After the Rains (13 page)

He read the e-mail once more, lingering over Daria’s final words:

Please don’t worry too much, Nate. I hated to even have to tell you the news, since there’s little you can do from there. But it didn’t seem fair not to tell you. With God’s help, I know Nattie will get through this. We all will.

Please pray for us, as I know you do. We’ll keep you posted, and as always, we are praying for you.

Love and prayers,
Daria

His mind racing, Nate skimmed the other e-mails, and seeing that there was nothing urgent, he closed the laptop and bowed his head over the desk. The tears flowed freely as he placed his precious daughter—along with all the families involved in the tragedy—before the throne of the heavenly Father.

When Nate finally lifted his head, the village was just beginning to come alive with the smells and banter of the supper fires. With the heavy heart of a father far from his hurting child, Nate closed up the mission office and headed across the grounds to his hut.

He knew that tonight the silence would fill the empty space like thunder.

Twelve

Y
ou sure you don’t want me to come in with you, Nattie?” Cole Hunter asked as he pulled the car up to the drop-off zone at Bristol High.

“No, Daddy. I’m fine.”

Natalie eased out of the car, her muscles still aching and stiff from the accident. She hoisted her backpack onto her shoulder and gave her father a halfhearted wave. His forehead was furrowed with worry lines, but he blew her a kiss—which she ignored—and drove out of the parking lot.

Monday morning. She had missed a whole week of school, and now, coming back for the first time since the accident, she was terrified. She couldn’t remember when she had ever felt so alone. Every day of her life since the middle of sixth grade, she had arrived at school with Sara Dever by her side. Now, not only was Sara gone, but she had to face the entire school with the guilt of Sara’s death on her head. It was all she could do to keep walking toward the wide front doors of the building, to not turn and run in the opposite direction.

It struck her what a cruel irony it was that she didn’t even have a car in which to run away. Her Camry had been crushed almost beyond recognition. She hadn’t seen it herself—hadn’t wanted to. But the
Wichita Eagle
had run a photo of the scene of the accident, and Daddy had brought the paper into her room one night, saying something about what a miracle it was that she had survived.

Well, she didn’t feel like a miracle survivor. She felt like an outcast—and one very deserving of the position.

She heard a commotion behind her and turned to see a gaggle of sophomore girls walking up from the parking lot. She turned away quickly, but she could tell by the way their voices dropped that they had spotted her and were making a wide berth around her. When they’d
passed, she didn’t miss the furtive glances over shoulders and the uneasy whispers. She knew what they must be saying.

She took a deep breath, went through the door, and started toward the office, head down, pretending to rummage for something in her bag.

In the office, Mrs. Oswell, the secretary, greeted her with the same pity in her voice that Natalie had heard a hundred times over the last ten days. “Oh, Natalie … Welcome back, honey. How are you getting along?”

Natalie shrugged and fought back the tears that sprang unexpectedly to her eyes. “I’m okay,” she said evenly. She handed in the permission slip from the doctor and waited while the secretary read it.

Mrs. Oswell looked up from the paper. “Thank you, honey,” she said, as though Natalie had given her a diamond tiara. “This is just what we need. Now do you have money on your lunch card and everything else you need?”

Natalie forced a smile. “I’m fine,” she said, patting the pocket of her jeans where she kept the card.

“Okay, honey. Well, you just let us know if you need anything … anything at all.”

“Thank you,” Natalie muttered.

She had to get out of here. She turned away from the counter and hurried to her locker. Rebecca Jimison was working the combination on the locker beside hers.

“Natalie!” she shrieked when she saw her.

Rebecca pounced on her and gathered her up in a warm hug, but the pressure on her incision caused her to wince and take in a sharp breath.

Rebecca pulled away quickly, a hand to her mouth. “Ooh, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

Natalie laughed uneasily. “I’m fine. Just a little stiff and sore still.” She hugged the girl back to give proof to her words, and relief flooded through her at her friend’s response. Rebecca was in her first-hour class. At least she’d have someone to walk into the room with.

“Oh, man, Natalie. I’m so glad you’re back,” Rebecca said as they started toward the biology lab. “We were getting worried about you. You know Evan is still in the hospital.”

“Yeah, I heard. I guess he’s hurt pretty bad, huh?”

Rebecca nodded solemnly. “A couple of the guys went and saw him this weekend. I guess he might get to come home Friday, but he’ll have to have a bunch of therapy and more surgery to get a pin out of his ankle or something. They’re not even sure he’ll be able to graduate with us. I still can’t believe it happened,” she said, shaking her head.

“I know … Me neither.”

“It’s been terrible here, Nattie. Everybody’s been crying all the time. The wreck is all we can talk about. The teachers have been pretty cool about it, though. Masters even canceled a test ’cause he said our scores wouldn’t be accurate, with everybody so emotional and everything.”

As they made their way down the hall, other students and teachers started to notice her, and friendly shouts of “Hey, Nattie!” and “Welcome back, Nattie” greeted her. Maybe this day wouldn’t be so bad after all.

She looked around the halls. “It feels weird to be back,” she said, almost to herself.

“It won’t ever be the same without Brian and Sara, will it?” Rebecca said, her face darkening.

A lump lodged in Natalie’s throat, and she turned away.

“Oh, Nattie, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said—”

The bell interrupted her, and Natalie willed a smile to her face. Grabbing Rebecca’s arm, she said, “Come on. The last thing I want to do is be late for class.”

Natalie sat on her bed that night, her American history textbook spread open in front of her. Although her eyes were trained on the book, her mind was reliving the day at school. The hard knot that had bound her stomach since the accident loosened a bit. The kids had all been really nice to her, and by the end of the day things had actually seemed almost back to normal.

She remembered something funny Dr. Hart had said in fifth-hour English, and she picked up the telephone. She was halfway through dialing Sara’s number when she realized what she was doing. The force of the
truth took her breath away. She dropped the receiver back in its cradle and sat, numb, staring at the wall.

A knock on her bedroom door shook her out of her trance. “Who is it?” she asked in a monotone.

“It’s me,” Nicole’s muffled reply came from the other side of the door.

“What?”

“Can I come in, Nattie?” Her sister’s voice had the same gentle, sympathetic tone that everyone seemed to use with her since the accident.

“Sure … come in.”

The door opened slowly, and Nikki’s head appeared around the corner. “You busy?”

Natalie pointed to the textbook open on her bed. “Just doing homework.”

Nicole stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “How did it go today?”

Natalie shrugged. “I don’t know. It was okay, I guess. You were there,” she said sarcastically. She felt mean, and yet she felt incapable of responding any other way. It was the tone she had used with her sister for as long as she could remember.

“Everybody was really glad to have you back,” Nicole offered now, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Natalie eyed her sister. Her head was tilted to one side, and her eyes seemed full of concern. Natalie softened a bit. “Yeah, they were pretty cool about it.”

“We’ve all been worried about you.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she simply said, “Thanks.”

“Jon’s coming home this weekend, and we—”

“Again?” she interrupted. “He was just home last weekend.”

“Well, he … he wants to be with his parents as much as he can …” Her voice trailed off, and she seemed suddenly intrigued with a loose thread on Natalie’s quilt, running it through her fingers over and over.

Natalie nodded, guilt stabbing her afresh. She dreaded facing the Devers, but knew she couldn’t avoid them forever. In fact, she had started a letter to them, asking their forgiveness. She didn’t expect them to grant
it. In fact, she wouldn’t blame them one bit if they hated her now. But, for her own sake—so she could sleep at night—she needed to ask for it nonetheless.

As though she’d read her thoughts, Nicole said, “They don’t blame you, you know”—she looked up to meet Natalie’s gaze—“for Sara. Nobody blames you, Nattie.”

Natalie felt hot tears well behind her eyelids. “Not even Jon?” she risked.

“He … He’s taking Sara’s death pretty hard. They had gotten really close before he left for college. But he …” She looked away. “Everybody knows it wasn’t your fault, Nattie,” Nicole finished weakly.

An all-too-familiar sick feeling planted itself in the pit of her stomach. “Don’t just tell me that if it’s not true, Nikki. I wouldn’t blame them—him—if he did think it was my fault.”

Nicole took her hand now. Her sister’s hand felt small and warm, and Natalie realized that she couldn’t remember the last time they had touched each other affectionately. The knot in her stomach loosened another notch.

“Nattie, I promise you, we just want to help you get through this.” Nicole hesitated, as though she’d been about to say something and decided against it. Instead she told Natalie, “Jon said his mom really misses you. One of the things she misses most is not having Sara’s friends hanging out at their house. It’s awfully quiet there now with Jon at school and Sara …”

They let Sara’s name hang in the air between them.

Finally, Natalie sighed. “I guess I should go see her.”

“I wish you would, Nattie. I know Maribeth would love that.”

Natalie smiled at her sister, and an unfamiliar surge of love for Nicole rushed through her veins. “When did you grow up so much?” she asked, feeling awkward, almost shy.

Nicole reached to embrace her, and Natalie swallowed back the tears as she returned the hug. Daddy always said that God could make something good out of the worst tragedy. Maybe there was one good thing coming out of Sara’s death already.

The atlas was spread open on the passenger seat beside her, and on top lay a notepad from the vet clinic with detailed instructions for how to get to her Grandma and Grandpa Camfield’s house. Daddy had written them out for her almost two years ago when Natalie made her first solo trip to Kansas City. She held the wheel with one hand and picked up the notepad, trying to figure out if she’d missed her turn.

It hadn’t been easy to convince Mom and Daddy to let her come by herself. This was the first time she’d made the trip since the accident, and her parents were understandably nervous. But in the end they’d relented, and now Natalie was eager to prove that their decision had been the right one—especially since they’d let her drive Mom’s new car.

She’d been nervous starting out, but after half an hour, the car began to feel a part of her, and she began to enjoy the solitude. She settled back in the seat and loosened her grip on the steering wheel. The countryside looked different now that winter had stripped the trees of their leaves and opened up the prairie vistas. The landscape stretched for miles, with little farmsteads dotting the patchwork of fields and pastureland at random intervals. Gradually factories and malls replaced the rural terrain. Natalie passed a familiar shopping center on the left and knew she was getting close to her grandparents’ neighborhood.

When she pulled into their driveway a few minutes later, she was glad to see Aunt Betsy’s car parked there. Betsy’s presence would be a buffer against Grandma’s well-meaning sympathy. She didn’t remember her grandparents’ visit to the hospital, but Vera Camfield had called a dozen times since Natalie had been dismissed. And while she appreciated her grandmother’s concern, she had run out of ways to reassure the woman that she had survived.