“Oh, I know you would listen,” I said with a lightness I didn’t feel, “if I wanted to talk.” Suddenly dizzy, I longed to escape to the privacy of my room. I scrambled to my feet, thanked River again, and excused myself. I shut the bedroom door behind me and changed into my nightgown. Under the covers in my narrow bed, I replayed our conversation and found myself trembling. I brought my knees to my chest and hugged them to steady myself. Was I imagining things? Could River really have been about to kiss me? And had I wanted him to? Was such a thing possible when I still missed Nico so desperately?
Midnight came and went, the digital readout of my alarm clock casting a red glow across my blankets. I squeezed my eyes
shut and wondered at my own irrationality. River was handsome, smart, and selfless. Why had I panicked and run away from him when he seemed so clearly interested in me? There was only one logical answer. Without even realizing it, I must have been waiting for Nico to track me down and beg me to come home. But what sense did that make, when I could so easily return to Thornfield Park and give myself to him? Something was keeping me in hiding. Maybe it was fear that I had wounded Nico’s pride too grievously for him to ever forgive me. Had he resumed womanizing to spite me? Or — still worse — had someone else taken my place?
Of course, it was in my power to learn the answers to at least the last two questions. All I needed to do was go to the public library and look through celebrity magazines or browse the Internet. If the legendary Nico Rathburn had moved on to a new love interest, the celebrity gossip magazines would be bursting with the news. But did I really want to know if Nico had moved on? No, I decided, pulling the covers up over my head. I was better off with blinders on. I had to keep my gaze forward. I had to focus on the future. And if moving on meant finding someone else to be with, shouldn’t it be someone more like me; serious, determined, straightforward? Shouldn’t it be someone like River?
Over the next few days, I watched River carefully. After that first sleepless night spent mulling over the possibilities, I’d made up my mind. If River ever gave me another chance to kiss him, I wouldn’t run away. I would meet his gaze and stay put on the couch beside him. I would allow it to happen. But then, to my disappointment, nothing
did
happen. Our meals and French sessions were friendly
enough, and over dinner I still sometimes caught him watching me, but beyond that things were as they always had been.
I had just about concluded that my mind had been playing tricks on me when the tables turned yet again. I was locking up the Open Doors office for the week. The director was out of town for a conference, and I had just spent a quiet day writing copy for the shelter’s monthly newsletter. As I struggled with the dodgy lock, I glanced up, and there, striding toward me down the dark street, was River. He’d never stopped by the office for a visit before, and his purposeful step made me think he had something important to tell me. But after he reached me and said hello, he had surprisingly little to say. Door finally locked, I agreed to walk home with him instead of taking my usual bus. We were nearly home by the time he found his voice. “So, Jane. Do you like working at the shelter?”
“Yes, of course.” I allowed myself to exhale audibly. If that was all River wanted to ask me, maybe I really
had
been imagining an interest that wasn’t there.
“Because I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About you. Your future, I mean.” Hands buried in the pockets of his sweatshirt, River looked not at me but at the street ahead of us. “I know art is your first love, but you have the right disposition for humanitarian work. You’re calm and serious; you don’t shy away from getting your hands dirty.”
Now he was sounding more like a guidance counselor than a potential boyfriend. “Oh, thanks,” I said. It was all I could think of at the time.
“No need for thanks. Your supervisor has been raving to me
about the work you’ve done at Open Doors. She’s been impressed with your dedication and your meticulous nature.” He spoke quickly, as though delivering a speech he’d memorized. We’d come to an intersection, and as we paused for the red light, River glanced at me to see how I was reacting to his praise.
I said nothing, wondering where this conversation was going. The light turned green.
“I would hate to see you waste those talents,” River added.
“You mean by doing something as
frivolous
as painting?” The word had stuck like a burr since he’d used it to describe Nico.
“No, that’s not it.” He frowned. “I just think you might find humanitarian work even
more
meaningful.”
“As opposed to work that would make me happy?”
“There’s more than one kind of happiness,” he said. “There’s the kind that comes from getting what you want.”
What do I want?
I wondered. I hardly knew anymore. I was simultaneously relieved and disappointed at the impersonal turn our conversation had taken. “And then there’s the kind that comes from knowing you’re doing something selfless.”
“And you’re lucky enough to have both kinds.”
“Not yet,” he said. “But I hope I might find both in Haiti.”
“I hope so too, for your sake.” We waited at another busy intersection, and for a while, there was an uncomfortable silence. He watched me expectantly, and I found myself eager to speak. “I hope you don’t come to feel that you’ve made too many sacrifices for the betterment of mankind.”
“Too many sacrifices?” He looked truly puzzled. “You’ve been reading the book I gave you, right?”
I was. I’d stayed up late the night before, devouring a particularly moving chapter about Yvette, a young girl the author had met on her first mission trip to Haiti. Having lost her parents to AIDS, the girl would have faced a life of prostitution if it weren’t for the school the author had helped build in her village. There she learned to read and write and showed such a flair for letters, in fact, that she stayed on to teach in the school after she graduated. She’d grown into an independent woman who could earn her own way, beyond the clutches of those who would use her for their own gain.
“Yvette’s story brought me to tears,” I told River. “Not for her, but for the other girls who aren’t so lucky.” He nodded, and it occurred to me that he’d chosen the book carefully, picking one he knew would move me.
“You have a good heart, Jane,” he said. We were still standing on the curb, though the light had changed more than once. His bright blue gaze held me in place. “I wonder what you want from your life,” he continued. “I don’t just mean your ambitions, wanting to go back to school and all that. I mean, sometimes I wonder what would make you really happy… both kinds of happy.”
A sudden, sharp longing for Nico took me by surprise. I fought it off, struggling to give River my full attention.
“Because sometimes I think you want what I want. To help people — the poor and the illiterate. To improve their lives,” he concluded.
The light turned green, and I resumed walking. “To tell the truth, I don’t know what I want,” I said finally, when River caught up with me. “I don’t know what would make me happy anymore.”
“You don’t?” He seemed exhilarated, as though this was the
answer he had been hoping for. “Because I’ve thought of something that might be perfect for you. Something that might fulfill you beyond anything you’ve ever experienced.”
“Really?” It was the only response I could manage. I had no idea what he meant.
“Can’t you guess? Isn’t it obvious? I’m asking you to come with me to Haiti, Jane. To help me in my work.”
Now it was my turn to stop dead in my tracks. River saw my hesitation.
“For a long time now, I’ve seen something in you,” he said. “A real genius for helping people. If you say yes, your every need will be taken care of — you’ll have shelter, food, transportation. You’ll even make a stipend you can save in case you still want to go back to school. Your life in Haiti won’t be luxurious, but I promise, you’ll feel needed in a way you never have before.” He paused to gauge the effect those last words were having on me.
I have been needed,
I thought,
and I miss that feeling
.
“I’ll think about it,” I replied, more confused than ever, wishing I dared ask if he saw me as more than just a potential coworker, wishing I were surer of my own feelings toward him. We had reached the front stoop of our apartment building. From the top step, River beamed down at me with that same warm smile I’d seen a few nights ago, as though I’d already told him yes. Then he fished the keys out of his pocket and struggled with the dead bolt. “Take all the time you need,” he said, and swung the front door open.
From that night on, River seemed to watch my every gesture, as though he was seeking a window to my thoughts. Whenever we
found ourselves in the same room, I could feel the unresolved questions between us crackle like static electricity. Before sleep each night, I read on in the book he had given me, imagining myself into the story of heroic relief workers struggling to build schools and hospitals, to give hope to the poorest of the poor. River’s enthusiastic visions were proving contagious. Who wouldn’t want to be needed by so many people? And who wouldn’t be proud to stand beside someone so passionate about his work? In those rare moments when River wasn’t watching me, as he studied his textbooks or read through the day’s mail, I allowed myself to sneak long looks at him — his finely chiseled features, his lean build, his rumpled blond hair. Who wouldn’t want to be wanted by someone like River?
The more I thought about his invitation, the fewer reasons I could think of for turning it down. Though pleasant enough, my mostly clerical job didn’t satisfy my whole self; it wasn’t something I could imagine doing forever, or even much longer. I loved living with Diana and Maria, but that didn’t seem enough of a reason to turn down the chance to do more vital, necessary work. Here was an opportunity to travel, to have adventures. If something in my bones froze at the idea of voyaging so far away and staying indefinitely, I had to admit to myself that it was my stubborn, foolish attachment to Nico. Foolish because he hadn’t come looking for me, or if he had, he hadn’t looked hard enough. Doubly foolish because I had done everything I could to ensure he wouldn’t find me. Hadn’t I been right in doing so? Was I going to wait around forever for Nico to show that he still cared about me? That would be a slow death. Why not settle the question by disappearing to a place he’d never think to look?
One Sunday morning, while River and Maria were at church, Diana and I took a hike in a nature preserve a short drive from the house. It was a heart-piercingly beautiful day; a week of almost constant rain had made the landscape lush and verdant. Since spring had arrived, she and I took every opportunity to go for walks; she claimed she had five pounds of winter weight to walk off, though I couldn’t see it. Ordinarily our talk was light and rambling. Today, though, was different. For most of the walk, she said little. My overtures at conversation led nowhere. Then, just as I’d given up, she stopped like a balky horse. “Aren’t you going to tell me what’s going on between you and River?” she asked.
So she had noticed. “Going on?”
“The two of you have been acting so strange these past few weeks. He’s always staring at you like he’s waiting for you to sprout wings and fly away, or something. And you seem so jumpy around him. Did he do something to hurt your feelings?”
“No, no, nothing like that, Diana.”
She exhaled loudly. “Well, thank God.” Then she looked at me more closely. “Is it something else, then? Do you two have some kind of secret? Maria has this theory that — well, I’ve been telling her she’s crazy, but maybe she isn’t after all.”
“What kind of theory?” I trained my gaze off into the distance.
“That he’s got some kind of crush on you. That he’s thinking about putting the moves on you.”
I forced a laugh. “Putting the moves on me?” If Diana thought the idea was crazy, maybe it really was.
“I know! Imagine River putting the moves on anyone! So that’s
not it? I mean, I didn’t think it was, but Maria had me convinced you’d practically be our sister-in-law soon, and both of us kind of liked the idea.”
“We’re sisters already,” I told her. “No need for the in-law part.”
“But then what
is
going on between the two of you? Because I know it’s something.”
River hadn’t sworn me to secrecy, though I suspected he wouldn’t want me saying too much to his sisters about his invitation. Still, the idea of confiding in Diana, getting her opinion, was too attractive to resist. “Promise you won’t tell him I told you.”
“Hurry up and spill it already; the suspense is murder.”
So I told her about River’s plans for me, and how he was waiting for my answer. Diana’s eyes got bigger and bigger.
“Get out,” she said. “You’re not seriously considering this, are you?”
I admitted that I was.
“Jane! No! We can’t lose both River and you at the same time. Maria and I will fall apart all by ourselves. Plus, what about your plans to go back to school?”
I thought about confessing my recent confusion about River’s motives; if there was anyone I could confide in it was Diana. But something kept me silent on that front. “It’s not easy to say no to River.”
“Oh, believe me, you don’t have to tell me that. River’s vision of saving the world is so grand and romantic. I can see the appeal. But you don’t really want to go with him, do you? He’s probably convinced you that it’s your duty to mankind and all that, but in your heart you don’t really want to…”
“I’m not sure. My life doesn’t have a whole lot of meaning right now.”
“Meaning?” she said. “You’ve got Maria and me. You’ve got a good job doing important work. You’ve got plans. I know you’ll figure out a way to get back to school. How much meaning do you need?”
For a moment I almost confessed the truth about the enormous hole at the center of my life and how I’d been hoping River might distract me from my loneliness. “Something’s missing,” I said instead. “And I never expect to get it back.”