Promise Me (31 page)

Make no mistake—the day of reckoning always arrives on time. We can deny the approaching reef, but we can't deny the collision.

Beth Cardall's Diary

The morning of December 24, I was a mess. I woke crying and rolled over into Matthew's arms. He held me but didn't speak. I knew his heart was breaking as well. I tried to keep busy that morning by doing normal things, as if there was anything normal at all about the day. I made waffles for breakfast, forgetting that Charlotte couldn't eat them, and neither Matthew nor I were hungry.

Around noon I dropped Charlotte off at Roxanne's under the guise of Santa preparations then came back home. Matthew was sitting in the living room. He was tying his shoes.

“Do you need to pack?” I asked.

“For what?”

“Sorry,” I said. “This is new to me.”

“Do you want to get some lunch?”

“I'm not really hungry,” I said, “but I'll keep you company.”

“I'm not hungry either, I just need to get out of here before I lose my mind.”

“Okay,” I said, “let's go.”

The streets were insanely crowded with last-minute Christmas shoppers. We went to a small French café in Holladay,
but the wait was more than an hour, so we took our drinks and salads to go and drove to a nearby park. We sat at a metal picnic table beneath an open canopy, our breath freezing before us.

We talked mostly about the last ten months; our favorite cities and restaurants, the size of lemons in Capri, the glass factory in Murano and seafood in Burano, and laughed hysterically at Niccola, the cute little Italian man who led us through Pompeii, called the other guides “idjits” and finished each declaration with “thank you.” We talked about everything except the clock that was ticking down. We didn't need to. I swear I could hear it.

“Are you set on the story?” he asked me.

I nodded. “Your grandmother died last night in Sorrento, so you left suddenly to get back in time for the funeral. While you are there, you are killed in a car accident.”

Matthew nodded. “The fewer details you give the better. Do you think you'll convince Roxanne? You may have to pretend to cry.”

“I haven't stopped crying since we left Capri and you haven't even left yet. I don't think it will be a problem.”

He frowned. “How do you think Charlotte will take it?”

“Not well. But she'll survive. It's not the first time she's lost someone close to her. I'll take care of her.” I rolled my cup in my hands. “Is there anything I should know about Charlotte?”

“Nothing that I haven't already told you.”

“How about boys . . .”

“You shouldn't get too involved. You might scare her away from me. Just be yourself.”

I nodded.

We got home around three. I was so emotionally drained that I decided to take a short nap. I woke to Matthew gently shaking me. “It's time,” he said softly. I sat up. “What? What time is it?”

“It's six.”

My eyes immediately filled with tears. “Why didn't you wake me?”

He kissed my cheek. “It's better this way.” He knelt on the bed next to me and put his arms around me and we held each other. After a few minutes he pulled away from me, still holding my hand. “Let's do it.”

We walked out to my car and drove just a few miles down the road, a few blocks past the 7-Eleven where we'd first met. At his direction I pulled off from the boulevard down a side street. “It's just up ahead,” he said, “where that red car's parked.”

I drove forward and pulled up to the curb behind the car. “Here?”

“It's this apartment building,” he said, tilting his head toward a two-story, flat-roofed structure.

“Which number is it? I can save you some time when you and Charlotte go apartment hunting.”
Stupid thing to say
.

“Two-zero-seven, the one on the side by the stairwell.”

I looked at the door. I don't know what I was expecting it to look like, but there was nothing special about it.

“It looks like any other door,” I said.

He shrugged. “I look like any other guy.”

“Not to me.”

He reached over and took my hand. “Are you afraid?”

“Yes.”

“So am I.”

“Why aren't I there when my daughter dies?”

He looked down. “I guess Charlotte didn't want you to see her go.”

“Why?”

“Because you've hurt too much over her already.” He leaned over and put his arms around me and held me. After a few minutes he leaned back and looked into my eyes. “I will always love you.”

“You can't promise me that. Not like this.” I buried my head on his shoulder. He just held me again.

“Beth, are you sure this is what you want?”

“Please, don't tempt me. I want my girl to be happy. I want you to be happy with her.”

“You're always looking after her.”

“That's why you're here, isn't it?” I rubbed my hand over his back. “The next time you see me, I'll be fourteen years older. I won't be so pretty.”

“I've seen you in nineteen years. You're still beautiful.”

Neither of us spoke after that. I just clung to him. A few minutes later he sighed. “It's time,” he said. “I can't put this off any longer.”

I slowly released him. “Take care of my girl.”

“I promise.”

He opened the car door and stepped out, then leaned back through the window. “
Ciao, bella
.”

I wiped my eyes. “
Ciao
.” He turned and began to walk away when I shouted, “Matthew!”

He stopped. I got out of the car and ran to him and we embraced. “Please don't forget me. Promise me.”

“I don't know if I can.”

“I can't live with that. I can sacrifice you for her, I can sacrifice my love, but I can't live with you never knowing that we had this time.” I looked up at him pleadingly. “You once said, ‘You can't believe what I can promise.' You promised her. Promise me. Please, just say it.”

He looked into my eyes then ran his finger over my cheek. “I promise.”

“Okay,” I said, “Okay.” I stepped away from him, still holding his hand. “
Ci vediamo
.” I stepped back until we dropped each other's hands.

“Bye.”

He turned and I watched him walk up toward the apartment. He looked back once more and gave me a short wave. I wiped my eyes and waved back. Then I went back to the car and went to get my Charlotte.

They say that you can never go back home again. But it's not the home that changes, it's the traveler.

Beth Cardall's Diary

Matthew tentatively grasped the doorknob, unsure of what lay behind it and even more unsure of how he would respond. He thought back to the previous Christmas Eve, when the strange couple had forced him out of the apartment with a baseball bat. The idea of encountering them again was far less frightening than the prospect of finding Charlotte in bed, struggling to live—to witness her death. Or, had she already passed? He looked back to the road, to maybe catch a glimpse of Beth's car, but it was gone.

He turned the knob. He was not surprised to find the door unlocked, for the same reason he knew he was to be there. He slowly opened the door, took a deep breath and stepped inside, crossing a threshold of time and sealing the past behind him.