Forgiving Natalie

by Kristin Noel Fischer

I nodded. “It’s one of those things that is truly breathtaking.”

  We followed Dash across the bridge. At the midpoint, we got off our bikes, and I asked an older couple to take our picture.

  With Dash in front of us, I slipped my arm across Natalie’s shoulders and smiled at the camera. Since I was already playing tourist today, what was the harm in playing family as well?

  After the picture, we climbed back on our bikes and rode until we reached the other side of the bridge where we took several more pictures. I was surprised by how many people had selfie sticks. While I understood the convenience of being able to take a picture without asking for help, I felt something was lost in the tourist experience.

  When Natalie and I came here on our honeymoon, we’d met so many wonderful people by asking them to take our picture. It’d been a great way to exchange information. I wasn’t blaming the selfie stick on ruining society, but sometimes it bothered me how isolating technology could be.

  “Hey, Dad,” Dash said, “maybe we should get one of those selfie sticks so we wouldn’t have to ask people to take pictures of us.”

  Before I could say anything, Natalie responded, “I don’t mind asking people to take our picture. It’s kind of fun talking to the other tourists.”

  I smiled, thinking I couldn’t agree more.

  After admiring the view and taking a ton of pictures, we joined the other tourists in riding down the hill to the quaint city of Sausalito. There, we locked our bikes and ate dinner at The Trident, the restaurant Natalie and I had dined at on our honeymoon.

  Dash had never eaten crab legs, so I insisted on treating him. When I put on the bib that came with the meal, he broke into peals of laughter.

  “You look like a baby,” he said, cracking up.

  Natalie handed Dash a bib. “Trust me, if you don’t wear this, you’re going to look like an even bigger baby. Crab legs are super messy.”

  Dash complied, and we set about cracking open the shells and digging out the meat with our lobster forks. I loved every minute of the meal, even when Dash accidentally squirted me in the eye with lobster juice.

  “It’s a lot of work,” Dash said at one point.

  “Everything good in life is a lot of work,” Natalie said. “If it was easy, it wouldn’t mean as much.”

  “Kind of like basketball,” Dash said.

  I tousled my son’s hair. “Yeah, kind of like basketball.”

  Afterward, we spent a few minutes walking through the shops. Dash quickly got bored, so I took him to collect the bikes while Natalie visited a few more stores.

  As we unlocked our bikes, Dash said, “You know what, Dad?”

  “What?” I grinned, thinking I loved hearing him call me Dad.

  “I like having a dad.”

  My heart turned to butter. “I like having a son.”

  I smiled at him as he pulled his bike out of the rack. His comment hadn’t been made to flatter me. He’d just been stating a fact. A fact I couldn’t agree with more.

  Instead of riding back to San Francisco on our bikes, we took the ferry. On Dash’s insistence, we went upstairs to the deck where a light rain fell as the wind whipped against us.

  “It’s freezing,” Natalie said, shivering as she zipped up her rain coat. “I’m going inside.”

  “No, Mom. Stay out here.”

  “No way.” Laughing, she turned to head inside, but I stopped her.

  “I’ll keep you warm.” Acting on impulse, I pulled her toward me.

  To my surprise, she wrapped her arms around my waist and leaned into me. Warmth, peace, and excitement filled my soul as I held her.

  “Hey,” Dash protested, squirming his way in between us. “I need some love, too.”

  Natalie laughed and pulled Dash into our embrace. The rain pelted against the back of my neck, but I felt warm, wrapped in this family sandwich.

  Had I not been such a jerk and abandoned Natalie, I could’ve had this. Was it too late?

  “Help,” Dash screamed, trying to wiggle out of our embrace. “You’re squishing me. I can’t breathe.”

  I loosened my grip, afraid I might really be hurting him, but Natalie just squeezed tighter, causing both Dash and me to crack up.

  Chapter 32

  Natalie – 2017

  Back at the loft that night, I read to Dash on the couch while Gage sat at the kitchen table, working on his computer. When I finished the chapter and set the book aside, Dash protested.

  “I agree,” Gage said. “You can’t stop reading now. You’re just getting to the good part.”

  Smiling, I shook my head. “Sorry. It’s late, and Dash needs to get to bed so he won’t be grouchy in the morning for church.”

  “Come on, Mom. Just one more chapter. I won’t be grouchy, I promise.”

  “Please,” Gage said, a sparkle in his eye.

  I gave an exaggerated yawn. “I’d like to, but I’m just too tired to keep reading.”

  “I’ll read.” Gage closed his laptop and came over to the couch.

  “Yes,” Dash said as his father picked up the book and sat between Dash and me.

  With my legs tucked beneath me, I scooted to the end of the couch to give Gage more room. He opened the book and placed a hand on my ankle as if to say, You can scoot over, but don’t go too far.

  Gage began reading, and I steadied my breath, thinking there wasn’t any other place I’d rather be. Emphasizing my point, Dash smiled at me with so much love, my heart felt like it could burst.

  “Am I doing okay?” Gage asked, turning the page.

  Dash nodded. “You’re actually a better reader than Mom.”

  “Thanks a lot.” I pretended to be offended, but I completely agreed. There was something so soothing about Gage’s voice.

  “Sorry, Mom.”

  I smiled. “It’s okay. I’m more than happy to pass the job of reading to your father.”

  Gage winked at me and turned back to the book. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head against the back of the couch and listened to the story.

  When I went back to jail, I would remember this moment. On nights when things got bad, I would pull out this memory and pretend I was still here with Dash and Gage.

  After a while, Gage stopped reading and closed the book. He gazed down at Dash who’d fallen asleep. “He looks so peaceful.”

  “He is at peace,” I said. “He fell asleep to the sound of his father reading to him. What could be more peaceful than that?”

  Gage turned the book over in his hands. “I’ve seen kids at the gym with The Bigsby Chronicles, but I had no idea what it was about. It’s a great story.”

  I nodded. “This is book seven, but they’re coming out with the movie for the first book on Friday.”

  “Dash mentioned that.” Gage set the book on the coffee table. “Do you want to take him to see the movie? Together, I mean?”

  My face turned red hot. I both loved and hated how Gage’s question made me feel.

  “I don’t have to go if you planned on taking him by yourself,” Gage said. “I just thought it’d be fun to go with you.”

  I nodded. “Dash would love that.”

  Gage looked down at his palms, then up at me. “What about you, Natalie?”

  My heart pounded. He had no idea what he was asking. No idea how much I wanted to tell him nothing could thrill me more. Instead, I simply nodded. “I’d like that, too.”

  He grinned as if he’d just scored a huge victory. “Well, I should probably take Dash to bed.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Should I wake him up and make him use the bathroom first?”

  “You can try, but once he’s asleep, it’s almost impossible to wake him.”

  Gage nodded and scooped up Dash. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go potty before you go to bed.”

  Dash mumbled something in his sleep, and Gage carried him into the bathroom. Roxy trotted behind.

  When I first told Gage about Dash’s bed-wetting, he’d been worried somethi
ng was medically wrong. After researching the issue, however, he understood that all we could do was encourage Dash to stay dry while we waited for his bladder to mature.

  I rose and went into the kitchen to unload the dishwasher. Everyone was going to be fine without me. Dash might struggle at first, but eventually, he’d adapt to his new normal.

  As for Gage, he was more than capable of raising our son. He’d probably be a better parent than I could ever be. I just hoped he wouldn’t let Dash forget me.

  When Gage returned to the kitchen, I held up the tiny pitcher we’d used for the melted butter this morning. “Where does this go?”

  Gage pointed to a cabinet at the far end of the kitchen. I opened the cabinet and froze. Sitting on the bottom shelf was something I hadn’t seen in a long time.

  “I can’t believe you still have this.” I picked up the carved dog I’d bought Gage from Chinatown on our honeymoon.

  He smiled at me. “I told you I’d keep it forever.”

  “I remember.” My heart started beating so hard it hurt. Why had he kept it? After everything I’d done to him, why did he still have this?

  I put the dog back on the shelf and set the pitcher beside it. Then, I closed the cabinet, not wanting to feel all that emotion.

  Gage silently joined me in unloading the dishwasher. When we finished, I closed the door and glanced at him. “Well, I should probably go to bed. That bike ride wore me out. Thanks for reading tonight.”

  “I enjoyed it.”

  Avoiding his gaze, I scooted past him. “Good night.”

  “Natalie?”

  “Yes?” Reluctantly, I turned to face him, scared to death what he was going to say.

  “Do you want to go to church with Dash and me in the morning?”

  I’d been hoping he would ask me, but now I wasn’t so sure. “Can I decide in the morning?”

  “Sure,” he said, not bothering to hide his disappointment. “Sleep tight.”

  “You, too.” Before he could say anything more, I hustled down the hall to my bedroom and closed the door.

  *

  As I sat with Gage and Dash in church the next morning, I tried not to be nervous. Uncle Leo had taken me to services when I was a kid, but it never really stuck. The closest I’d come to believing in God had been in rehab during the mandatory praise and worship services.

  I’d since concluded that faith was a gift. Some people had it, and others, like me, didn’t. Then again, maybe I was just too stubborn to believe in God.

  “It’s difficult for us to understand God’s will,” the pastor said, addressing the congregation. “Sometimes bad things happen to us and we feel abandoned by God instead of realizing He’s just giving us an opportunity for something different.”

  I shot a quick glance at Gage, knowing that’s how he felt about his accident. Even though he’d lost his leg, he’d gained a greater appreciation for life.

  Had Gage felt abandoned by God as he walked through the hell I’d turned our marriage into? My mind wandered, but something the pastor said caught my attention. “Are you having trouble turning your negative into a positive? Just start with one thing. Just find one small thing you can cling to. Maybe having Sunday supper with your in-laws is the worst part of your week. Well, start with one small thing. Start by appreciating the pie.”

  A wave of laughter rolled through the church. I glanced at Gage to see him smiling at me. How was I supposed to be grateful about leaving him and going to jail?

  “There’s always something positive,” the minister said. “With God, there’s always hope, and hope is something this world so desperately needs.”

  I stared down at my lap. The one positive thing about going to jail was no longer having to fear being arrested. Wasn’t that the whole reason I’d devised my plan in the first place?

  I glanced at Gage and Dash, both of them concentrating on the sermon. The thought of leaving them was excruciating, but it was something I had to do. Something I was beginning to realize I might only be able to do with Divine intervention.

  *

  When Friday came, I was filled with a nervous excitement about going to the movies with Gage. Shortly before it was time to leave, he walked into the kitchen, reading the third book in the Bigsby series. At the rate he was tearing through the books, he’d be caught up to book seven in no time.

  “Do you want to leave in about an hour?” he asked.

  “That sounds good.” I motioned to the fresh onions, sugar snap peas, and peppers I’d bought that afternoon at one of the family-owned grocery stores on Stockton Street. “I’m going to make myself some shrimp stir-fry for dinner. Would you like some?”

  Gage frowned. “I thought going to a movie meant having popcorn and candy for dinner.”

  I laughed. “What are you talking about? You never eat junk food like popcorn and candy.”

  “I don’t?”

  “No. You barely touched the French toast Dash made last Saturday.”

  “What are you talking about? I had two pieces.”

  “Two pieces,” I teased.

  Dash joined in on the conversation. “Yeah, Dad. You only eat things like eggs, vegetables, and protein shakes. Things that taste really gross.”

  Gage patted his firm stomach. “That’s the downfall of being in the fitness business. When you own a gym, you feel obligated to eat healthy. It’s a rule just like it’s a rule that you have to eat the theater dinner when you go to the movies.”

  “The theater dinner?” I said, skeptical.

  “Yep,” Dash agreed. “When you go to the movies, it’s a law that you have to eat the theater dinner.”

  I shook my head and resumed slicing the red pepper. “Well, I’m making myself some stir-fry. You’re both welcome to have some if you’d like or you can just eat the theater dinner.”

  “No stir-fry for me,” Dash said, running off.

  I continued preparing my meal as Gage watched. Self-conscious, I sucked in my stomach and straightened my spine. “What?” I finally asked.

  He shrugged. “It’s just been nice having you and Dash here.”

  It felt like he was headed into serious territory, so I brushed off his comment with a light response. “Well, we’ve really appreciated you taking us in like this.”

  He nodded and hesitated as if he wanted to say something. Then, he asked if he could change his mind about the stir-fry.

  I laughed with relief. “Yes, you can change your mind. I guess you were too horrified by the idea of eating only popcorn for dinner?”

  “A little.” He opened the refrigerator and retrieved a small bag of baby carrots. “Okay, maybe a lot.”

  Smiling, I turned back to my vegetables. “Some things are predictable, you know?”

  “I know.”

  *

  At the theater, we bought snacks and joined the ever-growing line of people who already had tickets. I popped a piece of popcorn in my mouth. “I can’t believe how crowded it is.”

  “Are you kidding?” Gage said. “This is the most anticipated movie of the year, and after reading the first three books, I can see why.”

  “Wait until you get to book six,” Dash said. “It’s our favorite. Right, Mom?”

  “Right.”

  The line finally started moving, but by the time we reached the theater, nearly every seat was filled or saved. I pointed to three seats in the back row. “Up there.”

  “Hurry,” Dash shouted, racing ahead.

  As we followed, Gage gently placed his hand on the small of my back. His touch filled me with a warm, tingly sensation. Don’t do that, I thought, but didn’t dare voice.

  Despite my intention to keep my distance from Gage, I was falling in love with him again. Or maybe I’d never fallen out of love with him. Knowing our time together was limited and nothing could come of my attraction to him, I allowed myself to savor the moment.

  Halfway up the steps, Dash spotted Tye and some other boys from school. “Mom, can I sit with my friends?�
�

  I shook my head. “No, just stay with us.”

  Dash didn’t argue, but by the time we finally reached the top of the theater, there were only two seats left.

  “I guess I’ll have to sit with my friends,” Dash said, not sounding the least bit disappointed.

  I scanned the theater looking for three empty seats, but everything was taken. Reluctantly, I agreed to let Dash go. He bolted down the steps toward his friends without a backward glance.

  Gage gave a sympathetic grin as if he understood my hesitation to be alone with him. “Well, it’s good Dash has made so many friends.”

  “Right. Way to turn a negative into a positive.”

  Gage chuckled. “So, you were paying attention in church.”

  I shrugged. “It was a good message.”

  “That pastor always gives a good message.”

  We took our seats just as the lights dimmed and the previews began. Gage leaned over and whispered, “I hope it’s as good as the book.”

  His voice against my skin disarmed me. I mumbled something about the movie never being as good as the book.

  Gage tilted the tub of popcorn toward me. “Well, one advantage the movie has over the book is the popcorn.”

  “True.”

  When the previews ended and the movie began, the entire audience applauded and whistled. I laughed and joined in by clapping. It was fun being part of something bigger than myself.

  Halfway through the movie, Gage placed the tub of popcorn on the ground. Then, he reached across the armrest and boldly took my hand.

  I jumped, surprised by the unexpected gesture. I shot a quick glance his direction and heard him chuckle in the darkness. “Is this all right?”

  I nodded, too stunned to tell him holding hands wasn’t a good idea. I was leaving in a few weeks, but of course, he didn’t know that. He thought I was staying here forever.

  For the rest of the movie, I kept my hand in his, trying to focus on the screen as my mind raced. If Gage’s feelings for me were even half as intense as my own, then I needed to tell him about my plan sooner than later. It wasn’t fair for him not to know.

  When the movie ended and the lights came on, we separated. “Great movie,” Gage said, picking up our trash and coming to his feet.