Chapter 23 Four Years Post-Graduation
Four Years Post-Graduation
She’d just finished the bar exam when she got the call. Her back spasmed and her shoulder, a stubborn vexation from an old injury, had locked up after two six-hour days of test taking. She answered outside beneath the July sun, trollies rolling by while she worked the kinks out of her neck.
“She said yes!” Mick shouted through the phone.
Kate’s mouth fell. She’d known the proposal was approaching, but forgot the exact date in the swirl of graduation and studying for the bar. Knowing Mick, she hadn’t mentioned it for that very reason.
“Congratulations! I’m so happy for you, Mick,” Kate said. “I can’t believe one of us is getting married.”
“Well, one of us technically already has. I’ll just be the first to have a big, gay wedding.”
Not long after graduation, Jill got pregnant with the surprise she deemed her national championship baby, conceived the night after they raised the trophy.
Rather than wait, she and Dylan legalized their union at the courthouse, wearing flower crowns in front of two random witnesses.
They welcomed the newest member of the ferocious fivesome seven months later. A fire-haired Juniper Faye Farrelly.
“So, what’s next? What do you need me to do?” Kate asked.
“Well, I think Haley already has half of it planned. We’ll probably set the date for next spring. But I’m getting the band back together for this one.” Mick laughed nervously, and Kate stiffened. “I need all of you up there with me. You, my sister, Shupe, T.K…. and uh, Cruz.”
“Right.” Kate squeezed her eyes shut at the name. “Of course. Just let me know what you need. We’re here for you, Mick, and I’m so honored.”
“Oh, don’t be honored. I just need you to make sure that the bachelorette is a full-blown, near-death experience.”
“I’ll talk to T.K.”
“This is why I love you,” Mick said.
“Love you too.”
“Okay, I got to go. Cruz is calling me back.”
Kate hissed as the line went dead. She couldn’t blame Mick for wanting Abby in her wedding. They were friends. Of course, that’s what stung. While Kate hadn’t heard from Abby, everyone else had.
Four years ago, when her letter didn’t prompt a reply, Kate considered sending another or asking Isla for a new address.
She pathetically believed Abby wasn’t responding because she hadn’t received it.
But then a few months later, Mick let it slip that she’d heard from her over Christmas.
She provided sparse details, like Kate might snap or jump on the next plane if she revealed too much.
Kate feigned indifference, but the small updates hurt. Abby called and visited Mick regularly, flew in for Juniper’s first birthday when Kate couldn’t, and partied with T.K. in Los Angeles. It infuriated her. Abby only appeared whenever Kate was too busy, ensuring they never crossed paths.
For that first year, as Abby returned to everyone except her, Kate held out hope.
Maybe she hadn’t gotten the letter. Maybe she thought Kate wanted nothing to do with her.
She didn’t follow her on social media and didn’t get her new phone number from Mick or Jill.
But she also didn’t let herself move on.
She didn’t date her first two years at Berkeley. She buried herself in school, determined to join the law review, to get the best internships, using every test and assignment to block Abby out.
Until she met Ryan.
She’d never noticed him in their class of three hundred, not that she truly noticed anyone. A few cute girls maybe, a desire she was too scared to pursue again, but no one of the opposite sex. She laughably decided if being an attorney didn’t work out, she’d join a nunnery.
They met at the law school welcome-back BBQ to start their third year.
The gathering was one of Kate’s favorites since it included an annual slow pitch softball tournament.
After her performance the first year and word spreading of her national championship ring, teams fought over her.
The Bad News Barristers drafted her first, while Ryan got picked last by the Master Debaters.
Kate noticed him because he wore a glove that must have been twenty years old, fidgeted uneasily at second base, and had a weak arm during warm-ups. So, on the first pitch, she drilled a shot at him on purpose. It hit him square in the face and he dropped like a sack of bricks.
She didn’t bother to run to first, and instead sprinted straight for him, as everyone gasped in horror. Ryan held his nose while Kate hovered above. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
“They put me at second base because no one was supposed to hit it that hard at me.” His blood-stained hand stifled a chuckle.
“Sorry. You were an easy target.”
“And I thought you were brutal in mock court, Kate Hutchins.” He accepted her hand, and she helped him up. Kate cringed at not knowing his name. His hazel eyes sparkled with amusement despite his likely broken nose. “This will be a funny story to tell our kids at least.”
Kate laughed. “Wow, this is when you decide to make your move?”
“You’re right. I’m definitely concussed.” He grinned and Kate smiled back. “I’m Ryan Eckhardt. We’re in like every class together.”
“Yeah, right, I know you.”
Ryan grinned again, unbothered despite the blood on his lips, inspiring a lightness that Kate missed.
While he left the field, their classmates fussing over him, Kate returned to playing.
He cheered for her from the stands, an ice pack held to his face, and when the game ended, she brought him a beer.
“A peace offering?” Ryan asked.
“I just don’t want you to sue me,” Kate said. “Not that you’d have much of a case with assumption of risk.”
“Ah, but I think this might fall under intentional acts,” Ryan said. “What with you going after the weak kid and all.”
“Right, the jury’s definitely going to believe a six-foot-two giant is an easy athletic target.”
“I’ll see you in court.” Ryan winked.
After that, Kate couldn’t help but notice him.
They talked before and after class. Ryan’s background eerily mirrored hers.
He’d grown up in a large Mormon family on a farm in Idaho.
When he got into Dartmouth, rather than being proud, his parents condemned him for not completing his mission trip to Brazil.
He compounded their disappointment when a few terms in New England made him a liberal sympathizer and led him to Berkeley.
Kate admired that he hadn’t turned on religion afterward, but rediscovered it. He’d had his heart broken too, lost his virginity, and battled the same demons as Kate. He was the first person she felt she could talk about it with.
“I’ve spent the last year convinced the pain was a punishment from God for my transgressions,” she said on one of their walks along the beach. Seagulls scampered about their feet and the waves washed away their footsteps.
“God’s not vengeful, and the pain is just part of it. It means you really loved someone. There’s nothing wrong with that,” he said.
“You can’t be sure though.”
“No, I am.” Ryan grinned sheepishly as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Even the bad parts are within His plan.”
Ryan took her to church. Not the church of her youth or his, with its stiff pews and pulpit.
Hundreds of people attended on Sunday, met by jovial greeters and free lattes in the coffee shop.
The sanctuary resembled an amphitheater with its massive stage, jumbotrons, and speakers.
Kate found it more concert than liturgy, with a band that dressed like discount folk artists, pounding drums and riffing guitars.
The congregation raised hands, sang along with the lyrics on the screens, and swayed for their catchy ballads about Jesus with the fervor one might find at a music festival.
She couldn’t help but snort during the first song.
“What?” Ryan asked.
Kate shook her head. “Nothing.”
It took her a while to accept it as church.
Probably because it felt easier than what she knew before.
No end of days, no guilt, no God glaring down at her.
With its flashy colors, its simple, feel-good sermons, and the smiling faces, she lost herself in the crowd and felt lighter when she left, like she’d done her job.
She was still a Christian. She was still faithful.
Even if she chose the trendier, more palatable option.
Even if she didn’t feel it in her chest. This was right.
And Ryan was right along with it. He believed, raised his hands in praise, helped her not dread Sundays, and like her, made a pact with God—despite reneging on his purity, he committed to waiting for marriage until the next time as a born-again virgin.
Church became a regular occurrence, followed by studying together, coffee and lunches, beach walks, and football games. They became friends. Kate emphasized only friendship, and Ryan respected her boundaries. Until finally, she didn’t want him to.
She confided in Mick, who encouraged her to go for it. In fact, Mick relentlessly insisted she get back out there, which unsettled her. She assumed it meant Abby was doing just that. But she couldn’t. Not until she knew for sure.
She met Mick in Portland over winter break, where she was teaching history and coaching softball at her old high school. They grabbed drinks at a sports bar downtown, Kate strategically ordering more rounds, until she had Mick exactly where she wanted her.
“I need you to tell me the truth,” she said.
Mick gulped and slammed down her beer. “Oh God, about what?”
“Did she get the letter or not?”
Mick groaned. “You promised you wouldn’t put me in the middle.”
“And I haven’t, but I need this. I can’t move on until I know.” Kate frowned. “It’s like I’m standing still, waiting. I mean, isn’t that pathetic? I’m still waiting for her.”
“She got it.” Mick buried her head in her hands. “Why do you guys make me do this?”
Her entire body went rigid. “She got it?”
“Yeah.”
“What did she say about it?”