by Karen Tuft
“There are a lot of good-paying jobs out there, you know, that don’t require a college education at all. You wouldn’t have to put yourself through all of this.”
“It’s more than a job. It’s more than a career, even. It’s a dream.” She looked up from the frying pan and gazed out the window, then glanced back at Tori before returning her attention to the eggs. “You know I gave up on my dreams a long time ago, Tor. But I want to get just one of them back, as well as take care of my kids.”
“Okay.” Tori sighed, picked up the university class schedule Natalie had left on the kitchen table, and flipped to the section with the heading “Majors.”
Natalie set the plate of buttered toast on the table with a clank, dropped a few more slices into the toaster, and went back to the stove. “Are you sure you don’t want any eggs?”
“I’m sure, but thanks.”
Natalie dumped the eggs onto a plate and sat down across from Tori. “What are some good-paying majors? I was hoping to take a few more classes to get a better feel for what I might be good at, but I don’t have that luxury now.”
“What about accounting? Or business?” Tori traced her finger down the page.
Natalie blew on her forkful of eggs. “I don’t think I’m very good with numbers. Wade used to say the only way I could balance a checkbook was if I put it on the bathroom scales.”
Tori picked up a piece of toast and slathered jam on it. “I don’t know, Nat. You were always better at math than I was. You could do it, despite what your lousy ex-husband says. Although, honestly, I’m not really sure accounting or business are exactly this dream you say you gave up on. What about art? That’s more like you than accounting is.”
“Art.” Natalie said around her mouthful of eggs. “The history, the self-expression. I would love to study art.” She moved to the fridge and got a carton of milk. “But the reality is, there are enough starving artists, and I need to keep food on the table, at the very least. I already spend too much time and money on my crazy projects.” The next two slices of toast popped, and Natalie buttered them and brought them to the table. ”Do you want some milk?”
“No, thanks.” Tori picked up her toast and took a bite. “But studying what you enjoy would seem more like this dream you’re talking about, if you ask me. And for you, that would be art.”
“Wade always said my art was a big waste of my time and his money. What do you think about nursing? There’s always a demand for nurses, and the pay is good.” She ran her fingers through her hair and slumped back into her chair.
“Nursing. That’s an honorable profession.”
“I heard a ‘but.’”
“You’re right. But,” Tori continued, “I can’t see you as a nurse. You’re caring and nurturing enough, but I think the facts and tables and memorization that you’d have to do would drive you crazy. You have a creative mind. You should find something that will allow you to use it. By the way, where did you go Friday night? Jim got home early from work, and since Sarah had gone to sleep, he said I should still come over and watch movies like we’d planned. I figured you’d be here, so I just drove over, but when I got here, no one answered.”
Natalie’s entire body instantly tensed. “I was at a football game.”
“You hate football. Ever since Buck—”
“I was with Ross McConnell.”
“Ross McConnell? As in scary, handsome, boss Ross McConnell?”
“As in Mr. McConnell, my former boss. At the end of the month.”
Tori leaned toward Natalie across the table. “Okay, I’m listening.”
“He just showed up at the door. I was talking to Dad on the phone; I thought it was you, so I yelled to come in—so he did. He was going to give me back the money I left; you know how I told you he paid me too much. Instead, for some reason, he invited me to go to his nephew’s football game.”
“Keep talking.”
Natalie rinsed her plate and dropped it into the dishwasher. “It started out fine. He was being nice. At the half, his sister came over to say hello, and we kept his little niece with us. I thought we were having a good time.” Natalie dried off her hands on a dish towel and dropped back into the chair. “Lexie is a darling; she reminds me of Em at that age. Then, all of a sudden, he got silent, wouldn’t speak to me. He’d mentioned he had plans for later, and I thought maybe he was angry that I’d let Lexie stay with us. Although it wasn’t really me who said Lexie could stay with us. I told him we could leave if he wanted. He hardly spoke the rest of the evening. Then on Saturday, I went to his house to return his dry cleaning. I went into his bedroom and”—Natalie flushed—“and caught him in only a towel.”
Tori coughed, obviously trying to cover her laughter. Natalie gritted her teeth. “What did you do?” Tori asked in between the coughs.
“I excused myself and tried to leave.”
“You tried to leave? Tried? You didn’t leave right away? Tell me, Nat, how does scary, handsome Ross McConnell look in a towel?”
Natalie’s flush deepened.
Tori grinned. “That good, huh?”
“Stop it! I told him I was sorry I’d intruded. He told me I always intrude.” She slapped both hands palm down on the table and rose. “Well, I didn’t mean to intrude. And I don’t plan to intrude again. I called his old housekeeper to tell her she could have her job back, but she didn’t pick up the phone. If Wade hadn’t—” She broke off, avoiding Tori’s eyes.
Tori froze. “If Wade hadn’t what? Natalie—”
She looked bleakly at Tori. All the years of pain, resignation, and failure flooded back. Natalie had earned a full university scholarship when she’d been a senior, despite everything she’d gone through with losing her mom the year before. She’d given it up to take care of her new baby. After Buck had walked out of her life, it had all fallen to her. She’d been a girl with the promise of a bright future in high school; now she was a woman with little hope. Even Tori, with her lackluster grades, had gone off to college and actually graduated.
“Nothing. Never mind.” What good would it do anybody to talk about Wade or what-ifs?
But Tori was persistent. “If Wade hadn’t what? You may as well tell me because I’m not going to let it drop.”
Natalie took a deep breath and spoke the words aloud for the first time. Somehow saying it made it too real. “He’s stopped supporting Ryan’s mission.”
“What? No way. He agreed to go halves with you on that. He promised.”
“Now he has other priorities.”
“It would kill Ryan if he knew. He loves Wade. Wade always acted like he cared for Ryan too.”
Natalie pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “I think Ryan saw enough toward the end that he wouldn’t be surprised. Still, it’s the kind of thing he doesn’t need to hear, not when he has more important things to occupy his time. So he won’t find out. Not from me.”
“You can’t afford to make up the difference.”
Natalie shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll only take one college class this semester. That will buy me a couple of months. By then, I’m sure I’ll have found a replacement for Mr. McConnell. It’ll all work out. The Lord will provide, right?”
“Absolutely. But seriously—couldn’t you just tell this McConnell guy you changed your mind?”
“No. He’s right. I do intrude, I guess. I do all the wrong things, make people upset.” Wade had said so on more occasions than Natalie could count.
“That’s not true.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter.” She dragged the catalog across the table and stared at the open page. “How far into a new career can I really get at one class a semester? Nursing it is for now. And it looks like I’m taking biology.” She slapped the catalog shut.
She wouldn’t let her dreams haunt her.
Chapter 15
“What do you think about Ashley?” Susan asked Ross on the phone.
Ross needed peace, and he needed it now. His caseload was d
emanding, and New York was on his back to make another visit. His mother was pressuring him to commit to more time with the family during the holidays.
Then there was the little business of a resignation letter from Natalie that made him want to throttle her.
“Ashley’s very nice,” he replied.
“She hits all the major points on your little checklist, doesn’t she?” Suzie’s voice sounded a bit too smug.
“I’m still getting to know her.” His secretary was supposed to have returned the Langley file to him. He thumbed through the files on his desk.
“You wanted someone college educated. Professional. Religious. Attractive. Bing, bing, bing, bing. And I know for a fact that she’s interested in you.”
“Ashley is very pretty and very successful.” At dinner, after listening to her valiantly pursue every conceivable topic of conversation, he’d realized he wasn’t interested. Nice, pretty girl, just not interested. He had made a meager attempt to contribute to the evening, doomed though he’d decided it was, by mentioning his collection of jazz and offering to loan her a couple. Big mistake. As a result, she’d shown up unexpectedly at his house to borrow a couple of CDs—at the worst moment possible, when he wasn’t there but Natalie was. After Natalie had driven away, he’d politely loaned Ashley the CDs, explained he had a meeting (with his elliptical machine, but she didn’t have to know that), and sent her on her way.
It bothered him that Natalie had been the one to greet her, especially when Ross had already decided he wasn’t interested in Ashley. It complicated things, not the least of which was that he was losing his housekeeper. Not that Natalie would ever admit to it, but Ross suspected the run-in with Ashley had been part of it.
“And . . . ?” Suzie asked.
“And?”
“Don’t you want to know what Ashley thinks of you?”
Nope. “Sure, Suz, why don’t you tell me?” He couldn’t see the Langley file in his inbox either.
“I should make you beg. I shouldn’t try so hard to find nice girls for you, but Mom worries about you so much, I have to do it.”
“Uh-huh.” Where is the Langley file? He searched through the stacks on his desk while his sister spouted at him.
“You’re such a brat, Ross. Anyway, Ashley said it’s been a long time since she went out with anybody who compares to you.”
Not on his desk. He opened his file drawer and thumbed through the folders there.
“She’s really interested, Ross, but she isn’t sure how you feel about her.”
He wandered over to his office door and mouthed “Langley” to Tina.
“She really appreciated you loaning her the CDs,” Suzie droned on. “She’s never liked jazz before and thought it meant something for you to trust her with them.”
He gave Tina a thumbs-up sign when she handed him the file. He went back to his desk.
“Well, did it?”
There was a lengthy pause as Ross tried to recollect what Suzie had been saying. Coming up blank, he opted for generic. “She’s very nice, Suz.”
He could hear her hiss of frustration. “That isn’t what I asked. Were you even listening? I asked if loaning Ashley the CDs meant that you, you know, are interested. In her.”
He knew he hadn’t been very attentive, but he’d still inferred enough to know that Suzie and Ashley had been discussing him like a couple of boy-crazy teens. And he didn’t much like the invasion of privacy he felt as a result.
“I said she’s nice, Suz. And that’s enough for now. If things work out, they’ll work out on their own at this point, without you running interference. She can even keep the CDs,” he added, “but that doesn’t mean I’ve decided to buy her a ring yet. Is that enough of an answer?”
“I told you how she feels about you, Ross. She thinks you’re amazing, the total package. She can’t help how she feels. You’re you, after all. You’re everything on your own checklist and more. But I know, as your sister, that your checklist also includes other things, and they aren’t all sterling. Sure, you’re handsome, smart, and successful. But you’re not very charitable these days. I would tell you that I think you’re only concerned with your own feelings, except lately, I find myself wondering if you even have feelings at all. You’re not the brother I remember.” There was a sadness in her voice that surprised him.
“I apologize for my less-than-attentive behavior. I’m swamped right at the moment, and I have a lot on my mind. I also recognize that those are excuses, not necessarily reasons. Forgive me?”
A pause. “Okay.” Suzie tended to react emotionally, but thankfully, she usually settled back down quickly afterward.
“I can’t make any guarantees with Ashley,” Ross warned her. “I won’t make any guarantees with Ashley.” He flipped to the last couple of pages in the Langley document and made sure the corrections he needed were there. “I appreciate your taking an interest in my eternal happiness”—he’d hoped to get a chuckle out of her but thought he heard her sigh instead—“so let’s let things play out naturally now, huh?” For him, that meant a natural death.
“I do want you to be happy, Ross. I’m not sure that you are. I’m not sure you have been for a long time.”
He wasn’t, not really, and particularly not at that moment. But she didn’t need to know that; it would only worry her and fortify her matchmaking resolve. “I am. Don’t worry.”
“I love you, you big lunkhead.”
“I know; me too. I have to go.”
“Okay. See you at Mom’s on Thanksgiving. Two o’clock, remember.”
“I’ll be there.” He ended the call and grabbed his coat. His conversation with Suzie was the final straw.
“I’ll be out of the office the rest of the day,” he said to Tina, his secretary. “If anybody needs me, tough.”
Peace. A moment of peace would help him find perspective. It would enable him to think clearly, define priorities. He’d always prided himself on his cool, objective nature. Maybe he’d been cool and objective only because he’d been in New York and a thousand miles from familial females. Being in close proximity to them seemed to have driven the word objectivity right out of his vocabulary. He knew he could deal with the demands of his work—from both locations. He could handle his mother just fine. He even understood her need to have all of her children together for the holidays—the first one without his father. But his personal life, time limited as it was, had become the focus of too much sisterly attention. And that personal life that had been so nicely contained for so long was suddenly becoming complicated. He needed to find his objectivity again, so this afternoon he was giving himself the time to find it. Time and peace. The place for peace was the temple, so that was where he was going.
It was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, and the afternoon traffic downtown was fairly light. He reasoned that it might mean fewer people in the temple than usual because they were busy with Thanksgiving and other holiday errands.
The fewer people the better. He was peopled out.
But when he got there, the Salt Lake Temple was humming with people. Ross still found plenty of time to sit quietly, undisturbed, and he was relieved. It took awhile to decompress from work. Now he could feel the serenity of the place seep into his bones. He breathed deeply and felt his tense muscles relax.
He needed more than peace from his time in the temple this afternoon. He needed to sort through his head and heart. The situation with Ashley wasn’t the issue, nor was his conversation on the phone with Suzie. Suzie had been right though. He had become uncharitable and unfeeling. His well-meaning family didn’t realize how monotonous it was to meet woman after woman, year after year, and question if any of them got past their own super-guy checklist to the real Ross. The human Ross.
Out of the corner of his eye a petite woman with blonde hair caught his eye. Was it Natalie? A second glance said no.
Natalie. What to do about Natalie Forrester? It bothered him that she hadn’t returned his call this week. It bo
thered him that he’d unthinkingly blurted out that she intruded. It bothered him that she did intrude. She intruded into his thoughts more and more frequently. It bothered him that she was divorced, that she had nearly grown children, that she’d never been to college. It bothered him even more that those things should matter. It also bothered him that she was a superb artist. That she had a collection of library books his college educated sisters wouldn’t glance at in a lifetime. It bothered him that she was poor but determined to be independent. That he wanted to punch her ex-husband in the face. That he itched to discover if her cheek was as soft as it looked, if her lips tasted as full and sweet as he imagined. That he wanted to know if he’d feel electricity again if he touched her. And that bothered him the most.
Was it asking too much to want the ideal? Was it too much to want a wife who belonged to him only, someone he wouldn’t have to share with some former spouse? Compete with memories of another man? To want a fresh innocent who would bear his children, his eternal family, all his own? Was it asking too much to search for a woman who matched him experience for experience? He was well known and respected, here, in New York, and in D.C. A man wanted a woman on his arm who would make a statement about him, someone his colleagues would recognize as an asset to the attorney, as well as to the man.
He settled deeper into his seat and attempted to shift his thoughts back to the proceedings. A professor had told him once that when you reached an obstacle in the creative process, it was best to shelve things for a while, whether it was for a few days or simply a few hours, and focus on something else. This advice had been a great resource to Ross as an attorney, allowing him to use his time and his mind in the most effective and efficient way possible. It relieved his conscious mind and allowed his unconscious mind opportunities to work on solutions of its own. Now Natalie was an obstacle, an obstruction to his clear, objective thinking. He would tune her out for a couple of hours.
He tried. He prided himself on his disciplined mind. But ironically, he found the temple wasn’t providing him the kind of peace he had expected. The words spoken, lessons learned within its holy walls, were about eternity and family and promises, poignant subjects that called to his heart. Eternity, as things stood right now, would be a long, empty void without someone who truly completed him, without children of his own. He’d felt a glimmer, the hope of completeness once, with Liz. He hadn’t felt anything close to it since. Maybe he hadn’t allowed himself to feel close to it. Since then, there had been no one, not a single woman who had sparked the desire of eternity in him. There’d been no motivation to take the risk again. Feeling his mood drop, he redoubled his concentration on the words he was hearing.