As the clock chimes three, I get out of bed and tread softly to Devin’s room. He’s snoring softly as I peel back the covers and slip underneath. He stirs when the bed dips, his arms opening automatically for me. “Come here, baby,” he muffles in a sleep-laden tone. I curl up against him and fall instantly asleep.
Devin works overtime to fill the hours and my headspace over the next few days, and I love him for instinctually knowing that I desperately need distracting. He takes me shopping, insisting on buying me a whole new closet despite my protests to the contrary. We go out for dinner, go biking and walking in Lyndale Park Gardens, catch a show at the Guthrie Theater, and stay up talking into the early hours of the morning. I fall into bed each night exhausted but happy. The more time I spend in his company, the more I relax, and, in a lot of ways, it’s as if we were never apart.
My leg jerks up and down as I stare out the window at the fields whizzing by. Devin plants a hand on my knee as he drives. “Try to relax. It’s going to be okay.”
“And Mom knows I’m coming now? Because I don’t want to spring this on her and give her a coronary.”
“She knows. Jim said she screamed and cried down the phone for a half hour. She can’t wait to see you, and she told him to tell you not to worry because all she cares about is seeing you again.”
“I don’t how she can be so understanding,” I mumble.
“Because she’s your mother, and she loves you unconditionally.”
The closer we get to the street where we grew up, the more nauseated I become. By the time Devin pulls into the drive, behind a shiny new SUV, I’ve broken out in a cold sweat and my entire body is convulsing in fear, which is ridiculous, because it’s my mother and she’s already told me not to worry.
The front door opens, and my heart stutters. Then my mother is racing toward us, tears streaming down her face. I’m out of the car and on my feet before I’ve even registered the movement, running to meet her halfway. We collide in a blend of arms and sobs, desperately hugging one another. The familiar scent of vanilla and strawberries, from her shampoo, surrounds me, and I bury my head in her shoulder, my body shaking as I cling to her.
“Honey,” she whispers in my ear, her voice catching. “I can’t believe you’re here. I’ve prayed so hard for this moment.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry.”
She smooths a hand over the back of my head, emitting soothing sounds as I sob. We continue clinging to one another, both of us afraid to let go, until Devin clears his throat. “It’s freezing, and you’re both shivering. Let’s take this inside.”
“Give me a minute, Devin. Let me look at my baby girl.” She leans back, keeping me at arm’s length as she scans me from head to toe. Fresh tears creep into her eyes. “My God. Look at you. You’re so beautiful.” The skin around her eyes creases as she frowns. “A little too thin but we’ll rectify that.”
Keeping a grip on my hand, she moves aside, leaning up to kiss Devin on the cheek. “Thank you for bringing my little girl home to me. This is the best Christmas present ever.”
“I told you I would, and I was determined to keep my promise.”
“I’m still pissed at you though,” she adds, narrowing her eyes. “You lied to me.”
He scratches the back of his head. “I’m sorry, Natalie, but I promise I took care of her.”
“Don’t be mad at Dev, Mom. You would not have wanted to find me the way he did. I’m glad he waited until now to tell you, because it would’ve only hurt you more.”
Her keen eyes probe mine. “I wouldn’t have cared. Getting you back is all that matters.”
“Honey, come inside,” Jon says, pressing his hand to Mom’s arm. “Your skin is like ice.” I hadn’t really had time to get to know Dr. Williams before I left, so he’s a virtual stranger to me. But he’s still here, and I haven’t missed the massive diamond on Mom’s ring finger. He’s clearly supported her through my absence, and that’s good enough for me. When he leans in, I willingly accept his embrace. “It’s fantastic to see you again, Angelina. We’re glad you’re home.”
Mom doesn’t let go of my hand as we stroll toward the house. I discreetly check her out as we walk. Her blonde hair is cut in a stylish bob, and she owns the lilac fitted dress she’s wearing. She’s still sporting an amazing figure and a great sense of style. She has a few tiny lines around her eyes and her mouth, but apart from that, she hasn’t changed much. On the outside at least. God knows what my leaving did to her mental state.
My eyes wander to the house next door. Devin has already confirmed the Carters still live there, and part of my anxiety over this visit was tied up with them. Nancy blames me for Ayden’s death, and while the thought of facing her again almost brings me out in hives, I know I can’t avoid it.
But one step at a time.
Jim, Lucas, and a pretty redhead are waiting in the kitchen. Lucas introduces me to Lucy, his girlfriend, with a proud smile, and we chat casually for a few minutes as if it hasn’t been years since I last stepped foot in my home.
The interior of the house is vastly transformed. Sleek, white gloss cupboards have replaced the old pine ones in the kitchen. A snazzy marble island unit and a mammoth refrigerator are new additions. Dark hardwood floors and cream-painted walls contrast with vibrant furnishings. In the living room, the old open fireplace is gone, replaced with a fitted gas fireplace. A wall-mounted TV is affixed above it, and deep shelving has been built into the fireplace on both sides. “Wow. I love what you’ve done with the place.”
“Thank you. Jon and Devin completed a lot of the work themselves.”
I arch a brow, turning around to look at Devin. “You always were good with your hands.”
His answering smirk pulls a laugh from me as I realize how my words could be construed. When Mom bursts out crying, I falter, my smile fading at her obvious distress.
“I’m sorry, honey.” She reels me into her arms again. “I just can’t believe you’re here. I’m overcome. I’ve missed you so much.”
The others quietly disappear.
Mom pulls me down on the couch, and we hug it out for ages. Another layer of stress filters away. After a little while, she eases back, brushing strands of my hair behind my ears. “I know we have lots to talk about, but I don’t want to put a dampener on today. Today is a cause for celebration because my baby’s home.” Tears invade her eyes again, and I’m reminded of my selfishness. “But you have to promise you won’t do anything like that again. I won’t survive if you leave again.”
I hold her hands firmly in mine. “I’m home, Mom, and I promise I’ll never leave you again. I was in such a dark place after Ayden died, and it seemed like the only choice, but I know I was wrong to leave as I did. I’m an adult now, and I know running away was not the solution. Leaving you was the hardest thing ever, and you were in my thoughts every day. I must’ve picked up the phone a million times to call you, but I always chickened out. I convinced myself you hated me because I abandoned you, and you didn’t deserve that.”
“I could never hate you, sweet girl. You’re the love of my life, and that will never change, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t furious with you too, because I was, because I still am.”
“I understand, and you have every right to your anger.”
She takes a deep breath, and then she’s smiling at me again. “Not today, though. Today is a happy day, and there will be plenty of time to work through the rest.”
We eat dinner in the new sunroom at the rear of the house, surrounded by memories. Although the backyard is totally remodeled, and not at all how I remember it, every time I look out at Old Man Willow, I’m reminded of so many childhood memories. Photos adorn space on almost every wall in every room of the house, cataloguing my life from infancy. Being back here again has my emotions in a tizzy, in both a good and a bad way.
Jon moves to pour wine in
my glass, but I place my hand over it. “I’m a recovering alcoholic,” I admit. “And I don’t drink anymore.” Devin covers my hand with his, squeezing in understanding. Mom looks upset. “I’m sorry,” I say softly.
She shakes her head. “Don’t be. I don’t want you hiding your past from me. I just hate that you had to go through all that alone.”
I look around the table at familiar faces, and I’m choked with emotion. Devin links his fingers through mine, and I cling to his touch. “I’m not alone anymore, and it feels so good to be back home.”
“It’s good to have you home,” Jon says, wrapping his arm around Mom. “The place has felt empty without you.” I smile warmly at him. He turns to Mom, and there’s a hopeful glint in his eye. “Maybe now your mother will finally agree to set a date.” I arch a brow. “When she accepted my proposal of marriage, it was on condition that the wedding would only take place once you were home to give her away.”
My heart aches again, but I smile expansively, determined I’m shedding no more tears. “Well, I’m back for good, so I think it’s time you honored your promise, Mom, and I would be so proud to give you away.”
After dinner, Dev and I take a stroll out in the woods. I’ve been dying to see the treehouse he built with Danny. “Is it hard being back?” he asks, swinging our conjoined hands between us as we walk.
“Yes and no. On one level, it’s comforting, and I’m so happy to see Mom happy, but all the changes remind me of how much I missed, and the memories aren’t always good ones.”
“I know what you mean,” he says.
I’ve never doubted the connection between Devin and me, but we’re in sync on so many different levels now. “But I can’t dwell on the what-ifs anymore or allow the guilt to waylay me. Every step I take is a step forward, and I have to let go of the past. I made bad choices, choices which hurt me and those I love, but I can’t change that. I can just ensure I make better choices, the right choices, moving forward.”
He lifts our conjoined hands to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss on the back of my cold skin. “There she is,” he whispers, moisture building in his eyes. “There’s the girl I fell in love with as a kid.”
I pull him to a stop. “I’m still me. I might have lost my way for a while, and I’m undoubtedly changed, but underneath it all, I’m still the same girl who has adored you for most of her life.”
He draws me into his arms, and I willingly go there. Everything has always felt right with the world when I’m wrapped up in Devin’s embrace, never more so than now. Everything is going to work out. I say it in my head, and, for the first time, I really, truly believe it.
“Oh my God, Devin. You built that?” I ask, looking up at the beautiful glass and cherry pine wooden structure nestled between two trees. Calling it a treehouse seems like an insult. It has a proper roof and windows and a sturdy ladder.
“Come on,” he pulls me forward excitedly. “Let’s go up.”
We have to dip our heads when we reach the top even though the space is taller, wider, and longer than the treehouse we used to play in as kids. Comfy bean bags litter the floor, and we drop down onto them. Devin pulls a blanket out of a box in the corner of the space, covering us fully.
My eyes drink in my surroundings, tearing up as I note all the personal touches. The wall is covered in drawings and photos of us as kids. The framed photo that used to sit on my bedside table, the one of the three of us holding the walleye fish, is tacked to the wall. A small fish tank sits on the sturdy shelf alongside books and games. Two goldfish swim lazily through the hazy water, and emotion clogs the back of my throat. “Best to keep me away from those,” I laugh, remembering the time I overfed the fish and came back the next day to find all three of them bloated and floating at the top of the tank. I’d cried my eyes out for three days solid.
“You were only nine, and you didn’t know both me and Ayd had already fed them. I think they’re safe in your hands now.”
“Are those our actual old games?” I ask, kneeling up to inspect the faded boxes on the shelf beside the tank.
He nods. “Your mom had them all in the attic.”
Of course, she did. She’s a hoarder, especially when it was anything to do with me. I knew she kept a big trunk in the attic crammed full of my old school reports, drawings, ballet certificates, and other childhood memorabilia.
My eyes latch on the other framed item on the wall, and I stop breathing. The memory regurgitates in my mind as if it was only yesterday. I scoot closer, reaching out to skim my fingers across the glass, examining our childish signatures, and the faded blood. “You found it,” I whisper.
He kneels up beside me. “I kept it all these years. Guess, somewhere deep down inside, I still believed in our pact.”
“I always believed in it. Up until Ayden died.”
We are both silent, lost in our own thoughts as we stare at it.
“So, do you like it?” he asks, a few minutes later, breaking the silence.
I grin at him. “I love it. It’s perfect.”
His answering smile almost knocks the air out of my lungs. “I came up here every time I visited your mom. It helped me feel closer to you. To both of you.”
My heart aches in a familiar way. Ayden should be here with us, and I hate that he isn’t, but thoughts of our lost friend doesn’t dredge up the same conflicted feelings. Letting go of my anger and guilt is allowing me to properly mourn him for the first time. And to fully appreciate my other friend—this man at my side, the one who has stuck by me through thick and thin, who pulled me back from the brink when I was ready to throw in the towel. I peer into his eyes. “I love you, Devin. I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
We stare at one another, and a customary, electrical current charges the tiny space between us. We lean toward one another at the same time. When our lips meet, I feel a sense of deep contentment that has eluded me for years. He pulls me in to his arms, and the kiss deepens, strengthens, infused with years of longing. It’s not frantic, or wild, or the result of pent-up sexual frustration—which I’m sure he feels as much as I do—but tender and loving and full of unspoken promise. When we finally break the kiss, we stay wrapped around one another, silently holding onto each other without the need to say anything.
We’re walking back to the house, hand in hand, when someone steps out in front of us on the path. “Lina.” Nancy Carter’s eyes well up. “Your mom told me you were home. I’m glad. She’s missed you terribly.” Shoving her hands in her coat pocket, she shuffles nervously on her feet. “I was hoping you might have a few minutes to talk.”
Dev subtly squeezes my hand, letting me know he’s here for me. “I’d like that,” I say softly, even though every instinct in my body screams at me to run in the other direction. We follow in silence as she leads us to her house, my heart pounding in my chest the entire time. When she opens the back door to let us inside, I falter, unsure if I can follow through with this.
Her gaze is kind when it lands on mine. “It’s okay, sweetheart. They’re looking forward to seeing you.”
Putting a lid on my fear, I step into Ayden’s house for the first time in five years. They’ve redecorated, changing the color on the walls in most of the rooms, and dark wooden floors have replaced the carpet in the living room, but, apart from that, everything looks exactly how I remember it. Pictures of Ayden and the girls are everywhere.
“Lina.” Carl—Ayden’s dad—steps forward, pulling me into his embrace without hesitation. “It’s good to see you, girl.” He hugs me close, and tears prick my eyes.
“You too,” I whisper, easing myself out of his arms. “Where are the girls?”
“Mia and Ellie are at a friend’s house, but Kayla is upstairs. She’s dying to see you, but we asked her to give us privacy for a few minutes. There are some things I need to say,” Nancy explains.
Mr
. Carter hugs Devin, whispering something in his ear.
“Me too,” I reply.
“Have a seat, please.” She sits down on the long couch, patting the space beside her.
I sit down, and Devin sits on my other side, taking my hand in his again. Mrs. Carter notices, and I squirm uncomfortably, but I don’t remove my hand from his. I need his touch to steady my nerves.
“I owe you an apology, Lina,” she says, looking me straight in the eye. “I never should have blamed you or Devin for Ayden’s death. I was devastated, naturally, and looking for answers. I needed something or someone to blame, but it wasn’t fair or right of me to put that responsibility on your shoulders, and I know my son would be upset that I hurt you, that I pushed you away. Your mother lost a daughter the day I lost my son, and I hate that I might have contributed to your decision to run away.”
Tears roll down my face unbidden, and she takes my free hand in hers. Before I can respond to her statement, she continues. “I’m sorry you felt you had no other choice, and I’m sorry if my words added to your guilt.” Tears trickle out of her eyes. “The fact is, none of us really know why Ayden did it. Why he felt he had no other choice but to take his own life. And there are so many things his father and I wish we had done differently. I can’t throw blame in your direction without casting the same doubt over my own actions.”
“Nancy.” Mr. Carter sits down on the arm of the chair, wrapping his arms around his wife’s shoulder. “We’ve been over this. No one is to blame, and no good comes from reflecting on all the what-ifs.”
Inseparable Page 36
