Most of All You: A Love Story(66)

“Oh, Gabe …”

“After that I didn’t go out in public much anymore. I lost myself in stone carving, in the comfort of the people and the things I knew.”

She was quiet as I thought about that time. “Once I did start going into town, people were wary of me. They didn’t know how to react to me, if or how to approach me and so they just … didn’t. I guess they wondered if I might just freak out again. Even now.” I chuckled softly but there was no humor in the sound. It ended in a sigh.

Her brow furrowed prettily, and she nodded in understanding. “It’s been so long, though. You were a teenager then. They should … try.”

“Maybe I should try harder, too.”

“Maybe,” she said softly. The air was cool, and I pulled her close to make sure she was warm. She hooked a leg over mine.

“Do you still … struggle with having taken that man’s life?” Her voice was soft, hesitant.

“No. I’ve found peace with that. I didn’t enjoy it, but I’d do it again if I had to. In some ways that was the easiest thing to come to terms with. That was the thing everyone commended me for—finding the bravery to escape regardless of what I had to do. That was the topic no one was afraid to address. It’s the things no one wants to talk about, the things everyone avoids, that you hold inside like a dirty secret that might somehow be your fault.”

She looked up at me. “But you don’t feel that way anymore.”

I shook my head. “No, not anymore.”

We were both quiet for long minutes, her head resting over my heart. I wondered if she was thinking about her own secrets, the things she had held inside for so long.

“Will you tell me about your parents?” she asked.

I smiled. “They were the best parents in the world. My dad was quiet, a thinker. And my mom was this Chatty Cathy. She couldn’t go anywhere without stopping to have a conversation with about ten people.”

“What else?” Her voice sounded wistful.

“She loved to read. She always had a paperback in her purse. Sometimes I’d look around at games when the other team was up, and she’d have her nose in a book.” I smiled at the memory, at the knowledge I’d gotten my love of books from her.

She was quiet for a moment before she whispered, “It must have been such an awful, terrible shock to find out they’d passed away while you were gone.” Gone.

“Yeah.” It was half word, half breath, and I was silent for a minute at the memory of George breaking the news to me in that cold police station room, of the awful, aching grief that had followed. “But later … later I wondered if maybe having two extra angels on my side helped me escape that basement, you know?”

Her head tipped back, and the shocked look in her expression made me pause. Was she thinking of her own angels? Who had she lost? She looked down again, resting her cheek on my chest. “What are you thinking, Ellie?”

“I …” She shook her head slightly. “Nothing. That’s just a … nice thought.”

“What about you? Are your parents still alive?” I remembered what she’d said about how her dad had treated her, and stilled as I waited for her to answer. The moment had been so peaceful, and I didn’t want to destroy that. But I yearned to know all about her, everything, the good and the bad, all the things that made her who she was.

“I guess my dad probably is,” she said. “I wouldn’t know. I left his home right after I graduated high school and haven’t spoken to him since.”

A lump formed in my throat. I’d noted she hadn’t mentioned her mom at all. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m over it.”

Are you, Ellie? I don’t believe that and I don’t think you do, either. My heart felt heavy, and we’d had a lot of heavy lately, and so I rolled her over, startling her and making her laugh. I smiled down at her before kissing her quickly, and the mood lightened.

I rolled off her again and we faced each other, our elbows on the blanket, our heads propped in our hands. I picked up a piece of her hair and rubbed it between my fingers, marveling at the silky texture. Lying here in the sunlight, it was a mixture of gold and red. “I’d want our children to have your hair,” I murmured. “It’s too beautiful not to be passed down.”

She looked briefly startled as she blinked at me. “Me, a mother?” She shook her head gently, bringing more of that honey-hued hair over her shoulder as she laughed. But her laugh was shallow, no joy contained within it.

I regarded her. “Why not? Don’t you want kids someday?”

“I … I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.” She bit at her lip, looking off over my shoulder. The expression in her eyes was something close to fear. But why?

“I think you’d make a great mother,” I said softly, leaning forward and kissing her again. I believed she had a heart full of love to give, whether she realized it yet or not. I’d seen the tenderness inside her, experienced her gentle nature. I was experiencing it now.

I leaned back, and the look in her eyes softened. After a moment, she asked, “How did your interview with Chloe go? Do you still feel good about it, now that you’ve actually experienced it?” I knew she was changing the subject, but I was okay with that. I’d learned that Ellie would confide in me when she was ready and not a moment sooner.