She was standing close to him, her arms at her sides. Even with that Marine-issue haircut, she was beautiful. A tired gray UW sweatshirt bagged over a pair of oversized jeans, but it didn’t camouflage her body. Suddenly he could remember her naked, recall vividly how she’d lifted her arms and pulled off her shirt . . . the moonlight kissing her breasts. . . .
“Nick?” She took a step toward him. “Are you all right?”
He forced a weak laugh. “As well as a drunk who has stopped drinking can be, I suppose. ”
“You’re going to make it. ” She started to reach for him, and he leaned slightly toward her, needing that touch more than air, but at the last minute, she drew back. “It’s not easy to start over. I know . . . ”
He saw the haunted look in her eyes and wondered what he’d done to her, the man who’d put that egg-size diamond on her left hand. He wanted to ask, but it felt wrong, presumptuous, to probe her wounds. “You saved my life, Annie. I don’t know how to thank you. ”
She smiled. “I always knew you’d be back for her, you know. It wasn’t much of a risk. I could see how much you loved Izzy. ”
“Such optimism. ” He glanced out at the darkened lake. “I loved Kathy, too, and look what happened. ” He sighed and leaned back against the porch rail, staring out at the yard. “You know what haunts me? I never really understood my wife. The sad thing is—I do now. I know what hopelessness feels like; before, I thought I did, but I was skimming the surface. She used to tell me that she couldn’t feel the sunlight anymore, not even when she was standing in it, not even when it was hot on her cheeks. ” It surprised Nick that he could talk about his wife so easily. For the first time, he remembered her, not the illness or the crumbling of their marriage over the last few years, but Kathy, his Kathy, the bright-eyed, big-hearted girl he’d fallen in love with. “She didn’t want to live in the darkness anymore. . . . ”
When he turned back to Annie, she was crying. He felt awkward and selfish in the wake of her grief. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to upset you. ”
She gazed up at him. “You’re so lucky. ”
“What?”
“It doesn’t matter how you felt about Kathy by the end, or since the end. You obviously loved her. No matter what she did, or why she did it, she must have known. ” Her voice fell to a throaty whisper. “Most people are never loved like that in their whole lives. ”
He knew he was going to ask the question, though he shouldn’t. He stepped toward her, a heartbeat closer than was safe. “How about you? Have you known that kind of love?”
She gave him a fleeting, sad little smile and looked away. “No. I have loved that way . . . but been loved . . . I don’t think so. ”
“You deserve better than that. ”
She nodded and nonchalantly wiped her eyes. “Don’t we all. ”
Silence fell between them, awkward and uncomfortable. “Annie—”
She stopped and turned to him. “Yes?”
“Maybe you’d like to come over tomorrow—spend the day with us. ”
“I’d like that,” she answered quickly, then she looked away.
“Thank you. ” His voice was soft, and came as close to a kiss as he dared.
“You’re welcome, Nicky. ” There was another moment of awkwardness as she stared up at him. “You should know that Izzy started talking while you were gone. ”
Nick frowned. “She didn’t talk to me. ”
Annie touched his arm in a brief, fleeting caress. “She will. Give her time. ”
He couldn’t meet Annie’s gaze. Instead, he stared out at the lake.
She moved nervously from foot to foot, then said, “Well, I should be getting home. . . . ”
“See you tomorrow. ”
She nodded and hurried past him. With a quick wave, she climbed into her Mustang and drove away.
Nick watched her taillights, two bright red dots in the darkness of the forest, until she turned the corner and was gone. Reluctantly, he went back into the house and climbed the stairs. Outside Izzy’s room, he paused, then knocked.
Answer, baby . . . you can do it.
But there was no response. Slowly, he turned the knob and opened the door.