Nic sighed and pushed a hand through her hair. “I know. I just hate hearing myself sounding so petty. Yes, that was the way I felt with them, but I wouldn’t say they ‘made’ me feel that way. I can’t help wondering how much I was projecting my own feelings onto them.”
“You somehow blame yourself for being hurt?”
“Not exactly. I mean, you always think you should have reacted faster or differently or something, but I wouldn’t have left Heidi to fall, regardless. I knew I was more prepared to go over than she was, since she was less aware of what was happening. And I’m in much better shape than she is,” she added with typical candor, knowing Aislinn would take it as fact rather than boasting.
“Not to mention that you’re trained to help other people, not to protect yourself.”
“Well, yeah. That’s my job. And I hated that I felt I was being judged because of it. It doesn’t sound like a job for a young lady,” she paraphrased primly. “Not like, oh, say, family counseling.”
“Family counseling?” Aislinn repeated in a murmur, watching her too intently.
Nic flushed and looked down into her tea glass, which now held more melted ice than beverage. She knew her next words would tell Aislinn a great deal and she wondered for a moment if she was ready to reveal quite that much. Yet still she said them. “That was Heather’s career. Joel’s wife.”
“I see.”
“She must have been an amazing woman. Everyone loved her. Her in-laws. Her classmates. The whole world apparently loved Heather.”
“Surely there were other girls in her class who didn’t care for her. Who were jealous of her or just didn’t get along with her.”
“If there were, they knew better than to say anything at the reunion. They would have been stoned.”
“Nic.”
“Okay, that was an exaggeration. Let’s just say that any criticism of Heather would have been strongly discouraged.” She told Aislinn about the scholarship, which they both agreed was a wonderful gesture, and about the photo shrine to Heather in Elaine’s upstairs hallway, which was a bit more thought-provoking.
Aislinn pushed her plate aside, propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand, looking thoughtful. “Anytime someone passes away tragically young, there’s a tendency to sort of turn them into saints in the memories of those who knew them.”
“True. But it’s awfully difficult to follow in the footsteps of a saint.”
“It would be daunting,” Aislinn agreed. “But
maybe Joel isn’t looking for a saint this time.”
“Or maybe he isn’t looking at all,” Nic muttered, remembering the way he had all but bolted from her house earlier.
“He’s looking. The question is whether he’s really seeing clearly.”
Aislinn didn’t often fall into cryptic, psychic-style speech, and when she did, Nic didn’t let her get away with it. Her typical reaction was to tease and scoff until Aislinn either admitted she didn’t know an answer or was more clear about what her intuition told her. This time she hesitated before following up on Aislinn’s comment. Maybe there was something inside her that didn’t want to examine Aislinn’s feelings too closely when it came to her and Joel.
Just as she was about to speak, Aislinn stood and reached for the dirty dishes. “I’ll clean up the kitchen. You go into the den and rest a while and I’ll bring you some hot tea when I’m done.”
Nic rose, shaking her head. “I’m not an invalid. I can help—”
“Nic.” Aislinn walked around to lay a hand on Nic’s arm. “Let me do this. Even though I know you don’t blame me, I still feel guilty for urging you to go to Alabama. I feel as if I set you up to be hurt—in several ways. I didn’t know until too late that I was putting you at risk. Just…let me take care of you tonight, okay? We can go back to normal tomorrow.”
Nic didn’t quite know what to say. Her throat had tightened in response to the emotion in Aislinn’s voice.
She didn’t want to imagine what it would be like to lose Aislinn and she knew that went both ways. It must have been awful for Aislinn to somehow sense that Nic was in danger and not be able to do anything to prevent it. So, as much as she disliked being hovered over and as determined as she was to convince Aislinn that she bore no responsibility for Nic’s accident, she supposed she could give in just this once and let Aislinn clean her kitchen.
Joel stood on Nic’s front porch, a package in one hand and his heart in his throat. He felt like an idiot for the way he’d run out on her earlier. He had taken to his heels in panic and he was quite sure Nic knew it. Now he felt awkward and uncertain and uncomfortable, emotions he’d never expected to feel around Nic, of all people.
This was exactly what he’d worried about, he thought with a frown. He’d been afraid of ruining a friendship that had meant a great deal to him. He hoped he hadn’t done so yet.
He was surprised when Aislinn opened the door to him, rather than Nic. He’d known she was here, of course, because he had seen her car parked in the driveway, but Nic usually answered her own door. “Oh, hi. Is Nic okay?”
“She’s fine,” Aislinn assured him with a smile that looked oddly strained. “I was just leaving. Nice seeing you, Joel.”
The words lacked a measure of sincerity. He looked at her more closely, but her face was closed to him. “It’s, um, good to see you, too.”