When You Come to Me (47 page)

She wouldn’t even check her phone to see if Brandon had called. And even if he did, she wouldn’t answer. She would only walk till she grew tired, till she reached town, till she could call her little sister and pour her heart out. She would save her tears till then…

She stopped for a moment and started to pull the ring from her finger. She would be rid of it once and for all! But her phone vibrated in her pocket and her stomach flipped. If it was him she wouldn’t answer, and then he’d call back and then she wouldn’t answer and then he’d call back again, and then she’d know that he was really sorry and she’d answer then, and she’d probably start crying…

She reached for her phone.

Asha calling…

“Asha,” she’d answered.

“How’d his parents take the news? Did they just fall over and die?”

“I guess you could say that…”

“Really? What happened? Wait…what’s the matter with you?”

“I’m on the side of the road…”

“Natalie, what the hell are you talking about?”

Natalie huffed. “I have my suitcase, and I’m on the side of the road…”

“Wow, was it really that bad?”

Natalie felt her heart tighten. “Sure…if a certain person’s mother tells you that they’re going to pay their broke son to get rid of their black fiancée…then I’m sure that things aren’t looking up…”

“Natalie…are you serious? What did Bran say?”

“He doesn’t know,” she told her friend. “And when I tried to tell him this morning, he thought I was making it up to try and get out of marrying him…”

“Why on earth would he think a thing like that?”

“Who knows,” Natalie said. “But he flipped out and suggested that we call off this whole thing and I agreed and now I’m leaving Saratoga any way that I can…”

“You can’t walk all the way to—where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” Natalie said, her voice cracking, defeated. “I’m a nomad…a single nomad…”

“Don’t be hasty, Nat,” Asha said. “Why don’t you just breathe for a moment and think this out...we’ll think it out together…now, there’s no mistaking that his parents are assholes…”

“Just his mother,” she said. “Just her…”

“Well…whatever,” Asha said. “You’re still on the side of the road…and where is Brandon?”

“Somewhere with his father and his brothers…”

“So, Brandon’s being an asshole too…hmm…tough situation…”

“Tell me about it…I told him that I wasn’t going to his parents stupid anniversary party…”

“With good reason! Good for you…but what to do with you?”

. . .

He felt like he was twenty-four again, and he’s staring at Natalie across the table, drunk, can barely keep her head up, laughing at him, mocking him, him, knowing that walking away from her will be the best thing, until she understands that he really and truly loves her, always had.

Natalie is laughing at him now, and he feels that she wants out of this engagement. How dare she make up a story like that? How dare she? He is almost certain that they’ll talk it out when he gets back from setting up things for his parent’s party at the Inn. He hadn’t meant what he said. He was simply so angry that he felt like he had to spite her to get her attention. He was done with her insecurities, with her uncertainties, but wasn’t done with her, and hoped to never be. He simply couldn’t chase her any longer. He was tired. He was tired of worrying how she felt about him, worrying about what she was thinking, worrying about the one day where she’d turn on him and say that she was going back to Anthony as she’d done before, leaving him completely crushed and empty.

He would assume, as he placed chairs beneath crimson-clothed tables that this was a routine fight between them, that Natalie was resting, waiting on his return, waiting on him to pull her into his arms, kiss her all over and say that he’d been crazy.

As he rode with his father and brothers back to the house, three hours later, he grew anxious, hoped that she was no longer angry, that they could talk this out rationally, hoped that the story she’d told wasn’t true at all.

He ran into the house, up the main staircase, down the chilly, shadowed corridor, into the guest bedroom, calling, “Tallie, I’m sorr—“ and she wasn’t there, the bed wasn’t made, and her bag was missing.

Strange…

So, he tried the kitchen, then the hearth room, then the dining room, outside on the dock, in the boathouse, calling her name, calling her, calling her, his heart racing….

And he reached into his pocket, retrieved his phone and called her.

Busy signal…

He tried her again. Straight to voicemail the second time around.

“Natalie, it’s me,” he said into the phone, out of breath. “I don’t know where you are right now, but it would be great if you’d call me back so I won’t have this panicky feeling right now…thanks…”

He got sidetracked when he entered the house and saw that Joanna and Chloe and little Julie had arrived. He hugged and kissed both the wives, gathered Julie in his arms, swung her around gently and kissed her cheek gingerly, hearing her giggle. He lowered the child to the ground, but she raised her arms up, wanting to be picked up again, and he picked her up again, bouncing her in his arms, little Julie, clapping her hands and giggling.

“She’s missed you,” Jo said, placing a hand on her back.

“Oh, yea?” Brandon said. “Well, I’ve missed her too…”

And he kissed her cheek again.

“Where’s this girl you’ve been hiding for so long, Brandon?” Chloe asked.

“Yes,” Jo began. “Martha says she’s something to look at…”

“You know what?” Brandon began. “That’s a very good question…excuse me…”

And he took off out the front door.

He had to think calmly, rationally, had to think like her. He assumed that she couldn’t have gotten far, considering the fact that she walked slow everywhere else, had zero concept of time, and didn’t want to call a cab because she didn’t have the money. He would search on foot, hoping that she was just around the corner, perhaps by the lake, sorting out her feelings and her thoughts, if he knew anything about her…anything…

After all, Tallie did some things that he didn’t understand sometimes, but she was never too far away from rational thought, never too far out of the realm to think that he wouldn’t come running after her, as hard as he tried not to. But that didn’t stop his worry, didn’t stop his fear…

Brandon walked a fast pace down the road that he and his brothers spent many years on, beneath afternoon sunlight and a chilly autumn breeze. Yes, Natalie wouldn’t last long in this northern air. He pictured her rubbing her tiny arms, teeth chattering, wishing that she’d packed that jacket like he’d suggested.

Not everywhere’s like humid Georgia, my sweet Tallie…

He reached for his cell phone and tried her number again. Three long rings and no answer.

“Natalie, please, stop doing this,” he pleaded, ascending a hill. “You’re acting like a child…answer the phone, damn it…”

Okay, okay, that probably wasn’t the best way to get through to her, but he was growing angrier and angrier by each passing second, and he most certainly didn’t have the time to be running after her like this.

But he would. Damn it, he always would, wouldn’t he?

It wasn’t over…

He grabbed his cell phone again.

The fairer, southern voice answered on the other end as if they were surprised.

“Where is she?” There was strength in his voice, ardency, a tone that suggested that he would no longer put up with the bullshit that both of them fed him. They were no longer in college.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Asha, you must think I’m the dumbest person that ever walked this planet,” he told her. “Tell me where she is now...”

“Um, she doesn’t want me to tell you…”

“God, I must have fallen and bumped my head…because I swear we’re in elementary school all over again…”

“Must be,” Asha agreed. “Because only someone that age would say the things that you did to her and think that it’s okay…you know, suggesting that you call the whole thing off…”

“It was a fight, Ash,” he suggested, plopping down on his bottom there on the side of the road. “Things like that happen all the time…”

“Come on, Brandon,” Asha said. “Is it ever really just a ‘fight’ with Natalie?”

Brandon sighed, huffed, “Oh, my God,” with aggravation and clapped his hand to his forehead.

“Well, you should have believed her when she was trying to tell you that your mother’s a bitch…”

“Asha, you’re out of line…”

“Am I? Or is she? Maybe, for once, you could try and see where Nat’s coming from, how she might be feeling, realize that she’s never lied to you before, and that if she didn’t want to be there she most certainly wouldn’t be there…”

Brandon sighed, lowered his head with defeat and murmured, “Where is she?”

“She’s headed downtown…I might have told her to catch the bus…”

“Asha, please remind me to strangle you next time that I see you…”

“Goodbye, and good luck…”

He headed back to Hartford Retreat, asked his father if he could borrow his truck and soared in the direction of downtown, with one hand on the wheel and the other dialing Natalie’s number again.

Four rings, no answer…

“Natalie, pick up, please,” he said. “I’m headed downtown…we have to talk about this…it’s not…it’s not over…”

He veered onto Cornwallis several minutes following, parked illegally in front of the bus station, and raced inside the chilly interior. He searched, and he searched and he searched, didn’t he?

He asked the clerks behind the ticketing booth if they’d seen a tall, skinny black girl stalking around. None of them had seen anyone that fit that description.

He slumped into a vinyl seat by the entrance, attempted to catch his breath, and didn’t know what to do.

Was she really gone?

No, no…she wouldn’t leave him that way, she wouldn’t have left them like that.

But didn’t he once upon a time? Didn’t he walk away from her and pretend as if she didn’t matter?

Maybe he deserved it. How dare he talk to her like that? Why couldn’t he have just believed her? Wouldn’t that have made things so much easier?

He returned to the house. Joanna and Chloe had gone shopping, Mark, John and Matt were with Dad at the Inn, Julie was down for a nap, and Mom was on the veranda, with her feet tucked under her, reading a book and sipping from a teacup.

It took her a few moments to acknowledge his presence, looming over her.

“Darling,” she said peaceably. “Why don’t you come sit with your mother for awhile?”

She patted the space next to her, and he sat down compliantly.

She put her book down, and invited his head into her lap. He complied, and allowed his mother to stroke his head gently, the way she used to when she knew that something was bothering him.

“Where’s that little girl of yours?’ she asked quietly. “Where did she run off to?”

“Mom…”

“Yes, darling?”

He took a deep breath. He would ask his mother calmly and rationally and pray through and through that it wasn’t true, pray that it was all in his fiancée’s head.

“Did you say something to Natalie that might make her think that you didn’t want her around?”

His mother didn’t answer initially. She only reached for her teacup again, took a sip, and replaced it on the teakwood coffee table before her.

“Mom…” he pressed.

“Hmm?”

“Did you say something?”

“Brandon…your father and I have been talking a little bit and…we…we think that…”

Brandon sat up, looked at her mother whose eyes matched his own, and said, “You did say something didn’t you?”

“We want you to have a secure future,” she told him. “She’s a darling girl, she really is…I can see why you’d want to be with her…but…do you think that marriage is…is…best?”

Brandon bit his lip back before he said anything that he’d regret. He didn’t want to yell at his mother, didn’t want to say something that he didn’t mean. But damn it, at that moment, she was making it very hard.

“Yes, Mom, marriage is what I want,” he said quietly. “Mom…how could you?”

“Son, I…”

Brandon got up from his seat. “No, no…you crossed the line and you know it…”

“Brandon, we just think…”

“We…or you?”

“Don’t talk to me that way,” she said. “You are still my son…”

“I’m starting to wonder if we’re even related at all…”

“Brandon David Greene!”

“I don’t know where she is! Are you happy about that? Are you happy that you got your way? What has she done to you? Seriously? The girl wouldn’t hurt a fly…”

“I just want you to be happy, darling…”

“Mom, the happiness that I feel rests with her,” Brandon explained, feeling his voice break. “It rests with her…”

His mother reached out for him. He pulled away and watched her expression sour. “Son, please, listen to reason…”

“I have to go…”

And Brandon walked away.

. . .

Night was beginning to fall, and so was the temperature.

As she headed back in the direction of Hartford Retreat, she marked this moment and the entire day as the dumbest thing she’d ever done. Did she really think that she’d get on a bus and go somewhere? Did she really think that she’d be able to leave him? Of course not…she’d stick by her words.

Thunder rumbled overhead, and she just had to make it back to the house before the party started, and before she got soaking wet.

She started to run. She had to make it.

But the downpour came anyway, and she was still a few miles from the house, and it soaked her, and she started to cry. Yes, she cried for the stupid way she’d acted that day, for his mother not liking her, for the things he’d said to her, for ignoring his phone calls.

And she ran harder.

She didn’t want out. She never wanted out. She would stop these games one day.

She would convince him that she loved him…always had, always would…

She reached the Greene palace, soaking wet, knocked on the door with passion, and received no answer, and the rain fell down her face relentlessly. And the rain and her tears became one beneath a falling sky.