“Thank you so much for putting up with my invasion. I know it wasn’t easy for you.” Calvin’s eyes locked with hers then, and she watched him swallow with unease. She wanted to reassure him that she’d always keep his secrets. “I promise, it will never happen again, and I swear, if you ever find yourself homeless, I’ll let you bunk with me.”
He blinked, and for a moment, Blythe saw deep affection in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but it was enough. She released him and watched him leave with their mother.
Nate hung back after she saw them off, and, once again, they were alone in her apartment. Blythe dreaded the conversation they needed to have. She took a deep breath and was about to dive in when he walked to the door.
“I’m gonna go, too,” he said, surprising her. “I don’t want to push my luck, and even though I’d really like to stay, I get the feeling you don’t want me to.”
Blythe shook her head before thinking better of it.
“It’s not that—” She bit off her own words. There was no easy way to explain that she wanted him to stay, but she couldn’t let him stay.
He watched her for a moment, a crimp in his brow signaling his confusion.
“Then what is it?” His voice dropped to almost a whisper, as soft as a caress against her skin.
Blythe cursed herself. She couldn’t tell him the truth. She could never tell him the truth. She knew how to live with her own guilt and disgust, but if Nate ever found out what she’d done, he would hate her. And she didn’t think she could live with that.
She pulled in a deep breath and took the coward’s way out.
“Some things happened after we broke up. They changed me…” Blythe chewed her lip at the license she took with the truth. “I’m not the person I was, and I can’t go back.”
Concern shone in Nate’s eyes.
“Wh-what happened?” He took a step towards her, and Blythe, fearing that his touch would undo her, stepped back.
“I can’t… I can’t talk about it.”
Nate froze, looking helpless.
“Okay… Sorry.”
You are a horrible, horrible person, Blythe Barnes.
“Please don’t apologize, Nate,” she begged. “You did nothing wrong.”
His eyes hardened, but he said nothing.
“It’s not your fault,” she continued, mustering her courage. “I just don’t think I can be that close to anyone again.”
Nate blinked in shock.
“Wait a minute…” He frowned again. “I ran into your mother a few months ago. She said you had a boyfriend in New Orleans. I don’t understand what you are saying.”
Panic flared.
“I can’t talk about i—”
“Was it him? Did he hurt you?” Nate’s frown became menacing. Blythe felt her eyes go wide.
“No! No! It’s not like that, Nate,” she said in a rush. “It was all my fault. All mine.”
He watched her again. Those brown eyes, full of torment seemed to see into her. His look of anger softened to worry, and he raised a hand toward her before stopping midway and running it through his hair in frustration.
“I don’t believe that,” he said gently.
“Wh-what don’t you believe?” Did he already know the truth? Could he look at her and see what she was hiding?
“I don’t believe that it was your fault — whatever it was.”
Right there at her new front door, the guilt she’d carried for six years turned wholly into shame. She was ashamed of what she had done. She was ashamed of why she had done it, and she was ashamed that she would never be able to tell him the truth. But, most of all, she was ashamed that, in his innocence, Nate Bradley still thought better of her.
Blythe couldn’t look him in the eye when she spoke.
“It was my fault. Trust me.”
But even as the words left her lips, she hated them. How could she ask him to trust her about anything? She was unworthy of his trust.
She felt his eyes on her for a long moment before she heard Nate draw in a deep breath.
“Blythe…”
She made herself look up, and she saw strength and resolve in his eyes.
“I can see that whatever this is hurts you, and I don’t want you to feel pain. So I’m going to go now, but you have to understand something.” His gaze sharpened on her, and she felt pinned by his look. “I’ve wanted you back since the day I stupidly sent you away, and seeing you again has made things very clear. I’ll wait as long as it takes, but I’m never giving up on you.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
NATE FORCED HIMSELF TO LEAVE BLYTHE’S apartment. Spending the day in her company, being able to let his eyes find her, talking to her and watching her smile had filled him up in a way he had not experienced in years.
But what he learned about her just before leaving threatened to drive him crazy.
Clearly, someone had hurt her. He didn’t know how, but he had his fears. If the cause wasn’t violence, why else would she say that she couldn’t be close to anyone again? Had a boyfriend struck her? Had someone raped her?
Nate jerked his mind from the thought.
The idea alone made his breath run short and his hands ball into fists. Nate had been in just two fights in high school, and he’d never thrown the first punch, but the thought of someone hurting Blythe made him thirst for revenge.
As he drove home, he felt the muscles in his shoulders bunch with tension. Was knowing what happened to her better than not knowing? If he’d never let her go back then, would she still have gotten hurt? Was he ultimately to blame?
Nate turned into his driveway to find Father Gabe’s car parked by Lila’s apartment steps. He headed up, trying to let some of his restlessness go, eager to seek some distraction from his troubling thoughts.
He could hear jazz even before he knocked on the door. Father Gabe answered, greeting him, and Nate entered to find Lila bent forward in her rocker, listening to a jazz version of The Beatles “Come Together.”
It was amazing.
“Who is that?” Nate whispered to Father Gabe.
“Wolff & Clark Expedition,” he answered, grinning. “I knew she’d love it. This is her third go.”
Nate suppressed a chuckle. Of course it was.
“How’s Blake?”
“What?” Nate shot a look at the old priest.
“Blythe,” Lila corrected from across the room, her eyes never leaving the speakers.
“Oh! Right. Blythe. How’s Blythe?” Father Gabe asked, his grin turning wolfish.
Nate raised a brow at him.
“She’s fine…? Why do you ask?” Nate had never mentioned her in front of Father Gabe, but it was clear now that the old man knew about her.
The priest’s smile grew.
“Lila was very excited when I got here. At first, I couldn’t tell what had gotten into her. I thought something was wrong until I asked where you were,” he said, his gravelly voice almost unintelligible over the jazz. “I had to ask a lot of questions, but I think I understand the history.”
“Is that so?” Nate looked from the priest to Lila and back. What the hell had she said?
“To hear her tell it, you’ve grieved for Blythe the way she’s grieved for Richland.”
Nate felt a stab in his chest, and he looked at his mother. Had Lila understood his loss the whole time? He’d never explained his decision to let Blythe go, but she missed little and, surely, she’d noticed his heartbreak.
Father Gabe’s smile softened to one of compassion.
“I knew you’d given up a lot in the beginning to take care of her,” he said. “I had no idea love was on that list.”
Nate shook his head.
“I shouldn’t have given her up. I should have fought to stay with her.”
The priest gave a sigh.
“Well, we’re all allowed one colossal mistake in youth,” he grumbled. “Count yourself lucky you’ve already made yours.”
Father Gabe motioned to
the kitchen.
“C’mon, the kettle’s still hot. Let’s have some tea, and you can tell me about her.”
“Come Together” ended, and instead of tapping the play button again, Lila allowed the CD to move to the next track. It was a speedy, frantic piece with the piano dominating the sound and high hat accenting the beat.
“Ah, perfect,” Father Gabe grumbled, taking down a cup and saucer from Lila’s cabinet. “This one’s called ‘What Is This Thing Called Love?’”
Nate had to admit that the song’s manic quality seemed to capture how he’d felt when he saw Blythe at the bus stop less than two weeks ago. It wasn’t something he’d care to listen to again and again. There was nothing soothing about the sound.
He sat down on one of Lila’s kitchen stools and told Father Gabe about Blythe. Ridiculously, he’d hoped that the older man would have some words of wisdom for him, but when he got to the part about Blythe’s distance and her reference to a painful event in her past, Father Gabe just grunted.
“Maybe it’s my fault that Blythe had to suffer,” Nate found himself admitting.
“Nate, we all have to suffer. It’s part of the plan,” Father Gabe offered with a shrug. “The question is what do we do with that suffering? How do we let it affect us? What do we make of it?”
A disappointed sigh escaped him. It didn’t go unnoticed.
“What? Were you expecting something more concrete?” The priest asked, throwing up his hands. “Yes, your choices led to her suffering? No, you can’t blame yourself for what may have happened? I could say those things, but would they really make you feel better?”
“I guess not.”
Nate drew in one deep breath and then another. At least he knew Father Gabe would never mince words. He could ask “what if” for the rest of his life. And he could punish himself for his mistakes forever, but wouldn’t it be better to make up for them instead?
He looked over at Lila, swaying to the music that asked about love. She had compared her loss to his own, but that wasn’t a fair comparison. Blythe was alive. Nate could still see her, talk to her. Make sense of their suffering.
If she had scars that kept her from trusting so easily, he would be gentle with them. Nate would show her that no matter what had happened to her, it didn’t change the fact that he wanted to be with her. He couldn’t come out and say it to her yet, but he’d loved her for six years. If anyone could love her past her pain, it was him. Of that he had no doubt.
Father Gabe rinsed out his teacup in the sink.
“I’ve got to be going — 6:30 mass at the hospital.” His eyes met Nate’s with a hint of mischief. “Wanna come?”
Nate huffed an ironic laugh.
“No. Thank. You.”
Father Gabe just chuckled.
“I’ll get you one day. You’ll see,” he promised, a gleam in his eye.
“Don’t hold your breath,” Nate muttered as he walked the old man to the door. Father Gabe turned to Lila, who was still riveted by the sounds coming from the speakers.
“Enjoy the CD, Lila. I’ll be back to see you soon.”
At this, to Nate’s surprise, Lila paused the music, rose from her rocker, and turned toward Father Gabe with her head bowed. She said nothing, but her intention was clear. Father Gabe’s smile broke free, and he looked happier than Nate had ever seen him.
“I’m glad you like it, Lila.”
Lila looked at the floor, but a gentle smile formed on her lips, and she nodded. Father Gabe nodded back, waved to Nate, and took his leave.
Lila remained where she stood, and Nate took the opportunity to step a little closer.
“It’s a pretty good CD,” he said. She nodded again.
“Did you have a good day?”
“Twelve new songs. Zero chamberbitter. Zero dollarweed. Zero goosegrass. Zero purple nutsedge,” she reported. Lila’s vegetable garden — like everything she touched — was well ordered and neat. It also produced buckets of crops.
“Zero? Lila, I’m impressed! That’s a lot of weeding.”
Her smile widened at his praise.
“How are your fall plants?”
“Six cauliflower. Six Swiss chard. Six kale. Twelve white onion. Twelve red onion. Twelve garlic.”
“Nice.” Nate said, enjoying her obvious pride.
She nodded and then surprised him.
“Blythe is a good woman.”
Nate’s breath caught.
“Yes,” he said, his voice just a whisper. “She certainly is.”
“You are a good man.”
“Thank you, Lila. That means a lot.”
“Blythe is sad.”
Nate shouldn’t have been surprised. She’d heard his whole conversation with Father Gabe, but it was rare that Lila talked about emotions. The fact that she commented at all meant that Blythe was still someone important in her life. Nate realized that his mother had missed nothing. None of his pining. None of his regret.
“Yes, she seems sad.”
Lila nodded.
“So you are sad.”
“Yes, I want her to be happy.”
“You made her happy.” At this, Lila turned and walked back to her stereo. She had nothing more to say, but she’d left Nate speechless.
He had made Blythe happy once. Could he do it again? Could he do it for the rest of his life?
He desperately wanted the chance.
“Goodnight, Lila.”
Nate left his mother’s apartment and crossed the driveway. He had his phone out before he unlocked his back door.
Saturday, Nov. 1 5:05 p.m.
I want to see you again. Will you come for dinner tomorrow night?
He wasn’t expecting an immediate response, so when the phone buzzed in his hand a second later, his heartbeat shot up.
Saturday, Nov. 1 5:05 p.m.
I can’t.
Nate stared at the two words and wondered what she wasn’t saying. He let himself flop into his recliner and tried out a few responses in his head before typing.
Saturday, Nov. 1 5:08 p.m.
You can’t? Or you don’t want to?
She took her time responding, and Nate made himself breathe. Would she come out and say it if she didn’t want to see him? He guessed she would, but she’d do it gently. He braced himself for the gentle brush-off. It was easy for him to believe she wouldn’t want anything to do with him. What did they have in common now? He’d never finished school. He’d never left Lafayette. In so many ways, he was the opposite of what she deserved. Still, somehow, he sensed that Blythe did want to see him — no matter what she said.
Saturday, Nov. 1 5:12 p.m.
I can’t see you. It’s too hard.
“Why?” Nate asked aloud, his voice echoing in the empty house. He guessed that whatever trauma she’d experienced was at least part of the reason, but her answer seemed to confirm his hopes. Blythe wanted to see him again, but she was conflicted. The knowledge spurred him on.
Saturday, Nov. 1 5:13 p.m.
What are you afraid of?
Nate was certain that — given a little time — he could reassure her. Was she afraid he would hurt her or abandon her again? That would never happen. And if she was still recovering from someone else’s abuse, he would promise to be careful, to take it slow.
Her answer stunned him.
Saturday, Nov. 1 5:14 p.m.
I’m afraid of disappointing you.
Nate was done texting. He tapped her contact and prayed she would answer.
“Nate—” she answered on a sigh, a pleading sound in her voice.
“You could never disappoint me.”
“Yes, I could,” she muttered, the words almost inaudible. She sounded miserable. Nate rose from his chair and paced the room, her discomfort twisting his gut.
“Blythe, there’s nothing in your past that would put me off. Whatever happened to you — whoever hurt you — I want to punish them, but it couldn’t make me want to walk away,” Nate said, desperate for her t
o understand. “That’s the last thing I want.”
“Nate… there’s no them. It was me.” Her voice strangled with emotion. “If you want to punish anyone, it’s me.”
His brows met in a frown.
“I’d never want to punish you. Why are you saying that?” Nate heard the muffled rush of her breath, the unmistakable sound of crying. He froze in his tracks. “Blythe?”
“I can’t see you because I’m ashamed,” she sobbed, breaking down completely. The sound seemed to reach into his chest wall and threaten pry it loose. He wanted to do anything to make her feel better.
“You’ve done nothing to be ashamed of. If someone hurt you—”
“No one hurt me, Nate! It was my fault. My decisions. I did this!”
He could picture her in her apartment, crying and alone, berating herself for something he couldn’t understand.
“Tell me what happened,” he said softly.
“I can’t… I can’t tell you. I’m a h-horrible person. You are better off without me.” Her breath shook with sobs. He felt sure that if he could just pull her against his chest and hold her, they could fix this.
“I’m coming over.”
“No!” She sounded panic. “No… you can’t.”
“But you’re upset.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, sniffing loudly. He heard her take three quick, deep breaths. “I’m j-just exhausted. It’ll p-pass.” She tried to sound convincing and composed, but her voice still broke over the words.
Why was she so upset? What could have happened that would cause her so much distress? He gladly abandoned the thought that someone had hurt her. But what could she have done to lead to so much regret? Nate had no idea.
Until he did.
Had she let herself do things with other people — other men — that she regretted? Things that she was ashamed of and feared he would judge? Nate thought back to the months after their breakup. If he’d had more time to himself, it would have been easy to try to erase Blythe’s memory with a string of meaningless nights. He’d thought about it more than once, but even when he went out with a crew, he could never bring himself to follow through.
Nate wasn’t especially proud of it, but two years ago he had spent a few months casually sleeping with a neighbor. Julia was thirty and recently divorced. She’d briefly taught journalism at UL and freelanced for The Huffington Post and BuzzFeed.
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