. I think I like this view of the cabin even more than the front now that Jack has built the screened in back porch. It adds a new level of charm and coziness, the wood stained a rich honey color and adorned with ornamental touches that show Jack’s craftsmanship. And if he can sculpt a nose the way he can finish off a back porch, it’s not surprising he’d done so well at the clinic.

  I’ll be sad to leave it when it’s time to go back to school, sad to think we might have to leave Blue behind and in someone else’s care while I finish up my senior year.

  “What will we do about Blue?” I ask Jack once we’re inside, him setting his half empty coffee mug in the kitchen sink.

  “Well, we’ll figure something out. He survived on his own for a long time, but he’s gotten used to us and getting fed without having to work for it.”

  Leaning against the sink, I spot Blue’s black form jumping through a patch of long grass outside the kitchen window. He’s chasing a butterfly he has no hope of catching, and the scene brings a smile to my face. It also makes me wonder if I wouldn’t rather just stay here and give up on Stanford—in some ways, that would make things easier.

  “There are colleges here too,” I say, just as Jack comes up close behind me, his hands gently resting on my hips.

  He pushes closer, kissing my neck. “But you have your heart set on Stanford,” he whispers.

  “I have my heart set on you,” I reply, breathing him in and nearly losing my breath, nerves fluttering and my center warming.

  “God, I love you,” he growls, reaching around and undoing the button of my shorts and pulling them down right along with my panties.

  I rest the side of my head against his and bite my lip at the sound of his zipper coming down. “I love you—” With a firm grip on my hips, he enters me hard and fast. There, against the kitchen sink, Jack pummels his cock into me as I soak him with my rising pleasure.

  His breath is warm and fast, hitched against my neck, and I hold tight to the lip of the sink as the weight of him presses me into it. Pleasure hits me from behind in the form of Jack’s stiff, perfect cock, as well as in front as the counter’s edge rubs me just right.

  “Ohhh… Jack,” I moan, loving that he’s the only man that will ever truly feel me.

  “You’re fucking beautiful,” he gets out, gripping one of my breasts, holding and squeezing and toying with the engorged peak of my nipple. It’s yet another part of my body overcome with gratification, making me rise to my tip toes as the pressure builds within me, pressure that finally blows when Jack takes hold of my earlobe with his teeth and tugs.

  “Jack!” I cry out with all of the immense pleasure he’s brought me, my body convulsing from him before relief strikes me. I feel as light as a feather now, like I’m falling over a cascading waterfall and kissing every last drop of water on my journey downward.

  I’m experiencing this bliss when Jack comes hard into me, sliding his hand between my body and the kitchen sink, holding me completely in his grasp. When the last of his spasms has hit, he lets out a low grunt, then gently nudges me so that I turn around to face him, to look up and into those beautiful brown eyes of his.

  He smiles and then leans his forehead against mine. “That was amazing, babe. We could head upstairs… spend part of your day off in bed with me? If you want, I’ll even binge watch one of those shows you like as long as you give me a chance to talk you out of giving up on Stanford.”

  I ease out of his embrace, pull up my shorts and laugh. “Yes to spending half the day in bed with you, but why would you want to talk me out of that?”

  “Because you’ve always talked about finishing up there,” he says, pulling up his zipper and fastening the button of his jeans. “We’ll figure something out for Blue. Maybe Melissa and Barbara would be interested in hosting him until we’d get back.”

  I take his hand and lead him toward the stairs. “I don’t know. Melissa has her hands full, and I wouldn’t want to put that pressure on Barbara.”

  He follows along, and we climb the stairs together.

  “You’re having our baby,” he tells me once we reach the upper landing. “So, you should be able to go to the school you really want to go to, and I’m guessing there are great hospitals near Stanford, right?”

  “There are hospitals up here too, Jack, and I’d only be having a baby, not getting brain surgery.”

  Grabbing at my waist, he stops me just inside the bedroom. Turned to him, I look up to see his eyes serious, maybe even edging toward fearful. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. I want the best for you, Natalie, and complications still happen. Women still die in childbirth, and…” He sighs, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

  He’s afraid, afraid he might lose me like he did Marjorie who looked to be the picture of health until she’d gotten sick. It hurts my heart to imagine her fast decline. But his comparison of me to her, even inadvertent, brings a twist to my gut I don’t often feel. I’ve mostly come to accept that I’ll never be the only woman Jack will ever love, that he cannot love me more or less than his dead wife. But there are times when it still hurts a little, when I feel like her ghost remains a part of our life and is perhaps still making decisions for us.

  “There are no guarantees,” I say, putting the palm of my hand to his cheek, his eyes somber as they return my gaze. “But chances are that we’ll be okay, that tragedy won’t befall you more than once.”

  I’d love to be able to say there will never be anything to worry about, but I can’t make promises like that. Nobody can.

  “Sometimes I feel like you’re stronger than I am.” He lifts my hand and kisses it.
“I just can’t lose you. I can’t ever lose you.”

  I kiss him softly on the lips in return, and the two of us make our way to the bed. It’s there that we make love again, far more tender than when he’d taken me against the sink. I think he might have even cried—I know I did.

  We talk more about Stanford after we’ve finished, after we’ve brought our bodies and minds to that center of pleasure again. But we don’t come to any firm conclusions, and Jack eventually allows himself to fall asleep.

  I lie there with him for a while, just watching him and taking in his male beauty, probably just as afraid of losing him as he is of losing me.

  And something strikes me then, a memory of what my parents had said about Michael, that he’d been beside himself in losing me, that he’d take me back without question. I didn’t believe it then, and I don’t fully believe it now, but if there’s some small part of him that remains hurt at what I’d done, a part of him that was actually afraid of losing me, then I have to do something—I have to at least apologize and close that chapter of my life with him forever.

  With Jack still sound asleep, I head downstairs, take a shower and dress, then go in search of paper and a pen. A letter, instead of an email, feels more authentic and personal. And I do at least owe that for the years Michael and I spent together.

  As I begin, I think about how much I’d feared Michael would make me pay for what I’d done to him, but the small act of writing his name reminds me that, while controlling, I don’t ever remember him going out of his way to hurt me or escalate a disagreement into a fight. His blood may have been boiling over when he’d chased me down the freeway, but now that he’s had time to think about things, I’d bet he’s come to the same verdict that I have.

  No matter what my parents say, Michael must realize we are better parted than together.

  With paper spread out before me on the dinette, I write a sincere apology for agreeing to marry him and then walking out on our wedding day in front of our guests and family. I don’t fail to mention that I don’t believe he really ever loved me in the way you should love someone you are about to spend the rest of your life with, briefly mentioning the other women he’d spent his time with as a way to weigh that argument in my favor. With sincerity, I tell him that if I hurt him, then I’m sorry, and that I wish him the very best. Then, with the bulk of the letter finished, I begin to close with a sentence that reiterates we just wouldn’t have been happy together, that we would have made one another miserable and that we are better off in the long run.