Twenty-Six
It rained on her all the way to Kansas City. She was glad for it.
The rain was fitting. The reason for this trip was excruciatingly difficult, and it would have been obscene under a bright spring sun.
Her parents had offered to come with her, but she was thankful now that she had declined their offer. This was something she had to do alone. And it comforted her to know that Natalie was safe and happy with her grandparents.
The hours on the road were a time of deep introspection. In a span of three and a half hours, she virtually relived her life. She thought of what Cole had said about Natalie. I can’t give her up, he’d said. What about me though? she thought. He hadn’t said he couldn’t give her up. For the hundredth time, she wondered if she would lose both of the men she loved.
Her exit loomed ahead, and the blue H sign confirmed that she was headed in the right direction. The Medical Center was a short distance, and she found a parking space near the entrance.
She went inside and inquired at the desk. The receptionist gave her Nate’s room number and pointed her down a long hallway. Daria walked slowly down the corridor, feeling confused and disoriented. Soon she would be face to face with the man she’d long thought dead. The man she’d longed for in her dreams. A dozen emotions fought for supremacy within her. Grief for the pain and anguish Nathan had suffered at the hands of the very people he had tried to help. Sorrow for all they had lost together. Joy for the precious, healing news he had been given about Natalie. And love for the man who had been her husband.
Yes, love remained. The closer she came to his presence, the more her longing grew. She ached to see Nathan’s face—to see for herself that he truly was alive. It all seemed so impossible after all this time.
She quickened her steps, suddenly anxious for the reunion.
Her eyes scanned the signs on the doors, darting nervously from one number to the next. She was only steps away from him, and her stomach turned somersaults inside her. She worried a little for the baby. Surely all this anxiety couldn’t be good for the child developing within her. Instinctively she put her hand over the small round of her stomach. In her seventh month, her pregnancy was obvious now to anyone who was looking, but she had purposely worn a bulky sweater in an attempt to conceal her condition. Nathan might not know she was carrying Cole’s child, and she didn’t want to upset him more than the news of her marriage had surely already upset him.
The door to room 227 was slightly ajar, and Daria raised a hand and knocked softly. No response. She pushed the door open and stepped into the room.
She heard his breathing before she saw his face. He was clean-shaven and his hair, which he’d always worn rather long, was cropped close. Under the thin sheets, his chest rose and fell in labored, wheezing breaths. One arm lay on top of the sheets and the drawn, mottled scars she saw there shocked her. For the first time, she comprehended the extent of the physical toll his ordeal had taken on him. The head of the narrow hospital bed was raised slightly, and she could see his face. The familiarity of his pose—one arm behind his head, his eyes closed, mouth slightly agape—took her breath away.
Joy flooded her being, and she hurried to his bedside.
“Nate! Nathan? Wake up.”
He started and opened his eyes. Daria smiled when she saw the recognition dawn there.
“Oh, dear Lord! Daria? Is it really you?”
“It’s me, sweetheart!” the endearment fell from her lips like a teardrop, unbidden.
He reached his arms out to her, struggling to sit up in the bed. “Oh, Daria.”
She sat down on the side of his bed and fell into his embrace as though she’d never left. He pulled her close, stroking her hair, both of them weeping like children.
She had expected their reunion to seem surreal, but now that she was in his arms, he had never been more real to her. He was thin and the scarring on his forearms was severe, but the strength of his embrace had not been diminished. Being in his arms felt so familiar to her that it was as though the years of their separation had been a mere blink.
He pushed her gently from him and reached up to touch her face, as though to prove to himself that she was actually sitting here in front of him.
“Oh, Daria. I can’t believe you’re really here.” Then he looked heavenward, “Thank you, Lord. Daria, I—” Fresh tears choked out the rest of his words. His voice was raspy, whether the result of his injuries or from emotion, she couldn’t tell.
Hot rivulets ran down Daria’s cheeks as well, yet she couldn’t stop smiling. She felt as though they had entered another world, strangely transported back to their beloved rain forest where they were the only two people in their world.
“How are you?” she asked him now, wanting to hear from his own lips.
“I’m okay.” He held out his arms for inspection, and she traced the scars lovingly. “I’ve got some pretty good scars to show for it, but I’m okay. Now.” He reached for her again, and she went into his embrace. He wept unashamedly for several minutes until finally he looked up at her. “Daria! We—Dad said we have a little girl?” The quiet joy on his face pierced her heart.
“Yes, Nate! A beautiful little girl. Her name is Natalie, after you. And, oh, she looks so much like you!”
Seeing Nate in front of her now, she was startled to realize how true it was. Strange how Natalie had always reminded her of Nathan, but now looking at Nathan the opposite was true. His eyes were Natalie’s. Even his demeanor was uncannily like his daughter’s.
He pointed to the nightstand beside his bed where framed photos of Natalie rested. “Mom brought some pictures.”
Daria picked them up and smiled at her daughter’s face. “She’s so like you, Nate.”
His eyes damp, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, Nate reached up and cradled her head in his hand and drew her face toward his.
An instant before his lips brushed her forehead, she realized that he meant to kiss her. Suddenly reality came crashing back. She shook herself to her senses and pushed away from him.
“Nate, I—”
He tried to draw her possessively, tenderly to himself again, but she leapt up and backed away from his bed, rubbing her arms frantically, as though she could brush away the intimacy of his touch.
“Nate, no! We have to talk.”
“Daria? What is it? What’s wrong? Is something wrong with the baby?”
She sank to the wide, low window sill across from his bed and put her head in her hands. O dear God! He doesn’t know. How could I be so foolish? Jack and Vera didn’t tell him that I’m remarried!
“No, Natalie’s fine, she’s fine. Oh, Nathan,” she sobbed. “Your parents didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what? What is it, Daria?”
Why hadn’t they told her that they were leaving it up to her to break the news to Nate?
“I don’t know how…how to tell you.”
She forced herself to calm down and took a deep breath, looking into his fathomless hazel eyes. “Nathan, you must understand. I-I thought you were dead. Quimico and Tados—they told us about the fire. They said you had died! How could I have known? Please don’t blame me.” Again she put her head in her hands, unable to continue.
“Daria, it’s all right. I understand what happened. I know you didn’t realize I’d survived. I know you would have come for me if you’d known.”
She shook her hands in frustration in front of her. “No, Nate, that’s not all. That’s not what I mean.”
“What’s wrong, Daria? What are you trying to tell me?”
Though she didn’t look up, she heard the fear in his questions.
“Oh, God! This is too hard! I can’t do this to you, Nathan! I can’t do it. Oh, God, forgive me…”
Now he struggled to take a breath, and anger tinged his voice. “It’s the scars, isn’t it? I know I must look awful.”
“No! Nathan, no. Of course it’s not that. You don’t understand.”
“Daria! Tell me what this is about!” He sat upright, his jaw tense.
“I’m married, Nate.” Her voice came out like the growl of an injured beast. “We can’t be together. I’m married to someone else now,” she sobbed.
“What?” His face registered shock and utter disbelief. “No! What are you talking about, Daria? You are married to me!”
“No! It’s true, Nate. I-I thought you were dead. We all did.”
“No! There has to be a mistake! It can’t be true, Daria. You’re my wife! Why didn’t someone tell me?” He was shouting now, and his voice came out in terrible, breathless rasps. “We have a child, a daughter to raise. You are my wife!” he choked out. He fought against the linens and the IV lines that shackled him to the bed, and Daria feared he would tear the needles from his arms.
“Stop it, Nate! Stop! You’ll hurt yourself.”
She went to his side and tried to physically restrain him, but somehow she found herself in his embrace again, both of them sobbing bitterly.
After a long moment, she extricated herself from his arms and stood beside the bed, spent.
His head dropped into his hands, and he scrubbed his face as if to wash away the terrible truth. He must have seen in her tortured eyes that it was all true, everything she had said.
A ragged sob came from his throat, and he started to beat on the mattress with scarred fists.
“Nate, please.”
But he only punched harder and then began swinging his arms wildly, fighting the tubes and needles. He began to wheeze, struggling for air. Coughing racked his body, and he gasped for breath.
Daria ran from the room, shouting for help.
A nurse appeared seemingly from nowhere and ran toward Daria. Another nurse came close behind her.
While the women restrained Nate and administered oxygen, a third nurse came in with a syringe.
“Mr. Camfield,” she shouted over the commotion, “I’m going to give you something to calm you down.”
The injection took effect almost immediately, and he stopped thrashing. Though his eyes remained open, his breathing calmed and he relaxed visibly.
Daria stood in the doorway, trembling violently, watching what seemed to be a scene from a horror movie.
“He’ll be okay now,” the older of the nurses told her. “The sedative will make him very drowsy. He’ll probably sleep for a long time. It would be best if you’d come back tomorrow.”
Daria nodded numbly.
Totally drained of energy, she slipped from the room and went back down the corridor. She drew in a tremulous breath. Her mind could hardly grasp all that had just transpired.
Guilt poured over her—a horrible sense that she was betraying Cole—as she realized that she wanted nothing more right then than to run back into Nate’s arms, to comfort him, to hold him tightly to her and rejoice that he was safe, that they had been reunited. To rejoice over the little daughter their love had created.
She wanted to bury her face in her husband’s chest and cry for the years they had lost. Her husband? No! Nate wasn’t her husband anymore. He couldn’t be. Could he? But he was! She had never divorced him.
She thought of Cole, pictured the utter devastation on his face when they had learned the news that Nate was alive. It was the same expression she had seen on Nate’s face moments ago. Nathan’s face became all tangled up with Cole’s in her mind, and she felt as if she were being physically ripped in two.
Dear God, she loved them both! Why wouldn’t she? Who could expect anything else of her? The blood rushed to her temples, and she could hear her own heart pounding in her ears.
She had to make some sense of the nightmare she was living. She had to find someplace where she could think and pray. She was afraid she would faint, but she kept walking, faster and faster until she was almost running.
Breaking out through the front doors of the hospital, she gulped in the fresh air. She waited for her heart to steady its pace, waited for her head to clear, but instead confusion multiplied with every labored breath she took.
She slid into her car. Gripping the wheel, she crept through the parking lot like an automaton, and pulled onto the highway.