Chapter Thirty-Five

April worked early hours Thursday. As she drove home, the unanswered phone calls to Nick came to mind, and she took the freeway exit to his place. Sierra was with Luca, and she needed to find out why Nick had been out of contact.

She walked up his steps, hoping he was home by now. School had only ended an hour ago. His windows were raised so the townhouse could take in the mild breezes. He didn’t answer the door right away. Only after she waited a few seconds did she see him standing beside an open window upstairs looking down at her.

He was home and already in jeans and a T-shirt. When he met her at the door moments later, he looked downright rumpled, unshaven, and not as pleased to see her as she would have liked.

She almost turned away. What was she doing here? But that morning-disheveled look drew her. “I didn’t come at a bad time?”

He had to think too hard about that one. “No.”

He looked behind him. His living room had stacks of Coke cans and pizza boxes. Nick waved at the mess. “Sorry. The maid’s day off.”

The joke fell flat with only a straight face to accent it. He inclined his head outside. “It’s less cluttered out back.”

He stepped outside, closed his front door, and led her behind the row of townhouses. He glanced at his deck, but it was wet from a recent shower. He nodded at her to follow, and they trekked side by side down a path to the piney creek.

“The situation with Emilio?” he asked as they walked.

It bothered her that he had to ask. Sierra wasn’t his obligation, but he’d taken an interest in her, and he worked at the school after all. “Emilio’s been sent to an alternative school for the rest of the year.”

“Sierra’s okay?”

“As well as can be expected.”

He cast a sidelong glance at her but didn’t ask for more, just thrust a hand through his rumpled hair. He was so good. So strong. So Nick.

And she didn’t have room for thoughts like these.

April strengthened her voice. “I was starting to worry about you.”

“Were you?” His words carried a heavy dose of skepticism that left her suddenly cold.

“The last part of the email you sent me was a bit cryptic. And then you weren’t answering your phone. Even your dad says he’s hardly seen you.”

He didn’t reply. It wasn’t her business. Why did she keep investing in Nick’s life and his dad’s? So they were vulnerable and bruised. But since when did she have answers to offer anyone?

“Nick,” she said softly, “what’s going on?”

“Life gets hectic sometimes. That’s all.”

They reached a scattering of pine trees. Nick dropped onto a fallen log that stretched across the creek, a thin rivulet of still water, and April took a seat beside him. In a place like this, she couldn’t help but think of being a girl, childhood sweethearts. April let her feet swing over the stream.

She shook her head to clear it and bring her back to reality. A light breeze blew over them, settling her nerves. “Nick, did something happen at school? Your principal seemed more interested in you than in the fact that Sierra was assaulted and threatened.”

“I’ll just bet she did.” He removed his glasses, tucking them into the pocket of his T-shirt, and rubbed under his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. When he looked at her, his eyes brought one word to mind—haunted.

April drew back. He was too decent for whatever distressed him like this. “Nick, talk to me.”

“‘Talk to me,’ says the lady with the golden smile. When have you ever talked to me, April?”

Her head swung up.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

April covered her eyes with her hand, wishing, oh, wishing so much she could handle this differently, wishing she could give him a reason to confide in her. Not in a romantic way. Goodness knows, not that. But he needed a friend, a confidante.

He was watching her, and his eyes darkened to midnight blue. “I’m sorry, April. I am.” He let out a guttural sigh. “I lost my job last week. Well, I’m suspended indefinitely. Close enough.”

“Your job?” Nick’s job defined him. But the timing sent a dark suspicion nipping into her thoughts. “The situation with Sierra—did it have something to do with it?”

He didn’t answer at first. “I don’t want Sierra to know about this.”

She felt sick. He had been looking out for them.

“What happened?”

“I left a class unattended for fifteen minutes. It’s what Liza Grambling was looking for, any excuse to let me go. She already had a stack of documentation against me. Every time I veered from the curriculum guide. Every time I didn’t cross a T or dot an I. If it hadn’t been Sierra, it would have been something else.”

Nick scraped the heel of his shoe over the mud. “Add to that that my old man saw fit to tell me I was dead to him last week.”

April looked down for a moment. “Your dad did believe you were dead, you know.”

Nick looked askance at her.

“One of his prison guards told him you died. It was all part of the psychological torture. But he’s made it so very clear to me that he doesn’t wish you were dead. With all his heart, he wishes he’d done better by you.”

“Well, he has a great way of showing it.”

“I’m almost done putting his story together. When I’m done, read it. You’ll see how much he loves—”

“It’s the last thing I want to do.” Something hard and angry streaked across his face. “I’d rather eat dirt than read some cute little book with words my old man refused to share with me time and again. Call me small-minded if you want, but if my dad loves me, he can say it.” He gave her a hard look. “That’s what people who love you do, you know. They say it.”

“It’s not always so simple,” she said quietly.

He looked at the creek, and the silence settling around them was anything but comfortable.

He sat straighter, and his eyes cleared. “You know what, April, I’m tired of this thing we do where we talk around each other.” He rubbed his neck. “Humor me. How about a game? I’ll tell you something. If it’s true, you repeat it. If it’s not, just shake your head.”

She gave a thin laugh. “We’re a little old for what sounds like a version of Truth or Dare.”

“Maybe.” He held her gaze. “Maybe we’re a little old to play the game we’ve been playing. We’re not a couple of kids who need to keep everything under our hats, are we?”

April shook her head.

“Number one. You think of me as a brother.”

She looked up at the trees, thinking desperately. It was what she wanted the truth to be. But it wasn’t. It never had been. “I … Nick …” She gave in and shook her head.

He gave her a dark smile. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I just wanted to know it wasn’t true.”

“The truth, Nick? This day isn’t going at all the way I planned.”

He laughed, and it was the first true pleasure she’d seen in him for a long time now. “No, I guess not.”

He just sat on the log, watching her, making her feel breathless. He shifted closer, close enough for her heart to beat double-time. He looked hesitantly at her, and as much as she knew she shouldn’t, she prayed for him to move closer still.

Nick slid his palm down the curve of her cheek. “Next question.” The smile disappeared, replaced by an infinite sadness. “It will never work between us.”

April concentrated on the touch of his hand against her skin, wishing the question would go away.

“It will never work between us,” Nick repeated quietly, withdrawing his hand. “That’s what you said. Yes or no, April?”

She held on to the log, wishing she could give him a better answer. It was too hard. Not even for Nick could the answer be yes. His face closed, and she knew he saw the regret written in hers.

“It will never work between us,” she repeated quietly.

He waited, compelling her to go on.

“Our lives, Nick. They’re so complicated.”

He gazed at her until she thought she would wilt. “That’s it?”

“Sierra needs me. I have to be a mother first.”

“Haven’t you noticed, April? Sierra isn’t just another student at the school to me.”

“I can’t get involved with anyone. Not now.” Not ever, a small voice whispered.

He went quiet for a few minutes, and he inspected her face as if he were reading a map. April looked away and then back. At last, he gave her a crooked, uneasy smile. “You’re handling this all better than I did, you know. The loss of your husband and the problems with Sierra. After Caroline … after my wife died, I got into all kinds of trouble. I ran ten miles a day until my ribs showed. I punched a hole in my apartment wall. I punched a friend—or a guy who used to be my friend, I should say—and spent the night in jail. Youth was my only excuse, I guess, but my grieving wasn’t graceful at all.”

“Oh, Nick.” She started to reach for him and then thought better of it.

He gave a bemused glance at her hand. “Look. I understand if you’re not ready to move on with your life just yet. But it would mean a lot to me if you’d be open about your reasons. This isn’t about Sierra. It’s about you.”

How could he say that? How could she date, for goodness’ sake, when her daughter was lost in some sea of grief? Couldn’t he see the frivolousness in the idea—candlelit dinners, kisses, and longing for more while her daughter sat at home alone?

He didn’t say anything, as if he were waiting for something from her. But what was there to say? He knew about Sierra’s state of mind, more or less. He didn’t need to know her whole sob story. It wouldn’t fix anything. So she only said, “You might be right, Nick. Maybe it is about me. But sometimes it’s hard to know where to draw the line between being a mom and being a woman.”

“Okay, April.” He spread his hands. He sat staring at the stream again. Finally, he stood and offered her a hand up. Some bleak finality took hold in his face. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

He put his glasses back on and pushed them up the bridge of his nose.

It was a much longer path up than it had been coming down. She pushed herself up the way, trying to pull herself together. They stopped at the sidewalk next to her car.

“Here’s another bit of truth, April. Mine. I can’t be your brother, and it’s too hard working out where I fit with you. If you need me for Sierra, I’m here. But I don’t think you should come around anymore.”

He was saying good-bye? She’d counted on his steady presence. His strength. His friendship. Him.

“Okay.” She spoke in the quietest of voices. Nick stood only feet away from her, but already she felt the emptiness, knowing it was a void she had asked for.

When she didn’t move, he stepped onto the pavement and opened her car door for her.

 

She worked long hours the next two days. It was a relief ringing up sales, chatting with customers, lining up orders. There were no underlying emotions ready to erupt, no lives falling apart that needed to be patched together Humpty-Dumpty style. All she had to do was go through the motions. And because of her commissions, soon she and Sierra would be able to move to a better neighborhood and put this school year behind them.

As she leafed through her papers before she went home, Ms. Baines stopped her.

“What have you got there?”

April lifted the stack in her hand, and Ms. Baines slid out a photo. It was the picture she had taken last fall of the little boy on the swings. She had decided to print a few of her pictures after Nick encouraged her.

Ms. Baines held it out at arm’s length and studied it. “Who took this?”

“I did.”

That might just be the first smile she’d seen on the woman. “I thought you had an artistic eye. Do you have more?”

April shrugged. “A few.”

Did a bulging portfolio that had been sitting in the closet for five years count?

“Bring them in some time. If you’ve got anything I can use, we’ll blow one or two up and put them on the wall.” She aimed her chin at the corner where the photographic art for sale hung.

April agreed, but selling her photographs was hardly at the top of her priority list right now.

 

Sunday, after they returned from church, Sierra closed herself in her room, music on. After a burst of Samuel Barber’s “Adagio,” there was a lull, and then pop music April didn’t recognize came on. What was that about? Sierra never listened to pop music. She didn’t even like it.

Stifled by the loneliness in the living room, April found the stack of pages for Luca’s book on her desk. She spread them over the coffee table. Maybe they wouldn’t do any good for Luca and Nick, but it was something she could finish.

At first, she’d typed Luca’s words from the tapes, but the printout looked so impersonal. In the end, she picked out a topaz-colored scrapbook with thick cream pages and began writing the words of the story in her best handwriting. Nick said he’d rather eat dirt than read Luca’s words, that people needed to say they loved one another. Well, these words might not be spoken, but they were written in a human hand, the best she could do for the two men she loved.

On each page, she placed a photo, retouched to heighten the colors, or a pencil sketch to bring imagery to Luca’s story.

It gave her something to do in the dark moments with Sierra. Her daughter wouldn’t talk to her, but she could build a bridge for Nick to talk with Luca.

She hadn’t admitted why she’d begun the project at first. Not really. But as she looked at Luca’s story, scattered in thirty-five pages on the coffee table, she knew. She did it, as Luca said, because she loved his son. She couldn’t give that love to Nick, and he wouldn’t accept anything less. But she could give him something that might heal the rift with his father one day.

Sierra walked into the living room and thumped some books on an end table.

“Is everything all right, sweetheart?”

“Sure, Mom. I’m going to sit on the steps.” She flashed a smile April’s way and breezed through the front door.

April couldn’t get used to Sierra’s new haircut or those flashy smiles. She wanted her spirits to lift, but this wasn’t even the real Sierra. She thumbed through Sierra’s books as if they might hold a clue to what was going on. A geometry book and a couple of teen fashion magazines. Fashion magazines?

April smoothed an unruly curl of hair back into place. She tried to convince herself Sierra was happy, but she couldn’t do it. Sierra had learned only weeks ago of her father’s suicide. And that had been followed last week by the boy’s threat. Sierra’s attitude didn’t sit right. There had been no outburst of grief, no anger. There had been no processing at all.

April slid against the wall, sitting on the living room floor, burying her head in her arms. Nick was gone. Sierra had put up higher walls. Even sweet Carlos had disappeared. She felt the strands that had been holding them all together, almost like a second family, fraying and tearing.

Now standing, watching Sierra through the front window, April felt a thousand years old. She had worried at Sierra’s similarity to Gary, but this was so much worse.

Finally, April did the unthinkable. She picked up the phone and called her sister.

“Hey, Hill.” April sank onto the sofa and tugged an embroidered throw around her.

“I know that tone. What’s wrong?”

April let out a dry laugh. Just when she thought Hill didn’t understand her. “It’s Sierra. She found out about Gary.”

“Found out about his suicide. Meaning you didn’t tell her?”

April nodded as if Hill could see her through the phone.

Hill’s voice took on an edge. “That’s not good. What’s her reaction?”

“I don’t know. Everything looks right on the outside, better even. She cut her hair, has taken an interest in what she wears. She smiles. She turns her work in at school. But …”

“Oh. She’s pulling an April on you.”

“What?”

“Come on, April. You know how it was way back when. Mom having one of her so-called spells. That guy, what’s-his-name, Christopher? He’d broken your heart. But you gave that thousand-watt smile to everyone, kept talking about cheer club and prom dresses, like you’d never been happier.”

Had she really been that see-through? But Hill had lived in the same house and dealt with her own blows, not nearly as peacefully as April. She’d stomped and thrown things. She’d screamed at Mom for not being a real mom and at Dad for living a lie. Strangely enough, it was Hill Mom seemed closest to later on. April was the peacekeeper, the one who drew imaginary sunny days in the sky for everyone to believe in. Like Dad.

Is that what she’d taught Sierra? Paint on a smile and bury your grief?

“Oh, Hill. Was I that unconvincing?”

Hill laughed. “Only to me. I spent my whole life watching Dad act like it was all good.”

“I miss him. I miss his optimism.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Hill sighed. “Throw a good fit, April. It always works for me. Everyone pays attention when Mom’s not happy.”

April tapped her feet against the coffee table. “Yeah, but Sierra’s so sensitive I don’t know what she would do with a fit.”

“Good. Throw her off balance. You need to get her talking.”

Funny, whenever April thought of Hill, she thought of how abrasive she was. She’d forgotten the late-night chats, the jokes. Hill had a keen eye.

“There’s something else, isn’t there, April?”

“Why do I always think you don’t understand me?”

Hill gave a long, rambling laugh. “It’s got to be money trouble or man trouble. I vote man trouble.”

“How do you do that?”

“I’m a therapist. I’ve learned to read between the lines.”

“Man trouble,” April admitted.

“I just hope he’s not another Gary—some poor guy who needs you to carry his load for him.”

Did she really want to share her feelings about Nick? “No, he’s so not like Gary.”

“But?”

“But I pushed him away for long enough, and he said his good-byes. Only I don’t want him to say good-bye. I’m just not ready for hello exactly.”

She could hear Hillary clicking something, maybe a pen. “You’ve got to forgive yourself sometime.”

April sucked in a breath. “What?”

“It’s not your fault Gary killed himself, sweetie. He was sick, and there was nothing—absolutely nothing—you could do to save him.”

April drew in a sharp breath. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Gary didn’t want you or Sierra to stop living. How is she supposed to learn it’s okay to find pleasure in life when you can’t allow yourself to take joy in anything?”

“Do you think I want to be unhappy?”

“When was the last time you did something for the sheer pleasure of it? Have you spent a whole afternoon taking pictures? Have you gone on a date? Gone to see a movie for you, not Sierra? Have you done anything at all just because it made your day a little brighter?”

When April didn’t answer, Hill said, “Not since Gary died, right?”

April buried her head in the cushions. She gave her sister a muffled, “No.”

“It was only your efforts that kept him clinging to life as long as he did.” Something creaked over the line, like Hill had stood up. “Gary wanted you to be happy. You and Sierra both.”

“I wish it was all as crystal clear to me as it is to you, Hill.”

Hillary laughed. “Oh, it’s only clear because it’s someone else’s life. Other people are so much easier to fix than yourself.”

April told Hill good-bye and paced to the window, where she could see Sierra sitting in the same position on the steps as she had been half an hour ago.

She rested her hand against the window. Was Hill right? Was she punishing herself for Gary’s death? She’d been so sure she was only keeping her little girl safe under her wings.