The Night We Met (17 page)

"Bring her to the resort, to the toddler day care room, one or two days a week."

We'd established it shortly after buying the place as part of our intention to provide a fal -service family establishment. The parents could ski while their kids were safely entertained.

"And what do you suggest I do while she's there?"

"Get your hair done. Volunteer at the shelter. Ski. Read a book. Check up on the special event staff

—or any of the other staff. You own half the place. Do whatever you want."

Surprisingly, I felt a little thrill at the thought. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt one.

Probably before Nate left.

"Okay, but if she's not happy, I'm pulling her out."

"You've got a deal."

I hung up, nervous about what I'd gotten myself into.

Chapter 14

In April of that year, Pope John Paul II met Rome's chief rabbi at the synagogue in Rome in a quest for peace. I was proud of the Church I'd once belonged to. And hopeful for the world.

I tried not to be quite so hopeful where Nate was concerned, but it was getting harder and harder. He was calling every week now. Always when the kids were either asleep or out.

Mostly that meant Elizabeth was asleep and Jimmy and Keith were out. The boys had found a group of friends to hang out with and were gone more often than they were home that spring. Jimmy had a girlfriend. Her name was Lindsay. He'd already told me

he was going to marry her. Keith still hadn't been on a date.

"Give him time," Nate told me late one Friday night when I worried aloud about my eldest son.

The boys were both out—Jimmy on a double date at the midnight drive-in, and Keith with a couple of buddies at the races in Denver.

"I just hate the thought of him living his life alone." It felt too much like my own brokenhearted state.

"Keith's not going to be the type to jump from girl to girl." Nate's voice was tired, but peaceful-sounding. "Mark my words, when he meets the right one, that wil be that."

"At least until it isn't." I regretted the words the moment I spoke them. Didn't want to challenge him.

Or dig at him.

I didn't want any more bad feelings between us. We had children to raise.

"Unless it always is." Nate's soft reply was unexpected.

And left me speechless.

The third week in April, after days and days of hype and media coverage, journalist Geraldo Rivera opened Al Capone's vault on live television and found...nothing. The man was an instant laughingstock in many circles, losing the trust of his readers and public.

Somehow Nate and I got into a discussion about the fiasco. He'd called to see if his sons were having dinner with him the fol owing night—the beginning of his weekend with the kids—or only Elizabeth. When we'd sorted that out, he just hadn't hung up.

"He did it to himself," I told him. "He came on so strong, guaranteeing that there'd be something to see."

"He couldn't help it that there wasn't anything in that vault."

"Of course he couldn't. And, knowing that, he made promises, anyway. People believed him because they trusted him."

"Know what I think?" Nate's voice was soft.

Elizabeth had been in bed for over an hour. The boys were at a high school basketbal play-off game in Denver. I'd come upstairs to take a bath and was sitting propped up on a pil ow, stil waiting to do that.

"What?" I finally asked. Because I discovered I really did want to know.

"I think he believed. And because his belief was so strong, it took on a power of its own."

"If that's true, then belief can be a very dangerous thing."

"But wouldn't it be better to believe, and find out you're wrong, than never to believe in anything?"

I probably wasn't the right person to ask. "He made promises without being able to fol ow through."

"So Geraldo should be hung out to dry for trying?"

"You think there shouldn't be consequences for misleading so many people?" Even though the cause itself— Capone's vault—was a trivial one, it was the principle that mattered here.

"Of course. And his reputation's taken a hit. But does the fact that he made a mistake preclude him from ever

being forgiven? From being permitted to try again? To make amends?"

We weren't talking about Geraldo Rivera. Maybe we never had been.

"He was so convincing," I said slowly. "How would people ever be able to believe in him again?"

"I guess he'd have to rebuild their trust in him."

I wasn't at al sure that was possible.

"If his motive was purely selfish, with no care for the people whose trust he betrayed, then I'd say he doesn't have a shot in hel of ever regaining anyone's trust. Or deserving it."

The phone was slipping from my sweaty palm. I switched hands.

"What if he'd known he was going to hurt people and did it anyway?" I asked. "How could they possibly trust him after that?"

"His emotional need was a weakness that got the better of him, clouding his judgment. How do you know he wasn't scrambling, hoping to rectify his mistake before it became public?"

My chin was trembling, but I refused to give in to tears.

"What was his original goal, Nate? To be successful at all cost? Was he really thinking of others? Or just himself?" I had to talk about Geraldo. It was the only way I was going to get through this.

"Is life ever that black and white, Liza?"

I didn't have an answer. I wanted it to be. I knew that much. Or at least, I wanted some things to be.

The ones on which I'd built the foundation of my life.

"I think his goal was to serve the people who trusted him, yet satisfy himself at the same time," Nate said slowly. "That's the goal of any decent man. He doesn't set out to betray others."

The hardest part of all of this was that my heart was responding to it. I felt the rightness of what Nate was saying.

Just as I felt the hopelessness of trying to forget.

"But what if his... weakness overcomes him again?" I asked softly.

"He's learned the key lesson. The weakness wasn't his downfall."

"What was his downfall?" I had to ask.

"The fact that he was too ashamed of his weakness to admit it. So he hid it, and in hiding, it grew.

And eventually he ended up with something even more shameful."

Oh, my God. I was sobbing. Too hard to think.

"Liza?"

He had to stop. To leave me alone.

"Are you okay, Liza?"

I opened my mouth to tell him not to call me again.

"Come home, Nate. Please?"

I hadn't moved since I'd hung up the phone. Never did get my bath. I just sat there, propped up by pillows in the dark, waiting.

Anticipating.

And fearing.

If he was ever unfaithful to me again, I'd never be able to trust anyone, because I wouldn't be able to trust my own heart. I'd become embittered and disil usioned.

Could I afford to take that chance?

Wouldn't it be better to continue raising our children in a semifriendly manner? We'd found a measure of peace, Nate and I. Wouldn't it be best to leave it at that?

I heard his key in the lock. And shivered. It was so long since I'd been touched.

I loved him so much.

He took the stairs two at a time. I counted. He didn't even pause at Elizabeth's bedroom door before he appeared in ours.

The look on Nate's face as he sought me out in the darkness was another thing I'd never forget. He was afraid.

Of me?

Of hoping?

I couldn't make sense of what I was doing. Couldn't justify any of it. I just did what I. had to do. I held out my arms.

"Oh, God, Liza..." Nate's voice broke. He joined me on the bed, sliding his arms around me. He was trembling.

For a long time he just held on, his breathing erratic. And then he looked up at me, as though he had something to say.

But didn't know what. Or maybe how.

"Kiss me?" I'd been alone for almost a year, so begging seemed appropriate.

Groaning, Nate pushed me down against the covers. His mouth devoured mine with even more hunger than on our wedding night. I was a seasoned woman now, not a timid virgin, and he unleashed his hunger on me without restraint.

I welcomed his intensity, knowing it spoke of a need so deep he was no longer able to contain it. I knew because I felt exactly the same way.

A couple of hours later we lay against the pil ows, a smal light on Nate's nightstand the only il umination. I'd made some decaf coffee, put on a short silk robe I'd purchased for my birthday. Nate was wearing a pair of his son's basketball shorts.

Our shoulders were touching as we sat and sipped.

"Your hair's longer." Nate picked up a lock, ran it through his fingers.

"Yeah."

"I like it."

I warmed under his praise like a schoolgirl.

"The boys'l be home soon." They'd see their father's car in the drive. I smiled as I pictured their expressions.

"Do you want me to go?"

My heart froze. "Go?"

Nate frowned, his eyes filled with pain as he perused me. "I screwed up. Badly. And that means I forfeited my rights in this household. You call the shots here, Liza."

"So you're just going to leave me?" I was so shocked I couldn't understand what he was trying to say.

Had I made the biggest mistake of my life? Become a one-night stand for my estranged husband?

Surely there'd been... The way he'd touched me.. .loved me... My body was still tingling.

"I'm going to do whatever you need me to do."

I didn't want a doormat.

"What I need is for you to be honest. With me. And with yourself. And do whatever you need to do."

The words came out with the force of my confusion. "I don't want you here as some... some act of contrition. Or out of pity."

His scrutiny was unnerving.

"You mean that?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

He jumped out of bed, setting his cup down on the stand, and reached for his clothes.

"You're leaving."

"I'm going to the resort to pack and as soon as it's light I'm renting a truck, unloading the storage bin I've been renting and moving my things back where they belong. Here. In my home. With my family."

Light-headed, having trouble breathing, I sat there staring as tears welled up in my eyes.

"Nate?"

He was buttoning his shirt and looked over at me. "Yeah?"

"You have two able-bodied sons who can help with that tomorrow. Why don't you come back to bed now— to your bed—and get a few hours' rest so you can keep up with them."

His hands stilled.

"I'm not going to wake up in the morning and change my mind about you, Nate."

"You might."

"Real y?" I lifted my chin to stare at him.

I smiled as his hands slowly unfastened the buttons and waited for him to shed the rest of his clothes.

Then, setting down my own cup, I held back the covers.

"Come to bed, my love."

He did.

"And if you ever, ever think about leaving it—or me— again, I will be through with you until death and beyond."

I wasn't sure I'd be able to follow through on that threat, but I knew it needed to be said.

"I love you, Liza."

"I love you, too."

"I'm not perfect."

"Me, neither."

"But this I can swear to you. I'd sooner die than leave you, or this bed, again."

That was enough for me.

The next night, with al of Nate's belongings back in their rightful places, the five of us sat down to dinner together for the first time in over a year. We'd told the boys they needn't cancel their plans with friends in order to stay home, but they both insisted. Keith offered to gril the steaks. Jimmy wanted to mix drinks—was given an unequivocal no—and settled for keeping an eye on Elizabeth while Nate supervised Keith and I prepared the salad and potatoes.

And after dinner, as if by unspoken agreement, we al moved into the living room. Nate sat at the piano I'd seen him glance at several times that day, and started to play.

Four hours later we were still there. Elizabeth had been asleep for a long time. The boys had drifted off, kissing me goodnight on their way, and stopping to tel their dad they were glad he was home.

And, with my heart floating, I laid my head back against my chair, knowing all was right with my world.

I recognized the chord instantly. Started to smile.

And was stil smiling through my tears as Nate finished the last chorus of "My Cup Runneth Over.'

Mine did, too.

We threw a huge party at the resort for Elizabeth's third birthday. Keith and Jimmy invited their friends, who all came. My mom and sisters Bonnie, Alice and June flew in with their families. William, too. Most of our off-duty staff was there. Nate acted like a besotted schoolboy, never leaving my side, and I reveled in his attention. Elizabeth might have received all the presents that day, but Nate and I knew the real celebration was less for our sunny three-year-old than for the family that was once again whole.

Lori was the only one missing but she called. With good news of her own. She and her new beau, Charles, were getting married. We tried to talk her into a wedding this time around, but she said at thirty-two, she just wanted to tie the knot and settle down to babymaking. They were taking a Mediterranean cruise, getting married aboard ship, and would be home at Christmas so everyone could meet Charles.

Her parents, Holly and Todd, were flying out to cruise with them.

Nate seemed at peace with the news.

Our lives were completely blessed.

Elizabeth turned four and our world continued to evolve. Keith was eighteen that summer—old enough to vote. And at thirty-seven, I stil felt as though I had more to figure out than I'd already learned. And we finally let Jimmy get his driver's license.

Both boys, along with their father, spent many hours on the ski slopes that winter. And at Christmastime, when Lori and Charles came for what we hoped was becoming an annual visit, I al owed Elizabeth to put on her first pair of baby skis.