The Language of Sparrows (26 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five

April worked early hours Thursday. As she drove home, the unanswered phone calls to Nick came to mind, and she took the freeway exit to his place. Sierra was with Luca, and she needed to find out why Nick had been out of contact.

She walked up his steps, hoping he was home by now. School had only ended an hour ago. His windows were raised so the townhouse could take in the mild breezes. He didn’t answer the door right away. Only after she waited a few seconds did she see him standing beside an open window upstairs looking down at her.

He was home and already in jeans and a T-shirt. When he met her at the door moments later, he looked downright rumpled, unshaven, and not as pleased to see her as she would have liked.

She almost turned away. What was she doing here? But that morning-disheveled look drew her. “I didn’t come at a bad time?”

He had to think too hard about that one. “No.”

He looked behind him. His living room had stacks of Coke cans and pizza boxes. Nick waved at the mess. “Sorry. The maid’s day off.”

The joke fell flat with only a straight face to accent it. He inclined his head outside. “It’s less cluttered out back.”

He stepped outside, closed his front door, and led her behind the row of townhouses. He glanced at his deck, but it was wet from a recent shower. He nodded at her to follow, and they trekked side by side down a path to the piney creek.

“The situation with Emilio?” he asked as they walked.

It bothered her that he had to ask. Sierra wasn’t his obligation, but he’d taken an interest in her, and he worked at the school after all. “Emilio’s been sent to an alternative school for the rest of the year.”

“Sierra’s okay?”

“As well as can be expected.”

He cast a sidelong glance at her but didn’t ask for more, just thrust a hand through his rumpled hair. He was so good. So strong. So Nick.

And she didn’t have room for thoughts like these.

April strengthened her voice. “I was starting to worry about you.”

“Were you?” His words carried a heavy dose of skepticism that left her suddenly cold.

“The last part of the email you sent me was a bit cryptic. And then you weren’t answering your phone. Even your dad says he’s hardly seen you.”

He didn’t reply. It wasn’t her business. Why did she keep investing in Nick’s life and his dad’s? So they were vulnerable and bruised. But since when did she have answers to offer anyone?

“Nick,” she said softly, “what’s going on?”

“Life gets hectic sometimes. That’s all.”

They reached a scattering of pine trees. Nick dropped onto a fallen log that stretched across the creek, a thin rivulet of still water, and April took a seat beside him. In a place like this, she couldn’t help but think of being a girl, childhood sweethearts. April let her feet swing over the stream.

She shook her head to clear it and bring her back to reality. A light breeze blew over them, settling her nerves. “Nick, did something happen at school? Your principal seemed more interested in you than in the fact that Sierra was assaulted and threatened.”

“I’ll just bet she did.” He removed his glasses, tucking them into the pocket of his T-shirt, and rubbed under his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. When he looked at her, his eyes brought one word to mind—
haunted
.

April drew back. He was too decent for whatever distressed him like this. “Nick, talk to me.”

“‘Talk to me,’ says the lady with the golden smile. When have you ever talked to me, April?”

Her head swung up.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

April covered her eyes with her hand, wishing, oh, wishing so much she could handle this differently, wishing she could give him a reason to confide in her. Not in a romantic way. Goodness knows, not that. But he needed a friend, a confidante.

He was watching her, and his eyes darkened to midnight blue. “I’m sorry, April. I am.” He let out a guttural sigh. “I lost my job last week. Well, I’m suspended indefinitely. Close enough.”

“Your job?” Nick’s job defined him. But the timing sent a dark suspicion nipping into her thoughts. “The situation with Sierra—did it have something to do with it?”

He didn’t answer at first. “I don’t want Sierra to know about this.”

She felt sick. He
had
been looking out for them.

“What happened?”

“I left a class unattended for fifteen minutes. It’s what Liza Grambling was looking for, any excuse to let me go. She already had a stack of documentation against me. Every time I veered from the curriculum guide. Every time I didn’t cross a
T
or dot an
I
. If it hadn’t been Sierra, it would have been something else.”

Nick scraped the heel of his shoe over the mud. “Add to that that my old man saw fit to tell me I was dead to him last week.”

April looked down for a moment. “Your dad did believe you were dead, you know.”

Nick looked askance at her.

“One of his prison guards told him you died. It was all part of the psychological torture. But he’s made it so very clear to me that he doesn’t wish you were dead. With all his heart, he wishes he’d done better by you.”

“Well, he has a great way of showing it.”

“I’m almost done putting his story together. When I’m done, read it. You’ll see how much he loves—”

“It’s the last thing I want to do.” Something hard and angry streaked across his face. “I’d rather eat dirt than read some cute little book with words my old man refused to share with me time and again. Call me small-minded if you want, but if my dad loves me, he can say it.” He gave her a hard look. “That’s what people who love you do, you know. They say it.”

“It’s not always so simple,” she said quietly.

He looked at the creek, and the silence settling around them was anything but comfortable.

He sat straighter, and his eyes cleared. “You know what, April, I’m tired of this thing we do where we talk around each other.” He rubbed his neck. “Humor me. How about a game? I’ll tell you something. If it’s true, you repeat it. If it’s not, just shake your head.”

She gave a thin laugh. “We’re a little old for what sounds like a version of Truth or Dare.”

“Maybe.” He held her gaze. “Maybe we’re a little old to play the game we’ve been playing. We’re not a couple of kids who need to keep everything under our hats, are we?”

April shook her head.

“Number one. You think of me as a brother.”

She looked up at the trees, thinking desperately. It was what she wanted the truth to be. But it wasn’t. It never had been. “I … Nick …” She gave in and shook her head.

He gave her a dark smile. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I just wanted to know it wasn’t true.”

“The truth, Nick? This day isn’t going at all the way I planned.”

He laughed, and it was the first true pleasure she’d seen in him for a long time now. “No, I guess not.”

He just sat on the log, watching her, making her feel breathless. He shifted closer, close enough for her heart to beat double-time. He looked hesitantly at her, and as much as she knew she shouldn’t, she prayed for him to move closer still.

Nick slid his palm down the curve of her cheek. “Next question.” The smile disappeared, replaced by an infinite sadness. “It will never work between us.”

April concentrated on the touch of his hand against her skin, wishing the question would go away.

“It will never work between us,” Nick repeated quietly, withdrawing his hand. “That’s what you said. Yes or no, April?”

She held on to the log, wishing she could give him a better answer. It was too hard. Not even for Nick could the answer be yes. His face closed, and she knew he saw the regret written in hers.

“It will never work between us,” she repeated quietly.

He waited, compelling her to go on.

“Our lives, Nick. They’re so complicated.”

He gazed at her until she thought she would wilt. “That’s it?”

“Sierra needs me. I have to be a mother first.”

“Haven’t you noticed, April? Sierra isn’t just another student at the school to me.”

“I can’t get involved with anyone. Not now.”
Not ever,
a small voice whispered.

He went quiet for a few minutes, and he inspected her face as if he were reading a map. April looked away and then back. At last, he gave her a crooked, uneasy smile. “You’re handling this all better than I did, you know. The loss of your husband and the problems with Sierra. After Caroline … after my wife died, I got into all kinds of trouble. I ran ten miles a day until my ribs showed. I punched a hole in my apartment wall. I punched a friend—or a guy who used to be my friend, I should say—and spent the night in jail. Youth was my only excuse, I guess, but my grieving wasn’t graceful at all.”

“Oh, Nick.” She started to reach for him and then thought better of it.

He gave a bemused glance at her hand. “Look. I understand if you’re not ready to move on with your life just yet. But it would mean a lot to me if you’d be open about your reasons. This isn’t about Sierra. It’s about you.”

How could he say that? How could she
date
, for goodness’ sake, when her daughter was lost in some sea of grief? Couldn’t he see the frivolousness in the idea—candlelit dinners, kisses, and longing for more while her daughter sat at home alone?

He didn’t say anything, as if he were waiting for something from her. But what was there to say? He knew about Sierra’s state of mind, more or less. He didn’t need to know her whole sob story. It wouldn’t fix anything. So she only said, “You might be right, Nick. Maybe it is about me. But sometimes it’s hard to know where to draw the line between being a mom and being a woman.”

“Okay, April.” He spread his hands. He sat staring at the stream again. Finally, he stood and offered her a hand up. Some bleak finality took hold in his face. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

He put his glasses back on and pushed them up the bridge of his nose.

It was a much longer path up than it had been coming down. She pushed herself up the way, trying to pull herself together. They stopped at the sidewalk next to her car.

“Here’s another bit of truth, April. Mine. I can’t be your brother, and it’s too hard working out where I fit with you. If you need me for Sierra, I’m here. But I don’t think you should come around anymore.”

He was saying good-bye? She’d counted on his steady presence. His strength. His friendship. Him.

“Okay.” She spoke in the quietest of voices. Nick stood only feet away from her, but already she felt the emptiness, knowing it was a void she had asked for.

When she didn’t move, he stepped onto the pavement and opened her car door for her.

She worked long hours the next two days. It was a relief ringing up sales, chatting with customers, lining up orders. There were no underlying emotions ready to erupt, no lives falling apart that needed to be patched together Humpty-Dumpty style. All she had to do was go through the motions. And because of her commissions, soon she and Sierra would be able to move to a better neighborhood and put this school year behind them.

As she leafed through her papers before she went home, Ms. Baines stopped her.

“What have you got there?”

April lifted the stack in her hand, and Ms. Baines slid out a photo. It was the picture she had taken last fall of the little boy on the swings. She had decided to print a few of her pictures after Nick encouraged her.

Ms. Baines held it out at arm’s length and studied it. “Who took this?”

“I did.”

That might just be the first smile she’d seen on the woman. “I thought you had an artistic eye. Do you have more?”

April shrugged. “A few.”

Did a bulging portfolio that had been sitting in the closet for five years count?

“Bring them in some time. If you’ve got anything I can use, we’ll blow one or two up and put them on the wall.” She aimed her chin at the corner where the photographic art for sale hung.

April agreed, but selling her photographs was hardly at the top of her priority list right now.

Sunday, after they returned from church, Sierra closed herself in her room, music on. After a burst of Samuel Barber’s “Adagio,” there was a lull, and then pop music April didn’t recognize came on. What was that about? Sierra never listened to pop music. She didn’t even like it.