The Return(88)

“It does have its charms.”

We reached for our menus. The choices were more extensive than I imagined they would be, but given my lack of familiarity with German cuisine, I wasn’t sure how the dishes would taste, despite the descriptions.

“Are you going with the Wiener schnitzel?”

“Probably,” I said. “You?”

“I’m not a very adventurous eater,” she confessed. “I think I’ll go with the grilled salmon.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

When the waitress came by, I ordered a lager; Natalie opted for a glass of wine and we told her our selections. Making conversation, Natalie asked her how long she’d lived in Helen.

“Only two years,” she said. “My husband works for the parks department and he got transferred here.”

“Is that typical, you think? Or did most of the residents grow up in the area?”

“I’d guess it’s a bit of both. Why?”

“Just curious.”

When she was gone, I leaned across the table. “What was that about?”

“Just collecting information. Who knows? It might end up being helpful.”

I put my napkin in my lap. “I want you to know that I appreciate you coming here with me and laying the groundwork with the police and the sheriff.”

“My pleasure.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t have to work.”

“I took a couple of vacation days.” She shrugged. “It’s not like I really need them anymore. It’s hard for me to go anywhere other than my parents’ beach house. As much as I enjoy spending time with them, I can only stay there so long before I start going crazy.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. That probably sounds selfish.”

“Not at all.”

“It is compared to you. Since you lost your parents, I mean.”

“We all have our challenges, don’t we?”

The waitress reappeared with our drinks and dropped them at our table. I took a drink of the lager and found it delicious.

Natalie toyed with her glass, seemingly lost in thought, before finally realizing she’d gone quiet. “Sorry,” she said. “I sort of drifted off there.”

“Care to share?”

“I was thinking about life. It’s not important.”

“I’d love to hear it.” When she still seemed hesitant, I added, “Really.”

She took a sip of her wine. “During our first year of marriage, Mark and I visited Blowing Rock. We spent the weekend at a charming bed-and-breakfast, hiking and antiquing. I remember thinking the whole weekend that my life was exactly what I wanted it to be.”

I studied her. “What are you going to do?”

“About what? Mark?” When I nodded, she went on. “I’ll just keep taking it day by day.”

“Is that fair to you?”

She gave a half-hearted laugh, but I caught the sadness in it. “Tell me, Trevor. When is life ever fair?”

*



Our conversation drifted to easier topics as we tucked into our dinners. We mused about Callie, wondering again why she seemed intent on keeping her family secret, and caught up on almost everything I’d been doing since I’d last seen her. I told her about my decision not to sell my grandfather’s house and the repairs I wanted to do; I showed her some pics I’d snapped of my new apartment in Baltimore. I described my psychiatric residency program, but I didn’t mention the struggles I’d experienced after she’d broken things off. Bringing it up, I felt, would have only piled on useless guilt.

After we finished our meals, neither of us was in the mood for dessert, so I paid the bill and we sauntered back into the evening air. It had cooled slightly but the stars were out in full, glowing in the ebony sky. The streets were quiet and empty; I could hear the hushed stirring of leaves in the trees, and it brought to mind the sound of a mother soothing her child to sleep.

“I didn’t really answer your question,” Natalie said into the silence.

“What question?”

“When you asked if putting my life on hold was fair to me. I didn’t give you a real answer.”

“I think I understood what you meant.”

She smiled, looking almost sad. “I should have said that there are moments when it’s not so bad. When I’m with my family, there are times when I can actually forget about the reality of my situation. Like when one of them tells a super funny story and we’re all laughing, it’s easy to pretend I lead a normal life. Then, in the next minute, it all comes rushing back. The truth is that the reality is always there, even if it is temporarily cloaked…but then it emerges again and I suddenly feel like I shouldn’t be laughing or smiling because that feels wrong somehow. Because it seems like I don’t care about him. I spend too much time thinking that I’m not allowed to be happy, and that I shouldn’t even try to be happy. I know that sounds crazy, but I can’t help it.”

“Do you think Mark would have wanted you to feel that way?”

“No,” she said. “I know he wouldn’t. We even talked about things like this. Well, not about this situation exactly, but what we wanted if the other person were to die in a car accident or whatever. Pillow talk, you know? We played those silly hypothetical games—like if either of us died—and he always told me that he’d want me to move on, to find someone new and start a family. Of course, right after that, he’d add that I’d better not love the new guy as much as I loved him.”