Redeem Me (23 page)

I
start my walk down the aisle with a smile plastered on my face the same way Trey instructed me to at the engagement party. The dresses Violet bought for us are exceedingly high drama. It’s a Pamella Roland long-sleeved, metallic-sequined dress. At the top the sequins are silver and navy mixed, and they fade into all navy. It reminds me of a starry night, and on the deck of the tall ship
Moshulu
, it’s glistening in the moonlight. As if the sequins aren’t enough, the dress has a wide V-neck and a short hem. Only Violet.

I hear gasps from the elderly as I approach their rows and they’re able to see the scant length. Violet paired the dress with one long-stem calla lily…more drama. The bridesmaids, though, are nothing compared to the thirty-seven layers of tulle and I don’t know what else ballooning from the bottom of Violet’s strapless gown. The enormity of it is balanced by her gigantic smile.

Now that we’re all up here in front of hundreds of people, I’m even more self-conscious of the dress length. Despite that, it’s a magnificent dress, and I feel incredible in it. I’m pretty sure most brides don’t let their attendants rock it like Violet has. I scan the congregation with me on the Delaware River and find Noble about sixteen rows back. I love the sight of him. Julia taps my elbow and I lean over to provide access to my ear.

“What the fuck?” she asks through a clenched jaw.

I request more information with a lunatic’s smile and raised eyebrows.

“Fourth row back, groom’s side,” she says. “She is un-fucking-believable.”

I count the rows and go down person by person. The fifth person in, smirking as he stares at the blushing bride, is Violet’s soul mate from Key West. She is unbelievable. I look to Noble, who’s watching Julia and me, and glancing to his right to decipher the problem. I keep my smile plastered on my face. This is a wedding even if the bride has invited her boyfriend.

“Into this holy union Blake and Violet now come to be joined. If any of you can show just cause why they may not lawfully be married, speak now or forever hold your peace,” the priest intones.

I hold my breath.

“If I could get off this godforsaken ship with these heels on, I’d walk out right now,” Julia whispers rather loudly to me. I keep smiling like Trey told me to, but the rest of the wedding party and the priest, as well as the entire congregation I’m sure, are now looking at us. “The bride is a whore without any respect for the sanctity of marriage,” she adds.

I hope I’m shielding everyone from deciphering her rant. I find Noble’s face as he shakes his head and lowers his forehead into his hand. We’re probably going to ruin this wedding.

I lean toward the priest and say, “She’s fine. Just a little seasick.” He clears his throat but can’t erase the baffled look from his face. Probably because the
Moshulu
is permanently docked at Penn’s Landing, thus making it impossible to become seasick aboard the ship. If someone has a better plan, I’d love for them to interject it.

I’m not sure if it’s just in my head or not, but the priest seems to speed through the remainder of the ceremony. Blake hops off the altar and helps Violet down, followed by each groomsman taking the hand of his assigned bridesmaid. Julia storms right off the boat, and the rest of the bridal party, including Violet’s father, are left looking at me for answers.

“What? I think she’s really sick.” I give Violet a look that conveys to her I’ve seen her special guest and I’m not impressed. Trey says he’s going to check on Julia and I tell him to check the hotel bar. We could all use a drink after this ceremony. I’m ready to find Noble, but first I have to take some photographs with the happy couple.

Violet’s a pro. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d never believe her actions in Key West, and I definitely wouldn’t believe this dude is here. What could she possibly hope to get out of it? We’re all lined up in different configurations with the city, the aquarium, the Ben Franklin Bridge, and the river behind us. In between shots I wonder how Jason and I couldn’t survive when these two yahoos will probably be married for sixty years. Although if Violet keeps it up, I give them sixty minutes.

I search the sky for stars. The lights are too bright to see any, so I close my eyes and imagine them. Hawaii and Colorado…and Oklahoma. I keep my eyes closed as I throw my head back and take a deep breath. One more and the photographer yells, “Hey! Are you going to pass out back there?”

“What the hell is going on?” Blake demands, and everyone turns to stare at me. “Is it something you guys ate?” he barks, completely having lost his patience with Violet’s maids.

“I’m fine. Really…just drinking in the sea air.”

“Over the river?” Blake angrily asks.

“It’s a beautiful night.”

“Okay, we’re done here,” the photographer says as he checks the shots on his camera screen.

“Let’s party,” Blake says, and we all head for the walkway to the bow of the ship and the cocktail hour.

I’m anxious to find Noble. I have this sense that I’ve left him alone too long. As I exit the restaurant on the other side of the ship, I see him in the corner of the deck. He’s standing with Violet’s dad and his business partners. They’re talking, periodically raising their glasses and drinking. Noble’s smile is easy. He’s completely at home. His Rutgers dual degree in agriculture and finance gives him the ability to speak with just about anyone. I realize it’s not him I was anxious about leaving. If Jason were here, he’d be standing alone waiting for me, patiently waiting but impatient to see me.

I rest against the railing and watch Noble. He’s lovely, strong, and kind, and I drink him in. As if he can hear my thoughts, he turns and looks straight at me, a smile settling across his face. There’s a soloist playing an acoustical set. He and his guitar are on a platform between us and it’s as if he’s singing exclusively for the two of us.

Noble excuses himself from his conversation and makes his way to me. It’s impossible to believe it’s only been seven weeks since the Harvest Dance. I guess that’s what happens when you tell your best friend that you love him. Things change instantly.

I watch him maneuver through the crowd, women of all ages stopping to regard him. A few he says something to, enchanting them further.

“I love you, Noble Sinclair,” I say when he reaches me.

Just probably not enough.

“I know.” Noble sighs. “The way you chase me is embarrassing.” He rewards me with a sly grin.

“I’m sorry. Embarrassing you is not my intention.”

He puts his arm around my waist and pulls me toward him.

“What is your intention, Charlotte?” Noble kisses me. “Are you going to force me to marry you someday?”

“When you say ‘force,’ do you mean finally accept your barrage of gifts and proposals of marriage?”

“I am getting tired of sleeping alone. And I wouldn’t mind having a dog,” he says, and pulls me back, examining my appearance. “And it appears you’ll make gorgeous babies.”

I push back the thoughts of Jason’s son.

“You know us Salem County girls. Good stock,” I say, and kiss him lightly on the lips. “Although I have to admit, I’m not really feeling marriage lately.” I lean into him and lay my head on his chest. Solid, as usual.

“Does it have anything to do with Violet’s friend from Key West?” he asks, and I freeze, still hidden in his chest.

“Friend?” I ask, because I’m not sure what else to say.

“Yes. I got to talk to him while you were taking pictures. He seemed to know you, too. He said he’s seen you naked.”

“Hmm, interesting. You’d think I’d remember him,” I say, still not looking up.

“One would think, although with you it’s not a given. You were on the swim team and all,” Noble says, and I can tell he’s not mad.

“Hey, can you guys go check on Julia? They want to start announcements soon and we’re still missing her and Trey,” Blake asks as he downs his drink.

“Where’s Violet?” I ask, afraid of the answer.

“I’m not sure. She said she needed a minute, that she had something special to take care of.” Blake shrugs. “I actually thought she was with you.”

“Maybe she’s with Julia. We’ll go check on them,” Noble offers. So very Noble.

The walk to the hotel is not a long one, but these are four-inch peep toes. Noble gives me a piggyback ride the last fifty yards. The Ben Franklin Bridge looms above us, connecting Philadelphia and New Jersey. Noble puts me down as the hotel doors slide open automatically. We head to the bar and aren’t surprised to find Julia downing a cocktail. I think she and I look completely absurd together. These are the least “bridesmaidy” dresses I’ve ever seen. It appears we just wanted to wear the same dress. Backup singers, perhaps.

“Have you seen Violet? Did you kill her?” I’m actually serious.

“It would take a cannon to get through that ridiculous dress,” Julia growls, and takes another gulp. I see Trey speaking with someone at the front desk. He turns and walks toward us with his signature smile intact.

“Did you tell Trey about Key West?” I ask.

“Well, well, well. Charlotte, you’ve been holding out on me. Apparently there was a lot to gossip about in Key West.” Trey seems happy. I’m still not sure if Julia told him everything. “I can’t believe Blake married such a whore.” Now I’m sure. “Hey, Nick, how’s it going, man?”

Trey shakes Noble’s hand, and I wonder if he was ever hitting on me or is just overly attentive to everyone. Noble’s mentally fitting all the pieces together.

“Are you going to tell Blake?” I ask.

“Hell no. You always hate the person who delivers that news.”

I remember Noble saying he couldn’t tell me about the baby before I went to Oklahoma.

“I’m going to make that whore he married tell him, though. I’m just waiting for her to come down. She went up to her room shortly after we got here,” Trey adds as something catches his eye in the lobby. “I’ll be right back.”

“Do you guys think Violet has a brain tumor?” I ask. That would explain why she’s gone crazy.

“Maybe she’s scared to get married?” Noble offers. Maybe Jason was afraid. How much does Noble know about why Jason did what he did?

“In Key West she said she was going to spend the rest of her life with Blake,” I offer.

“Was that before or after she fucked this guy?” Julia asks.

“Both.”

“Why the hell would she invite him here, then?” Noble asks.

I don’t recognize the voice at first because the tone is so nasty. As people start to stand up from their barstools and move toward the doorway to the lobby, I realize that it’s Trey. His usual smooth demeanor has been replaced with a dark and hateful tone as he yells at Violet. She’s out of my line of sight but I can see billows of the dress.

“You are a complete whore and you’re going back there right now to tell him everything,” Trey spews at her.

I look at Julia, who seems equally alarmed.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

I stand up and start to move toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Noble asks as he grabs my hand.

“To help Violet.” I wait for Julia to get up, too.

“What are you going to do?” Julia wants to know.

“I don’t know. We’re bridesmaids. We’re supposed to tend to her, aren’t we?” I have no idea what I’m doing, but she’s about to be killed, and in that dress. “We don’t know the whole story either. Maybe he’s a crazed stalker and she didn’t invite him.”

Julia rolls her eyes but follows me to the doorway.

Sydney enters the lobby from the elevator bank at the same time Blake comes in the front door.

“Tell him,” Trey says, his brow covered in sweat, his eyes icily fixed on Violet and her thirty-seven layers of tulle.

“Tell him what?” Blake asks, and the fear sets in. It’s hard to watch and I turn away and slowly walk back into the bar. Noble and Julia follow me. We all sit on barstools and Julia orders a round of tequila shots.

“Why did she do this?” I ask no one in particular.

“What do you think Blake’s going to do?” Julia adds.

“I can tell you what I’d do: I’d kill that guy from Key West.” Noble’s face is grim and a chill runs down my back. He smiles to soften the comment, but it hardened in midair.

Julia and I exchange a look and she downs her shot and goes to find Sydney.

“I love you,” I say.

“I know you do” is all Noble offers in return. He’s still lost in horror as he walks to the bathroom.

As if the night isn’t emotional enough, my phone dings with a text from Sean.

LILY CHARLOTTE O’BRIEN

8LBS. 2OZ.

EVERYONE IS WONDERFUL.

I start to cry a little for Michelle and Sean. They’re going to be amazing parents—that is, if I haven’t worn them down completely with my convalescence. I dial Sean.

“Hey!” Sean says, brimming with joy.

“Congratulations!” I can barely get out before I start to cry.

“Oh, Charlotte, she’s crazy beautiful. Wait until you see her—she looks just like Mom.”

With this statement, I completely lose myself. Noble walks to me and wraps me in his arms. He doesn’t even ask who I’m on the phone with. I don’t think Noble cares what’s wrong; he’s just going to fix it no matter what.

“I’m so happy for you guys. She’s a lucky little girl,” I tell Sean, and Noble gazes down at me, knowing who I’m talking to now. “I’ll be there first thing tomorrow morning. Do you guys need anything?”

“There’s not another thing in this world I need,” Sean says, and we hang up.

And so it goes on, this life, my life, without my parents. I bury my face in Noble’s chest, unwilling to think about how this all works.

Welcome to the world, Lily Charlotte.

I
’m working in the kitchen since Clint’s been hammering away at the other end of the house most of the day while I’m stuck on a conference call. He went to pick up lunch and some more fresh strawberries. We finished my quarts this morning. The Jersey strawberries are delicious this year. They’re only around for a few weeks, so the entire county’s been gorging themselves since early May.

The door opens and without looking up I assume it’s Clint. Noble kisses me on the cheek and the surprise makes me jump.

I beam at him. “Hey.”

“How’s it going?” he asks as he plops the mail on the table beside me. I continue to listen to my conference call as Bruce wraps up the meeting. The mail’s mostly catalogs with a few envelopes on top. I absently flip through them until I get to one that stops my breathing. I swallow hard. It’s Jason’s handwriting. I haven’t received a letter from him in about a month and I thought they’d stopped forever. But here’s another one. I feel the center of the envelope and can tell it’s lengthy, whatever it is. It doesn’t matter. It’s going to be thrown away, unopened, like all the others. I look up and Noble’s watching me sadly. He knows who the letter is from.

Bruce ends the conference call and I hang up, finally free of the phone attached to my ear.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Noble asks.

“No,” I say, and go over to the refrigerator. “Do you want something to drink?” I pour myself a glass of water.

“No. What I want is for you to open the letter,” he says, seeming angry. “Actually, what I want is for him to stop sending them or for you to be able to open them.”

Neither of those things is going to happen.

“It’s just a letter,” I say weakly. “It says whatever it says and doesn’t change a thing.”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Noble picks up the letter and starts pumping it in the air. “This letter is a dark cloud hanging over us. You two never actually settled anything, so now I get to live my life with letters arriving, you running out of town when he’s here, and being worried sick about someone mentioning him to you.”

I want to say
I told you from the beginning that’s how it was going to be
, but even to me that seems unfair. “Nothing in that letter changes a thing. Nothing. Why waste my time reading it?”

“What you’re doing is no different than Violet inviting that guy to the wedding.”

“What? How can you say that?” I’m hurt and offended.

I would never do what Violet did and the suggestion disgusts me.

“You let him in. He’s everywhere. You can’t get rid of him, so he’s right here between us every single day we’re together. Violet was just more public about it.” Noble and I haven’t talked about Violet since the night of the wedding. She and Blake fought in Philadelphia and then boarded a plane for Fiji. Somehow, they came home still married.

“That’s not fair.”

“What are you afraid of?”

That everything you are saying is true.

Defeat creeps across his face. “I went through a horrific breakup,” I say, stating the obvious. “And the way I survived it was to avoid my ex. Now you’re asking me to start communicating with him again. If I read the letter, it will be for you to feel some security rather than for my benefit.”

“Then do it for me”—Noble walks over and puts his arms around me—“because you avoiding his letters is starting to piss me off.”

“What about it pisses you off?”

“The fact that you think something written in them will make you want him again.”

I put my head on his chest and try to figure out what to do. I don’t want to read his letter, but if I’m going to have a future with Noble, I need to make it so he doesn’t have to worry about Jason Leer every day.

“Okay, I’ll read it. But only because I love you.”

I have about two hours before Noble picks me up for dinner. The letter stares at me every time I walk past the kitchen counter. As I sit drinking a cup of tea, it’s almost taunting me. This is stupid. I don’t want to read it because I don’t want to read it. What does it matter to Noble?

I slowly open the envelope and unfold the papers.

Good.

Give in or give up?

I feel the dark sadness blanket me and I put my head in my hands and start to cry.
My God, Jason, I’ve missed you.
I find a lighter in the desk drawer and set the corners of the pages on fire. There are five or six pages, all written on by Jason. Watching them burn brings me some comfort and I relax knowing they aren’t in the house anymore. As the flames reach my fingertips, I drop the letter into the sink and watch it completely disintegrate like our relationship. Gone in a trice.

Noble arrives for dinner and asks if I mind going to Delaware and eating outside. He seems hesitant around me. How can one stamped envelope cause so much angst? As usual, he opens the truck door for me and closes it after I’m in. I’m lost in thought, staring out the window at the darkening sky, and I don’t notice the delay at first. Rather than starting the truck right away, Noble leans forward on the steering wheel, staring at me silently.

“Yes?” I say when I realize he’s waiting for something.

Noble stares out the windshield. “Did you read Jason’s letter, Charlotte?” The mention of his name in the same sentence as my own stings a little.

“What are you, the mail police?” I immaturely ask, trying to change the subject.

Noble’s face sours and his eyes harden.

I stare forward out the window. “You know what? I don’t feel like eating anymore,” I say as I get out of the truck and enter the garage door code without turning back. Once inside the door, I push the button and the door lowers on the sight of Noble.

I walk into my room and lie flat on my bed as I listen to the sound of Noble’s truck pull out of the driveway. I don’t care if he ever comes back. How dare he think he can tell me what to read and when to read it? I pick up the phone to call him and my anger dials the number for me.

“Hello?” It’s a voice I don’t recognize.

“Oh, I think I have the wrong number,” I say, completely confused.

“This is 405-555-8822. Who you lookin’ for?”

Oh. My. God.

“Is Jason there?” I say, although I have no idea what I’m doing.

“Jason, oh no. He done moved out a few weeks ago,” the voice answers with a country twang. “He’s over at Stephanie’s now.”

“Oh, right. Sure,” I say. “Of course.”

“Hey, do you want me to tell him you called?” the voice asks.

“No, uh, no thanks.” I hang up the phone.

What am I holding on to here? He doesn’t live in the loft anymore. Our loft. Some other guy’s sleeping there. He lives with her. They’re one big happy family…

I grab my keys off the counter on my way out the door. It starts to rain as soon as I pull out of my driveway. The rain pours down hard and my wipers can barely keep up. I park next to Noble’s truck and realize he’s still sitting in it. The mere sight of him makes me feel better. I walk to his side of the truck and knock on his window. The rain hasn’t slowed. I’m getting soaked and a cool, drenched area is quickly spreading toward my lower back. My sopping hair lies on my head and shoulders like a wet blanket as large drops fall from my eyelashes. The whole time Noble sits in his truck, his head resting on his arms across the steering wheel.

“I don’t know what to do, Noble,” I yell at the closed window. “I don’t know how to fix it. How to fix me.” I bang on the window with my open hand. “Tell me what to do.”

I lower my head and gently cry. The rain comes harder and the sound of it is lovely. It falls on the leaves of the tree next to us and the roof of the L-shed in the distance. Noble gets out of the truck and wraps his arms around me. For the eight hundredth time his warmth engulfs me. I look up at his tortured face and kiss him because I still don’t know what else to do. Noble kisses me back but there’s something missing. His usual hunger is gone, replaced by reticence.

“Charlotte, I’ll fight for you. I’ll beat down the locals and Rob, but I can’t fight something that isn’t there. He’s invisible, locked in your head…or your heart.”

I’ve never seen the Noble standing before me. He’s detached. I move even closer to him, willing him to return to me. He refuses and stares toward the house as the rain washes over us in sheets. With my hand, I move his face until he’s staring down at me. By the look in his eyes he’s starting to hate me.

“I want this to work more than anything, but you’re scaring the shit out of me,” he says as he removes my hand from his face.

“How am I scaring you?”

“Because no matter how much time passes, you still see yourself with him.”

I stop and put my hands on my chest, shaking my head.

“No…no, I don’t.” I search his eyes for understanding. He has to believe me. “Can we please go inside?” I ask, grabbing his hand. Noble nods and we walk into his house, a river of questions running off us. I stop just inside the door and take off my flip-flops.

“Why can’t you let it go?” he asks as we go through the kitchen door.

“I don’t know why I can’t let it go, but I’m not buying time until we’re together again.” I force him to look at me “Noble, you aren’t some fill-in until we work it out. I love you.” He doesn’t believe me. I take a deep breath. I know the next few sentences that come out of my mouth are going to end something.

“Jason and I were”—I search for the word—“different.” I take a deep breath and move back so I can gauge his reaction as I continue. “We moved hastily into a serious relationship in the middle of a tragedy. We didn’t put a lot of thought into things during a time when the last thing I wanted to do was think.” I pause, remembering the first few weeks we were together and how little conversation there was.

Noble is listening, patient again.

“I don’t want to talk to him or read his letters because it’s over. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ll never understand why it ended, why it didn’t work.” I stand motionless. “Quite frankly it never made sense how it worked in the first place. We were probably careening toward a fiery ending for months.”

I remember the fights toward the end about me being at Rutgers. Jason refusing to come up for my spring formal was the worst of it. He had assumed I’d relent and spend the weekend with him in Oklahoma, but I surprised us both by choosing to go alone rather than miss it.

He showed me…

“Charlotte, I just don’t want you to regret anything. And I don’t want to end up in jail for killing someone.” Noble’s face is unrecognizable, dark.

“I’ve stopped questioning if I’m making the wrong decision. If I should forgive him. I don’t believe it’s a possibility anymore.” Noble softens. “He lives with Stephanie and his son now.” I omit the baby’s name.

“How do you know that?”

“I called him,” I answer, trying to sound unaffected. “I didn’t talk to him—some guy told me—but I didn’t have some major breakdown. I’m still standing.” I throw my hands out, displaying the evidence, ignoring that I’m soaking wet and have been crying in Noble’s driveway in a monsoon.

“Wait here,” he says. He walks upstairs and I hear the shower turn on.

“Here,” he says, handing me a towel as he returns to the kitchen. I take it and bury my face in it. “The shower’s warming up,” he says, the heat back in his eyes.