Chapter Eighteen
Claire felt the same horror, the same shocked disbelief as in those early days following Steve’s death. Nate left her briefly to find a box of tissues and a blanket, which he laid over her shoulders. “Tell me he didn’t suffer,” she sobbed as he gathered her close again.
“He didn’t suffer.” The conviction in his voice comforted her.
“It’s so hard to bear, Nate,” she wept. “So hard.”
He rocked her in his arms. “He died loving you and Lewis so much,” he said brokenly. “Maybe his last words were an apology? Forgive him, Claire, please. Don’t abandon him like I did.”
She struggled to a sitting position and fumbled for the tissues. “I’ll forgive him,” she said when she’d blown her nose, “when you forgive yourself.”
His mouth tightened.
“Steve would never think three men dying instead of one was justified. If the situation had been reversed, you would have done exactly the same thing.”
“You don’t know that.” Bleakly he repeated her earlier words. “I don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.” Integrity was in every fiber of this man’s being. “You had no choice but to leave Steve and carry Ross to safety and he had no choice but to make you,” she argued passionately. “Because you’re both good men.” She wept again for all of them. “Can’t you see it took as much courage to leave as it did to send you away?”
“I was running for cover when the Humvee got hit, and the blast threw me into a ditch. I came to with Ross sprawled unconscious on top of me, looking at a patch of blue sky through the black smoke. And my first feeling was relief that I was still alive. Not concern, not grief but gladness, Claire. That’s what I can’t live with.”
“Oh, Nate.” Her heart broke for him. “Our primary instinct is survival, don’t blame yourself for that.”
He shook his head and she felt helpless against his guilt. He would never have left Steve if he didn’t have Ross’s life to save. He always put others before himself. And Steve had used that to make Nate go. Suddenly she saw her way forward.
“Steve saved your life,” she said. “Don’t you dare dishonor his sacrifice by wasting it in misplaced guilt.” Claire gathered all the sternness she could muster. “Don’t be selfish.”
Nate winced. “Have I been selfish?” he said, and she had to frown to hold back tears.
“Yes.” Steve had made the wrong decision in going on tour and she and Lewis would forever pay the price of that. But he’d made right choices, too. Unable to save himself, he’d saved Nate, and by saving Nate, he’d saved Ross. For the first time since his death, Claire understood him, and in understanding him she let go of the anger. It had always been a defense mechanism. Her heart overflowed with love—for Steve, for Nate, for herself and Lewis. There was enough to go around again, for everyone.
She cupped Nate’s jaw in her hands, looked deep into his eyes; let him see the truth in hers. “I forgive Steve,” she said. “And I forgive you, Nate. Do you hear me? And if I can forgive you, then it’s only arrogance that stops you forgiving yourself.”
Tears filled his eyes. She couldn’t ever remember him crying, not ever, even when Steve and Lee died. He bent over his legs and wept and she wrapped her arms around his broad back, holding him while he did, her own grief spent.
“It’s going to be okay,” she told him. And believed it.
By the time Ellie dropped Lewis home, it was dark. They arrived with a newspaper parcel of fish and chips, which the four of them ate with squeezes of lemon juice, to cut through the delicious grease of the battered schnapper. Claire licked her fingers when she finished and said it was one of the best meals she’d ever eaten.
She could feel more tears building for another cry later, but she couldn’t regret Nate’s confession.
Showers hadn’t done much to repair the effects of this afternoon’s catharsis; both of them looked like wrecks, pale with red-rimmed eyes.
Claire told Ellie she thought she had a cold coming, which had triggered her headache. Ellie looked at Nate and suggested he might be catching it, too, which enabled him to plead an early night and leave for the boat shed immediately after dinner.
Claire waited until he’d left, then said, “Oh, I forgot to mention something about tomorrow.” Running after him, she hugged him briefly and hard. “Sleep well, Nate.”
He returned the pressure, dropping a light kiss on her hair. “Good night, Claire.”
They both needed to be alone now, but as he walked into the darkness, the flashlight beam dancing ahead, she felt easy about him. He was going to be okay. She was going to be okay. She had to believe that.
On her return a few minutes later, Ellie and Lewis were watching TV. “Stay the night,” she said to Steve’s mother. “Drive home in daylight. You take my bed and I’ll sleep in Lewis’s room. I’ll lend you nightwear.”
“You know I will,” Ellie said. “It’s been a busy day.”
“Let me make you a hot chocolate.”
“Should you be in bed, honey?”
“Soon.”
After she’d delivered the drinks, Claire nudged in between them on the couch, suddenly loving them so much that she could have cried again, simply for the gift of them in her life.
Ellie glimpsed her watery eyes as she passed her the hot chocolate. “Don’t you give me your cold,” she warned. “It’s full on in the shop this week.”
Claire laughed. There went her precious moment. “I’m thinking it’s more a spring hay fever thing. Really, I’m feeling a lot better. What’s on the box?”
“Top Gear,” Lewis said, his gaze glued to the television. His favorite British motoring show. He crossed his feet at the ankle, showing off his new Converse shoes—bright red suede.
“Cool shoes,” said Claire, and he gave her a swift grin.
“I know.”
“Thank you, Nana,” she prompted.
“I already said it.”
She jabbed him in the ribs.
“Thank you, Nana.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie…. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re getting a cold, Claire. This bach needs more insulation.”
“Are you chilly?”
“A little.”
“Here.” She reached for the blanket folded over the back of the couch and covered everyone. Lewis frowned but didn’t protest when Claire snuggled closer. They watched television and sipped their hot chocolate.
Nate had said Steve didn’t suffer. She had to keep reminding herself of that. Tears threatened, and she blinked them away. Shortly after his death she’d worked out what she’d been doing at the time of the ambush. Rushing through the supermarket, hurrying to make sure she was home for Lewis when school finished. And now she knew that across the world her husband had been sending his last goodbyes.
“You know, I will turn in,” she said.
“Want anything, sweetie?”
“No, I’ll leave a nightgown for you on my bed. Good night.” She bent to hug her son, distracting him from the television with her intensity.
“What?” said Lewis.
“I love you.”
Lewis hesitated. “Me, too.” He was already returning his attention to the screen. Claire laughed and embraced Ellie.
“Love you, too,” she told her mother-in-law.
“You’re very affectionate this evening.” But Ellie held on equally tight. “I think your color’s returning,” she added when they separated.
“I think so, too.”
Claire collected nightwear for Ellie, a new toothbrush and clean towel and laid them on her bed. In Lewis’s room, she folded back his covers and laid out his pajamas, feeling Steve’s presence as she went through the domestic rituals. What mattered was that she’d been keeping the home fires burning when he’d said his goodbyes.
Lewis had taken a framed picture of his dad to Dan’s. She noticed he’d finally unpacked and replaced it on the nightstand. Picking it up, Claire looked at the man who’d shaped her adult life, then hugged it to her breast. “Goodbye, my darling,” she whispered. “Rest in peace.”
* * *
The boat shed was cold when Nate unlocked the side door. Pointing the flashlight at the barometer in the wheelhouse, he saw the temperature was actually warmer tonight than it’d been the last couple. Odd. The smell of varnish and new paint mixed with packed dirt permeated the air and the handrail slid smoothly against his palm as he descended the narrow stairs into the cabin and found the switch.
He stood for a moment after turning it on, looking around the cabin’s womblike interior, conscious of the jewel colors of the soft furnishings, the golden glow of the kauri table and galley counter. Kicking off his shoes, he lay on top of the bedcovers and stared at the pearlescent white of the low ceiling overhead, its smoothness a testament to Claire’s careful painting.
His mind was an exhausted blank, but his senses were alive to his surroundings, sensitive in a way they hadn’t been for a long time. To shapes and colors, to temperature, to smells. He fancied he could even distinguish the lingering aroma of coffee left in the plunger on the counter from this morning.
On impulse, he got up and warmed some in the microwave, adding two sugars and milk. He cupped it in his hands, and the warmth permeated to the bone, then lifted the mug to his nose and inhaled deeply. The first taste was sweet. Two and he’d had enough of the richness.
Satisfied, he put it down and returned to bed, stripping to his underwear before sliding between the sheets. The cool linen softness bringing unexpected tears to his eyes. He wiped them away with his forearm, felt the skin prickle as they dried.
He closed his eyes without turning off the light. Only then did Nate register the silence. The boat shed was exposed to the elements and any breeze rattled the loose roofing iron. It was eerie somehow. Even unnerving.
And then faintly, high in the eaves, he caught the faint chirrup of baby birds through the open cabin door. He’d forgotten to shut it and the light was disturbing them. Reluctantly he flicked the switch and prepared for another insomniac’s night.
But tonight the darkness was friendly. Tomorrow, he thought, his body growing heavy as he relaxed into sleep. Tomorrow I’ll tell her the rest.
But it would be okay because there was nothing left to be ashamed of.