13. Natalie
Natalie
That night, I rest my head on the downy pillow at the bed-and-breakfast with my phone to my ear. The line rings and rings but there is no answer. I hang up with a sigh.
I need to talk with Emma about seeing Jules today, but she’s probably putting Ceecee to bed.
It’s close to eight o’clock, and I’m mentally drained from the encounter with Juliet.
With all the emotions and thoughts swirling around in my head, I could use someone who can see it from a third perspective.
Someone who isn’t a part of the drama, but can see the things I can’t from the outside looking in.
Besides Emma, Luke has always been that person for me. My fingers twitch, pulling me toward his contact icon.
I could call him. Maybe it would be okay, just this once. He knows I’m going through a lot right now.
Just as I’m about to press call, I change my mind and click on message instead, trying to honor the boundaries I’ve set for us.
Me: I saw my sister today. The rest of my family moved away.
His reply isn’t immediate, but within five minutes my phone lights up.
Luke: I’m sorry you couldn’t see them all. How did your meeting go with her?
Me: Like any meeting. It was very … proper for lack of a better word.
Luke: What do you mean by proper?
Me: She was so closed off. I don’t understand. I expected her to be angry. Thought maybe she’d yell at me or something, but she seemed distant. She didn’t want me to meet her kids.
Luke: I’m sure she’s just trying to figure out how she feels. You left so suddenly, and I know she had to have missed you all these years. And going back was a big surprise.
Me: Yeah, you’re probably right. We didn’t make a plan to talk again, but she said she’d tell my parents I’m here. Do you think that means she wants me to stay?
Luke: I don’t know. Did you tell her how long you’ll be in town?
This question from Luke is one that works double duty. If I told Jules how long I’m staying, then Luke will learn how long I’ll be gone, giving him hope of me going back to Florida.
Me: I didn’t say. I’m not really sure how long I’ll be here.
Luke: If I was selfless I’d say take as long as you need. But I’m struggling over here without you.
There are three dots blinking below his message. Then another text pops up.
Luke: Remember when we went to Texas and bought that camera to take photos of the Sunshine House?
The Sunshine House. It’s what we called the first house I took pictures of because I couldn’t stop talking about the way the setting sun dropped light through the windows. Even now, I can almost see the sparkle of dust particles floating in the sunbeams.
But everything looks different from behind a camera, where the mundane is bathed in soft light, just waiting to be noticed.
Me: Of course I remember. It’s what started my photography career.
Luke: Do you remember what we did in that house when you finished taking the pictures?
My cheeks warm at the memory. I can’t help but smile. It was a night I’ll never forget.
Me: I remember.
Luke: We’re perfect together, Natalie. When you doubt us, just remember that night. You're the sun that makes my life brighter than anything else could. I need that light. I need you. I love you. Let that be enough.
It hurts my heart to hear him say such kind, wonderful things to me after the way I left. Why is everyone so nice to me? I’m a terrible person, who deserves to be treated horribly for the things I’ve done—the things I’m still doing—to those I love.
A tear slips down my hot cheek as I question why I ever left Florida. My reasons blur behind my eyes to the point that I almost want to hop on a plane and rush back to my husband.
Me: How can you still love me after what I’ve put you through?
Less than three seconds go by before my phone rings and a photo of his pretty blue eyes and blond hair fills the screen. My heart skips.
I sit up against the back of the bed, and answer with a quiet “hi.”
“Because it’s more than a feeling,” Luke’s soothing voice rumbles, settling my nerves with just six words.
“I’m choosing to love you, Natalie, like I vowed on our wedding day.
It doesn’t matter how much distance you put between us or what struggles we face.
I’ll always love you. I’ll always want you. ”
“I miss you,” I say softly, the dam breaking in my heart.
The stress and anxiety of the last few days flow out.
“I don’t want to hurt you, but I didn’t know what to do.
And now I don’t know anything at all—who I am, where I belong, if any of the choices I’ve ever made were the right ones.
Life could have been so different if I hadn’t run away. ”
He knows I’m talking about Maple Lake, but I hope he can hear the double meaning behind my words. If I hadn’t run away from him, life would have gone on like normal and I’d have saved us from this heartache.
“Just come home,” he whispers. The sound in my ear sends shivers down my spine.
“I wish I could.” I slink down into the sheets, lifting the covers over my head.
He sighs. “Why can’t you?” he asks. There’s no accusation in his tone.
“Because we want different things. And I still don’t know if I can let go of what I want.”
He hums in thought, and in my mind I can almost see the crease between his brows.
“We can see someone. Talk to someone about our struggles,” he says. “Maybe there’s a way through all this that we don’t understand yet.”
My nose scrunches at the thought of seeing a marriage therapist. I’ve been to therapy for my panic attacks, but never for a relationship.
I fear there would be far more of my soul uncovered in a couple’s session than I’d want Luke to see.
I’m not a good person, and if he starts to see that …
I don’t think I could survive Luke believing that too.
I shake my head under the sheets, causing the fabric to brush gently against my hair. “I don’t know if therapy would help. It can’t make me change my mind on wanting kids.”
“No,” he says, “but maybe it would help me change mine.”
My eyes pop open, and I stare into the darkness beneath the blankets. “You’d be willing to do that? To see if it would change your mind?”
“Natalie, I want whatever you want. If that means going to therapy to work out the issues I have, then I’ll do it.” His steady voice wavers, but he continues more hesitantly than before. “There’s something I never told you about. Something that scares me.”
I turn on my side, pulling the phone closer to my ear so it feels like he’s right beside me.
Luke and I always hide away under the covers, whispering our secrets and making plans for the future.
He’s not physically here, but this feels the same.
Like he’s close enough to run my fingers across his upper lip.
“What haven’t you told me?” It’s almost a whisper.
“I’ve told you that the world is a scary place to raise a kid, and that’s completely true.
It scares the crap out of me to think of being a dad.
There’s so much to protect them from.” He’s silent for a few seconds, and I wonder if he’s going to continue.
When he does, I’m relieved. I didn’t want him to freeze up and keep secrets from me. “When I was a kid, my mom had—”
His voice cuts off and my phone screen turns black, leaving me in darkness under the comforter with a dead cell phone.
“No, no, no, no, no!” I bolt upright, scanning the room for my phone charger.
What was Luke going to say? Something about his mom.
I throw the covers to the side, hopping to the floor in search of the one thing that will bring my phone back to life.
I hadn’t realized the battery was so low.
Opening my purse, my camera bag, and all my luggage in the search, I come up empty-handed.
My heart pounds in my chest. I’m frantic now, checking under the bed, behind the nightstand, between the cushions on the little couch.
All the lights are on, but I can’t find it. I have to call him back right away.
I grab some sweatpants and a hoodie to pull on over my PJ shorts and top, then slide on my sandals and grab my keys. This dang cord better be in my car.
Once I’m back in my room, phone charger in hand, I rush to plug it into the wall.
While I wait for the phone to get enough charge to turn on, I quickly perform my nightly routine of washing my face and brushing my teeth before jumping back into the plush bed.
My heart skips when I see the phone is finally powered on, and I scramble to call Luke back, my hands shaking from the crazy panic I just endured in my wild search.
The call rings and rings, but he doesn’t answer. I growl through clenched teeth, frustration eating at me.
What was he going to tell me about when he was a kid?
His mom had what? An illness?An affair? It didn’t sound like he was going to say anything good, so it must have been something terrible.
But I love his mom; Samantha is an amazing person. And she took me under her wing from the day I got to Florida. There’s no way she could have done something to hurt him.
As my third call continues to ring, I hang up, facing defeat. That’s when I see a text from him. It was sent right after our call ended, when my phone reverted to a useless rectangle of metal and plastic.
My breath catches as I click on the message.
Luke: Your phone must have died. That’s okay. I’ll let you get some sleep. We’ll talk soon. I love you and can’t wait to see you. Sleep well, my love.
The phone falls from my hand to the bed, and my shoulders sag.
I kick off my sandals, shimmy out of my sweats and hoodie, turn off the lamp, and climb back under the sheets.
It’s no longer warm, and I can no longer feel the presence of Luke beside me.
My feet are cold, and I wrap my arms around myself, hoping I’ll drift to sleep quickly.
I don’t.