10. Nate #2
Rory loves her friends. She’ll listen to them to some extent, depending on the situation, but she’s nothing if not independent and, occasionally, stubborn.
Honestly, who are we kidding? Rory is one of the most stubborn people I know.
If she’s not on board with an idea, no amount of pleading by any of her friends will convince her. It’s one of the things about her that manages to enthrall me and irritate me in equal measure.
Her family, though, holds more sway, even if Rory would hate to have that pointed out. She trusts their opinions.
I eye the house again from my patrol car.
Some may argue that this isn’t the best use of the taxpayers’ money, that I should be solving crimes instead of driving around town and convincing people to help me win over a girl.
But this is High Lonesome, which means that real crimes, in general, are far and few between, and it’s one of the reasons I love this small town. Most of the calls we get are about lost cats and missing packages and grumpy old men who just want to involve a third party in their drama.
Some cops yearn for the drama and shoot-outs of the big city, but me? Give me Bob and Lionel fighting over their lawns any day.
Besides the low likelihood of me being called at any given moment, the size of High Lonesome is another benefit.
If a call does come in, I can respond just as easily from anywhere in town as I can from the station.
Plus, if I wasn’t driving around town, I’d be sitting in the workroom at the station and playing cards with Jake while we wait for a call. I may as well use my time to do some good, even if it’s self-serving.
“Wish me luck, Ollie.”
He settles on the seat in the back of the SUV.
I’ll leave him in the car for now. He’s used to that with a lot of calls where I don’t need his help. The cruiser is climate controlled to allow him to stay behind when needed, and it’s not like I’ll be gone long.
Probably. Depending on how this conversation goes.
Rory should be at her job at the barn right now, given that it’s the middle of a weekday. If she’s here for some reason, this whole thing will sink faster than a brick.
Based on our interaction at High Times, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t let me through the front door.
Killing the motor, I push open the door and step out of the car.
A couple of shadows have passed in front of the picture window in the minute or so that I’ve parked here, enough for me to know that someone is home.
I take a deep breath and start up the walkway. This has to work.
The WELCOME mat is tilted slightly. I use the toe of my boot to move it back into place before I raise my hand to knock.
The rap of my knuckles against the wooden door seems too official, almost, but the doorbell is broken. I’ve had it on my list of things to fix for a few weeks.
The fact that I haven’t gotten around to it yet feels like a strike against me. Just another thing to add to the list of ways I’ve failed Rory.
Before the melancholy can take over, though, I straighten my shoulders. I’m going to fix this. I’m going to be there for her.
And by God, I’m going to get around to fixing this doorbell, once things are better between me and my girl.
Footsteps approach, and the door cracks open an inch.
“Nate. What are you doing here?” Rory’s dad, peers through the crack, eyeing me with suspicion.
“Good afternoon, sir. I wanted to speak with you and Mrs. Kelley.” I take a deep breath.
Don’t blow this, Nate.
“About Rory,” I add, for full transparency.
Jim studies me for a moment, but ultimately pulls the door open wide, allowing me entry.
Momentary relief washes over me. If nothing else, he’s willing to hear me out.
I’ll take it.
He clears his throat as I step over the threshold. “Well, come on in. Tell us your side of things.”
“So that’s what I know,” I conclude, looking between Mr. and Mrs. Kelley from my spot on the couch. “I don’t know who told her or what they said, but she believes that I manipulated the situation somehow, that I messed things up in her other relationships.”
The two of them exchange a glance. They’ve let me tell my side of things without interruption, only sharing looks from time to time.
I clasp my hands in front of me, squeezing hard enough that a few of my fingers turn white.
I need them to believe me.
“But I never forced anything. I promise. I just… I couldn’t forget about her, even when she broke up with me. I needed to make sure she was okay.”
Mrs. Kelley–Cathy–tilts her head to the side. Her lips twitch, and while it’s not quite a smile, it gives me the sense that she’s giving me the benefit of the doubt.
I push a hand through my hair as I attempt to atone for every sin over the past decade.
“It’s dishonest, I know, to follow her on social media without telling her it was me.
I should have been honest, made sure she knew who was following her on social media.
I regret that. I really do. But I swear I never interfered in her life. I’d never do that to her.”
Mr. and Mrs. Kelley look at one another again, a silent conversation taking place right in front of me.
I remember them doing that back when we were in high school. It seemed, back then, to be the ultimate in relationship goals. To be able to understand your significant other without the need for words.
Or maybe it’s the ability to communicate, regardless of what that looks like.
Hell, I’m no relationship expert. If I was, I wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.
I take in the living room as I twist my fingers in my lap, waiting for their response.
Even with everything that’s different since then, not much has changed in this house.
The couch that I’m sitting on has been replaced since we were in high school, now a deep gray rather than the plaid.
The armchairs are unchanged, the lived-in and well-loved La-Z-Boy recliners.
The same striped wallpaper, the same mountain landscapes framed on the wall.
I study every detail, clasping and unclasping my hands as I wait for them to say something.
The silence stretches on for hours.
Okay, maybe not hours, but more than ten seconds, but it feels like an eternity, especially when you’ve just put yourself out there, laying everything bare the way I just did.
Finally, Mrs. Kelley gives her husband a short nod.
Hope rises in my chest.
Please.
Jim tilts his head. “You sure?”
I hold my breath while I wait.
Mrs. Kelley doesn’t say anything, but her husband must read the answer in her eyes, because he nods.
“Okay, then.”
I hold my breath.
Jim shifts his gaze to me, scooting forward to the very edge of his recliner, like he’s about to share a secret.
“Nate, we like you. We’ve always liked you and thought that you and Rory were good together.
But I have to tell you, she seemed devastated when she came over here from your house, and it hasn’t gotten any better. ”
My heart sinks.
“However,” he says, and I look up as a single thread of hope pierces through me. “There are some other circumstances you should know about. Things that might help you understand what Rory is going through.”
My heart beats faster in my chest as my gaze moves from Mr. Kelley to his wife and back again, finally settling on Cathy.
She gives me a thin smile. “I have cancer.”
The word hits me square in the chest.
I thought my heart had already bottomed out, that the grief over Rory was as bad as it could get, but this news somehow makes my heart fall even lower, practically to the depths of despair.
I know exactly how it feels to have a parent diagnosed with cancer. And Rory’s been going through that alone?
“Is it…serious?” I ask.
That may be too invasive to ask, but I need to know.
When my dad got diagnosed with cancer, it was advanced. They tried to treat it—surgery, chemo, radiation—but in the end, there wasn’t anything that could stop it.
I study Cathy’s face, the new revelation coloring how I see her.
Her jaw is more angular, her cheeks more sunken. Now that I know about her cancer, it makes sense.
She’s lost weight, her normally slender figure now overly thin. Her skin is a sallow, sickly color.
Mrs. Kelley nods. “I’m afraid so.” She coughs, holding a hand delicately in front of her mouth. “The doctors don’t think there’s much they can do, and what they can offer doesn’t seem like a great option.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
I’m not sure what else to add in this situation.
Everything with me and Rory suddenly seems so small, so inconsequential compared to this news.
I swallow hard. “I understand that she’ll need to focus on that. I can respect that.”
But Mrs. Kelley shakes her head, the strongest movement I’ve seen since I arrived at their house.
“No, Nate. I don’t want you to back off.
” She shifts on the couch, wincing. “The last few months since Rory’s been back home in HiLo, this is the happiest I’ve seen her in years.
Maybe ever. You’re good for her, Nate. And if I only have days or weeks or months left with my baby girl, all I want is to see her happy. ”
Mr. Kelley reaches over and clasps her hand in both of his. The look they share is one of true love—respect, admiration, caring.
It’s how I look at Rory. How I want her to look at me again.
Jim clears his throat. “I’ll do anything I can to make my wife happy. And if seeing Rory happy with you is what will do that?” He gives his wife a kiss on the cheek. “Go get our girl, Nate. We’ll do anything we can to help.”
When I leave that evening, I’m feeling lighter. More hopeful. Like I have a chance to make this right. Between Stacey, Allie, and Rory’s parents, I’ve gotten most of the support I need to put this plan into action.
Now I just need Dylan on my side.