Page 59 of Save the Last Dance
“When did you speak to my mother about us?”
She’d exchanged pleasantries with Mrs. Finley in church a few times when she and Mack had been dating. Other than that, there’d been no meals with the family. No invitations to sit with the Finleys during town picnics or at the Harvest Fest. She understood now that Mr. Finley—and Mack and his siblings—had tried to keep her as insulated from the larger community as possible. But back then, it had felt like Mack didn’t want her around his parents.
“That night, after the accident, I couldn’t sleep. I went to your house.” After she’d told Vince to leave her alone and never try to touch her again, she and Mack had argued. Then, they’d made up. They’d made wild, passionate love in the orchard, oblivious to the horror taking place back home.
Mack’s friend had died. Mack’s mother had believed it was him. Nina’s phone had been out of batteries. His had been in the car that Vince had taken to drive home. The whole town was grieving and she and Mack had been oblivious, tearing each other’s clothes off.
“Tell me exactly what happened. Right now. Don’t leave anything out.” He spun to face the table, his elbows on the polished wood, his hands bracing either side of his forehead.
She shifted in her seat, too, the temperature seeming to drop in the kitchen that had been a warm and happy place just a few minutes ago.
“You remember, we sneaked back home aftermidnight.” Mack had taken a bike from the farm to make the trip home faster. Gram had been waiting up for her to find out what had happened since she’d heard only half the story—that there’d been an accident in town. Back then, Gram hadn’t used her phone much, let alone any other technology. “And you called me after you got home to say?—”
“That I shocked the hell out of my family by being alive.” He didn’t even look at her. “Yeah, I remember.”
They’d realized then that it had been Vince who’d been killed. Nina had been almost too stunned to speak. The guilt, disbelief and sorrow literally took her legs out from under her. She ended up on the floor.
“Well, I was worried for you.” And shaken. God, her world had changed irrevocably in that moment. “I never did go to sleep.”
“Neither did anyone else, Nina.” He sounded weary. Impatient.
She tried to remember what her college counselor had said about people handling grief differently and knew that had been true for her and Mack. She’d felt so much at once, while he’d felt each facet slower and deeper. Longer.
“Right.” Toying with a saltshaker, she knocked it over, spilling salt everywhere. “So I drove over to your house just before dawn. To talk to you. Or just see you. I couldn’t stand being by myself.”
Mack might have needed her in the months after Vince’s death and considered her absence an abandonment. But damn it, she’d needed him right then. She’d cursed the fact that they were only eighteen because in her heart, she’d already believed he was her soul mate.
“I was probably in my father’s office, getting another lesson about how to talk to police officers and what tosay to the press. We discussed the best approach to expressing Finley grief.” The bitterness in his voice was evident. “But I didn’t think you’d show up at the house because we’d agreed?—”
“I figured the circumstances were unique.” She bit off each word, anger rising.
Finally, he looked up at her. “You’re right.”
Being justified didn’t make telling the rest of the story any easier. And since Mrs. Finley had been in a horrible, horrible place that night, it wouldn’t serve anyone any good to tell him everything that had been said. She hoped his mother didn’t remember.
“Your mom answered the door when I knocked.” Nina remembered thinking she didn’t look anything like the woman she saw at church sometimes. Her blond bob had stuck up in odd directions. A chunk of hair had been missing in the front to reveal a patch of bloody scalp. She’d obviously torn a section out.
Nina had known right away that she’d made a huge mistake.
Mack swore under his breath, but there wasn’t any heat in it.
“You know what?” He stood abruptly. “I’m not sure I can handle hearing this right now. And I’ve already got a damn good idea of the kind of things she would have said to you that night. She screamed enough crap at me that I’ll never forget without me taking on everything she said to you, too.”
Nina had never seen him truly angry. But he was mad now. The emotions he normally kept on lockdown animated his body movements and simmered in his eyes. She tugged his shirt tighter around her and wished she’d never opened her mouth.
Wished she’d never been foolish enough to act onimpulse with him. When would she ever learn?
“I’ll get going.” She stood, backing out of the banquette on the side opposite him. “I have baking to do.” It was a lame thing to say, but she was too upset to think clearly.
“Right. Great.” He rapped the side of his fist lightly against the stainless steel fridge, the tension in him coiled tight. “But I wonder how in the hell you justified being pissed at me for not telling you about Jenny’s miscarriage when you kept this tidbit to yourself for eight years.”
She’d been trying to protect him, hadn’t she? She brushed past him to get into the bedroom so she could put her clothes on.
“Because my mother ended up in the hospital after that showdown, Nina. It might have been helpful to us if we’d known what had driven her over the edge.”
She whirled on him.
“You take that back.” She’d spent many therapy sessions talking about that particular point and trying to come terms with her guilt. “I didnotcause your mother’s breakdown.”
