Chapter Six
Once the initial fight-or-flight response settled in Norah, and she felt like they had the best chance at coming out of a somewhat iffy situation unscathed, reality tunneled its way in.
She was alone—like Cast Away, Lost, Into the Wild—alone with Chase.
Norah was relatively confident her body would be safe, but her heart? She wasn’t totally sold on that one.
More to occupy herself than because it was actually cold out, Norah searched the back of the jeep, where she knew at least two scratchy, green, army-issue blankets were tucked away beside the spare tire.
So much for avoiding the past, she thought.
There it was, splayed out in front of them like the black horizon, looming, inescapable.
When Norah returned to the driver’s seat, Chase had turned the key halfway in the ignition, the radio playing some crunchy country station at low volume.
“We should probably leave the car off,” Norah said.
Chase shrugged. “We aren’t going anywhere anyway. Am I right? Might as well enjoy a little Conway Twitty, or whoever the hell this is, while we wait.”
She had a point. “I’m shocked it still turns on at all. But couldn’t you have found something a little less, I don’t know, twangy? This is making my ears bleed.”
Chase laughed. “It’s Southern Louisiana. Your choices are Rush Limbaugh or Conway Twitty.”
“Right. Twitty it is.” Norah smiled, a part of her feeling like she was bracing for battle. She didn’t want to be the one to broach the past. She didn’t feel like it was her job anymore—not after what Chase had done.
A long silence passed between them. Chase, who’d popped the seat back and was stretched out with her hands behind her head, sat up sharply and began rummaging through the glove compartment.
“What are you doing?” Norah asked.
“You said there was beef jerky in here. I’m hungry.”
Norah shook her head and grinned. A minute later, Chase victoriously emerged from the glove box, not with a pack of dried beef, but with a bottle of some kind of clear liquid.
“Jackpot.” Her smile took over her entire face as she cracked open what Norah decided was some kind of vodka.
“You’re going to drink that?”
“Why not? We can’t go anywhere. We don’t have Wi-Fi or even a cell signal. It’s not like we could be on the clock even if we wanted to.” Again, Chase had a point.
She took a quick swig and pushed the bottle toward Norah.
Norah hesitated. She wasn’t a big drinker anyway, save for the occasional social glass of wine.
Something about drinking hard liquor in an army jeep felt wrong.
And something about drinking hard liquor in an army jeep stranded in the middle of the swamp with Chase felt especially wrong.
But they likely weren’t going anywhere for the night.
And a little liquid courage was sure to help deal with any upcoming scuffle with the past. Norah accepted the bottle from Chase and took a slightly smaller sip, the warmth biting its way down her throat and into her chest. She felt her face contort into a pucker, and Chase laughed heartily.
“Atta girl,” Chase said, slugging her on the shoulder.
They passed the bottle back and forth several more times, listening to the twangs of Glen Campbell and Dolly Parton.
Norah’s vision was becoming swimmy, which was pleasantly disorienting in the expansive blackness.
It had rained earlier, and the cloud cover was still too heavy to allow any stars to poke through.
Both she and Chase were accustomed to the glow of the Atlanta skyline.
This must be where the phrase “quiet as a country night” came from.
“Okay. I’m just going to say it. And please, I’m begging you to let me.
” Chase, who’d been beating Norah on at least a two-to-one vodka-slugging ratio, was slurring her words slightly, and her voice was husky with intensity.
Norah watched Chase’s hands claw at her knees, her gaze fixed on the nothingness in front of them, preparing for the somethingness that was about to come.
Chase sat up, angling her broad shoulders toward Norah and hitting the knob on the radio, leaving them in ear-piercing silence. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, then opened them again, widely, the intensity in her facial expression only building.
“I’m sorry, Norah.”
“Chase. We don’t have to do this.” Norah knew they did, but the words came out almost on autopilot after so many days of repeating them.
“Yes, we do. So please, let me explain. Fifteen years ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life. Or mistakes, actually. When Davey died, I should have been there for you. I spent so much time needing you, being cared for by you, and being loved by you. And when you needed me the most, I was gone.”
Norah already felt the tears building behind her puffy lids and was more grateful for the facade of darkness than ever. She didn’t answer, knowing full well that Chase had more to say. Presumably, a lot more.
“When I heard about Davey, I ran away. I can’t really tell you why, other than I’m fucking terrible at handling conflict.
Or, I was. I’ve spent a lot of time in therapy since then, figuring that out.
I just knew I wouldn’t be able to be what you needed.
And, honestly, I was afraid of making things worse for you. You were so torn up—”
“Don’t turn this around on me,” Norah snapped.
It wasn’t fair. Chase was doing her best.
“I’m not. I’m sorry. What I meant was, you needed someone strong and fearless.
A rock. And I chickened out. I couldn’t handle seeing the impenetrable fortress that is Norah George Bishop fall.
It’s no excuse. I have no excuse. Believe me, I’ve spent the last decade trying to figure out why I ran away—why I took the easy way out.
And all I keep coming back to is that I was a coward. ”
Norah fully expected to be perturbed by Chase’s words.
But the sincerity behind them was heartbreaking, and she knew how hard it was for Chase to admit she was wrong.
Norah had been waiting forever for an apology like this from Chase.
Over the years, that fantasy had shifted more from pitiful groveling to a kind, selfless plea for forgiveness.
This was much more the latter, and the layer of anger Norah had been cloaked in for so long seemed to begin its long thaw.
“You were a coward. And you did run out on me when I needed you the most. You didn’t even come to Davey’s memorial.”
Now Chase’s eyes filled with tears, spilling out onto her khaki shorts in a way Norah had not allowed herself.
Even in the poorly lit jeep, Norah could see this.
Chase sniffled a little, and not in the dramatic way that children sniffle when they want their parents to see they’re pouting. It wasn’t easy for Chase to cry.
“I know. And I regret that absence every fucking day.”
Norah turned to look out the window, the memory of her last night with Chase billowing into her brain like smoke, and she couldn’t make it stop.
Chase hadn’t been there when Norah came home that night.
Davey’s service was scheduled for two days later, and she still had a million things to do to get ready—confirm with the florist, make arrangements with the funeral home, be sure the military guard knew the when and where.
Overwhelmed wasn’t the half of it. She was beside herself, and having to make endless phone calls about yellow versus white flowers and which kind of cold cuts to serve at the reception, all between explosive bursts of crying she thought might kill her too, seemed undoable.
She counted down the minutes until Chase would be home to ease some of what felt like her spiral into the depths of hell.
But Chase didn’t come home. At least, not until 11:34 p.m. that night.
A sharp-as-day image of the time on the microwave clock was forever etched in Norah’s brain.
“Where have you been?” Norah asked, her tone not accusatory, just sad.
Chase didn’t answer right away. She dropped her bag by the door and walked straight to the fridge, where she fished out a bottle of beer and a brick of cheddar cheese.
Every day for the last two years, they had kissed each other hello.
Today, of all days, should not have been the time that ritual ceased.
“Out.” Chase cut into the cheese and ate several pieces, followed by a long guzzling of the beer.
“That’s it? Out? I needed you here today. I’ve spent nearly the whole day on the phone trying to get things perfect for Davey’s service. It’s been…awful.”
Norah felt herself begin to cry again, the ever-familiar waterworks just waiting to restart.
Chase’s face pinched in pain, and Norah knew that no matter how cold she was being, Chase still cared about the torture she was enduring.
But for the life of her, Norah couldn’t imagine what was wrong with her.
“Look. I’m going to head to my parents’ for a week or two. I need to clear my head. I’m sorry I won’t be at the service.”
Norah’s head spun in what she swore must have been full circles.
Nothing in the present moment made any sense.
This was the woman she’d spent every day with for nearly two years.
Her best friend. The love of her life. And she was just leaving?
Norah was so baffled, she couldn’t find words.
Not one. Not even “fuck you.” Or “go to hell.” Or “I love you.” She could say literally nothing.
And by the time she began to form any version of a coherent thought again, Chase had finished chugging the beer and was gone again.