Page 19 of Upon an April Night

“Oh … yeah.”

“I remember when your father and I were young and in love and he went on a trip out west for two weeks with some friends. The second he stepped on that plane, I could feel the distance between us. It was an ache in my heart I knew nobody else could fill. That’s how I knew how deeply I loved him. He told me later that when he watched me walk away that day, it was the same for him.”

“That’s sweet, Mama.”

“It will be difficult for a time, but then you’ll be married and together every day.”

“I know. I’m okay.”

Mama took over, heating the food for him, and he stood there silently, listening to Nana and her sister talk about their annual Fourth of July party.

But he wasn’t paying attention to what they were saying. His mind was on Mama’s words. If he hadn’t already been confused after he left the airport, he certainly was now. Because he didn’t feel the way his mother had described. He wasn’t aching for Dréa. Was he supposed to be? Was that truly the sign of love? And if so, why wasn’t he feeling it? Why wasn’t he miserable with her gone?

Maybe he just dealt with separation differently than his parents had. Maybe it wasn’t the same for everyone.

When his food was ready, he walked out of the house into the back yard and sat down at the table that was still set up from Sunday’s gathering. His gaze fell on the chair where Jamie had been seated that day, and he felt a tightness in his chest, remembering the look on her face when she saw him with Dréa. He could almost feel how much it hurt her, and that ache was still with him even now.

He poked at the lasagna, not having much of an appetite after all.

Maybe he should go talk to her. Apologize. Should they talk about what happened between them? He hated how he’d left things. It wasn’t right the way he’d blown her off.

He shook his head. Going over there wasn’t a good idea. He was afraid to be alone with her. Afraid of messing up again. Terrified that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

An image of the two of them in her bed popped into his mind, and he bowed his head and buried his fingers in his hair, elbows resting on the table.

What is wrong with me? I’ve got this beautiful woman who has agreed to marry me—a woman I believe God brought into my life—and I can’t get Jamie out of my head. I’m a disgusting man. I hate myself. I hate what I did to Jamie. I hate that I’m betraying Dréa by thinking about another woman. And I hate that I haven’t been honest with her about what happened with Jamie.

A hand on his shoulder startled him, and he looked back to find Nana standing over him.

“Let’s talk.”

There was something about Nana’s kind eyes that had always made it easy to confide in her. Even when he’d been a messed up teenaged boy, he’d felt safe and accepted by her no matter what.

Thirty minutes of spilling his guts to his grandmother was like free therapy. He told her everything, including what happened with Jamie. Shannon was the only other person who knew, but Nana was the best secret-keeper around, and he knew she would give him great advice, just as she had the time he got caught messing around with that girl in his bedroom.

“I guess you were wrong all those years ago. I’m not a better guy after all.” Duncan hung his head as he brought up the words Nana had said to him back then.

Nana laid her wrinkled hand over his. “When you were younger, you made careless decisions because you had no direction and no real relationship with God. We’re all human, Duncan, and we all mess up.”

“Not you,” he replied.

“Even me.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“I’ve made my fair share of mistakes. I was selfish when I was a young girl. I wanted what I wanted, and I went after it. I even stole my sister’s boyfriend.”

Duncan’s eyes widened. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“Was it Papi?”

She shook her head. “His name was Roy.” Her voice broke on his name and tears suddenly filled her eyes.

“Nana.” He took her hand and squeezed.

“I loved your grandfather. He was the love of my life. But Roy was my first love, and you never really get over that.”

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