Blythe shrugged.
“I didn’t see her. I knocked a couple of times, and when I tried the door, it opened.”
Nate nodded.
“I left it unlocked for Nana Grace. She’ll be here soon.” Nate thought of the things he had to do, none of them involving packing up for LSU, and he sighed. “Will you help me find pictures? Nana Grace said we’ll need to give a bunch to the funeral home for a slideshow.”
Blythe leaned in and kissed him on the forehead.
“Sure. Let’s make some coffee and get you some breakfast, and we’ll start looking.”
“Really just awesome in a crisis…”
****
“EVERYTHING’S GOT YOUR NAME on it, son.” Arthur Barnes sat at Richland’s small desk in the spare room, papers and files scattered across its surface.
“What do you mean?” Nate sat across from the pile and tried to ignore the chill that came with Blythe’s father’s words.
“Well, you’re listed as the beneficiary on his $50,000 life insurance policy. You’re on the business’s LLC as a co-manager, on his bank accounts, the titles for both vehicles, equipment… everything,” he explained. “It looks like your dad wanted you to be able to claim everything if something happened to him.”
“I don’t understand… He never said anything about that.”
Arthur looked at Nate over the rims of his reading glasses.
“He probably didn’t want to alarm you. Did he know he had a heart condition?”
Nate nodded.
“Are you saying that he knew this was going to happen?” Nate asked, horrified at the thought.
“Oh, heavens, no!” Blythe’s father said, frowning. “The life insurance policy dates back to 1993.”
Nate felt a jolt.
“That’s when he adopted me…”
Arthur gave him a sad smile, and Nate saw a flash of Blythe. He turned his head toward the door, listening for her. She was helping Nana Grace write Richland’s obituary. He could hear Lila’s rocker going.
After Lila had woken that morning, she’d played “Where Flamingos Fly” about seventeen times straight on their laptop before Nate downloaded it onto his Nano and gave her a set of earbuds. She was probably still listening to it.
She didn’t even take a break when Blythe made her an egg white and onion omelet.
“The changes to the business and the titles seem to have come just after your eighteenth birthday,” Arthur continued. “Honestly, I think he was just being careful.”
Nate nodded, trying to take it all in.
“As far as assets go, there isn’t a whole lot,” Arthur added grimly. “The house is a rental. There’s about $8,000 in savings; $5,500 in checking… But, Nate, you have some decisions to make.”
Their eyes met, but Nate was afraid to ask him to explain. This was too big. This was too much for him to handle on his own.
“Can your mother work?” Arthur asked, lowering his voice.
Nate gave a half-shrug.
“She has worked. Not in a long time, but there are some jobs she can do.”
Arthur let out a long breath.
“Can she live by herself? I’m sorry to ask these questions, but it’s—”
“It’s okay, sir,” Nate dismissed, the feeling of doom he’d had in the ER coming back to him again. “She can cook and do chores and that kind of thing, but Richland always took care of the bills and stuff.”
“Does she drive?”
“No, but when she wants to go somewhere while we’re at work, she takes the bus.”
Arthur nodded.
“Well, I’d say she’d do well in an assisted living community,” he said, frowning. “But I don’t think you could afford one for more than a year or two.”
“Jesus,” Nate sighed, scrubbing his face with his hands.
“I don’t know, of course, but there are probably some group home situations out there,” Arthur speculated. “And there’s always a state-sponsored nursing home.”
Bile rose in Nate’s throat. How could he be expected to make these kinds of decisions for her? And classes at LSU started on Monday.
With unwelcome clarity, Nate realized that he wouldn’t be there when they did. No matter what, he couldn’t leave Lila to build a life for herself with a bunch of strangers, and there was no way he could send her to a government-run facility. Richland would never forgive him. He would never forgive himself.
That meant he had one option. Withdraw from LSU, enroll part-time at UL in night classes, and try to keep the business afloat. The broad horizon that had been his future narrowed down to a pinprick.
“Arthur, can I ask you another favor?” he said, his voice shaking.
“Of course, Nate.” The look he gave Nate full of sympathy.
“Please don’t say anything to Blythe just yet.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Now
“THAT GUY AT THE BAR WATCHED you cross the room,” Rae teased as Blythe took her seat. She rolled her eyes.
“I doubt it. Mitch, will you please tell your wife that we are not here to find me a date. We are here to celebrate my new job.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Mitch said, raising his beer. “What’ll you have? I’ll get it.”
Blythe looked at the labels that lined the back of the bar.
“Um… I’ll have a whipped vodka and ginger ale. Rae, what are you getting?” she asked, eyeing Rae’s glass of water.
“I’ll have the same,” Rae said briskly.
Mitch frowned at his wife.
“You sure…?”
Rae shot her husband a look Blythe couldn’t read.
“Yes… dear. Whipped vodka with ginger ale.” Blythe watched in confusion as Rae gave her husband an absurdly huge smile and batted her eyes.
“Right!… Got it. Coming right up!” Mitch left their table and headed for the bar.
“Well, that wasn’t weird at all,” Blythe said, shrugging casually. She waited for her friend to explain.
“So… Tell me about this job! Are you super excited? When do you start?” Rae asked with unnatural cheer.
“Okay, this is just creepy. Are you like a body snatcher who ate my best friend and is now wearing her skin as a suit?”
Rae blew out a defeated breath.
“Okay, fine. I have something to tell you. I just…” Rae struggled, looking pained.
“What?” Blythe sat up straighter, getting nervous.
“I just didn’t want to upset you.”
Blythe looked at her friend, mystified.
“Why on earth would I get upset? What’s going on?”
“Well…” Rae fiddled with her fingers on the table. “Mitch and I have some news…”
“OH MY GOD! YOU’RE PREGNANT!” Blythe shouted.
Rae’s mouth hung open at her outburst.
“I—I am.”
The two women stared at each other for a breath before Blythe jumped out of her chair and hugged Rae, laughing.
“That’s wonderful! That’s so wonderful!” She squeezed her best friend and tried to picture long, lanky Rae with a baby bump. The idea made her laugh again.
“Thank you.” Rae squeezed back. “I’ve been wanting to tell you… I just… You know.”
“It’s okay,” Blythe said, releasing her and ignoring the knot that formed in her throat. “I get it.”
Rae shook her head.
“No, it’s just that you’ve been having such a rough time lately, and with things fizzling out with Clayton and you moving back with your folks, I just…”
“Rae, I get it. It’s okay. But even with all of my crap, I would have welcomed your good news.”
Rae gave Blythe a wistful look that said more than either one could put into words.
“So… when are you due?”
Mitch returned to the table and set down their drinks.
“Two whipped vodkas with ginger ale.”
“It’s okay, Mitch. She knows,” Rae said, looking relieved.
“Thank Christ!” he said, sliding the glass with the black straw toward Blythe and the one with the clear straw toward his wife. “In that case, one whipped vodka with ginger ale and one ginger ale.”
“Congratulations.” Blythe stood and hugged him. “You are going to be a great dad.”
“Yes, I will,” Mitch said, hugging back. “And now that you’re back in town, it’ll be easy because you’ll babysit for free all the time. Right?”
Blythe laughed again.
“Naturally.”
She sat, took a long pull of her cocktail, and savored the light sweetness.
“To answer your question, I’m due May 3,” Rae said, picking up the thread of their conversation.
“When did you find out?” Blythe wanted to make sure Rae knew she was excited for her and couldn’t at all begrudge her the happiness.
Rae wrinkled her nose.
“A few days before your birthday…”
A light bulb went off.
“A-ha! So, that’s why you wouldn’t have a coconut martini,” Blythe teased. “I knew there was something fishy.”
“You know me well.” Rae gave her a simpering smile, and her eyes strayed to the bar. “I swear, Blythe, that guy is seriously checking you out… He’s pretty cute.”
“Ugh. Please. Give it a rest, Rae.”
“No, really. Do you know him?”
Blythe let go a sigh. To appease her friend and put an end to the discussion, she looked over her shoulder at the guy at the bar.
“You mean the one who is clearly flirting with the bartender?”
Rae’s eyes followed hers. The young guy was definitely putting on the moves, and the pretty bartender was responding to them. Blythe turned to Rae in time to see her color.
“Oh, wow… What’s wrong with my radar? Could it be hormonal interference? I can always tell when a guy is into you.”
“Rae, two years ago, you thought Mitch was into me.”
“You did?” Mitch’s bewildered look made her laugh.
It was Rae’s turn to roll her eyes.
“Only for a few minutes…” she admitted, blushing deeper.
Blythe’s triumph gave her a comfortable smugness. She was home free. Rae wouldn’t dare try to set her up now.
“But we knew each other from clinicals… You didn’t know I’d been eyeing you for like two months?” Mitch’s shock was proving to be supremely entertaining. Blythe got comfortable in her chair, sipped her whipped vodka, and settled in to watch the show.
“Well, not then!” Rae defended.
“So… like… had you even noticed me? — Me? The man you married and the future father of your child?”
Blythe tried to contain her giggles. Her mind rolled back to that night. She’d come home for Rae’s graduation at the end of the December term, and they’d gone to Nite Town to celebrate. The Molly Ringwalds were playing that night, and all through “Come On, Eileen,” Rae had insisted that Mitch couldn’t stop looking at Blythe’s ass. That was before Mitch worked up the nerve to ask Rae to dance to “Love Song.”
The memory made her smile. At least love had been good to one of them.
“I noticed you…” Rae hedged.
Mitch narrowed his eyes.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I thought you were… cute.” Rae said, digging herself deeper.
Mitch growled. He actually growled.
“But…?” he asked. Blythe could see that he fought a smile, but the mystery was killing him. As Rae’s best friend, she already knew the answer. Rae cringed, blushing to her roots.
“I… I thought I needed someone… taller.”
Mitch, who was exactly the same height as Rae, 5′10″, gasped with faux drama.
“Rebecca Rae Landry Dugal. I can’t believe you almost allowed something so superficial to keep us apart,” he teased, reaching over to grab her by the wrists. He pretended to shake them.
Blythe wished she had popcorn. This was too good.
“I changed my mind,” Rae said, breaking into giggles of her own.
“What changed your mind?” Mitch shifted his grip to Rae’s hands and intertwined his fingers with hers. Something about the intimate gesture made Blythe catch her breath. A memory nicked her heart. She and Nate in her bed the night before she left for college.
“You danced with me,” Rae said, her eyes locking with her husband’s.
It was too much. The kind of love Blythe witnessed — one that was playful, certain, and true — she had once known herself.
Blythe got to her feet.
“I need a refill.”
“I’ll get it,” Mitch said, tearing his eyes from Rae’s.
“No… No, I’ve got it.” Blythe sped to the bar before he could get up. She took a moment to breathe deeply through her nose, glad that the bartender was busy with another order before she could tend to her.
No, she would never begrudge Rae her happiness, but sometimes it hurt to see it up close.
“Whipped vodka and ginger ale, please,” Blythe ordered when the bartender returned.
“You got it.”
Blythe forced herself to think of her new job. She would start on Monday, and everything would get better. She’d be able to get her own place after a paycheck, and after that, she’d get a new car, and she could start rebuilding her savings.
She let herself picture an apartment somewhere downtown. A little efficiency that was just her own. She’d never lived by herself, and Blythe realized she was looking forward to it — to the chance to have everything exactly as she wanted. Her life neat and orderly and completely under her control.
She couldn’t wait.
“Hey, can I ask you something?”
The question ripped her from her daydream. It came from the guy at the bar. The one Rae had noticed watching her. He now stared at her with a strange look of amusement.
“I guess…”
He looked at her like he knew her. Blythe searched her memory, but his face brought up nothing.
“Your name wouldn’t happen to be Blythe, would it?” he asked, smiling at her like she was about to make his day.
“Yeah? What’s it to you?” Her New Orleans sass kicking in.
The guy shook his head, but he laughed to himself. How the hell does this guy know me?
“It’s nothing to me, sweetheart.”
Blythe stepped away from him and willed the bartender to hurry.
“You’re not married.” He told her. It wasn’t a question.
Blythe scowled straight ahead, but she refused to look at him.
“No boyfriend, either,” he laughed. “But I bet you’ll get one soon.”
The girl finally handed over her drink. Blythe pushed her money across the bar, and leveled the asshole with her best fuck you glare.
“Stay the hell away from me, you freak.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Six years ago
BLYTHE STOOD IN THE BRADLEY’S KITCHEN and scrubbed the one remaining casserole dish. The last of the funeral crowd had gone an hour before, and she was looking for any reason not to go back to Tulane just yet. She wanted to stay another day with Nate and Lila. But she had already missed her first day of classes — as had Nate — and he refused to be the reason she missed any more.
She could hear their voices carrying down the hall from Lila’s bedroom. Blythe knew Nate was trying to get her to rest for a while.
Watching them at the funeral had been heartbreaking. Lila had rocked and cried, refusing to be touched, saying Richland’s name over and over again. Wearing earbuds and clutching Nate’s iPod Nano, she had been oblivious to the eulogy, the music, and the condolences of others. The fifty or so people who’d attended, Blythe among them, had never witnessed suffering so raw, so unfiltered. Lila’s grief was honest and humbling because she held nothing back, showing everyone what it meant to be trapped in the worst kind of pain.
Blythe could see that it was torture for Nate, and she ache
d for him. He needed to mourn the father who had chosen him, the only father he’d ever known, but Lila’s despair seemed to overshadow everything else. Blythe knew he felt helpless.
“Everything’s fallen apart,” he’d whispered to her at the gravesite.
“You’ll get through this,” she’d whispered back, squeezing his hand. “I’ll help you.”
But he wasn’t letting her help much. She’d offered to finish packing his clothes for school, and he’d shrugged it off. Blythe figured he’d be another week before he finally made it to LSU, so maybe it made sense not to pack anything else just yet.
After her father met with Nate, he’d told her only that the Bradley’s weren’t in financial trouble, but that Nate and Lila had decisions to make, and that they needed time and space to make them. Of course, she had respected that, so she waited for Nate to shed more light on what it all meant.
Lying in bed with him the last two nights had been a little oasis of heaven in an otherwise hellish stretch of days. There, Nate seemed able to let down the weight he’d been carrying since the moment his father died, and she wasn’t going to be the one to insist they talk when he so clearly needed to be kissed and held and loved.
For her, the nights were a promise of what would come when they would finally be able to live together next summer. For that reason alone, she wished she could stay for one more, but Blythe told herself that if Nate didn’t head to LSU for another week, she’d have the chance to come back to his house again this weekend. She could leave right after her 2 p.m. Early Renaissance seminar. With any luck, she’d be at his house by 5 o’clock.
Blythe smiled as she drained the sink. While she hated saying goodbye to Nate, even one day on Tulane’s campus had convinced her that the next four years of her life were going to be awesome. Her roommate, Ellen Fairfax, was from Champaign, Illinois. Not Lafayette. Not Louisiana. Not even the South!
In just a few hours on her floor in Josephine Louise House, she’d met people from Boston, San Diego, Delhi, and Kenya. It was only 180 miles from home, but it might as well have been a million. At Tulane, Blythe felt like she was where she belonged — a place that valued art, culture, discourse, and diversity. Even in the sweltering August heat, she finally felt like she could breathe.
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