Page 28
"So you guys were very religious growing up?"
"Yes, very. "
"I wouldnt have guessed it," I muttered. I slapped a hand over my mouth—fuck, I did not mean to say that—but Nate only laughed.
"Think about our namesakes—Matthew, Seth, Nathaniel. All Biblical. Our parents took us to church twice each Sunday. Our uncle, not so much. "
"Your parents," I murmured.
"Yes. Their loss was very hard on Matt. He was young. Old enough to remember them, too young to really understand. I still dont think he understands. He feels pain like no one I have ever known, and always has. Hes such an emotional creature. "
I watched Nate, silently willing him to go on. After a moment, he did.
"I remember once we were on vacation in Maine and our father went into a cave, and he disappeared from view. Matt. . . " Nate smiled thinly. "He plopped himself down on the sand and cried so hard. He thought our father was gone. He was inconsolable, even when dad came out. All day these huge crocodile tears were standing in his eyes and I could see—" Nate gestured to his eyes. "—I could see that it meant something more to Matt, our father disappearing into the dark. It was more than fear. It was like a betrayal to him. "
"Every small separation echoed a vaster goodbye," I said quietly. It was a line from The Silver Cord. My favorite line.
"Yes, exactly. "
"Did he always want to be a writer?"
"Oh, I dont know. He would say no. He rarely talks about it, though I once heard him say that the only thing he hates more than writing is not writing. " Nate chuckled. "After he left graduate school, I thought he would be a drunk for the rest of his short life. But he wrote—and the writing became his addiction. "
Until now, I thought.
"Yeah, I see. Thank you. "
"Youre welcome, of course. Between the internet and The Silver Cord, it seems you know quite a bit about me and mine. "
I ducked and pretended to be searching for something in my backpack. How awkward. It was one thing to snoop into Matts life in the anonymous privacy of the net, and quite another to be sitting next to his brother and discussing my research.
"Yeah, I. . . I guess. "
"Fair enough, Hannah. I know quite a bit about you and yours, too. "
My stomach twisted. How much did Nate know? How much had Matt told him?
My panic must have been obvious, because Nate quickly added, "Matt spoke very well of you and your family. "
I smiled tightly.
That conversation set the tone for the rest of the trip. Nate and I had reached an uneasy camaraderie and there we stayed, skirting the obvious awkwardness of our adventure.
I kept hoping Nate would volunteer his thoughts on why Matt was in such bad shape, but he didnt. Maybe he didnt know. Was it because of me? Was it because his cover was blown? Both? I didnt seriously think losing me could drive Matt into the ground.
Nates car, a silver Cadillac sedan, was parked at Newark.
"I live near Trenton," he explained as we put our bags in the trunk. "There are small airports between here and Geneva, but I looked into tickets and theyd really give you the run around—down to Florida, back up to Philly, over to New York—and even then youd need to do some driving. This is much better, and it gives us time to talk. "
I clutched my backpack on my lap.
Time to talk. Awesome.
"I wouldnt mind doing some driving," I said, but as we moved through Newark in the growing dark, I became increasingly relieved it was Nate behind the wheel.
"Oh, youll get to drive. Well pick up your rental car when we get to Geneva. "
I glanced at my phone. It was 7:00 p. m. Even if we made great time, wed reach Geneva at midnight.
"I dont think rental places are open that late. "
Nate shook his head. Thank god Nate was a more attentive driver than Matt. He drove aggressively, but he kept his hawkish eyes on the road and his hands on the wheel.
"I pulled a few strings, got the manager to open late for us. Its an emergency, after all. "
I smirked and gazed out the window. So Nate bribed him, too. I remembered Matt trying to buy everything I laid my hands on. I had a distinct vision of Sky men plowing through life, snarling and slinging money at their problems.
By the time we reached Pennsylvania, it was too dark to see. Staring out the window, I could just make out rolling farmland and fences.
"Beautiful country," Nate told me. "Very fertile. Is this your first time out east?"
"Yeah. I grew up in Colorado. "
"Well, Im sorry you cant see more. Waking up to the Finger Lakes will be amazing, at least. Its more of the same between here and there—lots of farmland around New York State. "
I nodded and smiled, though farmland didnt jive with my idea of New York.
My mind kept returning to Nates words.
Its an emergency, after all.
Was I really the right person for this? What was I supposed to do?
We passed into New York and something changed in Nate. He sat forward as he drove. He glanced at me from time to time and began to chatter. Did I want to stop for food? No. Did I need a cup of coffee? No. Did I want the radio on, off? The heat? AC? He sped up.
"Ive got you set up at Geneva on the Lake. Youll like it. I got you a suite. Im sure you looked over the papers I gave you. "
"Yeah, briefly. . . " I had also Googled the resort and then rapidly closed Firefox because I didnt want to think about how much Nate was spending on me. "You really didnt have to, I mean, its so nice—"
"Oh, please. Youre doing me a favor here Hannah. If anythings not to your liking, or if there are hitches, anything at all, you call me. I always have my phone. And of course. . . " He adjusted the rearview mirror. He ran his fingers through his thick hair and drummed the wheel. "Of course you might want to go see Matt right away. "
I watched the night outside my window, hoping to conceal the fear on my face.
I had gotten used to Nates calm persistent presence on the journey. Maybe I didnt want a travel companion at first, but suddenly the thought of being abandoned in New York terrified me. Abandoned with an unstable Matt, no less.
Our whirlwind romance aside, Matt and I barely knew one another.
We were strangers. Again. Still.
"Is—" I hesitated. "I mean, why—"
"Hm? If youre tired, by all means, get settled in your room, sleep. See him in the morning. Im sure hes around. Hes—"
"Have you gone to see him?" I blurted.
"Of course. Yes, of course. " Nate smiled, but his smile was tight. "More than once. Hes, you know. . . Im his oldest brother. Its different. I come around and he feels like Im babying him. It doesnt work. " He laughed.
Nates smile, his rambling, that anxious laugh—none of it was comforting.
I caught him looking at me.
"Hes not dangerous, Hannah. "
I felt so small. I hugged my backpack.
Not dangerous, that was easy for Nate to say. Matt hadnt blasted Nates life apart.
"Is he suicidal?" I whispered.
"No! God, no. " Nates knuckles were white.
We drove the rest of the way to Geneva in silence. I wanted to ask Nate a million things—when did you last see him? how do you know hes not suicidal?—but my questions only seemed to make Nate tense, and his tension was feeding mine.
I had no idea whether Id check into the hotel that night or go see Matt.
I was chickening out big time.
A friendly but tired-looking Enterprise employee walked me through the car pickup. Nate filled out the paperwork, asking for my signature here and there. Of course he booked me a Ford Escape and not a cheaper economy car.
The night air was freezing. Nate carried my suitcase to the car and we idled beside it, reviewing directions on my iPhone. Hed overburdened me with maps, advice, and contact information. I shivered as our conversation wound down.
<
br /> Abruptly, Nate hugged me.
"Thank you, Hannah," he said, releasing me at once.
I studied my feet.
"I care about him," I said. "So much. "
"I know. I know that now. He needs you. "
"I know. "
Hearing Nate say those words—he needs you—galvanized me. I was here for a purpose. I was here for the man I loved, not to hide in a swanky resort.
"Ill be in touch," I said. I squeezed Nates shoulder and climbed into the car.
The resort was just minutes from the rental place; the cabin was just minutes from the resort, north of the tip of Seneca Lake.
I drove past Geneva on the Lake and got my bearings.
Within ten minutes, I was turning onto the gravel road that led out to Matts Uncles cabin. I drove slowly into total darkness. My tires crunched on the country road and my high beams illuminated slices of forest.
My palms were sweating on the wheel.
Matt, my Matt. I hadnt seen him in so long. My eyes ached to see him, my hands to touch him. My whole heart reached out for him.
The driveway to the cabin amounted to two dirt ruts through wooded land. I stopped when my headlights glanced off a window. If Matt was asleep, I wanted to let him sleep.
I walked the rest of the way. The October night prickled along my arms.
Tall trees surrounded the cabin, which was a cozy midsized structure with a wrap-around porch. Chimes hung from the eaves and tolled quietly in the dark.
I brought up my hand to knock on the door, and then I tried the knob spontaneously. It turned in my grip.
My heart stuttered as I crept into the cabin. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I made out a kitchen table and counter littered with bottles, most of them empty.
A fly buzzed in the otherwise perfect quiet. Dishes slanted in piles from the sink and a sour odor pervaded the air.
Broken glass on the floor.
Ashtrays bristling with butts.
Clothes and papers strewn everywhere.
Something rustled. My eyes darted to the corner, where Laurence sat in his cage. He watched me with shining eyes. I tiptoed to him. He pressed his body close to me and I smiled, touching his fur through the bars.
"Hey there," I whispered. "Its okay now. Youre okay. "
A metallic click sounded at my back.
I spun.
I was looking at Matt.
I was looking at the muzzle of a gun.
CHAPTER 25
Matt
HANNAH FROZE SO completely, it was like I had stopped time.
I froze, too. Even my hands were steady as I pointed the pistol at her head.
My god, I was hallucinating.
It couldnt be Hannah. And it was. The moonlight highlighted her lovely face. I caught a whiff of her sweet shampoo.
"M. . . M. . . Matt," she breathed. It was Hannahs voice in perfect replica, husky with halftones of fear.
She began to inch along the wall. I lowered my gun.
"Youre not real," I said.
Hannahs dark eyes were pinned to the gun. I tapped the barrel against my thigh. Her nostrils flared.
"Its me," she said. "Matt, its me. G. . . give me the gun. "
"Give you the gun?" I laughed and waved it. "So what, I can have some horrific dream in which a figment of my imagination blows out my brains? No fucking thanks. "
"Im real, Matt. Please. Its me, I—"
Hannah reached for the pistol. I backed away, smirking.