“It’s okay.” She trailed her lips back and forth across his knuckles. “You don’t have to answer. Not yet.”
His relief was tangible. Squeezing her once, he drew his hand away to maneuver the car into a parking spot.
They were back in the north end of town. She spied the sign at the back of the building where they’d parked and smiled. “Working date?”
He caught her smile. “You don’t mind?”
A line of people already wrapped around the building, huddled in the cold wind, and she shook her head. “No. I’m glad to do this.”
She opened her door, waiting for him to lock the car. He knew some of the people in line, greeting them by name and introducing Nora. Some replied, others stared at the ground or past her. A pit formed in her stomach, their expressions were familiar.
Once inside, he took her coat and his, hanging them on a hook and then handed her an apron. “We’re serving, and then we can eat.”
“Cai, wait.”
He stopped, turning to her questioningly.
“Have you…” She thought about the night she’d spent at the homeless shelter, and the summer days when she’d forced herself to come to community centers or churches for free lunches. Luckily, in Brownington, it’d turned into the thing to do, and lunch was offered to everyone, not only kids in need. It was the best thing that happened to her, and to a lot of kids, taking away the stigma of “free lunch.” “Have you ever come here… not to work?”
It was hard to return to the places she needed when she was younger. She knew what it was to be embarrassed, or to hope people ignored her.
His jaw muscle jumped and she had her answer. Golden eyes intense, he nodded.
“Me, too.”
Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her into his body and bent down to kiss her quickly. “I should have told you. Not sprung it on you like this. I forget what it’s like to come back to places when you don’t need them anymore. It’s been a long time for me.”
His lips moved against her forehead as he spoke. “We don’t have to stay.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I want to stay. I just wondered. But also, in case I get weird, or zone out. I wanted you to know why.”
“I think you’re amazing, Nora. Strong and resilient, and I didn’t expect you, but I’m so grateful. I think—“ His voice caught and he took a breath. “I hated God for a long time. But I think you might come from him, to remind me of the good in this world.”
Tears formed in her eyes, but she wiped them away quickly. “I’m not good, Cai. He should have picked better. I’m pretty flawed.”
“I don’t know, Nora.” His breath tickled her forehead, sweeping her hair across her face. “I think he was right on.”
“Are you love birds going to neck in the hall all evening, or are you going to help?”
Embarrassed, she jumped away from Cai. When she spied an older woman in the hall, she smiled. “Pastor Marge.”
The woman grabbed her glasses from around her neck and put them on. “Nora?” Walking forward with open arms, she embraced her tightly. “Nora. I have thought about you and prayed about you. How are you, doll?”
“And Cai! I couldn’t have made the match better myself.” She smacked his cheek lightly. “Mysterious ways, eh?”
Looping her arm through Nora’s, she walked her toward the noisy dining hall. “How many years has it been, Nora? Two? Three?”
The parish hall was different; the walls painted a lighter color, and decorated with artwork from the children’s Sunday school. “It looks good.”
“The artwork lightens everything, I think,” she agreed.
Sighing, Nora finally answered, “Three years, Pastor Marge.”
“I'm sure three years isn't too long to forget.” Marge handed her a slotted spoon and gave Cai a spatula. “You know what to do,” she said with a wink before hugging her. “It’s so good to see you again.”
Her past threatened to overwhelm her. She had to get it together before she looked at Cai. When she turned to him, he watched her with concern. Reaching up, she smoothed her hand over his cheek before turning her attention back to the line of people now waiting to be served.
Together, they loaded plates with food until a new batch of volunteers took their place. Then they stood in line with the rest of the people, accepting their food and finding a place to sit.
Nora dipped her roll in the gravy and took a bite.
“Did you come here a lot?” Cai asked.
Swallowing hard, she forced the roll down her throat. “Not for dinner, no. I didn’t come in until they started having free lunch in the summers. It was free for everyone, not just kids like me. Still I… uh… I tried not to. I didn’t want people to know I needed it. At school, I had this card I had to slide. It was different from all the other kids’ cards.” She shook her head, remembering the times she hadn’t eaten because she didn’t want a classmate to see her lunch card, or the times in the summer when she went to bed hungry because she recognized someone waiting in line for lunch. “And I was stupid. Stupid and proud. When things got bad, maybe my mom hadn’t been home in a week, and I was out of spaghetti-o’s or ramen, or whatever, I’d have to force myself to come to this place. Even though it’s welcoming and Marge was— is—wonderful. She would let me help out, unboxing the lunches or stacking chairs, so I didn’t feel so…” She waved her fork in the air as she tried to think of the word. “… obvious.”
Cai set his fork down and reached for her hand. “I wonder if I saw you here.”
She lifted her glass to her lips, needing something to do, and shrugged. “I don’t know. I feel like I would have remembered you.” Her cheeks flushed and she dipped her head, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
Throwing his head back, he laughed. “I think I would have remembered you.”
“I would have made sure you didn’t.” While she meant it to come out playful, instead she sounded pathetic. He scooted his chair closer to hers, leaning against her shoulder. They ate silently, absorbed in their own thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, turning in his seat. He propped his arm on the back of her chair and the other across the table, a muscled cage of protection. “I should have thought about this more.”
“No. It was nice. Good to see Pastor Marge, and I’ve walked by this church a hundred times. I should have come in before this.” She could tell he didn’t believe her. “Maybe this could be our date night,” she went on. “Our weekly thing we do?”
“Yeah?” he asked, examining her face.
“Yes.”
He kissed her. Then kissed her again, this time deeper. The sounds of the dining hall were lost; her pulse pounded in her ears. When she pulled away from him, she could see his pulse throbbing in his neck, and leaning forward, kissed the skin.
“Same time next week?”
A kiss was her answer. Cai pushed his chair back, reaching for her tray before standing up.
“Are we finished?” The dining hall was nearly empty. “What about clean-up?”
“Yeah? You don’t want to go?”
She shook her head. “Nah. It looks like there’s still stuff to do.”
fifteen
Recognized
CAI CARRIED AN aluminum pan into the kitchen, setting it next to Nora who was diligently scraping the last one he’d brought her. She blew a curl out of her face, then pushed it away with her shoulder, but it fell back into her eyes.
This girl. He rinsed his hands off before tucking the curl away. His heart filled with something in that moment. A physical pain leaving him scared and lucky all the same time. The way she looked at him, like she saw him, the real him, flaws and all, and she liked him.
“These nonstick bake pan makers are liars. Dried on spaghetti sauce is the worst!” She scraped forcefully, dislodging the curl again. She turned sad puppy-dog eyes on him. “Help.”
He laughed, and pulled all her hair away f
rom her face. It was so thick and curly he was able to make a knot with it, tucking the ends under so it stayed in place.
“Why Mr. Josephs, I think you have a future as a hair dresser.” She faked a horrible southern accent.
“That accent is the worst,” he groaned.
Her pink tongue flashed at him before she went back to scraping. He rubbed his hand against his chest, above the ache. Being in the moment wasn't natural to him; it wasn't how he was built. He was raised to expect the apocalypse, and it was a hard belief to break. Even if the endings he anticipated were smaller now: Nora leaving him, this untried relationship failing; they were just as cataclysmic.
And it wasn’t because she was perfect and he didn’t believe she could possibly love someone like him. In fact, he loved the way she stumbled through explanations. He loved how her shirt was covered in splashes of water and she muttered angrily at a pan of baked ziti. He loved the way she tried to hide her vulnerability with sarcasm or playfulness. Yet when she realized she put herself out there, she lifted her chin. She let her statements hang in the air, like he could accept them or not, but she wasn’t backing down.
He loved it all.
But for all this new love, the ache in his chest reminded him not to hope too hard. It also reminded him no matter how far he’d come, he hadn’t managed to escape the beliefs his family had drilled into him for sixteen years.
Now he knew what the ache was. It was the fucked-up rot left over from his father, and it was currently creeping its way from his heart into his throat.
His past was a minefield. When the questions had slipped from her lips, she hadn’t meant to delve into his past, and thankfully, she didn’t demand answers. Whether or not he chose to answer, she’d understood him. The bit of her past she shared proved it.
With her, he didn’t have to hide. He could have a real relationship.
Mentally snorting, he headed back into the dining hall to start taking down tables and stacking chairs. What did he know about a real relationship? How ironic that after watching the nightmare of his family, he’d choose a relationship as strange and complicated as the one he grew up with.
And yet it felt right.
This must have been what my father believed. He must have. There was no one more certain, more firmly set in his beliefs than his father.
Inflexibility dominated his childhood. The way was the way, and to question the way wasn't tolerated. Now, he gloried in questioning, but the result was second-guessing his instincts.
However, he trusted Nora. She wasn’t perfect, and she didn’t pretend to be. If anything, she believed herself much more broken then she really was.
He liked that about her, as fucked up as it sounded. It made him feel like he was worth something. Like it was up to him to show her she was strong. Like no one could show her the way he could. And he’d make her believe it. Deep down.
There weren’t many people left in the church. A few women in the kitchen, including Nora. Pastor Marge. And one teenager, stacking chairs into a closet. A huge crash came from the kitchen as he lifted one of the tables onto its dolly.
“Who do you think you are?” The raised voice was followed by a familiar low voice. The table he’d been balancing clattered to the floor as he sprinted to the kitchen, pushing through the door.
“Libby, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Do you know who this is, Marge? How could you let her come here? Don’t you know what she’s done?”
He slipped on a wet spot as he skidded into the kitchen, involuntarily crying out as as he took in the scene: Nora pinned against the sink, a woman holding a knife, Marge nearby, hands outstretched as she spoke in a low, rushed voice to the woman. “Libby. Take a breath. Breathe with me.”
He eased his way to Nora, his eyes glued on the knife in the woman’s hand.
“Breathe in, Libby.” Marge took a breath, demonstrating what she wanted the woman to do.
Nora’s eyes flashed sideways, catching his movement. She shook her head as if she wanted Cai to stay away.
Tough. He edged closer and closer, not looking away from the knife.
The pieces of the scene began to come together. The woman. The teenager in the dining hall. She, her husband, and son were regular volunteers here, though he hadn’t seen her husband as of late. Suddenly, it all snapped into place. Her husband was a teacher at the high school. And he hadn’t been to the church since the shooting.
“Mom?”
The woman’s eyes cut to the boy who entered the kitchen, and she immediately dropped the knife. Cai rushed forward just as Nora’s knees gave out. He caught her before she hit the floor.
“I’m sorry,” the woman said, looking at Marge.
Nora fisted his shirt, her hand scrabbling at the material, trying to latch on to him.
“Marge.” He met the pastor’s sad gaze, and she shook her head at him. This isn’t the time.
No way. This had to stop. “She saved people’s lives.” His voice shook.
“Cai,” she whispered.
“No,” he said to both Nora and Marge. “You didn’t do anything, Nora. You were shot. You almost died saving those kids. People need to know that.”
“It was her brother,” the woman countered.
“She had nothing to do with it,” he restated. “Nothing.”
From the corner of his eye, the teenager started forward. He’d stood awkwardly, watching the action around him. His face was pale, and his lower lip trembled.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he told the boy.
Tears slipped down his face, and he wiped them away quickly. “We need to go, Mom. The guy’s right.”
Marge put an arm around her shoulders, helping the teenager lead her away. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Mom. Let’s just go home. Okay? I just want to go home.”
A trembling began in Nora’s body, shaking Cai in its intensity. Her teeth chattered, and he pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her as tight as he could.
“I’m here,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m here.”
Dampness bloomed on his shirt. Tears, though she didn’t make a sound. It tore out his heart.
“No, Honora,” he whispered, rocking her gently. “No, sweet girl.”
“They’ll never forget, Cai. And they shouldn’t. No one will ever forgive me.”
“You had nothing to do with it, Honora,” he said firmly.
“Honora?” She sniffled, letting go of his t-shirt and rubbing her eyes.
Tricky. She was trying to get him off topic. “Honora is a beautiful name. I needed you to hear me. When I was younger—“ He stopped abruptly, realizing he was about to share a moment from his childhood. His pulse picked up, a whooshing sounding in his ears as his heart pounded, but he forced himself to go on. “When I was younger, when I was really in trouble, my mother would call me by my full name. Malachai Samuel. It always got my attention. I thought it might do the same.”
“Am I in trouble?” she asked in a small voice. God, he was messing this up. She’d tried for teasing, but he caught the worry.
“No. I mostly wanted to say it and get your attention. I wanted you to really listen to me. Not just hear me. Listen to what I say.”
Large brown eyes fixed on him. Today, they were honey-brown. “Honora Leslie. You did nothing wrong that day. You saved children’s lives. And there was nothing you could have done to stop your brother. Whatever road he went down, he went down alone.”
“You don’t know.”
“I do.” Something in his tone made her glance at him quickly. His voice. He almost stopped speaking, because for the first time in his life, he heard his father’s tone coming out of his mouth. “I do. Please trust me, when I tell you. You are not responsible for his actions.”
She stared at him a moment.
Believe me. Trust me.
Her eyes roamed his face, and a moment la
ter she let out a deep breath.
“Nora, I am so sorry, sweetheart.” Pastor Marge barreled into the kitchen, carefully lowering her body onto the floor and pulling Nora from Cai, who reluctantly released her.
“Are you okay?”
“I will be.” Her eyes flicked to his before she answered. “Her husband was the teacher who died?”
“Yes."
“I’m sorry.”
“I know, Nora. But you had nothing to do with it. I know what the police said. I know you, and I knew your foster brother. He was a wounded soul, dear.”
It was getting harder to watch Nora keep it together, and worse, he was pissed she was apologizing for something that wasn't her fault. He stood, pulling her up with him.“I’ll come by in the morning to finish with the tables, Pastor.”
Accepting Cai’s hand, Marge hefted herself up. “I have the men’s group coming in for coffee tomorrow. They’ll finish the tables and chairs. You get home. Rest.” She followed them to the back hall, watching him help Nora into her coat.
“I’m sorry, Pastor Marge, Cai. I won’t come back again.”
Unacceptable. His reply wasn’t necessary because Marge puffed up. “Now you listen to me. I told you it wasn’t your fault, and I meant it. I want to see you back here whenever you want to come. And if it’s next Wednesday, that would be wonderful, and if it’s another three years, well then, that’s fine, too.”
He could kiss Marge, laying it out for Nora in way that absolved her of guilt, both for what’d happened here tonight, and for whatever she decided.
“If you don’t mind, then…” She let out a breath. “I’d like to come back. I sort of have a standing date I made for Wednesdays.”
Quickly, he gazed down at the ground, embarrassed by how widely he was smiling.
“Good.” Marge clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed. “Very good.”
sixteen
Reprieve
FOR SOME REASON, the next days proved so busy neither Nora nor Cai had a chance to tell anyone what happened at the parish hall.
Apollo worked out fanatically, and when he wasn’t working out, he did homework like a man possessed. Ryan was the same way, leaving to go to class or the library right after she awoke. Their obsessive studying made Nora feel guilty, thinking they’d fallen so far behind their grades were suffering.
Finding Nora Page 10
