After the Rains (24 page)

He showered, wincing as the hot water stung the chafed flesh on his hands, but sighing as the heat soothed his aching muscles. Later, as he lay in the dark, his hair damp on the pillow, he wrestled with a troubling thought—a dormant memory that he knew had been disturbed by Natalie’s nearness these past few days. He didn’t know what she remembered about the night of the accident. They hadn’t talked about it since that very first meeting in the student union. His own memories of the events leading up to the tragedy were pretty fuzzy, but he did have one clear image in his mind from that night. It played in his mind like a silent movie now: Natalie in front of him, her face luminous in the flickering light from the bonfire. And him, reaching into a cooler, drawing out a bottle of beer and offering it to her. He couldn’t be sure, but given his modus operandi of those days, chances were good that he’d given her more than one beer that night. Did she know that? Did she remember that he’d been the one to supply her “poison” that night?

As he drifted to sleep, he prayed that he would have the courage to talk to her about it. To—What
was
it he needed to do? Ask her forgiveness? Yes. He needed to do that.

The thought terrified him. He longed to bury the memory, pretend it had never been roused. He realized with chagrin that it was within him to do just that—to deny the holy nudging he’d felt only moments ago. Yet he knew that would be wrong. Temptation latched on to him like a snare, and he fell asleep in its hungry claws.

Twenty

T
he crowd streamed out of the stadium and across the network of parking lots and fields that led back to campus. Natalie had enjoyed the game and had actually learned a few things about football.

Beside her, Evan maneuvered through the mob, using his crutches to cut a wider swath for the two of them.

“I have to admit that was kind of fun, but I still don’t see what the big attraction is,” she said. “It’s just a funny-shaped leather ball, and a bunch of guys in weird outfits are chasing it around.”

He secured the crutch under his right arm long enough to slap the ball of his hand against his forehead in mock frustration. “Uniforms, Natalie. Uniforms.”

“Huh?”

“Not ‘outfits.’ They’re called
uniforms
.”

“Whatever.”

He laughed, and she rewarded his good humor with a smile.

“You want to go somewhere for dinner?”

“Oh, let’s just eat at Derby, Evan. You’ve already spent too much money on pizza at lunch.”

“Okay. Do you need to go back to the dorm first?”

She shook her head. “You?”

“Nope. I’m good to go.”

They laughed and joked all the way across campus, and it suddenly hit Natalie that she couldn’t remember when she’d felt so happy. It had been a long time … a very long time.

She looked over at Evan and was troubled to see him wince. He caught her watching him and glanced away, quickly wiping the grimace off his face.

“Hey,” she said, “are you okay?”

He nodded and otherwise ignored her question. “I wonder what’s on the menu tonight,” he said.

“Evan, are you all right? You look like you’re in pain.”

He stopped midstride, and arranged the crutches side by side in front of him. Then, leaning his elbows atop the crutch handles, he looked her square in the eye. “If you must know, I am in agonizing pain.” The truth of his statement was evident in the squint of his eyes and the creases etched on his forehead.

“Evan! What’s wrong?”

A strange, embarrassed smile came to his face as he confessed in minced syllables. “These crutches are rubbing my hands raw.” He held out his palms for her inspection.

“Oh, ouch,” she said. But suddenly, thinking about all his strutting and swaggering the other day, she wanted to laugh. Her efforts to hold in her laugher resulted in a very unladylike snort, and finally she quit trying to appear sympathetic. “So, ol’ Mr. All-State Running Back got some bwisters on his widdle hands?” she snickered.

“Okay,” he cut in wryly, looking like the proverbial cat who’d just swallowed the canary. “So I’m not quite as macho as you were first led to believe.”

She snorted again, and he lifted a crutch and wielded it as a lance. “Stop, I say.”

Skipping ahead of him, she parried his blows. With surprising speed, he hobbled after her on one crutch, thrusting the other in her direction. Natalie squealed when she glanced back and realized he was gaining on her. She left the sidewalk, but the path she took went uphill. She stumbled, and the grassy hillside came flying to meet her.

Fortunately, his “weapon” was within handy reach, and she grabbed it for support. Unfortunately, he was off balance when she did so, so when she went down, she dragged him with her.

She landed on her back in a pile of leaves, squeezing her eyes shut as she toppled. But when she heard leaves crunching in her ears, she opened her eyes and saw that Evan was precariously balanced over her, his hands
planted on either side of her head, holding him up. She struggled to sit up, which undid the tentative chance Evan had of remaining upright.

They both went sprawling, and when she opened her eyes again, Evan was gazing at her with an expression on his handsome face that could only be interpreted as “I want to kiss you.”

For one moment panic rose in her. He was going to ruin everything. She wasn’t ready for their relationship to move so quickly. But before she could think of an escape, he struggled to his feet and turned away from her. He bent at the waist and began vigorously brushing crushed leaves from his hair.

“Are you okay?” he asked, breathless.

She could only nod.

As if he’d just realized she was still on the ground, he said, “Here, let me help you.”

She took the hand he offered, and he pulled her up in one smooth motion, but when she let go he clenched his blistered palm in pain.

“Ooh, sorry about that,” she said, taking his hand, turning it over, and inspecting the raw flesh. “That looks painful.”

“I’m okay,” he said between gritted teeth. He pressed his fingers to hers, matching fingertip to fingertip, and they stood that way for several seconds, not speaking.

She’d felt grateful that she had evaded his kiss, but now, with his warm fingers gently intertwined with hers, and his gaze upon her, she wondered if she was in any less peril. She willed her heart to begin beating again and wrested her hand from his grasp, ostensibly brushing grass and leaves from her own hair and clothing.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked. The genuine concern in his voice touched her.

“I’m fine.” She forced a laugh, then turned serious. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” As if to prove it, he hopped over to collect the crutches, which had gone two different directions in the skirmish.

She giggled.

“What?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his own voice.

“I wish somebody had caught that on video.” She giggled harder.

“No you don’t,” he assured her.

“Seriously. I don’t think we could repeat that again if we choreographed it. Not like we’d want to,” she added quickly.

He gave her a sidewise glance. “Oh, I don’t know. It was actually kind of fun.”

“Are you kidding? My heart is still beating a hundred beats a minute.”

“Yeah, I have that effect on all the women.”

You have no idea, buddy
, she thought.

Man! You blew it, Greenway!
he chided himself.
Why didn’t you just kiss her and get it over with? You know you wanted to
.

He had just walked Natalie to Ford Hall and was headed back to Haymaker. He hadn’t tried to kiss her good night there either. Two perfect opportunities blown. And he’d had the sneaking impression that she wanted him to kiss her as badly as he wanted to oblige. He must be losing his nerve. He’d never been hesitant with the ladies before. He’d always been a smooth talker and a smoother performer.

But Natalie was different. She was special.

And he was different now too, he reminded himself. Maybe that was the deeper reason. If his priorities had truly changed since he’d started trying to live for a higher purpose, then what was his hurry?

The old fear rose in him, and he felt a strong urge to call Natalie. He needed to hear in her voice that she felt about him the way he did about her.

He took the elevator to his floor and let himself into the cluttered dorm room. Almost without thinking, he crossed to his desk and picked up the phone.
No. Wait
. He set the receiver back in its cradle.

He sighed. What was really going on? As he had awakened to the spiritual side of himself, he had learned that his motives were often different than even he realized. “Show me the truth, Lord,” he whispered. “What’s going on here? With me? Show me
your
truth.”

He slumped into the desk chair and put his head in his hands, purposefully quieting his mind, listening for the still, quiet voice that had so recently become familiar to him.

After a while, a feeling of peace settled over him. And as though someone had drawn a diagram, he suddenly knew what was really eating at him. He smiled to himself, thinking that if his roommate were to walk in now and see him carrying on this conversation, he would never understand.

Now his smile faded as he faced the revelation of his motives. He had gone to sleep just three nights before feeling deeply convicted that he needed to confess to Natalie the role he had played in the accident—even in her being convicted of the DUI charge.

But now he saw a deceitful, scheming side of himself that had hoped to “capture” Natalie—or at least her affections—before he made his confession. He had sought to give her a deeper incentive to forgive him. How unfair that would have been to her. He resolved that moment that he would not go forward one more step with Natalie until he had asked for her forgiveness. And he would accept the “verdict,” whatever it might be.

He sent up a hopeful prayer that he would be granted the gift of Natalie’s forgiveness. He didn’t dare to pray that he might also, eventually, be beneficiary to the gift of her love.

Natalie slid from behind the cramped desk, hiked her backpack onto one shoulder, and filed out of the classroom with the rest of the students. High-tech tennis shoes and Gore-Tex boots echoed on the tiled floors of the antiquated Anderson Hall.

When she reached the exit, Natalie was surprised to see that it was raining.
Rats!
She’d not thought to bring an umbrella. Sara would never have been caught umbrella-less. She smiled at the thought. Thanks to Maribeth’s indoctrination, Sara Dever could always be counted on to have rain protection in her car, in her book bag, in her locker. The girl must have owned half a dozen umbrellas. It had been one of her delightful quirks.

Natalie stood in a portico by the door, waiting for the rain to let up, watching the chaos the downpour had created. Students raced across campus, books and backpacks tented over their heads. Several girls sought shelter in Anderson Hall, yelping and groaning as they wrung icy rainwater from their hair and clothing.

Natalie thought again of Sara, and waited for the familiar ache of sadness and regret to come over her. Perhaps they would have gone to different colleges, gone their separate ways by now, but she couldn’t help but think for a minute what fun it would have been to have Sara here on campus. Maybe even sharing a dorm room. Natalie and her roommate, Amy Stinson, got along fine, but Amy was no Sara Dever. No, there would never be another Sara. Never.

“Nattie! Hey!”

A familiar voice broke into her reverie, and she looked up to see Jon Dever standing in front of her, water dripping in rivulets down his face, off his nose.

“Jon! Oh, you’re soaked!”

“Tell me about it. And the sad thing is I’ve got the world’s best umbrella right here.” He grinned awkwardly, with that same twinge of sadness that Natalie had seen on his face before and patted the soggy knapsack slung over his shoulder. “I was halfway across campus and the sky just opened up. I was drenched before I could even
say
‘umbrella.’ ” He slid the knapsack off his shoulder, unzipped it, and knelt down to rummage inside.