Николас Спаркс - The Return

“You’re doing all this for a girl you barely know?”

“I told her that I wasn’t going to let her die.”

“And you mean that?” Her tone verged on disbelief.

“Yes.”

She was quiet for a moment and when she spoke again, her voice was softer.

“Assuming you’re right and she ran away from home…why would she rather die than contact them?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out, and it’s the reason I’m going. I’d like to ask a favor, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Call the police department again. Maybe the sheriff, too, while you’re at it, to let them know I’m coming. I’m sure I’ll need to speak with them. Maybe you can help make that part a little easier.”

“When do you think you’ll be there?”

“Tomorrow,” I said. “There’s a flight leaving around eleven. If I rent a car, I should be in Helen by early afternoon.”

“How long are you planning to stay there?”

“A day or two. If I can’t find any answers there, I’ll have to try to convince Callie to speak to me again.”

She considered my request. “I can make the calls, but I don’t know if it will do any good. You’re not in law enforcement and you’re not her family.”

“Any recommendations?”

“How about if I come with you?” she said.

For a moment, I wasn’t sure if I’d heard her correctly. “You’d like to come?”

“If she’s technically a missing person, law enforcement does have a bit of responsibility.”

I tried not to smile. “I’ll need your date of birth so I can book the tickets.”

“I can take care of it.”

“It’ll be easier to do both reservations at once.”

She gave me the information and as I began to type, she suddenly interrupted me.

“Wait.” Her expression was serious. “Before I go, I have one condition.”

I already knew that she was going to tell me to book separate hotel rooms, and that she was only accompanying me in a law enforcement capacity. In other words, I wasn’t to attempt to rekindle things between us.

“I want you to do something tonight. I can pick you up after work.”

“Yes?”

Her exhale was one of surrender.

“I want you to meet my husband.”

Chapter 18

I was too stunned to respond. Suddenly, everything fell into place: why she’d been so uncomfortable at the farmers’ market when the dentist had seen us together, why she preferred to meet at out-of-the-way locations. Why she’d suddenly ended our relationship…

But not everything added up…

Before I could summon anything to say, she hurriedly moved to the front door and opened it, pausing on the threshold.

“I know you have questions,” she said without turning to face me, “but you’ll understand everything later. I’ll pick you up at six.”

I finished booking the tickets, made hotel reservations, read the reviews for some restaurants in Helen, then spent the rest of the day trying to figure out the nature of Natalie’s marriage. Were they separated but now trying to work things out? Did they have an open marriage? I even flirted with the idea that the husband had passed away and we’d be making a trip to the cemetery, but none of those answers seemed to fit with the woman I’d come to know. And why did she want me to meet him?

Was that what married people did these days when another person was interested in their spouse? Hey, let’s all meet so we can talk this through?

What was I supposed to say to him? Should I avow my ignorance at the fact that she’d been married? Admit that I’d begged her to start a new life with me but that she’d nonetheless chosen him?

I spent the rest of the afternoon spinning through questions and possible answers. In the meantime, I packed a duffel bag for my trip to Helen and went through my grandfather’s box again, searching for more clues without luck.

When Natalie pulled into my drive, I stepped out of the house before she’d even had a chance to turn off the engine. As I got in, she offered a mysterious, unreadable look at me before directing the car back onto the road. Because she remained quiet, I did too.

My first surprise was that instead of driving to her house, we took the highway heading east, toward the coast. No longer in uniform, she was wearing jeans and a cream-colored blouse, more casual than dressy. Around her neck hung the gold chain she was never without. “Do you and your husband live together?” I finally asked.

She adjusted her hands on the wheel. “Not anymore,” she responded without elaborating further.

My mind flashed to the idea that he’d passed away and again, we settled into silence. After ten or fifteen minutes, Natalie slowed the car and left the highway, turning onto a commercial road I’d passed countless times but had never really seen. There was a shopping center to the right; on the left, fronted by a cheerful, tree-shaded parking lot, was a single-story brick building that looked as though it had been constructed sometime in the last five years. As soon as I saw the name of the place, I felt my heart sink.

It wasn’t the cemetery.

It was worse.

We parked out front near the entrance, in the near-empty visitors’ lot. After exiting the car, Natalie pulled a small bag from the back seat, and we headed toward the double glass doors of the entrance. At the sign-in desk, a woman in a uniform smiled as we approached.

“Hi, Mrs. Masterson. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Sophia,” Natalie said. She signed her name into the visitors’ log, chatting with the woman like an old friend. “How are you? How’s Brian?”

“The usual. He’s driving me crazy. The way he reacts, you’d think that cleaning your room is worse than scrubbing septic tanks.”

“He’s still a teenager. How’s he doing in school?”

“No complaints there, thank goodness. It’s just me he seems to hate.”

“He doesn’t hate you, I’m sure,” Natalie said with a sympathetic smile.

“Easy for you to say.”

Natalie turned to me. “This is Trevor Benson. He’s a friend of mine and he’ll be visiting, too.”

Sophia directed her attention to me. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Benson. Would you mind signing in, too?”

“Of course.”

As I signed in, Sophia asked, “Do you want me to walk with you?”

“No,” Natalie answered. “I know the way.”

We left the desk and proceeded down the corridor. It was well-lit and clean, with wood-laminate flooring and wrought iron benches between the doors. Here and there were artificial ficus trees in large pots, no doubt intended to provide a soothing environment for visitors.

Eventually we reached our destination, and Natalie paused before pushing open the door. My heart contracted as I watched her steel herself before walking into the room.

“Hi, Mark,” she said. “It’s me again. Surprise.”

Mark lay in the bed with his eyes closed, hooked up to what I knew to be feeding tubes. He was thin, his face partially sunken, but it was still possible to glimpse the handsome man he once had been. I guessed that he was a few years younger than I was, which made everything even worse. Natalie went on, her tone almost conversational. “Trevor, this is Mark, my husband. Mark, I’d like you to meet Trevor.”

When she gestured at me, I cleared my throat. “Hi, Mark,” I said.

Mark could not answer. As I stared at him, Natalie’s voice seemed to float toward me from afar. “He’s been in a persistent vegetative state for almost fourteen months now,” she offered. “He had a resistant strain of bacterial meningitis.”

I nodded, my stomach in knots as Natalie approached the bed. After setting her bag beside him, she used her fingers to part his hair, and spoke to him as though I wasn’t in the room. “How are you feeling?” she asked. “I know it’s been a few days since I’ve visited, but I’ve been super busy at work. I saw on the sign-in sheet that your mom came by earlier. I’m sure she was happy to see you. You know how much she worries about you.”