You Don't Know Me (24 page)

The woman she’d been before he betrayed her.

The woman she’d seen returning . . . until Frank betrayed her.

Except maybe she’d been the one doing the betraying. People who loved each other didn’t keep secrets.

Maybe Frank had deserved to know the truth. Be given the choice to stay . . . or leave.

She pulled on her coat, fighting the burn in her throat.

Yes, she should have been honest with Frank. Now the poor man was probably trying to figure out how to walk out of her life without hurting her. She stood in the hallway, staring through the window at the parking lot, where the glistening maple leaves splotched the ground like blood.

Why did she have to live her life by impulses, scraping up the results of her actions?

She’d just call him. Maybe . . . maybe ask him out to lunch. Or coffee. Most of all, she’d start with telling him the truth. No more secrets.

Helen fished out her cell phone. Dead. Or maybe just off. . . . Right. She’d shut it off in church a few weeks—maybe months?—ago when the pastor suggested it.

She pressed the Power button and it came to life.

Wait . . . did she have Frank’s number? Maybe Annalise had it . . .

Her phone beeped as it found a signal. Four missed calls.

How did she get her voice mail again? Helen dialed and waited for the beep, then entered her Social Security number. It was the only thing she could remember.

Behold, it worked.

The first two were calls from the prayer chain, old news that she deleted. She’d have to update the records at church. Or perhaps just keep her cell phone on.

The next was an automated call from the library. She’d returned that book a week ago.

The last came from an unfamiliar number. But the voice she knew.

“Helen. I don’t know if you’ll get this or not. Or when. But . . . I had to tell you I’m sorry.”

Yes, well . . . her too. Helen sank down on a bench, pressing the phone tighter to her ear. Frank sounded like he was outside, the wind against the phone.

“I have to leave. I know you’re angry with me for telling everyone your secret, but . . . I have to talk to you. I know what Nathan told you, but I can’t let you believe that what we had was a game or lies.”

A game? Lies? What was he talking about?

“Or that I didn’t care. By now you probably know about Annalise and why we did what we did. It was for her safety, and I promise I didn’t want to deceive you.”

Her chest tightened.

“I was just hoping that you’d learn to trust me, and that if we had to relocate you, you’d see that I was trying to help.”

Relocate her? What was he talking about?

“You changed me, Helen. You awoke something inside me and . . . I’m so sorry I won’t be with you. I want you to know that if you do ever need anything, you can call me. I . . . I’m so sorry.”

The line went dead.

Helen stared at the phone.

She had no idea what to make of his words. Relocate her? What about Annalise?

I promise I didn’t want to deceive you.

Which meant that he did lie to her . . . at least about something. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to do something rash like throw her phone across the room. Or call him back, tell him to stay out of her life or . . .

Her phone vibrated in her hand. She stared at the number.

No.

She didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to care. Didn’t want to relive the past.

She answered, “What?”

“Helen, please don’t hang up—I have to talk to you.”

“No. You don’t. We’re done talking. Please, don’t ever call me again.”

She hung up and pressed the Power button. See, she’d never liked these things.

No more silliness. Second chances just cost too much.

Tucker!

His name was glued in Colleen’s chest.

Don’t go.

Colleen stood at the door, watching Tucker drive away, so much anger in the spin of his tires, the way he barreled out of the school parking lot.

She didn’t blame him. She should have said something, stopped the fight, but she’d just stood there with the rest of the crowd, watching him fight her brother in the hallway.

She’d caused this, and now she wanted to run. Maybe after him. Maybe just away.

Ever since the shot that woke her this morning, seeing her brother standing in the hallway surrounded by glass, and then . . . Why hadn’t Mom told Dad about Tucker? The horror on her father’s face made her want to weep.

Maybe her mom had just been trying to protect her. The thought thickened Colleen’s throat, and the memory of their fight replaying in her head didn’t help.

And now Tucker had left her too.

Try to keep her out of trouble, will ya? You might need a leash.
Tucker didn’t mean that the way it sounded, so full of hurt.

She stalked back up the hallway, saw Jason standing there, surrounded by his congratulatory friends. She hooked his arm, yanked him toward some privacy. “Is it true—what he said about Harper?” she asked quietly.

Jason glanced over his shoulder. “Shut up.”

What—?

“Just stay away from that jerk.” He disappeared down the hall.

She stared after him, feeling punched. So Jason had secrets too. The only difference was he never got caught.

She watched him walk away and tried not to throw something at him.

And yesterday, sitting at dinner, she’d thought everything would be okay. That her mother had forgiven her for their fight. In fact, she’d almost climbed into bed with her mother last night, as if she were ten years old. She’d thought about lying there with her, their hands wound together. She loved her mother’s hands, the strength of them.

She should have been nicer when she got out of the car today.

The bell rang for the end of fifth period.

Colleen debated, then went to her locker, pulling out her phone and her jacket. She shrugged it on and headed out the front doors. She could walk home—it wasn’t that far. The wind caught her hair, tumbled leaves before her as she crossed the parking lot. Regret burned inside, distracted her.

She didn’t hear the car until it had stopped, until the driver got out, moved toward her.

She turned, startled. A man about the size of her father, with dark hair, a dark beard with strands of gray. He smelled like he hadn’t bathed in weeks, wearing a dirty canvas jacket, a blue stocking cap.

She glanced around, looking for others in the lot, but this time of day, it was empty. Even the gulls had abandoned her.

She thought about screaming but had no breath for it when the man grabbed her wrist, yanked her close, and pressed a blade to her neck.

“Get into the car, little Deidre.”

Annalise stepped into the shower, lifting her face to the spray, allowing the water to wash away the horror of the day. It might also put heat back into her frigid bones, warm her core, make her feel new.

After all, she couldn’t be Annalise Decker anymore. She’d have to find a new name. A new identity.

But how could she erase the memory of her eleven-year-old holding on to her as he said good-bye today? Of reading to him at night, Henry tucked in the safety of her embrace?

Or Colleen’s delicious smell, her amazing smile, the way she could crawl inside Annalise’s heart, even when she wanted to ground her daughter to her room for a year?

Or Jason? Listening to him recite his lines, watching him strut around the family room like a real Romeo. He’d been the first of her babies to take her breath away.

How would she forget Nathan? The taste of his lips against hers, the feel of his strong hand around her waist?

She shivered under the heat of the shower and turned it off. Grabbed a towel. No, she could never be anyone but Annalise Decker. Her name might change, but her identity wouldn’t.

She’d spent the past four hours or more staring at the cold fireplace, then the glow of the afternoon light on the lake, imagining what her family might be doing. Did they even know she’d left? Helen would be furious with her. And Nathan . . .

Nathan was long past forgiving her.

When Colleen found out about her mother’s lies . . . oh, Annalise prayed her daughter wouldn’t use it as a one-size-fits-all excuse to run off with Tucker.

Maybe she should have taken Colleen with her. But then what? Tear their family further apart?

Annalise wrapped a towel around her, combed out her hair, then sat on the side of the soaking tub in the massive master bathroom. She could hold a Super Bowl party in here, practically heard her heartbeat echo off the Italian tile.

How could she leave them?

But how could she stay? As long as Garcia knew where she was, they weren’t safe.

She’d gotten them into this danger. She’d do anything to keep them safe.

Annalise reached for the lotion on the side of the tub, squirted it into her hands, began to smooth it over her legs. Her hand ran over the scar by her knee. Misshapen, about the size of an eraser.

“What was it?”

She dropped the lotion bottle. Nathan stood in the doorway, his green surplus Army jacket open over a flannel shirt, a pair of faded jeans, his hiking boots now dripping onto the clean carpet. He hadn’t shaved and looked a little raw-edged and even . . . scary.

He didn’t smile, and she couldn’t place his expression. Angry? Worried?

“You didn’t think I’d let you just leave, right? That I wouldn’t come after you? That I’d let you face this alone?”

She braced herself. “How did you find me?”

“I’ve been looking for hours. . . . I was halfway to Duluth, and then I realized . . . you’d stay in town for Colleen’s game. At least to listen to it on the radio. So I thought, where would you go to feel safe?” He looked past her to the lake. “You love this house. I should have figured it out right away.”

Her throat closed. “You shouldn’t have come. You should have let me go.”

“No.” He came into the bathroom, knelt on the soggy bath rug before her. Oh, he had beautiful eyes, the kind that riveted on her now. However, something about them seemed . . . different. Stronger. “Annalise, you’re my wife. And I meant that—for better or worse.”

“This is definitely worse.”

He shook his head. “This is most definitely
not
worse.
Worse
is you walking out of our lives.
Worse
is not knowing where you are and going crazy with worry.
Worse
is the thought of waking up every day without you, knowing how broken our children are without their mother.” He swallowed and looked away, closing his eyes as if gathering himself before he met her gaze again. “
Worse
is thinking every day that you might be dead.”

She ran her fingers under her eyes.

His jaw tightened then, as if pain gathered in his throat. “
Worse
is knowing that you thought I didn’t love you enough to stay with you. To fight for you. To be your husband.
Worse
is you giving up on us.”

“I didn’t give up on us. . . . I just . . .”

“You stopped believing in us.” He caught her hands.

“And why not? Nathan—Henry could have been killed today because of me.”

“What are you talking about? Henry nearly got hurt because
I
did something stupid and rash, like you did by running away. I thought I could solve this on my own. But we’re not in this alone, babe. I recall adding a ‘so help me God’ to our vows. I’m taking that to mean God’s in this with us.”

“God can’t fix this. He’s laughing at me. I’m finally getting what I deserve.” She pulled her hands away.

“Seriously? That’s what you think?”

“Yes. Everything was perfect and then—”

“Everything
wasn’t
perfect, Annalise!” Nathan stood. “Jason has a girlfriend we know nothing about, and who knows what is going on there. Colleen had a boy in her room the other night—”

Annalise looked away.

“Yes, you should have told me, although I have to admit, murder wouldn’t look good for my campaign.”

She glanced up at him, unsure if he was kidding or not.

Maybe not.

“I’m so sorry, Nathan. And your poor mother. I can’t believe she has cancer again.”

He drew in a breath. “Yeah, well, life is messy and painful and unpredictable. And this guy Garcia is just one of the horrible things that could happen to us. But we can’t run away and change our name every time something threatens our happy lives.”

“It wasn’t like that—”

“I know, babe. I know.” He crouched in front of her again. “And maybe leaving Deep Haven will be the wisest thing we can do.” His voice gentled. “But we make that decision together. You and me. For better or worse. Richer or poorer. Deckers or Smiths.” He caught her eyes. “You told me that we didn’t belong together. But we do. We belonged together the day we said, ‘I do.’”

How she wanted to believe him. “You don’t understand. Garcia is an evil man. . . .”

“Lise, I know. Frank told me.” He cupped his hand on her cheek. “He also told me that they might have caught him.”

She stilled, caught her breath. “Really?”

“But even if they didn’t, I’m not going to let him hurt you. Or our family. If he’s still out there, we’ll leave.”

“And your mom?”

He swallowed, his mouth a grim slash. “We’ll figure it out. She can come with us.”

“I don’t know what to do. I’m . . .” Her vision blurred. “I’m scared, Nathan. I am scared that it’s all going to end badly.” She pulled her hands away to wrap them around herself. “I don’t deserve you. I knew that the moment I met you. I knew that someday you’d find out who I was, and that it would all crumble. This life we built—our happily ever after. I feared it would come crashing in and I’d lose everything again.”

His expression twisted and he shook his head, cradling her face. “No, Lise, I don’t deserve
you
. You walked into my life and suddenly I wasn’t who I thought I was. I looked into your eyes and saw the man I wanted to be. You believed in me and I wanted to be the man you saw.”

“You are that man, Nathan.”

“I’m trying to be. Every day. And that’s the key. Maybe we don’t deserve each other—but that’s what grace is. Getting what you don’t deserve. God loving us, even with His knowing everything, including our mistakes, our failures.” He ran his thumb down her cheek with a tenderness that sent heat to her bones, filling her entire body.

“I love you, Annalise. I would die for you. You are the sweet reward between all the chaotic, painful, dangerous moments of life. You and Jason and Colleen and Henry. Happily ever after isn’t a place; it’s a perspective. We just gotta hold on to that because that’s how we’re going to get through this. Trusting in God’s love, His grace, one moment at a time. That’s how we live happily ever after, every day.”

“Grace will lead us home.”
The words stirred in her heart. “But I wrecked everything. Nothing will ever be the same. You’ll never look at me the same. I’ll always see Deidre in your eyes.”

She looked away, but he brought her gaze back to his face.

“Lise . . . I married
you
. I don’t care what your name was or is. The circumstances don’t change my love for you. It is. And will be. I love you, period.”

I love you, period.

She stared at him, the way he held her with his eyes. The smell of him so close, drawing her in. The edge of whiskers darkening his skin. He hadn’t even combed his hair today—instead he’d spent it looking for her.

Like he needed her.

Like, yes, he couldn’t live without her.

He lowered his voice, his eyes soft, a smile tipping his mouth. “But you’re right. Nothing will be the same. It’ll be better. Because finally,
finally
. . . I know you.”

Nathan leaned forward and kissed her. Softly, so familiar, so right. Then he leaned away and met her eyes again.

Annalise opened her mouth, not sure what to say. She started to smile . . .

And then he really kissed her.

A kiss that was nothing like she’d ever experienced in his arms. He wrapped his hand around her neck and met her mouth with a sort of sweet desperation in his touch. Full and thorough, knowing her and drinking her in as if, indeed, he’d meant his words.

I would die for you.

Something broke free inside her, a flush of heat and life that she’d tamped away for years, afraid of the depths of her feelings, of her dependence on this man she didn’t deserve.

Didn’t deserve but had been given. Because of the great love of God, who’d loved her through Nathan, in sickness and health, for richer and poorer, for better or worse.

Especially better.

“I know you, and I love you.”

She slid into Nathan’s arms, kissing him back. He tasted like the outdoors, piney and a little wild, and she wove her fingers into his hair as he pulled her tight to his chest.

She’d forgotten what a strong man he was.

Now, his strength sparked a fire deep inside.

Nathan—amazing, kind, sweet Nathan—lowered her to the floor, his arms around her. Her heart left her as she clung to him, surrendered to his embrace, drinking in his touch, running her fingers along his beautiful face. Loving his gentleness, his strength, the gift of his love.

This was where she belonged, whatever her name might be.

When he pulled away, she felt his smile on her even before she opened her eyes. His gaze drank her in, a depth to his expression that resonated in his words. “I love you, Annalise. And Deidre. And whoever you might be in the future. As I heard Jason say yesterday, isn’t a rose by any other name still a rose?”

“And now you’re Romeo?”

When he grinned, there was the boy she’d fallen in love with, the man he’d been on their wedding night, the hero he’d become every day of their lives.

How had she ever thought him ho-hum?

He traced his hand down to her knee, to the scar there.

“It was a sparrow,” she said, cupping her hand over his. “I remembered hearing in church how God watched even the sparrows, and I liked it. Held on to it, even when I was running from Him. It was better than a flower or a dove or a four-leaf clover.”

“A sparrow.” He ran his thumb over it before he kissed her again.

This time in his touch she tasted the freshness, the newness of the days before them.

“Ready to go home?” he whispered.

Annalise slipped her hand inside his jacket, to where his T-shirt met his neck. Ran her thumb over the hollow of his throat. Smiled. “Not quite yet.”

“Now Helen’s not answering. None of them are.” Frank tossed his phone onto the dashboard of his rental. “I called the sheriff’s office and they sent a cruiser by the house, but there’s no one there.”

“Calm down, Frank. We can’t help anyone if we skid off the road.” Boyd sat in the passenger seat with his hand braced on the dashboard. “And watch out for deer.” Outside, the sun had begun to lie low upon the horizon, a sizzling burn of light.