Until There Was You (20 page)

"Oh. I remembered something we did at school when Sarah died," Emma began.

"Emma!" Abel said abruptly, cutting Emma off.

"What?" Emma responded, surprised.

"It's okay, Abe. I know that my sister died, not talking about her won't make it so that it never happened," Nate said, spearing some couscous and avocado.

"Sorry," Abel replied quietly. "'I just didn't want you to get hurt."

"So… I remembered a thing we had to do. The teacher made us write these letters and it helped a lot of us come to terms with what had happened, I thought it would help Bailey," Emma added.

"Yeah, thanks. He did it. Honestly, I think it was more painful for me than it was for him. He wrote all the things that I was expecting him to, but it was hard seeing it on the page. It felt realer somehow, more permanent. I'm sorry," Nate said as he wiped his eyes with a napkin, emotion sweeping over him for a second. He felt Abel's hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay. Do you think it helped?" Abel asked.

"I think it helped him articulate the way he's feeling. Which is good. He wrote that he missed Joshua and that he thought about him all the time—which made me wish that I could just fix everything. But I can't. And I think he gets that," Nate added, feeling better again.

"How did Bailey do with his vegan mission?" Emma asked, instantly lightening the moment with her buoyant, warm voice. She smiled brightly and Nate felt himself copy her instinctively.

"Bailey's a vegan? How much time do you guys spend together? I feel like you've formed a club and excluded me." Abel removed his hand from Nate's shoulder, seemingly satisfied that he wasn't going to fall apart.

"Oh, we have," Emma said.

"It's called the
Abel Sux
club. Sucks with an x, you know, because we're punk rock and you're super lame," Nate said between bites of pepper and tomato.

"It's true, we meet every morning. The whole finance thing was a ruse." Emma grinned.

"You two are lucky that I came today, because I think you'll find that it's actually
you
guys who are lame. So what was Bailey's vegan mission?" Abel asked.

"Oh, he's
completely
in love with Emma, so he's decided we all have to become vegans. When I left, I think he was trying to convince my dad that he should throw out all his meat and dairy in the trash. And the funny thing is, I wouldn't put it past Bailey to win out. Honestly, I think he cares a lot less about animal rights than he does about impressing your sister. This food is delicious, by the way."

"Thank you. It's so nice of you to be complementary. If I waited for my brother to say anything nice about my cooking, I'd be waiting around a long time," Emma said.

"Hey, I tell you you're a good cook all the time, just that you should add more meat and butter and salt," Abel said, humor filling his voice. Sitting with the two of them together, Nate could see the family resemblance—the way that their voices were filled with fun, mischief, and their gorgeous blue eyes.

"Well, I don't think you should add anything, it's all perfect," Nate mumbled through a mouth full of spinach.

"Do you want another glass of wine?" Emma asked, picking up the bottle and hovering it above Nate's glass.

"I want another, but I brought the car and I don't fancy trekking through the forest today, so I'll have to…"

"I can drive you," Abel said. He looked surprised by the volume and intensity of his words.

"You don't have to do that," Nate replied, shaking his head.

"He wants to. Have another drink; you're the only person I know who actually seems to like this stuff." Emma filled his glass.

"Are you sure, Abel?" Nate asked, picking his glass up but hesitating before taking another gulp.

"Of course, I'd love to. Have another drink. God knows you're a braver man than me if you can manage it."

"Thank you. I actually really like it. Frankly, it's nice to have lunch with people that aren't my parents; my mom has been great, but I have barely spoken to my dad. He's done a lot of grunting and turning away from me… but not a whole lot of actual conversation," Nate said, taking another sip.

"Do you think he's going to come around? It's pretty hard to keep that up, surely?" Abel asked.

"I don't know. I think if he were going to thaw out, he would have by now. He's had over ten years now and he still treats me like I'm just some kind of inconvenience in his life."

"It's weird. Bernard always seems so nice when I see him in Abel's work shed," Emma said.

"I've heard that before. Everybody always says that he's this perfectly reasonable man, but I've never seen it. I don't think I've ever even seen him try," Nate replied, dejected.

"But you've done the last ten years without him. Sometimes you can't make people change, and trying to force them to does nothing but drive you wild. I think that he's the one missing out. I hope you know that," Abel said sincerely.

"Agreed," Emma added.

"Thank you, guys. I can't believe that I'm turning this lunch into my very own pity party. I was thinking earlier how ridiculous it is that people read my books and actually take my advice. I'm pretty much the most incompetent person in the world, and I've written hundreds and hundreds of pages of advice that people take seriously. I saw on Facebook that somebody even had a quote of mine tattooed onto them! Can you imagine what they'd think if they knew that you had to completely school me in the art of very basic finance? I feel like I should give them all a refund or write them an apology. What is wrong with me, why am I babbling so much?"

"It's the food. Vegan meals are very emotionally cleansing," Emma said proudly.

"Well, then I guess you should make me an all-you-can-eat buffet," Nate said, and they all laughed.

"Nate, I think you're the perfect person to give advice. You're
real
. You're
smart
. You've been forced to start again and risen to the challenge. You haven't done everything perfectly, but who could expect that from anybody? I think all this will make your next book even better—just think of all the things you have to write about now," Abel said seriously.

Nate finished the last of the lunch on his plate and stretched out, satisfied. Emma stood up and started stacking the bowls. "Abel, will you help me clear up before you drop Nate off?"

Abel rolled his eyes dramatically before getting up from his seat and following Emma into the kitchen, plates stacked awkwardly on his hands.

Nate looked out of the window at Main Street, his mind whirring with thoughts, little sentences he wanted to write down, and memories.

"You get to be happy too." Nate could hear Emma's voice from the kitchen, muffled as if she was whispering.

"It wouldn't be fair. He isn't…" Nate couldn't make out Abel's reply.

"People learn…"

"I don't want to..."

"I can see it…"

"I…"

Nate felt uncomfortable prying into a conversation so clearly not meant for him to hear. He looked up quickly when Abel rushed red-faced out of the kitchen, stormed through the café, and opened the front door. "We're going, Nate." Abel's tone was stern and direct.

"Oh. Oh, okay. Umm. Thank you so much for lunch, Emma, and everything else. It was wonderful," Nate said, shell-shocked.

"I'll see you soon, Nate," Emma replied, exasperated.

Nate followed Abel out of the door; he had to rush across the road to keep up with Abel's angry pace. "What was that about?" Nate asked. He thought that he had gathered the thread of the conversation but didn't want to make any assumptions.

"Nothing," Abel replied, opening the passenger door for Nate before getting into the driver's seat. Nate barely had time to get into the truck before Abel started the engine and began driving.

"What the hell is going on? I feel like I missed something pretty huge. There was just silence and then you stormed out."

"I told you—nothing. I told my sister something that I shouldn't have. That's all," Abel replied angrily.

"What did you tell her?" Nate asked.

"It doesn't matter."

"If it has you this upset, then it definitely matters. What happened?"

Abel brought the car to a sharp stop and put his head against the steering wheel. "I told her that I didn't want to see you anymore."

Nate felt like he had been stabbed in the chest. He was caught in the space between sadness and anger, struggling to make sense of what he had heard. It seemed so incongruous with the day that had come before it. "Why? What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything. It's what I'm doing," Abel said, his words fragile.

"You haven't done anything wrong. You've been great."

"I'm doing something wrong right now," Abel replied.

"Well, yeah, you're acting like a crazy person. But I feel like that's your M.O."

"No, I don't want to see you anymore because I'm falling in love with you, and that makes me a shitty person—because you need a friend. And I can't do that. I want to, but I can't."

The Morning After

The smell of coffee permeated the kitchen and drifted into Nate's room, rousing him a little from his light sleep. Nate had replayed the conversation with Abel over and over again throughout the night, trying to see it from different angles to see if he could discover any new insights. He didn't know how he felt about everything. Nate knew for certain that Abel's admission shocked and flustered him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it had somehow felt right. The words
I'm falling in love with you
had hung in the air the whole way back to Nate's parents' house, continuing to say so much even though they had remained silent. He felt anxious and giddy, but he couldn't separate the emotions enough to stop them from becoming a messy knot in his stomach. All he knew for certain was that he had wanted to tell Abel that he loved him too—he just didn't know if it was because it was a reflex, because he was desperate to be in love with
anybody
, or because he was starting to fall for Abel. Nate squeezed his eyes shut, desperate to hold onto a little more blackness before he had to start his day.

Nate put his hand out to check on Bailey and his eyes flung open when he realized that he wasn't there. Nate jumped out the bed and hurried into the kitchen. Ava was busy cooking pancakes and chatting with a group of jovial ladies who sat at the table shuffling cards. Nate recognized the card players instantly; they were the women of his mother's bridge club, including his Aunt Viola. Nate made a show of clearing his throat, and the ladies looked up. Each of them beamed and put down their cards in joy.

Viola, a tall woman who had lost none of her beauty and vibrancy with time, rose from her seat excitedly and threw herself at Nate, catching him in a firm, warm embrace. She wore her white hair in dramatic waves and was wearing a crushed-velvet dress in rich purple. Nate inhaled and recognized his aunt's fragrance straight away. She always filled the room with the smell of flowers, a perfume that she had been making herself since she was a child. Nate had missed his "cool" aunt a lot; almost all of his best childhood memories included her: weekends at her apartment, vacations to her beach house, and long talks on the porch.

"Nathaniel. You look so handsome, you damn son of a gun. When did you become an adult? You look like a movie star." Viola's voice was vibrating with eagerness as she hugged him again.

"Aunt Vi, you look wonderful. It's been too long. I've missed you so much." Nate let his head rest against Viola's shoulder. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply again before pulling away from her shoulder.

"Oh, you damn liar. I look like an old woman. Just old, old, old. But keep the compliments coming, you fool. I've missed you too. But I feel like I've been with you all along; I've read all your books." Viola smiled widely.

"No, you do! You look younger now than when I left," Nate said, looking into his aunt's bright, kind eyes.

"Oh, okay, I guess you must be right," Viola said, teasing.

"I didn't know you read my books. Do you like them?" Nate asked, giddy with childish excitement.

"Oh, no. Not at all, I think they're really hard work to finish, but I love you!" Violet said.

Nate burst into laughter at her refreshing honesty.

He moved around the table, kissing and talking to all his mother's dear friends. They asked questions and he gave answers. They pinched his cheeks and he let them. They each told him how grown-up he looked and marveled at the fact he was a published author and a father.

"That reminds me, Mom, where is Bailey?" Nate asked as Ava brought a pot of coffee to the table.

"Oh, he's with Bernard and Abel out the back, they're working on the boat together," Ava said, distracted. Nate could see that she was scanning her cards intently. Even after all of this time, he remembered not to interrupt her too much when she was playing cards.

"Abel's here? Abel Jones?" Nate asked, a sudden shiver running through him like a cold stream of water.

"Of course, Abel Jones. How many other Abels do you know? He builds boats down the dock and he helps your dad build his on the weekends. Such a sweet man. Always helping people out. Didn't he tell you that he was coming over today?" Ava asked, still looking at her hand and working out her best moves. Seriousness had descended on the room as the women had entered the bridge battlefield.

"No. He didn't mention it. I'm going to check that Bailey's okay."

Nate wandered to the back of the house. He opened the backdoor and lingered for a second, watching his son and trying to work out how he felt about everything. He thought he was excited to see Abel again, but that excitement kept clashing with his nervousness and his fear of the future. Bailey was standing very still, looking at the boat, a hammer and screwdriver in his hands. He was next to Abel, staring at the edifice as if trying to work out the next move to improve its structural integrity. Bailey had Abel's cap on his head, which made him look even littler and more out of place. Nate finally walked down the timber stairs that led to the garden and made his way to the wooden boat, which was upside down on the lawn with tools spread out all around it. Bernard was taking measurements of the outer shell.