Chapter Forty-Two

April sat on the park bench. The park was quiet. An elderly couple strolled hand in hand on the jogging trail, and a mother helped her daughter down the slides.

“April.”

Nick stood in the sunlight. Just the sound of his voice warmed her. She’d gone too many days without hearing it.

He took a seat at the other end of the bench. He was thinner, and dark circles under his eyes gave evidence of lost sleep. But the haunted look she’d seen in his eyes last time was gone, replaced by stillness.

What was Luca thinking? Nick was a man without a job, and his job had fueled his passion for life. This was no time to discuss her feelings for him.

She looked off to a wide patch of grass, wondering if he remembered meeting her here last fall. She’d been unable to take the picture of the men performing Tai Chi, and he’d taken her to his friend’s to look at the photos in the back of the carpet shop.

“How’s Sierra?” Nick asked.

“She’s doing well. I know she’s still got some dark days ahead, but I think she’s turned a corner.” The memory of talking with Sierra last night still left her in awe.

That snippet of news pleased him, but he let the conversation drop. He was here at her invitation, so he waited.

“It’s Truth or Dare time again,” April said softly. “Are you up for it?”

“I’ll take truth for a thousand, Alex.” He was quick on the uptake, references to Jeopardy and all, but despite the dry humor, his face remained guarded.

“How did I know you’d pick truth?”

Nick smiled. “In love and war …”

“I was really hoping for a dare. I’m not much with the truth.” She let out a nervous laugh. Did he read the pain in her eyes, because his was spilling out for anyone to see.

A crow landed at their feet and began to peck at the grass. A runner sprinted by. She’d rehearsed what she would say to Nick, had alternate backup versions even, but her mind drew a blank. All she could think of was the space between them.

“I’m so sorry, Nick. The truth is hard for me.” She slowed her breathing. “I don’t know why I asked you to come here. You’ve already got so much stress. You don’t need mine.”

He reached his arm along the back of the bench. “It’s okay, April. If you want to talk, I want to listen.”

She took a deep breath. “I don’t do truth. Painting rainbows over rainstorms. That’s been the rule of my life. Fourteen years of my husband going in and out of hospitals and trying one drug cocktail after another, fighting a life-sucking, mind-altering depression I didn’t even know existed. And I smiled and I said, ‘It’s going to get better’ like a never-changing chorus, and I acted as if I believed God would make sense of our pain.”

Her voice trembled and Nick slid close, taking her hand, enveloping it in both of his.

“I never once said, ‘There’s no hope left.’ I wouldn’t even allow myself to think the words. The only time I let my guard down was to encourage Gary to go to the history conference in Italy. He was doing better. I didn’t say I needed him to leave me and Sierra alone for a couple of weeks because I was suffocating waiting for the latest treatment to stop working as they always did. But I guess Gary had learned to decode my words by then, because he went to the conference even though he knew he wasn’t ready for it. He went to the conference. And he came home in a casket.”

A muscle twitched in Nick’s cheek, and his hands around hers grew tight. She looked out at the pond, gathering herself.

“So that night you kissed me last winter,” April went on, her voice growing thick. “You were so alive with strength and goodness, and I just wanted you to hold me. But I told myself with all our family issues, we’d break each other’s hearts and Sierra’s and your dad’s in the mix. I told you it would never work between us. I tried to find something sweet to soften my rejection of you and what was happening between us, so I said you were like family. I couldn’t even tell myself the truth.”

She looked up at the sky. “I can’t let you love me, Nick. And I can’t love you back. How can I? My husband is dead because of me.”

He put his arms around her and rested his face against the top of her head. He didn’t need to speak. His presence was enough. For now she let Nick’s arms surround her and savored his comfort, the way a drunk must relish his last drink before going sober.

Nick kissed her temple, kissed her lips so briefly she ached for more, but he drew back. “April, you couldn’t have stopped him. If your husband had stayed in town with you, and you kept painting rainbows for him and giving him that golden smile of yours, eventually, he would still have killed himself. You know that.”

She looked into Nick’s eyes, trying to hold on to that thought.

“You couldn’t give him what the medicine and the doctors couldn’t.”

She drew a ragged breath.

“Some things aren’t in your power. Your husband’s condition was one of them.”

April nodded, numb. It was true, but it didn’t feel any more real.

Nick took her face in his hands. “I’ll tell you one more thing that’s not in your power. Me. You can’t tell me I can’t love you, because I do.” He leaned in to kiss her forehead. “April, sweet April. You were right all along. Our lives are complicated.” His voice grew rough. “We each have our own grief. Maybe we would add more rips to each other’s lives. Maybe we’d hurt each other and Sierra and my dad.”

He raised her hand and kissed her fingers. “But it’s too late to worry about breaking my heart. You’ve broken it already.”