12. Natalie
Natalie
Igive her a nervous smile, but my lips pull up weakly on only one side. Her eyes dip to the cups in my hands.
“I, uh … I didn’t know what flavor you liked.” I feign confidence. “Or if you drink it hot or iced, but I—oof.” Juliet barrels into me, making the ice in the cups rattle.
Her arms reach around my shoulders, and she pulls me into a hug.
I’m shocked. My eyes, wide with surprise, brim with tears that pool on my lashes.
The condensation from the cups continues to drip from my hands, but I bring my arms around my older sister, holding the cold liquid away from her body as best I can while soaking in her warmth.
Jules is the same size as I remember her, but between my arms she doesn’t feel the same as she once did.
She’s broader in the shoulders, her hips a little wider.
Her hair smells like vanilla, and the light jeans and white V-neck T-shirt she’s wearing accentuate her curves.
Her body doesn’t feel like the sister I hugged years ago, but the warmth from her embrace sends me back to those tender sisterly moments we once shared.
“Are you really here?” she murmurs against my hair.
I nod, pressing my lips together. “It’s me. I’m here.” The words hardly make it out before Jules steps back, holding me in place to look at me.
Her long wavy brown hair is held back from the sides of her face by a large clip. I silently let her scan my face, my hair, my body, like she’s looking for signs of harm.
“I’m okay,” I say after a few seconds, “if that’s what you’re wondering.” I chuckle nervously.
Her brows pull together and she chews on her bottom lip, indicating that she’s struggling to process the current situation. She always did that as a kid, biting her lip when she was worried or simply immersed in her thoughts.
Maybe that’s where I picked up the habit.
“I can’t—I don’t—” She laughs at herself for her loss of words.
Attempting to squirm away from her scrutinizing gaze, I raise one of the coffees in the space beside us. “I brought you this. From Le Fou.”
She looks at the coffee and my wet hand dripping water on the stone pathway, and her brown eyes soften.
She nods. “That’s very kind. Thank you … Natalie.” She pauses right before saying my name, and that pang of worry throbs in my chest again. My name is an afterthought now. It’s like a bad word.
Jules takes the iced coffee from my hand and wipes some of the water away from the side of the cup. She turns toward her lovely house. “Would you like to come in?”
I nod eagerly. “Yeah. I would like that.” She smiles softly, but I can tell she’s unsure of something as her eyes remain guarded.
My sister leads me into the house, and I’m immediately met with sunshine from the back windows, which overlook the lake.
The living room spans out to my left, and I take in the large blue L-sectional couch before the fireplace, the fishing decor on the walls, and a big dog bed on the floor near the wooden coffee table.
Straight ahead from the front door is a staircase leading to the second floor, but I follow Jules as she walks through an archway to the right that leads through a dining room and opens up to the kitchen.
She grabs a paper towel from beside the sink and hands it to me before taking another and wiping the side of her wet cup.
She doesn’t taste the coffee, placing it on the countertop instead.
Then she crosses her arms and leans her hip back against the counter.
“So,” she says, “how are you?”
I twirl the straw in my coffee to have something to do with my hands. “Good. I’ve been busy. I live in Florida now.”
“I know.” Jules nods along like she’s heard it all before. She’s putting up her own emotional walls, and I can understand why.
I blink. “How did you know?” I ask.
Blocking my family’s phone numbers and changing all my social media accounts to keep them from changing my mind or dragging me home wasn’t my best choice. But it’s what I did.
She shrugs. “I found one of your new accounts online. I couldn’t see much because it was private, but the information I did see said something about Florida. That was a long time ago, though.” She puts her hands in her pockets.
My head nods slowly. In the silence that follows, I look around the kitchen, taking in the decor of my sister’s home.
In some ways it reminds me of our childhood home—the way Mom styled the kitchen with yellow walls and flowing white curtains over the sink window.
But it’s also completely Juliet. Photos of her with two kids and a man I assume is her husband spread from the kitchen wall into the attached dining room, and green plants drape down from shelves on every wall.
I point to the pictures. “Your kids are cute.”
And they are. They’re more than cute actually; they’re adorable.
Like, baby-model-on-a-magazine adorable.
I would trade my Max Mara Hodeida ribbed pointelle-knit wool and cashmere-blend sweater to take photos of them myself.
It looks like they could use an updated family portrait, judging by the way Juliet’s hair is at least seven inches shorter in the most recent photo.
She scans the hanging frames with a smile. “Yeah, they are. Thanks.”
There’s a wedding photo on the far end of the wall. A slightly younger Juliet in a white dress with a very tall brown-haired man in a suit. “How long have you been married?”
“Six years. We had our oldest son that same year and our youngest two years later. They’re six and four.”
My lips stretch into a small smile. I can’t help it—I have nephews.
“What’s your husband’s name?” I ask. I don’t want to come across as the crazy new aunt who just learned she has nephews, or seem too overhyped. But this is all new to me, and the tension in the room calls for tranquil stoicism. I’d even go with peaceful fortitude. Not crazy and overhyped.
“Cameron,” she says. “He was actually Tyler’s best friend when they were teens.” She watches me, her face showing no sign of what she’s thinking.
At first, the name doesn’t ring a bell. But once she mentioned Tyler, the name seemed to flip a switch in my memories. “Wait. Do you mean Cam, as in, the kid who helped you with math stuff?”
Her countenance relaxes into an easy smile. “That’s the one.”
“I thought he moved away,” I say, tilting my head and remembering how bummed Tyler was for months when he left.
She fidgets against the counter, crossing her arms again and looking over at the microwave, then back to me. “He did, but he moved back. He’s the math teacher at the high school.”
The high school, because every single student in Maple Lake goes to the same place: Maple Lake High. That’s how small this town is.
A welcome wave of relief runs through me. Maybe it’s because Jules is taken care of. Maybe it’s because she has the kind of life I want. I’m happy for her; it sounds like she’s doing extremely well.
“That’s great,” I say, smiling at her. I take a sip through my straw, the coffee now watery from the melted ice. “Did you graduate nursing school?” Juliet was in her second—or third—year of nursing school when I left.
“I did, and then I got my master’s. I work in cardiology. Mostly with kids.”
“That’s really great. And sweet that you’re with kids so much. I’m a little jealous. I’m not around kids very often, except one that I babysit for my best friend.” A nervous chuckle escapes my lips. “Anyway,” I say quickly, “I’d love to meet your kids. I guess I’m an aunt.”
Jules sighs, straightening as she lowers her arms to her sides. “Listen, Natalie. I’m glad to see you, but I’m not really sure why you’re here. Now, I mean, after all this time.”
Her words hang, heavy, between us.
“Oh … well …” I touch my empty ring finger out of habit. I left my wedding ring in my makeup bag to ward off any questions about Luke and my running away again. “I just wanted to come home. I wanted to see you, Tyler, and Mom and Dad.”
She lifts a brow. “Well, they’re not here. They all moved out of town. It’s only me left.”
Her previously relieved, if not cheerful, demeanor has slowly morphed to irritation, making my shoulders sag under the weight of all my fears. I knew it was too much to hope for forgiveness from my family. She’s mad.
My palm begins to sweat against the cool cup in my hand, and my cheeks flush with embarrassment. I shake my head and have trouble meeting my sister’s eyes, so I stare at the floor where her sneaker bounces with agitation.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” I say. “I’m sorry I left.”
“It’s not that you left, Natalie.” My name is spit out like it has a bad taste.
“It’s how you left. It’s that you didn’t give me a chance to say goodbye.
None of us got that.” She throws her hands up, her gaze sliding around the kitchen like she’s searching for her next words on the ceiling.
She looks me straight in the eye, and I meet her stare.
“Tyler and I were terrified that something bad happened to you. And Mom and Dad? They didn’t stop searching for you for months.
” I step back as if she punched me, my breath lost. “They called the cops. They asked everyone we knew if you’d said anything to them, anything that would give us an idea of where you went. ”
I say to the floor, “I was okay. I left a note.”
She scoffs. “A note. A note that said nothing but that you were leaving.” There’s a pause, and her voice is softer when she finally says, “Did you really hate it here that much?”
My eyes shoot up. “No. No, I didn’t hate it here. Not always, anyway.”
Her words are hard and cold now. “Then why would you run away?”
“Because … I … I fell in love.” My heart skips at the thought of Luke.
Jules’s eyes narrow, and her arms cross over her chest again. “So you ran away with him?”
I nod. “He was on a trip here with his parents and we just … had a connection. I didn’t want him to leave after their vacation and let him forget me. I was just a teenager, desperate to not lose the guy.”
She bites her lower lip. After a beat she says, “You didn’t think Mom and Dad would let you be with him, did you?”
“No.” I shake my head slowly. “They wouldn’t have understood. I can say that with all certainty because I hardly understood it myself. It was love, I know it was, but it was so fast. They wouldn’t have understood or listened to me.”
“What about his parents? Why didn’t they call us to explain? To say you were safe? Natalie, we were thinking the worst things.” Pain laces her voice, and she drops her eyes from mine for the first time.
The more I say, the more I fear she’ll hate me. I told so many lies to get where I am, but I don’t want to lie anymore.
“I told them my parents weren’t around,” I say. “I told them I needed them to take me to Florida so I could have a family. And Luke begged them to take me.”
“So you lied about having parents and got a new mom and dad?!” Jules’s hands fly to her head, running through her hair. Strands fall loose from the clip. She looks like she’s going to throw me out.
I take another step back. Not because I’m scared of what she’ll do, but because I’m readying myself to run. It’s what I’m good at.
Samantha and Mike, Luke’s parents, weren’t happy to learn a year after I left home that I still had parents in Maple Lake. They were angry and hurt by my lie, but they didn’t send me home.
“I’m not going to interfere with however you’ve handled leaving home,” Mike said. “But I want you to reach out to your parents and tell them you’re okay.”
I wasn’t okay, though. Not by a long shot.
I hadn’t been sleeping, I couldn’t go anywhere without always fearing I’d have a panic attack in public, and I had to start therapy.
No one but me and my therapist knew I had anxiety as a teen and that the severity of it stemmed from leaving home before I was truly ready.
But the Hamiltons paid for my doctor’s visits and let me stay with them in their beach house in Fort Lauderdale.
A year later, Luke and I got married and everything was almost perfect.
“I panicked!” I confess now. “I didn’t know what else to say to them when they looked at me like they wouldn’t take me with them. I needed to be with Luke.” I want to cry. “I couldn’t lose him,” I whisper.
Her chest moves up and down heavily with her breaths, but Jules calms herself, setting her shoulders back. “So where is he now, this Luke guy?”
“He’s in Florida.”
She raises a questioning brow. “And? Are you two still together?” I pretend not to notice when her eyes dart down to my hand, looking for a wedding band.
I really don’t want to get into the drama about Luke while navigating this mountain of historical wrongs I’ve committed against my sister, so I answer her question with very little detail. Short and to the point.
“Yes, we’re together, but I’m visiting alone.” Hopefully the answer is straightforward enough to keep her from asking more about our relationship at the moment.
She looks toward the microwave again, and I realize now that she’s checking the time. Before I can say another word, she says, “Cam will be back with the boys soon. But I don’t want you to be here when they get home.”
I know I should understand the boundary she’s setting, but it hurts all the same. She doesn’t trust me. She doesn’t know me. That’s clear by the fact that she doesn’t want me to meet her kids—or that she doesn’t want them to meet me.
So I just nod, complacent with fulfilling her wishes. “I understand. I’ll leave. I just wanted to see you before I chickened out.” I attempt a laugh to lighten the mood, but her face remains flat.
My lips twitch into an uncomfortable smile. “It was really good to see you. I’m happy you’ve made such a great life here.” I gesture toward the photo wall and all the smiling faces of her new family, pushing down all emotions that might lead to tears.
I lower my head and walk back toward the front door, passing the dining room archway and the staircase, and taking one last glance toward the lake view out the back windows.
Just as I open the front door, Jules calls my name. I turn to her with one hand on the doorknob. A warm breeze enters the house and hits my back. It’s a calming caress that cools my cheeks and sends me back to happy summer days lying on the Kittappy River beach with Jules.
She appears around the corner and smiles weakly at me. The smile is still wary, but I feel her trying to make this goodbye better than the one we never had in case she doesn’t see me again. “I’ll tell Mom and Dad you’re here.”
My smile is tight, and I wish I could just make everything go back to normal, back to a time when my family didn’t mistrust me.
“Thanks,” I say. “I wrote my number on your coffee cup.” I shrug. “In case you didn’t let me in, and I had to leave it on the doorstep.”
We nod awkwardly at one another like we’ve just completed a business transaction, and I leave.