Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas (17 page)

Nicholas Harrison, a real boy, cherished son of Suzanne and Matthew.

“Hello, sweet baby boy. Hello, Nicholas. My name is Katie.”

She began to sob uncontrollably then. She clutched her chest with both arms, and her whole body shook like a weeping willow in a storm. She mourned for poor baby Nicholas. She couldn't begin to understand how Matt had survived this.

She imagined him in Nicholas's room, playing the music box on the crib over and over, trying to remember how it had been with his baby son, trying to bring Nicholas back.

There were flowers, daisy poms, carnations, and gladiolas at both of the graves. Someone has been here recently, maybe even today. Matt had always given her roses. He was a good man, sweet and kind. She'd been right about that. She hadn't made a bad choice, just an unlucky one.

And then Katie noticed something else, the date that was carved into the two headstones.

July 18, 1999.

She felt a shiver vibrate through her, and her knees were weak again. July 18 was two years to the day of the party she'd had planned for Matt on her terrace in New York, the night she'd given him the copy of his book of poems. No wonder he ran away. And now, where was Matt?

Katie had to see him--one more time.

I T TOOK another twenty minutes for the creaky island cab to bump its way from the cemetery to the old boathouse that she immediately recognized as Suzanne's.

It was painted white now. The barnlike doors and the trim were gray. There was a flower garden full of hydrangeas, azaleas, and daylilies.

She could see why Suzanne had loved it so much. Katie did, too. It was a real home.

She slowly got out of the cab. An ocean breeze played with her hair. She felt the wind gently pat her face and her bare legs. Her heart was back into its pounding routine again.

“Should I wait?” the driver asked.

Katie nibbled her upper lip, crossed and uncrossed her long arms. She looked at her watch: 3:28. “No. Thanks. You can go this time. I'll be here for a while.”

Suzannes Diary for Nicholas

She paid the driver, and he sped off.

Her heart was stuck in her throat as she walked up the gravel path to the house. Her eyes did a once-over of the property. She saw no sign of Matt. No car. Maybe it was in back.

She knocked on the front door, waited, fidgeted, then used the old wooden knocker.

No one answered.

God, it was so weird to be here.

Her heart just wouldn't stop pounding.

She didn't see a sign of anyone at the house, but she was determined to wait for Matt. She could almost imagine him showing up now: old jeans, a khaki shirt, work boots, welcoming smile.

Would Matt smile if he saw her here? She needed to talk to him, to get some things off her chest. It was her turn to talk. She deserved that much. She had secrets she needed to share.

So she waited and waited. Then Katie sat on the front lawn for a while, massaging her stomach gently, listening to the waves. Eventually, she crossed Beach Road . . . where Suzanne's dog, Gus, had been struck by a speeding red truck.

She sat on the beach where Matt and Suzanne had danced in the moonlight. She could see them. And then she imagined dancing with Matt again. He wasn't a great dancer, but she had loved being in his strong arms. She didn't like admitting it now, but it was the truth. It would always be the truth.

She thought that she probably had most of the mystery solved: Matt couldn't get Suzanne and Nicholas out of his mind, couldn't stop grieving. He probably didn't think that he ever could. Maybe he couldn't bear the thought of losing someone again. He had lost his wife and year-old child, and even his father when he was just a boy.

She couldn't blame him; she really couldn't. Not since she'd read the diary and understood what he had been through. If anything, and this really hurt her, she loved Matt more now than she ever had.

Katie picked her head up and saw a small, dark-haired woman in a pale blue dress, but barefoot. She was walking toward her across Beach Road. Katie didn't take her eyes off her.

When the woman was close, she said, “You're Melanie Bone, aren't you?”

Melanie had the nicest, friendliest smile, just what she would have imagined. “And you're Katie. You're Matthew's editor from New York. He told me about you. He said you were willowy and pretty; that you usually wore your dark hair in a braid but sometimes loose strands fell across your cheeks.”

Katie wanted so much to ask Melanie what else Matt had said, but she didn't, couldn't. “Do you know where he is?” she asked.

Melanie grimaced and shook her head. “He's not here. I'm sorry, Katie. I don't know where Matt is. We're all worried about him, actually. I was hoping that he was with you in New York.”

“He's not,” Katie said. “I haven't seen him, either.”

Late in the afternoon Melanie gave Katie a ride back to the ferry terminal in Oak Bluffs. The kids rode in the back of the station wagon. They were just about as good-natured as their mother. They liked Katie right away, and she liked them.

“Don't give up on him,” Melanie said as Katie was about to walk away to board the Islander. “He's worth it. Matt's had the worst experience of anyone I know. But I think he'll recover. He's a really good person. Handy around the house, too. And Katie, I know he loves you.”

Katie nodded, and she waved good-bye to the Bone family. Then she left Martha's Vineyard the way she had come there, alone.

A NOTHER LONG, bad week passed for her. Katie fell deeper and deeper into her work, but she thought a lot about going home to North Carolina. For good. She would have the baby there, among the people she loved and who loved her.

Katie hadn't been in the office very long that Monday morning when she heard her name being called.

She had just transferred her tea from the blue Le Croissant paper cup to the antique china one she kept on her desk. Her stomach didn't feel too bad that morning. Or maybe she was just getting used to it.

“Katie? Come over here right now. Katie! Now.”

She was slightly annoyed. “What, what? I'm coming. Hold your horses.”

Her assistant, Mary Jordan, was poised behind a floor-to-ceiling window that looked down on East Fifty-third Street. She motioned for Katie to come to the window. “Come here!”

Curious, she walked to the window and looked down on the street. She spilled hot tea on herself, nearly dropping her antique cup, until Mary reached out and deftly snatched it from her.

Katie then walked past Mary, down the short hallway of the publishing-house offices, to the single elevator. Her knees were weak, her head spinning. She was self-consciously brushing strands of hair away from her face. She didn't know what to do with her hands.

She passed the publisher and owner, who was getting out of the elevator. “Katie, I need to talk--” He started to say something, but she cut him off with a raised hand and a shake of the head. “I'll be right back, Larry,” she said, then rushed into the elevator, which was just starting back down. The publishing-house offices were on the top floor.

Time to compose yourself,she thought.

No, not enough time. Not even close.

The elevator descended to the first floor without making any stops.

Katie stood in the lobby and forced herself to be very still inside. Her thoughts were amazingly concise, actually. Suddenly everything seemed so clear and simple to her.

She thought about Suzanne, about Nicholas, and about Matt.

She thought about the lesson of the five balls.

Then Katie walked outside the building and onto the streets of New York. She took a deep breath as the warmth of the sunshine struck her face.

Dear God, make me strong enough for whatever is going to happen now.

She saw Matthew on Fifty-third Street.

H E WAS kneeling on the sidewalk, less than a dozen feet away from where Katie stood, right in front of her office building. His head was bowed slightly. He was courteous and considerate enough to have placed himself out of the main pedestrian flow. She couldn't take her eyes off him.

Of course, everyone looked at him as they passed. How could they resist? Rubbernecking was an art in New York City.

He looked good: tan, trim, his hair a little longer than usual; jeans, a clean but frayed chambray shirt, dusty work boots. He looked like the Matt she knew, the Matt she had loved, and realized now that she still did.

Kneeling in front of her building. Right there in front of her.

Just as Suzanne had knelt that one night on their porch--to ask forgiveness, even though there was nothing to forgive.

Katie believed she knew what she had to do. She followed her instincts on this, followed her heart.

She took a breath, then she got down on one knee beside Matt, facing him, very close to him, as close as she could get. Her heart was thundering. Thump-thump, thump-thump.

She had wanted to see Matt one more time, and here he was. Now what?

Pedestrians were starting to clog up the sidewalk. A few of them made unkind remarks, complaining about the loss of a few precious seconds on their journeys to work, or wherever it was that they rushed off to every morning.

Matt reached out his hand. Katie hesitated, but then she let him take her long, thin hands in his.

She had missed his touch. Oh God, she had missed this.

She had missed a lot about him, but especially the way she felt at peace when he was with her.

Strangely, she was starting to feel calm now. What did that mean? What was supposed to happen next?

Why was he here? To apologize or explain in person? What?

Finally, Matt raised his head and looked at her. She had missed those soft brown eyes, even more than she thought. She'd missed his strong cheekbones, the furrowed brow, his perfect lips.

Matt spoke, and, God, she had missed the sound of his voice. “I love looking into your eyes, Katie, the honesty I see there. I love your country drawl. You're so unique, and I treasure that. I love being with you. I never tire of it. Not for one minute since I've known you. You are a great editor. You're a great carpenter, too. You are tall, but you are ravishing.”

Katie found that she was smiling. She couldn't help it. Here they were, the two of them, on their knees in midtown. Nobody could possibly understand what they were doing and why. Maybe not even they themselves understood.

“Hello, stranger,” she said. “I went looking for you, Matt. I traveled to the Vineyard. I finally got up there.”

Matt smiled now. “So I heard. From Melanie and the kids. They thought you were ravishing, too.”

“What else?” Katie asked. She needed to know more, to learn more, anything that he would tell her. God, she was so glad to see him again. She couldn't have imagined how glad she would be, how this would feel.

“What else? Well, the reason I'm here, on my knees, is I want to give myself over to you, Katie. I'm sure of it. I'm finally ready. I'm yours, if you'll have me. I want to be with you. I want to have children with you. I love you. I'll never leave you again. I promise, Katie. I promise with all my heart.”

And then, they finally kissed.

T HAT OCTOBER on the gorgeous Outer Banks of North Carolina, Katie Wilkinson and Matt Harrison were married at the Kitty Hawk Chapel.

The Wilkinson and Harrison families hit it off famously right from the start. The two families immediately became one. Katie's friends from New York all came down, spent a few extra days at the beach, and got lobster pink, of course. Her North Carolina friends preferred the cover of porches and shade trees. Both groups of friends reached agreement on the mint juleps.

Katie was thin, but she wasn't showing too much. Only a few of the wedding guests knew that she was going to have a baby. When she had told Matt, he hugged and kissed her and said he was the happiest, luckiest person in the world.

“Me, too,” said Katie. “Actually, me three.”

It was a simple but beautiful wedding and reception, held under cloudless blue skies with temperatures hovering in the low seventies. Katie looked like an angel, white, with wings. Tall. Ravishing. The wedding was completely unpretentious from beginning to end. The tables were decorated with family photographs. The bridesmaids carried pale pink hydrangeas.

While they were exchanging vows, Katie couldn't help thinking to herself, Family, health, friends, integrity--the precious glass balls.

She understood it now.

And that was how she would live the rest of her life, with Matt and their beautiful baby.

Isn't it lucky.

Table of Contents

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5