Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“When we make little sacrifices, we like to have them appreciated, at least.” ~Louisa May Alcott, Little Women
T he crafting Zen cocooned Nat. She sat, crossed-legged, in front of the coffee table, scrapbooking supplies sprawled over the surface. The rainbow bedazzled crafting kit sat beside her like a trusty sidekick on all her adventures. In so many ways, it was. It was with her each time the swirl of feelings and thoughts rippled through her like a frenzied storm.
She lost herself in it. The sound of paper being cut replaced the echoed voice of Mrs. Lewis’s the real Dr. Owens. The squish of cardstock placed on hot glue replaced LeAnne’s sigh of Thank goodness, Dr. Owens is back . The sensation of stray glitter clinging to her fingertips could not replace the truth.
I am not Dr. Owens.
Tears stung in her eyes. Even crafty time lacked the power to erase the truth. The attempt to blink away the tears failed. Each salty droplet taunted her.
“Hey.” Noah’s soft baritone filtered into the room.
Nat looked up. Through tear-fuzzed vision, she saw him standing at the open door, takeout from Daryl’s Pizzeria in hand, concern sketched on his face.
Placing the takeout on the desk by the front window, he moved to her. “What’s wrong?” He lowered, sitting next to her.
“I’m not Dr. Owens,” she whimpered, falling into his waiting arms.
She offered no words, just tears. Noah held her tight, rubbing soothing circles along her back. He offered no whispered commands to “Don’t cry” or “None of that.” Just like that morning at the park, he embraced her sadness. She buried herself in his open arms.
“I’m here.” He pressed a gentle kiss against her temple.
As her tears ceased, she remained nestled in his embrace. The quiet evening enveloped them, freeing her to let this go into its secret darkness. The sun that once streamed in from the open windows was swallowed by the velvet night. In the light, she’d smile, but here in the shadows of the dimly lit room and safety of his arms, she’d let the sadness out. If only for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Why?”
She sat up, dashing away the tears with her hands. “Ugh,” she groaned, pulling her hands away and noticing the pieces of glitter on her fingertips that were no doubt all over her face. “I’m a mess.”
Noah cupped her cheeks, and the warmth of his palms cascaded through her body. “You’re my beautiful mess. What happened?”
“They don’t take me seriously at the clinic…the patients…the staff. They always ask for my dad. When I give directions, the staff say, ‘Let me check with Dr. Owens’ because I’m not Dr. Owens…I’m just his daughter.”
“What do your parents say about it?”
Nat closed her eyes. “They’re part of the problem.” The quiet response was almost drowned out by the chorus of crickets chirping outside the open window.
It was the first time she said it out loud. In so many ways, her parents’ words and actions told her over and over again that she was just Natalie, their daughter, and not Dr. Nat Owens, their colleague.
“Have you talked to them?” His right hand moved to her hand, intertwining their fingers.
“No,” She sighed and looked away. “I don’t want to upset them. They’ve been through enough.”
Because of me. A hard lump choked in her throat.
Noah guided their threaded fingers to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “But what about you? You’re upset…you’re hurt.”
“I’ll get over it. It will be fine. It’s just a bad day. I’m fine.”
“You’ve had a lot of bad days since coming home,” he murmured.
Nat twisted her gaze to him.
That charming smile was fixed in a firm line. Those blue eyes were shaded with a blend of sadness and anger. Not at her but for her.
“Your brightness is too special to be darkened by anyone, even by yourself in an effort to spare the feelings of others. It’s like when Evan died. When your mom broke down at the calling hours, you stood beside your dad greeting mourners. At the funeral, when Clayton trembled in his chair about giving the eulogy, you turned to me and mouthed help him . After the funeral, when grieving friends and family left, you cleaned everything up. I remember sitting on the back porch trying to get a stone-faced Clayton to talk and watching you through the window. Everyone else broke, but you smiled. Even though your heart was broken, it was still big enough to take care of everyone else.”
“Noah…” she cleared her throat, not sure of what to say.
He reached for her, scooping her up into his lap and wrapping his arms around her. The gesture seemed a little for him as much as for her. As if they both needed the closeness. Like her bad day was his.
“I just want you to remember that it’s okay for that big heart of yours to take care of yourself, not just everyone else.” The pads of his fingers glided up and down her spine.
She leaned her head on his shoulder, soaking in his supportive strength. “Okay.”
She wanted to say so much but couldn’t. All the reasons stacked up inside her, trapping the words.
Instead, she asked, “Noah, can we have sex and eat pizza?”
An unexpected laugh fell out of him. “In which order?”
“Sex first, please.” Twisting on his lap, she straddled him, sealing their mouths together. She wanted to feel him…to feel them instead of the ache in her chest.