Nancy nodded, once more composed now that she’d made her plea. “I know you love him, Lolly. I know you’re a good, strong girl. And that’s why I’m asking you to do the right thing and let him go. I know right now you think you can figure it all out, that your love will triumph despite the circumstances, but it doesn’t always work out that way. Someone will have to give up what they love, either you or Rory,to make this work. Are you prepared to walk away from this diner and your father and Daphne?”
I couldn’t answer for a moment. I knew only two things right now. I loved Rory Shaw more than anyone on Earth. And I simply could not leave my family or the diner, not for the foreseeable future, not for a long, long while. I shook my head. “No.” A whisper, an admission. It was impossible.
“Don’t make Rory give up everything he’s been working toward since he was a boy,” Nancy warned me, her eyes flashing with a fervor I had never seen in her. “Because if he chooses you, he’ll regret not following his dreams, all that he could have been, for the rest of his life. You don’t want to be the girl he gave up everything for. That’s a heavy burden for any woman to carry. He’ll end up resenting you and this diner and the choice he made. If you make him choose, it will end up destroying both his life and your love.”
I couldn’t think straight. On the one hand, her logic made perfect, awful sense. Rory had wanted to practice sports medicine since middle school. He was passionate about it; he lived and breathed his dream to be part of a team. And to do that he had to take every opportunity—the best programs and fellowships, contacts and options—no matter where they were in the country. We knew the odds of him getting a good residency in Seattle were long. And Duke was a golden opportunity. He simply had to take it.
But it was Rory we were talking about, Rory and me. How could we not be together? Even the thought of it was like a punch to the heart. Impossible. We were destined for each other. Yes, the last three years had been increasingly tough. Med school and running the diner and parenting a teenager left us both exhausted and often on opposite schedules. Gradually I’d noticed we had less and less to talk about. Our lives were completely removed from each other, and what held ustogether still were the engagement ring on my finger and our long history together.
Our relationship was feeling strained right now, worn thin by circumstances and distance and the stress of our other responsibilities, our separate lives. I’d convinced myself that all we needed was time together, to be in the same space once more, and that was undoubtedly true. If he had gotten the residency at UW, chances were good that everything would have worked itself out somehow. But he hadn’t gotten a residency here. He’d gotten a fabulous residency all the way across the country. Three more years, maybe longer. I bit my lip. Could we make it work long-distance for three more years? I felt despair welling up at the idea of it.
One thing I knew, he couldn’t give up his residency. It would be the death of his dream and, I feared Nancy was right, eventually the death of us. If he did come back, what sort of life would he be coming back to? Trapped with me running the diner, working long hours, handling the drama of a headstrong teenage girl. He would be miserable and restless. He could easily grow to resent me and my family, the diner, our constricted life. But the thought of living without him was impossible. We were meant to be together. Somehow we would figure it out. We had to.
“How can you ask me to do this?” I whispered, stricken. Nancy saw my expression and her face softened.
“I love you like a daughter, Lolly. Your mother was my best friend. But Rory is my only child, and I would move heaven and earth to keep him safe and give him all he deserves. I’m sure Rory would be furious if he knew I was talking to you about this. It’s your choice if you tell him about our conversation or not. The thought of you together always made me so happy.” She stopped, too choked up to continue. After a moment she composed herself again. “But now, I fear for you both ifyou try to make this work. I know you may not believe me. When you’re young you believe love can conquer all, but the truth is that sometimes you can love someone, and yet it’s impossible to make a life together. Sometimes the strength of your love for each other just isn’t enough. Sometimes you love someone so much you have to let them go.”
She stood and paused, then rounded the table and embraced me. She smelled like honeysuckle and starch.
“You’re a good girl, Lolly. I know you’ll do the right thing,” she whispered in my ear as she pressed her cheek to mine for the briefest instant. Her skin was firm and soft as a rose petal.
After she left, I sat staring into space for a minute, trying to catch my breath. Then, numbly, I cleaned up the pie mess on the floor, wiping up the bright filling and dumping the crumbled crust into the compost. One less pie was inconsequential. Nothing mattered except Nancy’s words ringing in my ears and the hollow, terrible feeling in my gut that she could possibly be right.
35
SEVEN YEARS AGO
MARCH
Later that day
After Nancy left,the rest of the morning passed in an awful haze, the knot of anxiety in my stomach growing with each passing hour of silence. I texted Rory. He didn’t reply. I waited on customers, made endless pots of coffee, helped Dad jerry-rig the broken oven door with a metal coat hanger, served pie. Over and over, Nancy’s words ran through my head, each time the stark, horrible truth of them echoing louder in my mind. I wanted to fire back a perfect response, defend our love, convince her that we could find a way, that our love could find a way. But I didn’t have the words. I desperately needed to talk to Rory.
Just as the modest dinner rush was waning, the bell over the front door jingled. I looked up as I was taking orders from a family celebrating their grandmother’s birthday and froze. Rory was standing in the doorway. He looked travel-tousled and a little uncertain, his face drawn with concern. When he saw me his eyes lit up, the corners of his mouth curving up in a sweet smile. He raised his hand, and I felt a wave of relief. Rory was here.
I hastily handed my tables off to Beth, the other waitress we had at the time, and gestured for Rory to meet me out back. He was waiting by the dumpsters when I came out, and for a second we just looked at each other. He was wearing jeans and a mustard-yellow Patagonia fleece. He looked exhausted. I was furious at him for not contacting me and relieved that he was really here, but beneath those surface emotions was a queasy sort of anticipation heavily laced with dread. Everything had changed in the past few hours. Something was coming; I just didn’t quite know what yet.
We stood awkwardly a few feet apart.
“Hey.” I could see the question in his eyes. He didn’t know how to begin. I made it easy. I was frustrated and scared and worried, but I was also still desperately in love with this man. I walked into Rory’s embrace, colliding with his chest, wrapping my arms around him and holding on as tight as I could. He was solid and warm. He smelled like stale airport air and Rory. We clung to each other, his cheek pressed against my hair, my face buried in his neck. I could feel the tension in him, humming through his muscles like a live wire. Neither of us said anything. I didn’t want to be the one to break the seal. He was pressing little kisses on the top of my head, the shell of my ear, holding me so tight I couldn’t breathe. I think he felt it too, that something momentous was coming, some reckoning. Nothing would ever be the same after tonight, whatever the outcome.
I pulled back, scrubbing my hands down his cheeks, the stubble rasping like crusted sand on a shell. He looked older than even a month ago when I’d seen him last. There were worry lines pinching the corners of his mouth.
“Why didn’t you call me?” I asked finally. “I had to hear it from your mother.”
Rory pulled back and stared at me. He had not realized I knew about the residency. He must have flown all the way here fromBaltimore to break the news to me himself. “What about Mom?” He looked puzzled.
“She came to see me this morning. She told me about Duke.”
Rory dropped his head. “Can we go to the beach?” He sighed. “I think we need to talk.”
I drove us in silence down to the beach parking lot. It was a raw March day, the light fading toward evening, and no one else was there. Rory spoke as I pulled Florence into a parking space.
“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said finally. “I’m sorry. I wanted to wait and tell you in person. I really wanted it to be UW.” His tone was flat, discouraged.
We headed toward the north end of the beach, past the lighthouse. We skirted the fence with the heart-shaped lock, taking the other way around. I didn’t want to look at that optimistic little token of our love, not when my heart was roiling with such turmoil. We scrambled through the blackberry brambles and madrone trees, clambering over driftwood logs and down a sandy little trail to the water.
The air was calm, but I could smell the rain coming. Huge dark clouds piled up against the Olympic Mountains to the west. The color was leaching slowly from them, the oranges and pinks of a spectacular sunset fading to purple and indigo. We settled against our usual driftwood log, fitting next to each other like two peas in a sandy little pod. I shivered and zipped my jacket, scooting closer to Rory. How many years had we sat side by side like this? I looked around, seeing us standing there in our swimsuits as young teens, pale and shivering. In the very spot where we sat, I pictured us in a tangle of limbs and fevered kisses that night before Rory went off to college. The night I declared my love for him. Had things come full circle? Would this be the place where we began and ended?
