And he said his final farewells, feeling distinctly unloverlike.
He wished he could go back to Sweet Creek right now, before Nadine changed her mind about him.
Just as he was trying to figure out how to duck out of his meetings early, his cell phone rang.
He glanced at the screen. His lawyer.
“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked, hoping and praying Matthew wasn’t calling to talk to him about Skyline.
“Not bad. Been busy. My dad has me running. He asked me to talk to you about Nadine and Skyline again. She’s been ruffling a few too many feathers and they’ve been calling. As your lawyer, I thought I should let you know the firm doesn’t want to get in Skyline’s crosshairs. We’ve got too many things going on right now and can’t afford the exposure.”
“I think things are in check. There was an accident last week with a Skyline employee, but Nadine passed the article off to the new hire so I think it will be more balanced.”
“She going to leave them alone?”
Clint stood by the hotel room window, looking out over the lights of the city spangled below, wishing he were home instead of here. “She said she would, and I trust her.”
“I hope so for her sake, yours, and the paper’s,” Matthew said, his voice holding an ominous tone. “Skyline is getting a rather itchy trigger finger.”
“Enough with the shooting analogy. I get it.”
“Like I said, I hope so.”
Clint said goodbye then held his phone in his hand, feeling a sudden need to call Nadine again. To make sure she was doing what he asked.
Would that make me look needy?
He tossed his phone aside then returned to his desk.
But as he opened his laptop, he couldn’t help but wonder why Nadine sounded so evasive about Friday night.
Chapter 16
By Friday afternoon, Nadine was in such a dither, she couldn’t concentrate. She didn’t know what to attribute which emotion to—Clint was taking her out that night, and she was meeting with Chantelle. In a few hours she would, hopefully, discover the truth about her father. And after that...
She had committed herself to meeting this lady yet felt that she was betraying Clint.
You’re not doing anything with it, she reminded herself. It’s just for information. Just to bring this full circle.
She tried to keep herself busy and her eyes off the clock, but it didn’t work. At about four thirty, she gave up. She didn’t have to feel guilty about not working until five; goodness knows she had enough overtime hours at the office.
She drove home then showered and changed, her mind bouncing between a loyalty to Clint and a need to find out what this lady knew.
Thankfully Grandma was gone, which meant she didn’t need to explain her actions. She hadn’t told Grandma about the mystery lady, just in case it turned out to be a hoax. Nadine didn’t want to disappoint her, nor did she want to listen to a lecture about leaving things alone, especially after their little chat the other night. So, she wrote a quick note, letting Grandma know she was at the school.
Teams were warming up by the time Nadine entered the foyer, and the shrill sounds of whistles echoed through the gym. She stood in the doorway of one of the gyms, checking the bleachers. Spectators lined the walls, but Nadine didn’t spot a green sweatshirt. She went to the other one, but nothing. Thankfully Allison hadn’t seen her. She wandered restlessly around the hallways, returning every few minutes to check.
Half an hour later, Nadine’s stomach was in knots. It was five thirty. Clint was coming at six-thirty.
At ten to six, she was pacing the hallway. She had maybe fifteen more minutes before she absolutely had to leave.
What if this was all a hoax, she wondered as she glanced at her watch. What if Skyline planted this lady just to sabotage my life?
Don’t be ridiculous. You’re getting paranoid because you’re feeling guilty. You told Clint you would back off.
She wondered if she should leave a note. Where? How? Did she dare walk away?
Did she dare risk her relationship with Clint?
Nadine almost laughed aloud. It was as if she had to choose between silencing the echoes of the past or grasping a hope for the future.
Nadine glanced once more at her watch. Her stomach tightened as the hands moved steadily on to six fifteen.
Was she sabotaging her chance with Clint? She reminded herself that he had said six thirty at her house; she had a few minutes before she had to leave.
She stepped back into the gym to make one more circle before leaving.
A movement in the bleachers caught her eye, and Nadine saw a green, hooded sweatshirt and gray pants. Her shoulders sagging in relief, she ran around the edge of the court and caught up to the slight female figure exiting the stairs.
“Excuse me,” Nadine said, tapping her on the shoulder. “Were you looking for me? Nadine Laidlaw.”
The woman spun around. Slight, fair-haired, streaks of gray glinting at her temples. Her eyes seemed weary and her smile forced as she looked at Nadine. “I thought that was you.” She shoved her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie and indicated with her head that she wanted to talk outside.
Nadine followed her, trying to get her pounding heart to slow down. She’s just going to answer a few questions, nothing major, she thought. Don’t expect too much. Nadine had to wipe her sweaty palms on her pants as they stepped from the noisy foyer into the relative quiet of outside.
The woman lit a cigarette, and Nadine was surprised to see the flame of the lighter tremble. She pulled in a deep drag, blew it out, and looked at Nadine. “You know who I am. Chantelle. My brother, Gordon, used to work for Skyline. He worked with your father.”
This is it, Nadine thought. What my family has been waiting for, all this time.
“My brother was hired by Skyline almost seven years ago, a month before your father died.” Chantelle left the cigarette in her mouth as she dug into the pocket of her jeans. She pulled out an envelope and handed it to Nadine. “Six months ago, he tried to commit suicide and failed. Before he tried, he wrote a suicide note.”
Nadine glanced at Chantelle’s face and back at the envelope.
“Go on,” urged Chantelle, shoving the envelope into Nadine’s hands. “Take it. It’s a photocopy. I read it already, know what it says. He worked for that company for two months after the accident, and he hadn’t been the same since. I wanted to know what caused it. What made him want to kill himself?” She released a bitter laugh. “I almost wish I hadn’t.”
“What happened?” Nadine asked, her voice breaking. “That he tried to commit suicide, I mean.”
Chantelle shrugged. “Gordon wasn’t what you’d call scholarship material, so we were really glad when he got the job.” She took another drag from her cigarette. “He was there when your father died. He’d been threatened by unknown people telling him to keep his mouth shut. I know you write articles about Skyline and are not afraid to call them what they are. Cheats, liars.” Chantelle waved the burning cigarette at the letter, the smoke wreathing between them. “Your father didn’t die because he was careless. He died because of my brother but also because of Skyline.” Chantelle dropped her unfinished cigarette and ground it out with the toe of her running shoe. “The letter explains everything.” She looked up at Nadine, her eyes almost glowing in the gathering dusk.
Nadine held up the envelope and looked at it once again. “I’ll read it. For sure I’ll read it. Thanks.” She was fully aware of the passing time, and now that she had fulfilled one obligation, she was anxious to get home.
“I want to see those guys pulled down for what they did to Gordon and to your family.” Chantelle took a step forward, her eyes burning with intensity. For a moment, Nadine feared what she saw in Chantelle’s eyes. “You can show everyone what they are. Now you have proof.”
Nadine swallowed. “I’ll do what I can, Chantelle.”
Chantelle stared hard at her. “I hate them, La
idlaw. I really hate them.” She pulled out her cigarette package and withdrew another cigarette. “I hate what they do to the community, I hate what they did to my family. They’re a pack of lying, cheating...”
As she listened to her rant gain momentum Nadine thought of her own anger, her own sorrow. Yes, she wanted to see justice done. Yes, she wanted to see Skyline brought down just as Chantelle did. But surely, she didn’t have the same deep, intense hatred as Chantelle?
“What are you going to do?” Chantelle asked, inhaling on her cigarette.
Nadine pocketed the letter. “First I’ll read the letter and find out exactly what your brother knew then take it from there.”
“You’re not wussing out on me, now, are you?” Chantelle waved her glowing cigarette at her. “It’s all in there. In that letter. You read it.” Chantelle walked backward toward the gym, still talking. “I’ll call you in a couple of days and you can tell me then. Now I gotta watch my kid play.” She pulled open the door, a flood of noise spilling out. When it slammed shut, it cut off the sounds of the tournament. Nadine leaned back against the wall, her insides trembling in reaction and with a touch of fear. Chantelle had seemed almost fanatical, and Nadine wondered what in the world was in the letter.
She glanced at her watch. Six-fifteen! She turned and ran. It would take her ten minutes to get home. The thought that Clint might be waiting hurried her steps and lightened her heart in spite of her meeting.
She and Clint were going on a real date. A planned date.
Her feet pounded out a steady rhythm as her breathing became more labored. Only a little farther, she reassured herself. Just a few more blocks. Let him be there, Lord. Let him be waiting. She didn’t dare stop—could hardly keep going—and almost skidded around the corner to her street. When she saw only her grandmother’s car and her old car in front of the house, she slowed her pace and clutched her side, her chest heaving, wishing she had driven to the school instead of walking.
By the time she got to the apartment, her breathing was slowing, but her legs were trembling with a combination of the extra exertion and anticipation. She walked into the entrance, her heart still pounding.
“Hey, Grandma,” she called out, kicking off her shoes and setting them neatly in the porch. “I’m home.”
“Nadine.” Grandma’s voice chided her from the end of the hallway just as Nadine hung up her coat. “I got your note. You’re late.”
Nadine stepped into the kitchen, her heartbeat finally slowing. “Sorry. I had to meet someone for an interview at the school.”
Grandma stood in the kitchen, her arms folded across her chest and her head pitched to one side. “Clint has been here waiting for you. He just left.”
Nadine’s heart stopped, beat once, and began racing again, this time in fear. “What—what did you say?”
“I said Clint just left.”
“I tried to phone you.”
Barbara Laidlaw looked sheepish. “When I came back, I wanted to have a nap, so I turned off the ringer. I remembered at six to turn it back on.”
Nadine took a slow breath, willing her heart to still. “How long was he waiting here?”
“He came here at six, said he was way early. Then someone named Allison phoned here at a quarter past six asking for you. I asked if she wanted to talk to Clint. She did, and then after he talked to her, he left.” Grandma walked over to Nadine. “What is happening? Were you and Clint supposed to have a date tonight, and who is this Allison?”
“She’s a new reporter at the paper.” Nadine chewed her lip, remembering how she had told Clint that Allison was covering the volleyball games at the gym, not her. Now it looked for sure as if she was hiding something. What should she do now? “Did Clint say where he was going?”
“He just thanked me for the tea and left.”
“I gotta go, Grandma.” She turned and ran into the entrance. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t wait up for me.” As she grabbed her car keys off the hook, she flashed a nervous smile at her hovering grandmother. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”
Her stomach was churning by the time she pulled into a parking spot at the school.
As she strode down the sidewalk, she glanced at the vehicles. No sign of Clint’s silver SUV. She took a shortcut across the lawn, and just as she came to the corner of the gym, she heard a vehicle drive out of the parking lot.
With a sinking heart, she watched Clint Fletcher’s vehicle slow and then spin around the corner and down the road.
Chapter 17
Nadine leaned against the brick wall of the gym as she watched Clint’s SUV leave. What was going on? Was he going back in the direction of her apartment?
“You still here? I thought you were gone.”
Nadine’s heart stopped at Chantelle’s all-too-familiar voice. She turned. “I was, but I was hoping to meet someone.”
“That new guy at the paper?” Chantelle rubbed one hand along the side of her pants, jerking her chin in the direction Clint’s car went. “You just missed him.”
A coldness gripped Nadine’s chest. “How do you know?”
Chantelle snapped her gum. “I recognized him and talked to him. Told him some of what I told you. Figured it wouldn’t hurt if two people knew the story.”
Nadine’s hands felt like ice, and her heart, a heavy weight. Clint knew why she had come here, why she had missed him.
“He didn’t seem real interested at first,” warned Chantelle. “But when I told him it was about Skyline, he looked as mad as I felt.”
Each word she spoke added to the heaviness in her chest. Nadine nodded in acknowledgment then ran to her car. Her head ached, and her side still hurt by the time she pulled in her driveway. No silver SUV was parked in front of the apartment.
Nadine laid her head against the steering wheel and allowed herself a few moments of tears. Was the letter worth it? Even if it proved that her father was innocent, would it change anything? She wasn’t doing anything with the letter. But would Clint know that?
Nadine remembered Chantelle’s bitterness and knew she also had the same burning need for revenge. But, she had learned that it wasn’t up to her to bring justice into the world; she had done what she could, and she had to let go.
But Clint. What was he thinking right now?
Her stomach plunged again as she thought of him talking to Chantelle, hearing what she had to say.
Can we back up and do this again, Lord? I’d like another try. I’ll make the right choice this time.
As she looked up at the lights of her apartment, extra bright through her tears, she knew she’d had her chance and had made her choices. The letter in her pocket wasn’t worth the opportunity with Clint Fletcher she was throwing away.
She bit her lip and indulged in a few more minutes of tears. Then, palming away the moisture from her cheeks, she opened the door and trudged back to the apartment.
Nadine slipped into the apartment and, with a tired sigh, kicked off her shoes for the second time in fifteen minutes.
“Is that you, Nadine?” called her grandmother from the living room.
“Yes,” she called out, suddenly bone-weary. She wanted to go to her bedroom, shove her head under a pillow, and stay there until she felt moved to leave. Which, in her present state of mind, might be never.
“Come sit with me a minute and tell me what is going on.”
Nadine stopped at the doorway to the living room. “Nothing is going on, Grandma. I missed Clint. I didn’t know when he was coming, that’s all.”
Barbara turned to her granddaughter, her mouth drawn tight. “You leave the poor man sitting here for almost an hour, and you say ‘That’s all’?”
“What else am I supposed to say?” grumped Nadine. She didn’t need her grandmother’s censure—she had enough self-disgust to spare. “I don’t want to talk about it, Grandma.”
“Well, I do. Clint Fletcher is a fine young man. He’s handsome, smart, and a sincere Christian. Quite a pote
nt combination, I’d say.”
I’d say, too, thought Nadine as she dropped into a nearby chair.
“Where were you, Nadine?”
“In the first place, I didn’t think Clint would come here early. We were supposed to meet at six thirty,” she answered, ignoring her grandmother’s question.
“He said he phoned the office. Where were you?” Barbara repeated.
Nadine hesitated, wondering what to say.
In answer, Nadine slid her hand into her pocket and tugged on the envelope Chantelle had given her. “I went to meet with a lady who had some more information on how Dad died.”
Barbara had opened her mouth to shoot another question at Nadine, but obediently closed it.
Nadine stared at the envelope, wondering what it said, and yet, somehow, not caring. It couldn’t begin to make up for what she had passed up. Would she be able to explain? How would it sound?
You asked me to lay off Skyline, and then I keep you waiting while I go digging for more stuff to use against them?
“Is the information in that?”
Nadine nodded, bone-weary and exhausted.
“Aren’t you going to read it?”
Nadine sat up, holding the envelope between her fingers. “I guess I may as well. So that standing Clint up wasn’t for nothing.” She ripped open one end and pulled out the photocopy of the letter. Pursing her lips, she unfolded it to read the tight, crabbed writing.
It felt eerie reading what was supposed to have been read only after the writer had taken his own life.
She skimmed over the references to personal events that would matter only to Chantelle. And then, halfway down, there it was: Her father’s name. Sam Laidlaw. Nadine slowed her reading. As if to help, she traced the words with her finger. Her heart pounded as she read, and her hands were clammy.
“What does it say, Naddy? You look stunned.”
Nadine finished reading, staring at the letter. She slouched back in the easy chair. “It wasn’t Dad’s fault, Grandma,” she whispered, letting the letter drop into her lap. “It wasn’t his fault, just like we figured. That poor boy.”
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