“Your mother was a lot of work for you and your grandmother, wasn’t she?”
Nadine waved the comment away with a graceful turn of her hand. “I resented it at first, but then I wondered if it wasn’t God’s way of giving me a chance to get to know her better. I always spent so much time with my dad.” She smiled, her eyes looking over his shoulder as if she had disappeared into another place and time. “I always helped him with his projects in the shop. We would go out to the bush on Saturdays to cut firewood. The twins stayed at home with mom.” She smiled softly. “He called me his little tomboy.” She shook her head and looked back at Clint.
“I always remember him as a kind man.” Clint folded his arms, leaning his elbows on the table. “Whenever I came over, he would always ask what me and Uncle Dory were working on at the acreage.”
“He liked you.”
“I liked him. He was a man of integrity, content with his life.” Clint couldn’t keep the bitter note out of his voice. “Unlike so many others.”
“Others being...” prompted Nadine.
Clint rubbed his thumb along the inside of his opposite arm, concentrating on the tabletop. “My parents.”
“And,” Nadine prompted, “what about them?”
Clint shrugged, hesitant to tell her even after all these years. “They both worked hard to collect enough money to buy more things. They were going to give me a car when I graduated high school.”
“But you didn’t get it.”
“No. I blew it. That’s how I ended up at Dory’s. I was caught stealing a flashlight from a hardware store, a very deliberate act of rebellion.” He looked up at her, his mouth curved in a wry grin. “My parents didn’t understand what was happening because they never took the time to.”
“You wanted them to notice you.”
Clint caught Nadine’s look of surprise, as if she had just discovered something new; and, he conceded, she probably had. At that time, he hadn’t told too many people how he had ended up in Sweet Creek. It was embarrassing to admit to anyone who he wanted to impress that he had gotten into trouble over something as unimportant as a flashlight. As he got to know the Laidlaws, he said nothing—as much because of his shame over the ease with which his parents had sent him away as the guilt over his actions. “That’s exactly what Uncle Dory said,” he mumbled.
“And where are your parents now?”
“Dad’s in Rome and Mother shuttles between Toronto and New York.” Clint smiled at her as if to negate the bitterness that crept into his voice. He had forgiven his parents the same time he had become a Christian, but he still struggled with it.
“I take it they’re divorced.”
“You take it correctly.”
“But it still bothers you.”
Clint lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug. “It doesn’t matter what the marriage counselors say, it’s always hard on kids when their family breaks up. At any age.” Clint looked back up at Nadine, surprised to see a gentle understanding in her expression. “Your family was one of the first I saw that worked together and cared about each other. I’ve always wanted that for myself.” He hesitated, wondering if he should tell her more. If she would understand how his family had been impacted by the lawsuit his father pursued for so long.
A bit heavy-handed maybe?
Too obvious?
Nadine looked down, and Clint thought he had overstepped some unknown boundary. One never knew with Nadine, and he had been talking more in the past few minutes than he had in days.
“Which makes it harder to hear about your father’s death as well as your mother’s.”
Nadine was quiet a moment, and then she looked up, her eyes soft. “Thanks for that.”
“And how are you feeling now about losing your mother?”
“Don’t worry. I won’t start crying again.”
“No. No. Of course not. And about the other afternoon-“
Nadine held her hand up to stop him. “It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize again.”
“I don’t want to apologize again,” he said. “I want to explain.”
She frowned in confusion. “Explain what?” Her voice held a wary tone, and he would have to tread carefully with her. Especially since she still assumed he had broken Leslie’s heart so long ago.
“I didn’t want you to feel like I was taking advantage of you...of your sadness,” he amended. “I felt bad that you had to deal with it and I wanted to comfort you. But, then...” he let his voice drift away as he struggled to find the right words.
Thankfully she said nothing to fill the silence, so he plowed on.
“I like you. I’m attracted to you. And the kiss was part of that.” He held her gaze, hoping she understood what he was trying to say.
She blushed and looked down at the napkin she was folding and re-folding.
“I wasn’t sorry about the kiss,” he continued. “I was just sorry about the circumstances. I wished it could have happened another time.”
For a moment, she said nothing, then her lips curved into a gentle smile.
“Me too,” she said quietly.
Then, to his surprise, she took his hand. He wound his fingers around hers, wishing he could leave everything here. Wishing they could just carry on like this—just Clint and Nadine without all the other stuff, past and present, clinging to them.
Wishing he didn’t have to talk to her about the “other thing.”
The Skyline thing.
Because as soon as he did, this small moment of closeness would be broken.
Chapter 12
Nadine stirred her soup, trying to adjust to her new feelings about Clint. Trying to figure out what to think of what he had just told her.
All her defenses against this man had suddenly melted away.
She glanced up at him, surprised yet again to see his eyes on her. Looking down, she busied herself with unwrapping her cracker from its cellophane wrapper. She felt she had to get the subject back to something more manageable.
All she wanted was to leave and be alone with him, not in this public place where everyone knew everyone else. Not with Anton and Carlos, the inn regulars sending her covert grins or Tess giving her a discreet thumbs up. Everyone knew too much here.
“When you left Sweet Creek you went to Europe, didn’t you?” It was a much safer topic than thinking about the last time he had kissed her.
“My parents had a collective attack of guilt over their divorce, and sending me away on that trip was their way of making up for it.” He spoke quietly, and she thought again of his comment about their divorce. How it had hurt him.
“You know, I lost my parents, but it sounds like you have too.”
Clint gave her a gentle smile. “I lost my father years before. He spent so much time on his...on his business that he didn’t have much time for me or my mother.”
Nadine felt her cheeks warm, remembering all too well a snide comment she had made in this very place when sitting with Trace.
“That trip was one of the really good things that happened to me.” Clint was quiet a moment, his finger tracing idle circles on the tablecloth, his supper forgotten. “I traveled through places of extreme wealth and extreme poverty. I learned that what had happened to me was small in the larger scheme of things. I stopped in churches that were older than any book I had read, visited castles and museums, and toured countrysides that had been home to generations of families. And in a busy square in Jerusalem, it was as if all the history I had seen in Europe, everything I had witnessed with your family, the myriad times I had sat in church with Uncle Dory and even my own parents, all coalesced. I realized that I had been given a precious gift of life and a promise of grace.”
Clint looked up at her, his mouth quirked in a gentle smile. “I changed, and I accepted those promises. Then, I had to come home.” He hesitated a moment, as if he wanted to say more and was unsure of how to proceed.
Nadine leaned forward, full of questions, yet unsure of where to go.
Clint’s confessions created space to get to know each other in new ways.
“That sounds amazing. I would love to do more traveling.”
“I imagine taking care of your mother prevented any of that,” he said.
“Yes. It did.” But, she didn’t want to dwell on the past. She was with a man she had dreamt of many times. She no longer had a boyfriend, and things were moving in a good direction. “Tell me more about Europe.”
While they finished their supper, he did.
A gentle note permeated his deep voice as he talked of Rome, visiting the Vatican, trips through the Italian countryside, Paris and the famous landmarks, walking along the Seine, biking through Holland, and of hiking through England. Nadine felt a touch of envy as he spoke, but even after all that, he talked most animatedly about his uppermost desire to one day come back to Sweet Creek and take over his uncle’s paper. It was a desire that had begun as a random thought and had changed into a real need as his own life changed.
Tess had taken their plates and bowls away and poured another round of coffee, thankfully keeping her comments to herself. Clint leaned his elbows on the table, sipping as he asked her questions and responded to hers.
She fiddled with her spoon, answering his own soft-spoken questions and telling him about the precious few things that had happened in her life since he had left Sweet Creek. A few times she caught his eyes on her.
At those moments, her heart quickened.
It wasn’t until Tess had come around for the fifth or sixth time with coffee that she realized how long they had been sitting there. She snuck a quick glance at her watch.
“My goodness,” she exclaimed aloud. “It’s already ten o’clock.”
Clint looked as if he didn’t believe her. He glanced at his own wrist. “You’re right.” He looked at her and smiled. “I can’t believe we’ve been sitting here so long.”
Neither could Nadine. “I should get going.”
“You were supposed to be out tonight anyway, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but I never like to stay out too long. Grandma worries about me.”
“Well, we had better leave.” Clint pulled a few dollars out of his pocket for a tip and dropped them on the table. He also took the check before Nadine had a chance. “I’ll get it,” he said in reply to her protest. “I’ve never had a chance to take you out and often wanted to. Be back in a minute.” Bemused at his parting comment, Nadine watched him stride across the deserted restaurant.
She gathered her discarded scarf, her purse, and her knapsack and got up herself, wondering what he meant and if she was reading more into the casual comment than he implied. By the time she came to the front desk, he was pocketing his wallet.
“I’d offer to drive you home, but I imagine you’ll want to take your car?”
Nadine nodded, sorry now she had taken it and wondering what would have transpired if he had driven her home. “Thanks so much for dinner,” she said.
Clint nodded, then, walking ahead, he opened the heavy glass door for her. They walked in silence along the deserted street to her car. The evening air held a faint chill coming off the mountains, as a hint of the winter that would soon fold them and the town.
Nadine fumbled through her purse for her keys, finally finding them.
“Here, let me,” Clint said, taking the keys out of her hand. He paused then curled his fingers around hers.
“I’m glad you don’t have orange streaks in your hair,” he said. “And I’m glad you wore it loose.”
Her heart stuttered at his touch. And for a moment, she couldn’t speak—just a moment though. It wasn’t like her to hold her tongue too long.
“I wanted to look nice.”
“For Trace.”
He said the words without rancor though his mouth tightened.
She nodded but then held his gaze, hoping he understood. “Trace was a mistake. A joke in many ways. A way to keep my grandma off my back.”
“Not important to you then?”
“I don’t think I would have kissed you if he was. I’m not like that.”
“Your sister was.”
“What?” The comment seemed to come from nowhere. “My sister was what?”
“I’m sorry. I...that slipped out. It’s nothing.”
Nadine caught his hand and held it tight, frowning at him. “It may be, but I sense there’s something else you want to say. Are you talking about Leslie?”
Clint had a pained expression on his face, and Nadine closed the car door that she had just opened. A few weeks ago, she had accused him of breaking her sister’s heart. Now, it seemed, there were other layers to the story.
“Tell me what you meant. Please.”
“Let’s walk and talk,” he said, moving away from her.
Nadine wrapped her arms around her midsection, and together they headed down the street.
Clint shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants, looking ahead. In the dim light, his eyes were shadows accentuated by his dark eyebrows.
“What did you mean when you said that Leslie was...what was she?”
This netted her another sigh and another oblique glance.
“Please. Tell me.”
“I promised her I wouldn’t.”
Nadine’s heart shifted at his words, the serious tone of his voice.
“You know that I could just pick up the phone and call her myself. It’s been a few years.”
“I know it has, but I promised.”
“What did you promise?”
Clint shot her a sardonic look. “You really are a reporter, aren’t you?”
“Also an editor,” she said with a grin.
Clint looked away, seeming to weigh his response.
“So what happened? Why did you break up with her? Was there something else going on?”
This was met with another beat of silence as they came to the end of the street, and turned and headed down to the path to the river. It was cooler amongst the trees, and Nadine shivered a moment.
“Are you okay?” he asked, a note of concern in his voice.
“I will be once you tell me what happened.” She said, keeping her tone light. She didn’t want to spook him and she was growing more apprehensive at his evasion.
Once they got to a bench that lay ahead around the curve, she sat and Clint joined her, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched the river flow past. They could hear only the gurgle of water slipping over the rocks.
Then Clint turned to look at Nadine, his expression serious. “You have to understand, this isn’t easy for me to say.” He bit his lip, and Nadine fought the urge to grab his shoulder and shake the words loose. Instead, she waited, knowing that silence was an interviewer’s best friend.
“Your sister and I had been going out for a long time.” Clint clasped his hands, tapping his thumbs together as he stared out over the river. “She seemed distracted, and I felt like she was putting me off. Trouble was, I was having my own doubts about the relationship from my side. There was someone else I was attracted to.”
He stopped there and Nadine felt a prickling down her spine. When he looked at her, her breathing grew shallow. “I don’t know if you realized it then, but that was you.”
Nadine’s heart thundered in her chest and she could only stare at him. “I...I...never knew. I thought you and Leslie were getting married. That was the plan.”
“I don’t think that was ever my plan, though for Leslie it might have been.”
“So why was she putting you off?” Nadine felt confused, as if she was working her way through thick underbrush, unable to see where she was going, unable to know which was the right path.
“Because she was cheating on me.”
Words failed Nadine.
“With who?” she squeaked out, shock stealing her voice.
Clint eased out a heavy sigh and waved off her comment. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
There was something in his tone that bothered her.
&
nbsp; “Why not?”
His heavy pause seemed ominous, and then he shook his head. “Sometimes it’s better not to know.”
Why would it matter who Leslie was with? Her sister had never had any secrets from her.
As Nadine held his gaze, she saw a flicker of sympathy in his eyes and then, as her thoughts flashed back, icy fingers slid down her spine. Memories of hastily ended phone calls between Leslie and someone. Dates that Paul cancelled.
“Was it Paul?”
Clint didn’t need to say anything for her to know it was true. She could see it on his face.
She jumped to her feet, anger vying with grief. “How could Leslie do this?” she growled, her fingernails pressing into the palms of her hands and her shoulders rigid with fury and betrayal. “My own sister. And Paul. That useless—I didn’t even like him that much. I just went out with him because he asked. Because my sisters both had boyfriends and I didn’t. Because Leslie was dating—” she stopped herself before she finished that sentence.
Because Leslie was dating you, she had almost said.
Then Clint was at her side, his hand resting on her shoulder. She held one hand up to keep him at arm’s length. “Don’t. Don’t you dare feel sorry for me again.”
He just looked at her, his expression unreadable, but he kept his hand where it was, his fingers curled around her shoulder. “I don’t feel sorry for you. The last thing you need is my sympathy, and it’s the last thing I want to give you. Paul, like Jack, was an idiot. He didn’t appreciate what he had.”
His words soothed some of her anger but didn’t take it completely away.
How could her sister do this to her? She had Clint, why would she want Paul too?
She looked at him and realized that he too had been had. “I could say the same about Leslie,” she said quietly.
“What do you mean?” His eyes held hers, unwavering, as if delving into her secrets and her soul.
But, she wasn’t ready to go there.
“So, did you agree to break up?” she asked, feeling a need to get to the bottom of everything that happened all that time ago.
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