The Return(101)

Most important, she—like me—fully understands that life’s twists and turns are impossible to predict.

*



When I drove through Helen on my way to the church, I was overwhelmed with déjà vu. The town looked exactly the same as it had the last time I’d been here. I passed the police station and the Bodensee restaurant, and despite running late, I idled in front of the hotel where Natalie had asked me to hold her on our last night together.

I like to think that I’ve moved forward since then, and in many ways, I know that I have. My residency and training complete, I have multiple offers in three different states. I have a favorite, but whether I choose that position depends to a degree on what happens later today.

From my seat, I can hear murmuring and whispers from people in the pews all around me; despite myself, I can’t help turning around to scrutinize every new arrival. When Natalie finally arrives, I feel my heart skip a beat. She is wearing a lovely peach-colored sundress and although she’s allowed her hair to grow out, she doesn’t appear to have aged in the five years since I last saw her. I watch as she scans the church, trying to locate an open seat, and is eventually escorted to a spot three rows in front of me. As I stare at the back of her head, I offer a silent thank-you to Callie, who had agreed to extend a special invitation to Natalie at my request.

Jeff eventually takes his place at the front of the church near the minister, with three groomsmen and a best man beside him. The music begins, Wagner’s Lohengrin, and Callie appears at the back of the church. Standing beside her is her clean-shaven father, Curtis, dressed in a dark blue suit. Both of them are beaming and we all stand as they proceed down the aisle. Curtis kisses his daughter on the cheek and takes his seat beside Louise, who is already dabbing at her eyes. Tammy and Heather are both bridesmaids, wearing matching pink dresses.

The ceremony is as traditional as I’d expected, and Callie and Jeff are pronounced husband and wife in short order. The guests applaud, and I smile when I hear a few whistles as well.

At the reception under an expansive white tent, I am seated with some of Callie’s cousins and their spouses, and grin every time guests gently tap their wineglasses with spoons, prompting yet another kiss by Callie and Jeff.

Callie dances with her husband and then her father, before others join in. I even manage to snag a dance with Callie, after which she introduces me to her new husband. He comes across as an earnest young man, and they are enviably, obviously in love. As I part from them, I hear Jeff ask Callie in a puzzled whisper, “Why does he call you Callie?”

I wonder how much she’s told him about the time she spent in New Bern, or whether she’s simply glossed over the details. In the long run, I suppose it won’t matter. Jeff, I suspect, will probably learn everything, as secrets are almost always impossible to keep.

*



Not long after the dancing began, I had seen Natalie step out of the tent. I follow and spot her standing near an ancient magnolia tree. As I approach, the music from the reception dwindles, leaving only the two of us in the still summer afternoon. I marvel again at how ageless and beautiful she is.

I remind myself not to expect much. Five years is a long time, and there is no doubt in my mind that it has changed both of us. Part of me wonders whether she will recognize me right away or whether I will notice a split-second hesitation while she tries to locate me in her memories. Nor am I exactly sure what to say to her, but as I draw near, Natalie turns to face me with a knowing smile.

“Hello, Trevor,” she says. “I was wondering how long it would take you to come find me.”

“You knew I was here?”

“I saw you in the church,” she says. “I thought about sitting beside you, but I didn’t want to make it too easy for you.”

With that, she moves closer, and as though our time apart had collapsed in the blink of an eye, she steps into my arms. I pull her close, absorbing the feel of her body with reverence. I catch her familiar scent, something I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed.

“It’s good to see you,” she whispers in my ear.

“You too. You look beautiful.”

We separate and for the first time, I am able to study her up close. Except for the tiniest of lines at the corners of her eyes and her lusciously long hair, she is the same woman who has visited me in my dreams for the last five years. Though I’d dated a few different women, each of those relationships had ended even before they’d had a chance to begin. At the time, I’d told myself that I simply didn’t have the energy for a new relationship; as I stand with Natalie, I know that I’d really been waiting for her.

“So? Are you a psychiatrist now?”

“I passed my boards last month,” I say. “It’s official. How about you? Are you still working for the sheriff’s department?”

“Not anymore,” she says. “Believe it or not, I own a flower shop now.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. It’s in downtown New Bern.”

“How did that happen?”

“I saw a listing that the shop was for sale. The owner was retiring so he didn’t want much for the business, and by then, I knew that I didn’t want to remain a sheriff’s deputy. So the owner and I worked something out.”

“When was this?”