The Night We Met

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  "Nate?" My heart started to pound. "What's wrong?" Something had happened to one of the boys. I just knew it.

  A broken leg, maybe. The boys were working at the resort during their winter vacation, and sometimes they hit the slopes on their lunch break. My keys were on the table by the front door.

  Elizabeth's parka was hanging on the hook above it.

  "Nothing's wrong. The boys are fine."

  He could still read my mind. There was some comfort in that.

  And some pain, too.

  "I had an offer on the resort." He named a wel - known, moderately priced hotel chain. Gave me the amount. "What do you think?"

  "It's a good offer." I focused on the question. Anything else hurt too much. "If you want to retire, or do something else, you should take it. If not, then don't. There can always be another offer."

  Perhaps a bigger one.

  But we didn't need the money. Even when we'd had far less, finances had never been a problem.

  "That's what I thought, too. Thanks."

  "You're welcome."

  He hung up before I could ask him which he was going to do.

  * * *

  Nate kept the resort. I'd have found out soon enough if he hadn't. My name was on the title. But that night Keith told me his father had turned down the offer. Both boys seemed relieved.

  And I guess I was, too.

  Two weeks later, Nate called again. Based on national test scores, Keith had been offered a ful scholarship to a private boarding school in Denver the next fal for his final two years of high school.

  Over the weekend, he'd told his father about the recruiter who'd visited his school to make the offer.

  I'd heard during a meeting with Keith and the private school's headmaster the previous week.

  "I don't think he should go." Nate's stance was unusual y adamant from the outset.

  I wasn't sure I did, either. "Why not?"

  "He'd advance academically, probably get a better chance at a university scholarship, but we can afford to pay his tuition. The most important lessons he's going to learn in high school aren't necessarily academic."

  I didn't disagree. "I went to a private high school."

  "You had specific goals that were very different from Keith's."

  I'd reached the same conclusion.

  "I don't want to deny him this chance because of some perception that I need him here," I said.

  "You have to admit it's a help that he's been driving Jimmy around."

  "Yes, and in a few years they're both going to be gone and I'll be back to driving around—with Elizabeth."

  I ran my fingers through my hair. I'd been letting it grow. And had it streaked as a Christmas present to myself. I was now the proud bearer of blond highlights.

  "It's convenient having Keith's help, but not imperative." I wanted that clear. "Besides, Jimmy'll have his license before Keith leaves."

  "If he gets it as soon as his older brother did," Nate said. "I'm not so sure he's going to be ready."

  Remembering an incident with Jimmy and an electric cart at the resort the week before, I wasn't so sure, either. Jimmy was more of a dreamer than practical like Keith.

  "Keith and I have had several conversations about the scholarship," I said now, needing to focus on the task at hand before my thoughts carried me places I couldn't afford to go. "But I can't get a feel for what he really wants. Does he want to go because he'd like us to be proud of him? Because it's an honor to be asked? Is his hesitation to go because of me?"

  "Maybe some of both."

  "I real y believe this should be his decision. I'll support him either way. I just want to be sure he's making it for the right reasons."

  "I don't think he can, Liza." It was the first time he'd called me that since the day he left. "As mature as Keith is, he's still a kid, like most guys his age. He's trying to be responsible. And his head's being turned by the school's headmaster. I'm not sure he even knows what he wants."

  "Maybe we should give him some time to think about it, then."

  "He told me the offer expires at the end of the month."

  "Maybe they'll give him more time. They seem to want him badly enough."

  "I think now's the time you and I have to be parents and make the decision for him. Hell, Liza, he hasn't even been on a date yet. How's that ever going to happen if he's stuck away in an al boys'

  school?"

  He had a point there. Though from the stories I'd heard, and the movies I'd seen, boys did manage to find a way.

  Some boys. Probably not Keith.

  "I also hate to see him and Jimmy split up," he said. "They're opposite enough that they're good for each other."

  Their differences caused a lot of squabbles. But my sons were close, too.

  I thought about al of that and finally said, "Okay."

  "We're agreed then? He won't go?"

  "Yes."

  "Would you like to tel him or should I?"

  I handled most of the kids' problems singlehandedly. "You can."

  Nate said he'd talk to Keith the next time he saw him and rang off.

  He didn't ask how I was. Or if I needed anything.

  And I didn't ask him, either.

  That was the way it was between us now.

  "Jimmy said last night that Elizabeth counted to five this week."

  "Nate?" I glanced at the clock. Six a.m. On Saturday morning—Nate's weekend with the kids. I'd stayed up half the night playing Atari games on television and drinking wine.

  Feeling sorry for myself.

  Thinking I had all day today to sleep it off.

  It had been a couple of weeks since our last conversation about Keith's school.

  "Did I wake you? You're always up early."

  Not anymore. Not when I had to wake up alone. Spend the waking hours without my family.

  "I'm awake." Lori had called the night before to tell me she'd met someone. We'd talked a long time.

  She was taking it slow, but found herself getting excited about life again.

  She also told me her father hadn't so much as shaken another woman's hand since the day I'd kicked him out.

  "The boys tried to make Elizabeth count again last night, but she wouldn't," he was saying, and I pulled my thoughts back.

  My youngest child, four months shy of her third birthday, already had a very strong will.

  "She can count to twenty," I told him. "She just hasn't done it for them yet so they think I'm making it up."

  "She sang her ABC's last night. All the way through. Got Q and W, too."

  I didn't know Nate was aware that those letters had stumped her. But I guess it made sense that he would be.

  "Anyway," he said, "I was wondering if maybe we should put her in preschool."

  That woke me up. "No."

  "It would free you up some, Liza. Let you do things for you."

  "Raising my child is doing for me. It's what I want to do. Besides, I'm a teacher, Nate, remember? I'm as qualified as anyone else to give her her best start."

  "Stil ..."

  "I'm not sending her to preschool. The boys didn't go."

  "They had each other to play with."

  "I really don't want to, Nate. I'd like to give her a couple more years of unstructured time, of learning her values from us."

  "She needs socialization skills."

  I wasn't sending her. Period. I'd divorce him first. And sue for complete custody. I'd move back to California and live with my mother. I'd—

  "I have a compromise."

  It occurred to me, when I heard his tone, that Nate Grady had just played me.

  "What?"

  "Bring her to the resort, to the toddler day care room, one or two days a week."

  We'd established it shortly after buying the place as part of our intention to provide a fal -service family establishment. The parents could ski while their kids were safely entertained.

  "And what do you suggest I do while she's there?"
/>   "Get your hair done. Volunteer at the shelter. Ski. Read a book. Check up on the special event staff

  —or any of the other staff. You own half the place. Do whatever you want."

  Surprisingly, I felt a little thrill at the thought. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt one.

  Probably before Nate left.

  "Okay, but if she's not happy, I'm pulling her out."

  "You've got a deal."

  I hung up, nervous about what I'd gotten myself into.

  Chapter 14

  In April of that year, Pope John Paul II met Rome's chief rabbi at the synagogue in Rome in a quest for peace. I was proud of the Church I'd once belonged to. And hopeful for the world.

  I tried not to be quite so hopeful where Nate was concerned, but it was getting harder and harder. He was calling every week now. Always when the kids were either asleep or out.

  Mostly that meant Elizabeth was asleep and Jimmy and Keith were out. The boys had found a group of friends to hang out with and were gone more often than they were home that spring. Jimmy had a girlfriend. Her name was Lindsay. He'd already told me

  he was going to marry her. Keith still hadn't been on a date.

  "Give him time," Nate told me late one Friday night when I worried aloud about my eldest son.

  The boys were both out—Jimmy on a double date at the midnight drive-in, and Keith with a couple of buddies at the races in Denver.

  "I just hate the thought of him living his life alone." It felt too much like my own brokenhearted state.

  "Keith's not going to be the type to jump from girl to girl." Nate's voice was tired, but peaceful-sounding. "Mark my words, when he meets the right one, that wil be that."

  "At least until it isn't." I regretted the words the moment I spoke them. Didn't want to challenge him.

  Or dig at him.

  I didn't want any more bad feelings between us. We had children to raise.

  "Unless it always is." Nate's soft reply was unexpected.

  And left me speechless.

  The third week in April, after days and days of hype and media coverage, journalist Geraldo Rivera opened Al Capone's vault on live television and found...nothing. The man was an instant laughingstock in many circles, losing the trust of his readers and public.

  Somehow Nate and I got into a discussion about the fiasco. He'd called to see if his sons were having dinner with him the fol owing night—the beginning of his weekend with the kids—or only Elizabeth. When we'd sorted that out, he just hadn't hung up.

  "He did it to himself," I told him. "He came on so strong, guaranteeing that there'd be something to see."

  "He couldn't help it that there wasn't anything in that vault."

  "Of course he couldn't. And, knowing that, he made promises, anyway. People believed him because they trusted him."

  "Know what I think?" Nate's voice was soft.

  Elizabeth had been in bed for over an hour. The boys were at a high school basketbal play-off game in Denver. I'd come upstairs to take a bath and was sitting propped up on a pil ow, stil waiting to do that.

  "What?" I finally asked. Because I discovered I really did want to know.

  "I think he believed. And because his belief was so strong, it took on a power of its own."

  "If that's true, then belief can be a very dangerous thing."

  "But wouldn't it be better to believe, and find out you're wrong, than never to believe in anything?"

  I probably wasn't the right person to ask. "He made promises without being able to fol ow through."

  "So Geraldo should be hung out to dry for trying?"

  "You think there shouldn't be consequences for misleading so many people?" Even though the cause itself— Capone's vault—was a trivial one, it was the principle that mattered here.

  "Of course. And his reputation's taken a hit. But does the fact that he made a mistake preclude him from ever

  being forgiven? From being permitted to try again? To make amends?"

  We weren't talking about Geraldo Rivera. Maybe we never had been.

  "He was so convincing," I said slowly. "How would people ever be able to believe in him again?"

  "I guess he'd have to rebuild their trust in him."

  I wasn't at al sure that was possible.

  "If his motive was purely selfish, with no care for the people whose trust he betrayed, then I'd say he doesn't have a shot in hel of ever regaining anyone's trust. Or deserving it."

  The phone was slipping from my sweaty palm. I switched hands.

  "What if he'd known he was going to hurt people and did it anyway?" I asked. "How could they possibly trust him after that?"

  "His emotional need was a weakness that got the better of him, clouding his judgment. How do you know he wasn't scrambling, hoping to rectify his mistake before it became public?"

  My chin was trembling, but I refused to give in to tears.

  "What was his original goal, Nate? To be successful at all cost? Was he really thinking of others? Or just himself?" I had to talk about Geraldo. It was the only way I was going to get through this.

  "Is life ever that black and white, Liza?"

  I didn't have an answer. I wanted it to be. I knew that much. Or at least, I wanted some things to be.

  The ones on which I'd built the foundation of my life.

  "I think his goal was to serve the people who trusted him, yet satisfy himself at the same time," Nate said slowly. "That's the goal of any decent man. He doesn't set out to betray others."

  The hardest part of all of this was that my heart was responding to it. I felt the rightness of what Nate was saying.

  Just as I felt the hopelessness of trying to forget.

  "But what if his... weakness overcomes him again?" I asked softly.

  "He's learned the key lesson. The weakness wasn't his downfall."

  "What was his downfall?" I had to ask.

  "The fact that he was too ashamed of his weakness to admit it. So he hid it, and in hiding, it grew.

  And eventually he ended up with something even more shameful."

  Oh, my God. I was sobbing. Too hard to think.

  "Liza?"

  He had to stop. To leave me alone.

  "Are you okay, Liza?"

  I opened my mouth to tell him not to call me again.

  "Come home, Nate. Please?"

  I hadn't moved since I'd hung up the phone. Never did get my bath. I just sat there, propped up by pillows in the dark, waiting.

  Anticipating.

  And fearing.

  If he was ever unfaithful to me again, I'd never be able to trust anyone, because I wouldn't be able to trust my own heart. I'd become embittered and disil usioned.

  Could I afford to take that chance?

  Wouldn't it be better to continue raising our children in a semifriendly manner? We'd found a measure of peace, Nate and I. Wouldn't it be best to leave it at that?

  I heard his key in the lock. And shivered. It was so long since I'd been touched.

  I loved him so much.

  He took the stairs two at a time. I counted. He didn't even pause at Elizabeth's bedroom door before he appeared in ours.

  The look on Nate's face as he sought me out in the darkness was another thing I'd never forget. He was afraid.

  Of me?

  Of hoping?

  I couldn't make sense of what I was doing. Couldn't justify any of it. I just did what I. had to do. I held out my arms.

  "Oh, God, Liza..." Nate's voice broke. He joined me on the bed, sliding his arms around me. He was trembling.

  For a long time he just held on, his breathing erratic. And then he looked up at me, as though he had something to say.

  But didn't know what. Or maybe how.

  "Kiss me?" I'd been alone for almost a year, so begging seemed appropriate.

  Groaning, Nate pushed me down against the covers. His mouth devoured mine with even more hunger than on our wedding night. I was a seasoned woman now, not a timid virgi
n, and he unleashed his hunger on me without restraint.

  I welcomed his intensity, knowing it spoke of a need so deep he was no longer able to contain it. I knew because I felt exactly the same way.

  A couple of hours later we lay against the pil ows, a smal light on Nate's nightstand the only il umination. I'd made some decaf coffee, put on a short silk robe I'd purchased for my birthday. Nate was wearing a pair of his son's basketball shorts.

  Our shoulders were touching as we sat and sipped.

  "Your hair's longer." Nate picked up a lock, ran it through his fingers.

  "Yeah."

  "I like it."

  I warmed under his praise like a schoolgirl.

  "The boys'l be home soon." They'd see their father's car in the drive. I smiled as I pictured their expressions.

  "Do you want me to go?"

  My heart froze. "Go?"

  Nate frowned, his eyes filled with pain as he perused me. "I screwed up. Badly. And that means I forfeited my rights in this household. You call the shots here, Liza."

  "So you're just going to leave me?" I was so shocked I couldn't understand what he was trying to say.

  Had I made the biggest mistake of my life? Become a one-night stand for my estranged husband?

  Surely there'd been... The way he'd touched me.. .loved me... My body was still tingling.

  "I'm going to do whatever you need me to do."

  I didn't want a doormat.

  "What I need is for you to be honest. With me. And with yourself. And do whatever you need to do."

  The words came out with the force of my confusion. "I don't want you here as some... some act of contrition. Or out of pity."

  His scrutiny was unnerving.

  "You mean that?"

  "Yes."

  "You're sure?"

  "Absolutely."

  He jumped out of bed, setting his cup down on the stand, and reached for his clothes.

  "You're leaving."

  "I'm going to the resort to pack and as soon as it's light I'm renting a truck, unloading the storage bin I've been renting and moving my things back where they belong. Here. In my home. With my family."

  Light-headed, having trouble breathing, I sat there staring as tears welled up in my eyes.