My One and Only (20 page)

“The wife’ll be in bed already,” Deacon said, scratching his dog’s head, causing Lilly to wriggle madly with joy. “She’ll be sorry to miss you tonight—her rheumatism was acting up, which is why she skipped out on the festival. A shame. But she’ll be eager to meetcha come morning. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll get you folks settled and hit the hay myself.”

“No, that’s fine,” I said.

“We’re both beat,” Nick said, cutting a glance at me. It was nine-thirty.

“I’ll take you into town in the morning, Lars should have you all set up,” he said, ushering us down a narrow hallway. He stopped, reached into a room and flicked on the light. I jumped back a little. Behind me, Nick made a strangled noise.

The room contained a double bed, a small bureau and…um…well…

“Wife’s kinda devout,” Deacon said by way of explanation. “This room’s her, uh, special place. Sorry if it’s a little chilly in here.”

“No, it’s great,” Nick said in a carefully controlled voice. The room was, in fact, frigid.

“You and your wife are so nice to put us up,” I added. It was true, of course.

“We really appreciate it,” Nick seconded, tearing his eyes off the decor. “Hope it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all, not at all. Well now, there are clean towels in the bathroom,” Deacon said. “You need anything, you just let me know, all right?” He took a deep breath, surveying the room as if seeing it for the first time, gave his head a little shake. “Okeydokey then. Good night, you two.”

The door closed, and Nick and I just…well, we just took it in.

Pictures—dozens of them—of a blond-haired, blue-eyed Jesus decorated the walls, and apparently, Jesus had a very strong resemblance to Brad Pitt circa
Legends of the Fall
. Amen!

“Is it wrong to find the Lord attractive?” I asked, earning a rush of Nick’s warm laughter as reward. I turned in a slow circle…more Jesus. Wow. And not only pictures, but, oh gosh, a small area where unlit candles sat on a long, low table in front of the biggest crosses I’d ever seen outside a church. A big church.

“Think they’re planning to crucify us?” Nick whispered, his eyes bright with laughter. He set our suitcases down. “I mean, what do we really know about these people?”

There was only one bed. One small double bed that, had Nick and I actually still been married, would’ve been quite cozy. I set Coco down, and she jumped right onto a pillow, as was her custom. She curled into a ball and ignored the two of us and our silent machinations.

Then, as if reading my mind, Nick said, “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep…on the, uh…altar.” A squeak of laughter escaped from me, and Nick gave me a lightning grin.

I sobered up a bit. “I’m gonna brush my teeth. Back in a flash.”

In the bathroom, I stared at my reflection. The past few days had taken their toll; I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in days, and I wasn’t about to get one, either. Shadows lurked under my eyes, and out of its ponytail, my hair looked scraggly. Good. The last thing I wanted right now was to look alluring in any way, shape or form.

Of course, in the movies, this was where the hero and heroine hooked up, trapped in some little motel or whatever. But Nick and I were not going to hook up. “You and Nick—not gonna hook up,” I whispered to my reflection, just in case I forgot. Because come on. Nick
stirred
things in me, damn the man. Once I’d become turned on watching him empty the trash. I’m serious.

With a sigh, I scrubbed my face without tenderness or mercy, brushed my teeth and pulled on my pajama bottoms, which were bright yellow and printed with laughing monkey faces. About as unglam as you could get, luckily. A vast Red Sox sweatshirt (my Christmas present from Dennis) completed the
don’t touch me
look, about as close to a chastity belt as I could manage at the moment.

Nick was in the hall when I came out, toothbrush in hand, and we did that awkward
step-to-the-left-step-to-the-right
dance for a second until he grabbed my shoulders and just held me still, hands warm and strong, causing my girl parts to croon. He brushed past me with a half smile and went into the loo.

Sober up, Harper,
I told myself briskly, dragging my gaze off the bathroom door. Was he shaving in there? If so, I was a goner, because honestly, was there anything sexier than a man shaving? Was he brushing his teeth?
Frooow.
Granted, he could be hunched over the toilet, retching, and I probably would’ve found him incredibly hot.

“You’re pathetic,” I muttered, shaking my head at my own stupidity.

Back into the bedroom. Under the Brad-like gaze of Jesus, I climbed into bed, lifting up Coco and earning her
please don’t beat me
look. “Warm my feet, doggy,” I whispered, setting her down. “It’s freezing.” Then I pulled the covers to my chin. The bed was comfy, if icy. I’d always hated getting into a cold bed, the shock of the sheets bringing on dramatic bouts of shivering that I was unable to control. I huddled under the blankets, waiting to get warm. Coco, deciding that she really wasn’t the foot-warming type, moved to another corner of the bed, faithless diva that she was.

It was very quiet out here on the outskirts of town, on the prairie. The wind blustered outside, and the branch of a tree tapped against the window. In my little cocoon of blankets, the sheets smelled sharply fresh and clean, a testament to line-drying, but the usually lovely scent failed this time to slow my thudding heart.

A minute later, Nick came back into the room, and I closed my eyes, not wanting to see him, chicken that I was, then opened them. He wore plain green pajama bottoms and a faded Yankees T-shirt, thank God.

When we were married, he’d always slept in the buff. And I’d always worn one of his shirts, which he’d always enjoyed removing. Which I’d always quite enjoyed him removing.

This is the kind of rhetoric that leads to certain disaster,
I told myself. Swallowed. Tried looking at Brad at Gethsemane to dull the thoughts of Nick and me back in the good old days.

Nick sighed, ran a hand through his unruly hair and went over to the other side of the bed. He took the other pillow off the unoccupied side of the bed and opened the closet. Withdrew a blanket and looked at me for a second. “You all set?” he asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” I answered.

“Goodnight, then,” he said. “Night.”

He turned off the light, and shafts of cold white moonlight sliced into the room. I listened as Nick lay down on the floor, there in front of the makeshift altar.

The wind gusted again. Coco sighed.

One blanket.

It was awfully cold in here.

“Nick.”

“Yeah?” The answer came instantly, and my heart clenched.

“Come to bed,” I said, my voice blessedly matter-of-fact. “It’s too cold to sleep on the floor.”

There was a pause. “You sure?”

“Yep.”

Mistake, dumbass,
my brain told me in no uncertain terms. But crap. It wasn’t as if we were hormone-inflamed teenagers. We weren’t about to sleep together—well, of course we actually
were,
but nothing more.
My goodness, you’re stupid,
Brain informed me, and it was true. If a client had told me she was about to let her ex climb into bed with her, I would’ve been screechingly against it. But this was different (as all women tell themselves right before they make a huge mistake). This was just a mission of mercy.

The bed creaked as Nick got in. Coco gave a tiny growl, then jumped off the bed, disgusted that we’d had the nerve to disturb her. I lay on my side, facing away from Nick, a good foot between us, but I could already feel his warmth over there, like the sun, taunting me.

“Thanks,” Nick said.

“Oh, sure. It’s nothing. Couldn’t let you freeze, not with Jesus watching.” I grimaced in the dark, glad he couldn’t see my burning face. “You cold?”

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Nice and toasty.”

“You’re freezing,” he stated.

“No, I’m good.” My feet were blocks of ice.

“Admit it. You’re dying over there.”

“I’m not. Very much alive.”

Then his foot slid over and touched mine. “You call that alive?” he asked, and then the covers rustled and his arm was around me, my back against his chest, his hand smoothing back my hair.

My throat tightened, and the nearness of him, the only man who ever made me feel cherished…it just sucker-punched my heart.

“Sleep tight,” I whispered.

“You, too.”

God, I’d missed him.

Nick was quiet, his skin as warm as I was cold. We lay like that for a long while, not talking, not moving. The wind blew, Coco adjusted herself and gave a little doggy snore. Nick’s breathing was slow and even, and this…the two of us lying together, was as comforting and wonderful as anything I’d ever felt. And horrible, because it brought such a pain to my heart. We’d had something special and rare, Nick and I. There’d been more to our marriage than loneliness and tunnel vision and wretched communication skills. There’d been times like this, lying together in the dark, together. Those times hadn’t been enough…but they’d been so precious nonetheless.

When I was sure he was asleep, I touched his hand. Just a little, just a little brush of my fingertips against the back of his lovely, wonderful hand.

“You asked why I couldn’t forgive you,” Nick said, very quietly, and I jumped a little. “It was because you were the love of my life, Harper. And you didn’t want to be. That’s hard to let go.”

The words were like a ragged shard of glass in my heart. I swallowed, the sound loud in the dark. “That’s not exactly true, Nick,” I whispered, turning around to face him. “I did want that. But…”

But what? I’d loved him with all my tattered, puny heart, but the fear I’d felt had trapped it inside, stunting me, ruining us. “It would’ve been easier to believe if you’d been around a little, Nick. If you’d…helped me believe it.”

He nodded, and that surprised me. “You’re right. My hours didn’t help. But I thought once we were married, you’d feel…safer.” He stopped, gave a rueful shake of his head. “I’ll tell you something, Harpy,” he said, his voice almost a whisper now. “It never even occurred to me that we wouldn’t make it. And it never occurred to you that we would. You were just waiting for us to go down in flames. I thought we could get through anything.”

“Except you left me, Nick,” I whispered, my heart tight. “That night. You packed your things and left.”

“I needed to cool off, Harper. I was staying with a friend for a couple days. I never would’ve asked for a divorce. You know that. You, though…you saw a lawyer the next day, Harper. The next day.”

For the first time in a long, long time, I felt as if I might actually cry. Instead, I gave a half nod of acknowledgment. Coco must’ve sensed her mommy was close to the edge, because she jumped up on the bed and wormed herself against my legs.

“Can I ask you something else?” Nick’s voice was very soft and horribly gentle.

“Oh, of course,” I whispered. “Why not?”

He gave a little smile at that, and then grew serious once more. “When I asked you to marry me, Harper…why did you say yes?”

Oh, God. This wasn’t scab-ripping. This was a bone-marrow harvest. “Nick…” My voice was uneven, and I stopped.

“I know you loved me,” he said, his eyes steady. “But you didn’t want to get married, that was clear in hindsight. So why did you say yes?”

“I couldn’t say no,” I blurted, the truth rushing out. “I didn’t want to…hurt you.”

“It hurt when you divorced me,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I know! I know it.” I lowered my voice so as not to wake the McCabes. “And you’re right. I knew it was just a matter of time before things blew up in our faces, but I couldn’t figure out how to say no and still keep you, and so…I just…went along.”

He looked away for a second. Scrubbed his hand through his hair, making it stand on end, then looked back at me, his eyes sad. Very, very sad. “Okay. Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For telling me the truth.”

There was nothing left to say.

How unspeakably sad that small, hard fact was, so awful and so true. Love hadn’t been enough to save us, and though the thought wasn’t new to me, the world suddenly seemed awfully big and empty and hollow nonetheless.

Carefully, slowly, I turned back on my side. Nick put his arm around me once more, and his breath tickled the hair on my neck. Coco sighed.

I lay there, watching the blue numbers of the digital clock change as the moonlight slid across the room. Eventually, Nick’s breathing slowed, and his hand twitched, telling me he was asleep at last.

But I stayed awake for a long, long time, not wanting to fall asleep, because tonight was the last night of the two of us.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

W
HEN
I
WOKE UP THE
next morning, I was alone in bed, not even Coco for company. I could hear Nick’s voice down the hall, a feminine voice answering—Mrs. McCabe, I presumed. For a second, I just sat there, looking at Nick’s pillow, an unfamiliar sense of loss clanging around in my chest.

Time to get myself in gear. In a couple of hours, I’d be on my way home, back to work, back to my island. I checked my messages, zapped off a few texts, then padded into the loo to wash up and dress. I found Nick, freshly showered and shaved, sitting in the kitchen with Mrs. McCabe.

“Mornin’, hon,” he said with a little smile, and just like that, he let me know we were…well. We were okay, or as okay as the two of us got. He introduced me to Mrs. McCabe, an attractive woman with a blue tinge to her white hair.

“Ruth and I were just talking about baby names,” Nick said. “She and I both lean toward the Old Testament.”

“I’ve always loved Zophar,” I said. Comforter of Job, six letters. I did crossword puzzles, after all.

“Now, sweetie, you know my heart’s set on Jabal,” he said. Ah. The former altar boy struck back.

“We can always compromise. Esau,” I said, grinning. Jacob’s twin, son of Isaac and Rebecca.

“Or Nebuchadnezzar,” he returned.

“I do love that one,” I said, nodding thoughtfully.

“Well, now, you might want to think of how the other kids will, um, react,” Mrs. McCabe advised, frowning. “Nothing wrong with David or Jesse, don’tcha think? Harper, hon, have some coffee cake.”

We had a lovely breakfast, and then Deacon drove us into town. Lars the mechanic had no problem replacing the hose on the Mustang. Had the part in stock. Easy fix. It was rather disappointing.

“Sure hope you folks’ll make it back here someday,” Deacon said as I paid the bill (I insisted, and Nick let me).

“It’s a lovely town,” I said sincerely. “And you’ve been wonderful, Deacon.”

“Well, we enjoyed the company,” he said. “Any time you swing through North Dakota, you look us up, won’tcha?”

“We sure will,” Nick said, shaking his hand. “Thanks for the hospitality.”

“Take care, kids! Send us a Christmas card!” Deacon called.

And that was that. Goodbye, Harold, goodbye sweet, brief pretense that Nick and I were—or ever had been—happily married, goodbye whispered truths in the moonlight. Coco curled up on my lap—Nick insisted on driving, making numerous roadkill jokes, started the engine and we were off. According to Nick’s portable GPS system, the airport in Bismarck was two hours and forty-two minutes away.

“There’s one stop I want to make before I take you to the airport,” Nick said. “Do you mind?”

“No,” I said instantly. “Nope. That’s fine.”

Time, which had seemed so sluggish the past few days, suddenly sped up. Nick and I chatted carefully—nothing deeper than the weather forecast—and listened to NPR. As we neared the capital city, the trees and buildings grew denser, and Coco perked up as if realizing we were reaching a destination. Bismarck was a new city—well, compared with the East Coast, that is. The trees were turning here, and many of the houses were from the Arts and Craft period, or solid old Victorians. Lots of yards, lots of gardens. It was quite lovely…and quite flat. Shocking, really, how far you could see out here.

The Mustang’s top was down, and sky gleamed pure blue. I wore Nick’s Yankees hat, but the breeze managed to free some locks of hair anyway. I guessed it didn’t matter. We passed restaurants and shops, and the city turned into blocks. Finally, we came to a college— Whalen University. Nick slowed, then turned into the entrance. The manicured campus grounds sprawled in front of us, green and lush, dotted with shade trees and college students lounging on the grass. Nick knew where he was going; he turned right, then left and finally came up in front of a building. The Hettig Library & Media Center, the sign announced.

“Need something to read?” I asked.

He didn’t answer, just got out of the car. I followed, Coco trotting at my side, her pink patent leather leash catching the sunlight.

The library was made of brick and glass, very clean and open, with graceful lines and an arched glass roof. How nice it must be to study in there, I thought, the endless Midwestern sky above you as you pored over books or computer screens. There was a slate courtyard with a very modern-looking fountain, all angles and corners, the smooth fall of water splashing down in a wonderful rush of noise. At one end of the building, there was a four- or five-story tower that nicely echoed the more traditional, older architecture of the rest of the campus. I caught up to Nick, who was staring up at the tower, squinting in the sun.

“It’s yours, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said in that immediate way he had. He turned to face me. “I just wanted you to…” He paused. “To see something of mine.”

My heart swelled. I never had seen one of Nick’s buildings…not that I knew of, anyway. “Well, then. Show me around.”

For the next hour, we walked around the building, inside and out, and for the first time, I saw him in full architect mode, talking about light and angles, expansion and symmetry, commonality and conservation. His voice was New York fast, his lovely hands pointing and framing, and he smiled as he spoke, his eyes bright. When a librarian came over to kick Coco out, Nick introduced himself, pulling her name from his memory banks—apparently they’d met five years ago when the building was actually being constructed—and Coco was allowed to stay. Kids looked at him, recognizing that this was a guy who knew something; one even approached him and asked if he was the architect of the library, and the two of them talked for a few minutes about master’s programs. In the end, Nick gave him his business card and told him to drop him a line if he wanted a summer internship.

It was something, to stand in a building that Nick—my Nick—had dreamed up and made real.

“Is this one of your favorite buildings?” I asked as we headed back into the sunshine and scudding clouds.

“Well, in some ways, yes,” he said. “Mostly because it’s a library. What happens here is generally positive, you’d hope, anyway. Better than a parking garage.”

“I’m glad you showed me, Nick,” I said as we stopped near the fountain. “It’s beautiful. I’m…I’m proud of you.” My cheeks prickled with heat. Great. I was blushing.

Nick looked at me somberly for a minute. “Thank you.” Then he flashed his smile, and I smiled back, relieved that he didn’t tell me what a dork I was.

But we couldn’t stay here forever. I glanced at my watch, and Nick lurched back into gear. “Guess you want to get to the airport,” he said.

“I probably should.”

“Right.”

It was a very quick ride to the Bismarck Airport. Nick pulled up in front of the terminal, popped the trunk and towed my suitcase inside. We waited at the counter, a little awkward now, smiling at each other, then looking away.

“So you’re looking to get to Boston?” the ticket agent asked. Her name tag read Suzie, and she gave Nick an assessing glance. He was wearing the blue-tinted sunglasses, a close-fitting black T-shirt and faded jeans—the king of cool, in other words, and Suzie smiled brightly. “Just you, ma’am?”

“That’s right. As soon as possible, okay? I got tangled up in that mess in Montana.”

She dragged her eyes off of Nick. “What mess was that?”

“The software glitch? Grounded the fleet for a few days at all the little airports in Montana on Sunday?”

She frowned. “Oh, that. That only lasted a couple hours, hon. You’d have done better to stay put. They were flying later that same day.”

I blinked. “Oh.” Glanced at Nick, who shrugged.

“All righty, then,” Suzie said. “Well, it’s a little tricky, since you’ll have to change planes a few times. You’ll go from here to Denver, and from Denver you can go directly to Boston, but you’re gonna have to wait five hours. Or you can go on to Dallas, and from Dallas to Atlanta. Quick layover in Hot-lanta, and then on to Beantown. That’ll get you to Boston at, let’s see, 10 a.m. tomorrow morning.”

Twenty hours of hell, in other words. I glanced at Coco, who stared back.

“Are you staying in Bismarck?” Suzie asked Nick. “We have some super-duper restaurants, if you need a recommendation or two. I get off at—”

“And how much will that be?” I asked, just a bit tightly.

“Okeydokey, let me just check there…” She typed for the next minute or so. Clickety clackety clack. Click. Clack! Clickety click. I sighed, she paused, gave me a look of thinly veiled tolerance, flashed a supersunny smile at Nick, who returned it, I noted with irritation. “Suzie? Any time would be great,” I said sweetly.

“Well, now, I’m working on it, don’tcha know. I’m sorry if it’s not going fast enough for you, ma’am,” she said with an equal dose of saccharine. She gave Nick a sympathetic smile.
Gosh golly, isn’t it just so awful that we both have to deal with her?
Clickety clickety clack. For God’s sake! Was this her novel? Emails to her BFF?
Hey there, Lorna, you should see this bitchy redhead I have to take care of, she’s not even letting me flirt with my future husband, which is so unfair, don’t you know, when I’ve gone to all this trouble and named our kids and everything!

Finally, she gave me a perky and very phony smile. “Well, with the fee for your little doggy and yourself, that comes to $2,835.49.”

“Holy testicle Tuesday!” I exclaimed.

“Oh, my,” Suzie chided. “Well, it takes all types, I guess. Shall I book that for you, then? We accept all major credit cards, of course.”

I gave her my best lawyer stare, then opened my wallet.

“Harper,” Nick said. He took my arm and pulled me a few paces away. “Listen. I’m heading…I can take you to Minneapolis. It’s a straight shot, maybe seven hours.” He paused. “I bet you could get a better flight from there.”

The possibilities flashed in red through my mind. Seven more hours with Nick. Seven more hours revisiting the past. Bickering. Fighting attraction. Bone-marrow harvesting.

Laughing. Talking. Maybe we could find another church festival.

Seven more hours of falling back in love with Nick.

It had taken me years to get over him. Years. The case could be made that I wasn’t over him yet.

His dark eyes were waiting for an answer.

“I better just get going, Nick,” I said.

His gaze dropped to the floor. “Okay. Sure. That’s probably a good idea.” He folded his arms across his chest and nodded.

“I just need a driver’s license, ma’am,” Suzie said. She was really starting to wear.

“You don’t need to hang around, Nick,” I said.

He looked up. “Okay. Well. Safe home, Harpy. See you around.”

“You too, Nick.” My throat hurt. “Thank you for driving me.”

He gave me a very brief hug, and my cheek brushed his neck, and I breathed in his clean, lovely smell, but before I was even able to get my arms around him to hug him back, he’d stepped away, then bent to pet my dog. “Bye, Coco,” he said as she licked his hand with her fast little tongue. He straightened up, looked at me and stopped time. “Take care,” he said, his voice soft.

“You too, Nick.”

I watched him walk away, and it seemed as if a chunk of my heart went with him. Coco whined.

“Didja want that dinner recommendation, then?” Suzie called after him, frowning fiercely. Nick didn’t answer, and in another second, he was gone. Suzie huffed. “Okeydokey, then,” she muttered. “Can I have a credit card and your license, ma’am?”

“Sure.” I opened my wallet.

The little blue Montana flower Nick had picked for me fell out, flat and creased after two days. Still pretty, though. I picked it up and stroked a petal.

“Your flight to Denver leaves in forty minutes, ma’am,” Suzie informed me tightly. “And as you might know, they like you to get there a little early.”

I ignored her. Looked back toward the entrance of the airport, and before I knew I’d made a choice, was towing my suitcase behind me, Coco leaping along beside me.

“Oh, that’s just great,” I heard Suzie say. “A complete waste of my time.”

The sun was so bright outside that for a moment, I couldn’t see. But then I could, and there he was, leaning against the red Mustang, hands in his pockets, looking at the ground. He looked up, saw me, froze for a second…and then his lightning smile flashed, and I realized I was smiling, too. Coco barked and jumped.

“Land of Ten Thousand Lakes, here we come,” I said, and Nick’s laugh made my heart swell in a painful, wonderful way.

Maybe I needed closure. Maybe I needed something else. Whatever it was, I wasn’t ready to say goodbye just yet.