The message had been on Natalie's answering machine when she returned from work three nights before. "Natalie. This is Nicholas Knight. I'm in town all week. I'm hoping you'll be able to meet me for coffee or dinner. If you're willing, please leave a message to tell me when and where." He gave a telephone number. A brief silence followed; she could hear faint music in the background. Then "I understand if you don't want to see me. But I hope you'll call."
He hadn't needed to give his name; even five years later his voice was shockingly familiar. She breathed in sharply, washed in a sudden flood of memory and emotion. Then she replayed and saved the message, noting the number on the pad by the phone.
She called him from work the following afternoon. One thing she had decided, years ago, was never again, with anyone, to accept or indulge in the game-playing, the continual concealment of thought and emotion, that had fatally marred her relationship with Nick. She would not hide the fact that she was willing, and curious, to see him. On the other hand, she didn't want to speak to him immediately, so she called during the day. Barring a miracle, he would not answer the phone.
He was staying in a downtown hotel. She left a message on his voicemail. She would be pleased to see him on Thursday at 8:30 p.m. at a cafe she named near the hospital. If this was inconvenient, please leave a message with an alternate suggestion. Otherwise she would be there.
That night Natalie was on call, and three difficult cases arrived one after another. By the time she came home she was too tired to think, and fell into bed for a dreamless sleep. Her after-work yoga class the following evening was less successful in distracting her thoughts, but it relaxed her and drained the tension in her back and neck. The walk home gave her time to decide what to wear the following evening. Pride made her want to appear to advantage; to show that though she was mortal, she hadn't degenerated in five years. On the other hand, she didn't want to seem to have tried too hard. She settled on casual but flattering: a knitted green tweed wool turtleneck she had bought on a trip to Ireland, charcoal grey trousers, and small gold and emerald earrings, a gift from a friend. Her grey trench coat, if it threatened to rain.
She felt foolish in giving her appearance this much thought, but if she was going to meet him at all, she wanted to look her best. It was better to admit it, and think how best to do it, than to try to tell herself that it wasn't important to her.
Natalie left work a little early the next day, and went for a long walk on the seawall to relax. She was nervous and wanted to be calm. After her walk she showered, letting the water massage her shoulders, and dried her hair, now cut to shoulder length, and falling in soft curls. She was not particularly interested in food, but ate a bowl of tomato soup with toast. Since her recovery, she had needed regular small meals to maintain her blood sugar levels, and that had lately become even more necessary. She watered the plants, fed Sinbad, and set out.
She timed herself to be punctual but not early. She brought a book, in case he was late, or didn't come at all. The cafe was three blocks from her home. She ate dinner there at least once a week. She felt secure there; it was public space but still her home territory.
The cafe was busy and Nat stood at the doorway a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the light and the movement inside. She thought she had probably arrived before him. Then a man half-rose from a semi-secluded booth at the back, looking in her direction. She didn't know how she had not immediately recognized his profile, the set of his shoulders, even at this distance. She nodded and raised her hand to him in acknowledgment, and went to the bar to place her usual order recently, steamed milk with almond. Safely out of Nick's line of vision at the bar, she took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders to release the tension there. Showtime. She smiled her thanks to the server for the steamed milk when it came, and made her way to the back of the cafe.
Nick looked weary. He was casually dressed in a soft grey collarless shirt and loose darker jacket. Stylish and appropriate, and designed, apparently, milliseconds ago. She wondered absently where he had come by that eye for up-to-the-minute mortal fashion. LaCroix, by contrast, had always looked slightly, and deliberately, archaic, whatever he wore.
Nick was pale as a ghost, as always. A glass of red wine, untouched by the look of it, sat before him on the table. He looked uneasy and out of place, somehow separate from the churn of lively human activity around him. Natalie suppressed a stab of sympathy. An 805 year old vampire had presumably developed the survival skills to deal with a noisy cafe. She set her hot milk on the table when she reached it, and sat down across from him. The sounds of voices and cutlery became subdued, partially blocked by the walls of the booth.
"Nat. I wasn't sure you'd come." His voice was as she remembered, low, pleasant, faintly disturbing.
"Of course I came." Nat sipped her milk. The almond made it almost palatable.
Nick seemed to relax a bit. He looked at her intently. "You look well," he said, a faint note of surprise in his voice. "In fact you look - excellent." Nat smiled inwardly.
"Thank you. You look well yourself. A bit tired perhaps."
Nick looked a bit embarrassed. "I haven't slept well the last couple of days. I've been nervous about seeing you." This was surprising. Not that he was nervous, but that he would say so. Nick looked down and toyed with his wineglass. She drank a little more of her milk - it was better hot - and waited for him to continue.
Nick took a sip of his wine and grimaced. "You were wise not to order the wine," he said. "Do they make it themselves?"
"In a bathtub in the basement. So I'm told." Nat replied composedly.
Nick smiled. "And you didn't warn me."
"Not my fault you got here early." She smiled a little in return. The temperature warmed fractionally. "To be honest I've never tried it."
Nick sipped again. There was silence. He set the glass down and looked at her. "I mean it. You look great. It's - I'm glad to see you looking so well." He paused. Natalie murmured her thanks into her milk mug. "It seems life here suits you. How have you been?"
"I've been very well," said Nat. "I'm enjoying living here. Vancouver is a wonderful city."
"That's good. You're with the Vancouver PD?"
Natalie shook her head. "Not anymore. I realised while I was recovering how much I needed a change. So I retrained in ob/gyn - obstetrics and gynecology."
He didn't rise to the bait. "Obstetrics? That's a real switch! I thought it took a long time to retrain for another specialty?"
"It can," Nat answered. "But I did most of a surgery residency before I decided to become a coroner, and there's a lot of overlap." She paused, but Nick simply looked inquiring, so she continued. "Ob/gyn specialists have to be surgeons as well. I had to do some refresher work, of course. I did an accelerated ob/gyn residency at the teaching hospital here. I just finished last year."
"And you enjoy the work?" Nick seemed genuinely interested.
"Enormously. It is such a change to have patients I can talk to. And to participate in bringing a life into the world, instead of tracking, again and again, how it ended, and never being able to change anything, or help. "
"It helped to catch bad guys," Nick offered.
"Ultimately that wasn't enough. I became a doctor to help the living, not to do autopsies day after day, however worthy the cause. Somewhere along the line I forgot that. It's good to have another chance."
"It's surprising that you became a coroner at all, if what you say is true," Nick said.
Nat reflected. Why would Nick care how she came to be a coroner? After five years with no contact, surely he hadn't called her only to ask casual questions about her work. But he waited, looking at her, apparently hoping she would explain. Well, she had no objection to small talk. With a mental shrug, she continued.
"I think I may have become a coroner originally because in my twenties, when I was choosing a specialty, I was pretty shy, and uncomfortable around people. The amount of study it took to get into and through med school didn't give you a lot of practice dealing with them. So I picked a field that avoided it. A coroner's patients never talk back."
"But you were always very good at dealing with people," protested Nick. "You were far more comfortable around them than I was."
"That's because I wasn't a natural loner. I was shy, but that wore off as I grew older. As my desire to avoid people faded, so did my reason for being a coroner. It could have taken me a long time to realise I was dissatisfied with the work, though. I'm glad I realised it soon enough that I could still change specialties. This suits me much better. I think it's one of the reasons I've been happy in Vancouver."
Nick still seemed inclined to pursue the question. "But there are many reasons to be coroner besides wanting to avoid live people. Um, discovering crime. Investigating disease. Research."
Nat smiled briefly. "True. But I don't think any of those were major motivators for me. If I had wanted to do real medical research I would have gone on, done graduate work, got a position in a teaching hospital where I could pursue the work properly, with funding and equipment. I had the opportunity for that, and I didn't take it. I just trained as a coroner and got to work. I think, when I did become interested in research - in your case - it was mostly a sign that I was no longer satisfied with being a coroner. I was casting around for a change, but I didn't know that, so I didn't pursue it sensibly, think out what I really wanted to do."
Nick seemed to have run out of questions. Nat waited, but he said nothing, apparently unready to break the silence, or to say why he had come. Perhaps it was her turn to ask polite questions.
"And you? Have you enjoyed life in Paris?" He looked at her in surprise, and she added, "I assumed that was where you went when you left Toronto."
"I did, initially," said Nick. "It's been more or less my home base. But I've been various places since then. I've avoided big cities for the most part. I needed to spend some time alone, to think things through." He fell silent again, grimacing as he took an absent-minded sip from his wineglass.
"Have you continued to look for a cure?" Nat asked. "There are very good medical research facilities in Paris. I thought you might hook up with one."
"No. I took a break from that as well. I was rather discouraged after our failures. For the first time I found myself wondering, what if there was no cure? What would I do then? And I realised that I was no longer sure of my motives in wanting to be mortal. Perhaps I could regain my soul, my humanity, without making it depend on a cure for my physical condition. Perhaps the change had to come from inside."
"I think you're probably at least partly right, Nick," Natalie said. "Whether or not there is a physical cure for your condition, you can't let your happiness, your — spiritual progress, if that's the phrase I mean, depend on finding one. And very likely your frame of mind, in turn, will affect your physical condition."
Nick smiled at her. "What have you done with Natalie? That doesn't sound like the hard scientist I knew!"
Natalie smiled back, then became serious. "I was certain of a lot of things when you knew me, Nick. I was certain that medical conditions had no significant psychological component. I was certain the patient's psychological state had no effect on results. I was certain that cures for all diseases could be found simply through the development of the proper drugs; no other approach was required. Of course when all my patients were corpses I had no reason to think otherwise. Dealing with LIVING patients has taught me a lot fast. Drugs are helpful, but the mental state of the patient makes a huge difference to the results. Happy mothers have easier pregnancies, for example. Frightened mothers have much longer labours than calm ones. Women in labour who have a friend in the room with them give birth in half the time. There are physiological explanations for all this. But physiology isn't the reason; it's the symptom. The reasons are emotional."
She hesitated, and continued. "Something that's been on my mind, about my research on your condition, though, Nick. I was afraid that you might be discouraged by our lack of success, and it sounds as if you were. I think that's my fault. I did you a disservice in taking your case."
He looked at her sharply, a bit startled. "How?"
"I wasn't the person to help you. I think if I'd had the proper equipment, more help, some funding for the work - oh hell, I'm evading the point. Nick, if I had been a better scientist I would have stood a lot better chance of finding a cure. I'm not a scientist; I'm a doctor. I'm not a real researcher, and that's what you needed.
"For me it was a hobby, a way of finding what I wanted to do with my life. At least, that's what it was initially. But for you it was your life. I should have handed you off to someone who really knew what they were doing, right away. A researcher into blood disorders, or digestive anomalies." Nick began to smile, but she resisted smiling back.
"I mean it. I behaved irresponsibly. The cure was an interesting thing to pursue, it gave me something to do with my time besides autopsies and paperwork. And then I wanted to be the one to find it. But for your sake, I should have realised that it was the cure, not my job dissatisfaction or my ego, that mattered. I should have referred you to people who knew what they were doing, instead of pottering around amateurishly myself, and taking reckless risks with your life. I didn't help you, and I'm afraid I damaged your faith that a cure can be found.
"I owe you an apology for that. I'm glad to hear you're pursuing other avenues, and not letting your happiness depend on the hope of a cure. But if you want a cure, I am sure that one can be found, and soon, if you decide to keep looking. It just won't be found by me."
Nick was leaning back in his chair, toying with the stem of his wineglass. He was looking at her with mingled surprise and amusement as she finished. "And you really mean all that." Nat nodded. "You blame yourself for not finding a cure. For a condition I've had for 800 years."
"No." Nat shook her head. "I blame myself for misleading you, and myself, into thinking that I COULD find a cure, when I should have known I wasn't equipped to do so. And that my reasons for trying were personal, not scientific."
Nick kept his eyes on her face. "I think you're selling yourself short, Nat" he said. "You had other motives too."
Nat looked away, colouring slightly. "None that excused me."
"I mean your primary motive. You wanted to help me."
"That was among my motives, yes," Nat said. "But if it had been primary, I would have realised sooner that I was completely out of my depth, and referred you elsewhere."
"Where else would you have referred me?"
Nat considered. "Based on what I now know, I would have advised you to wait. Medical science is experiencing a series of fundamental breakthroughs now; no one can predict where it will be in fifty years. The mapping of the human genome is just the beginning. In fifty years gene therapy will be commonplace. In a century nanotechnology will be curing diseases before they happen." She smiled at him. "By that time we may all be living as long as you do. But you have the money to fund proper research yourself. Wait fifty years, or even twenty-five, and hire a professional with a properly-equipped lab. If you want it, a cure can be found, and I think in the next century." She paused. "I kept my files on your case when I moved. If you'll give me a mail-drop address I'll send them to you, to pass on when the time comes, if you're still interested."
"Thank you," said Nick. He seemed a little taken aback. "It's not urgent. I'm at the Hotel Vancouver if you'd like to do that this week, but it can wait."
"I'll send them over tomorrow," Nat said. A brief silence fell. Nick seemed to have run out of questions for the moment, his thoughts elsewhere. He seemed no closer to disclosing the reason for his sudden reappearance. Nat sipped from her mug. "And you?" she eventually asked politely. "You've been well?"
"Oh. Yes. Fine." Nick's attention returned. "You know it's hard to damage me."
Physically, perhaps, she thought, but said, "You're still with the police?"
"No." Nick's voice was low; she could hardly hear his answer. He looked up at her, apparently awaiting her response.
"Mm?" Nat murmured noncommittally, taking a sip from her mug. Whatever he wanted to tell her, he would, eventually; and perhaps more quickly if she did not try to draw him out.
Nick paused so long she thought he had decided not to speak, then said in a voice so low she at first didn't hear him, "I began to think I was bad luck. Losing two partners in a year seemed more than careless. I felt as if everyone who trusted me died. So I - withdrew, while I thought things over."
There had been a time when Natalie would have been unwilling to let Nick wallow in his guilt; would have argued with him about his misplaced sense of responsibility for his partners' deaths. But it had been pointless then, and would be now. It was Nick's problem to work out. She waited a moment in respectful silence before answering. "I missed Schanke very much," she said. "He was a good man. I still think of him. I didn't know Tracy as well, but I know you were very fond of her. It must have been very hard for you to lose both of them, and so close together."
He looked at her in surprise. She realised, with a touch of sadness, that he must have expected her to argue with him, tell him he should not feel as he felt. How sure she had been in those days how they both should act and feel.
"It was," he said. "Very hard. I -" he took a breath and exhaled. "I keep on outliving people. And I can't seem to prevent it. Even when I don't cause their deaths, they die."
Natalie regarded him with sympathy. "It's what we do, you know," she said gently.
Nick looked discouraged. "It seems to happen more often when I'm around, though."
"It happens more often in police work," said Nat. "It's not a low-risk occupation."
Nick nodded. "I do know that. But still, I seem to bring danger with me. To anyone close to me." He looked at her. Nat waited, but he had finished.
He was still beautiful, she could not help but notice. His blonde hair was luminous even in the dim light of the café. His loose jacket did not conceal his broad shoulders and graceful, firmly-muscled form. He held himself with his old unconscious, catlike confidence, even now, in unfamiliar territory and uncertain of his welcome. His face had the innocent charm she remembered. And he had been a decent person, if a troubled one, and as good a friend to her as he could be under difficult circumstances. She did not blame herself for falling in love with him, all those years ago.
Nick took a deep breath, as if gathering his strength. When had pretending to breathe, mimicking the use of breath to show emotion, become second nature to him? Nat wondered. Or was it just a habit he had never broken? She had never asked. There were so many questions she had never asked; and suddenly there had not been time. She realized he had begun to speak.
"Which brings me to why I'm here," Nick said.
Natalie looked politely inquiring.
"There's a lot I want to say, about - everything. But first of all, most of all, I came to say that I'm very glad I didn't kill you. And I'm very sorry I came so close."
"So am I. Glad, and sorry." Nat's voice was quiet.
Nick looked down at his hands on the table. "You have a right to be angry. I knew the risk, and took it anyway, and you nearly died because of my irresponsibility."
Nat shook her head. "Nick. I mean it. I appreciate your apology, but I am glad." She waited until he seemed ready to listen. "I really am. What happened, turned out very well for me. My life is a gift. I'm only sorry it took a near-death experience to get my attention."
He looked at her closely. "You do mean that." He considered her. "It's still no thanks to me. You risked yourself to save me, and I took advantage of you. I have never forgiven myself."
"I hope you do forgive yourself, Nick" Nat said gently. "Because I don't think that's what happened that night. At all."
Nick looked surprised, as if she had derailed him in mid-speech. He tried again. "How can I forgive myself? You nearly died. It was no thanks to me that you didn't. And I knew better. I ..."
Nat shook her head. "Nick." She waited until she had his attention, and spoke quietly and clearly. "It was by no means all your fault. I accept your apology for your part in the catastrophe, but I was considerably more to blame."
Nick sat up straight and looked at her incredulously. "Nat, that's ridiculous," Nick began. "How can you blame yourself when you were only trying to help me?"
She shook her head again. "Come on, Nick. You know that's not true." She paused, but he said nothing. She continued, "do you remember anything about that night?"
"Everything."
"You told me once that you can see everything a person is when you taste their blood. Do you remember what you saw in mine?"
"Everything," Nick said again. "I saw your compassion, your kindness, your loneliness, your pleasure in small things, your - simple human decency. I saw your love. For me. And I couldn't stop. I knew you wanted to help me, and I still couldn't keep from killing you. "
Natalie sighed. "Nick." She waited, again, until he was silent. "You didn't kill me. I'm right here."
After a moment he acknowledged this with a shrug. "Yes, but -"
"And if you remember everything you saw, you must know that I wasn't 'only' trying to help you." She blushed faintly, but looked at him steadily.
After a moment he nodded again. "Well, but -"
"I was trying to hold onto you, too."
"Yes, but - that was forgivable. You loved me. I knew it more clearly than ever when I tasted you. You were afraid I was going to leave you without a word. You were desperate. And it was all my fault you were in that state."
"No, Nick, it wasn't. It was my fault. That's what I wanted to say to you. That's why I wanted to meet you tonight." She took a breath. "Nick, I have always wanted to apologize to you for what I did that night."
He looked at her blankly. "Apologize to me? What for? You're the one who nearly died!"
"Yes, but I forced you into it. I pressed you past what I knew you could stand. I used every manipulative trick in the book. For God's sake, Nick, I all but said that I'd kill myself if you left me! That's the lowest kind of emotional blackmail. It was contemptible." She took a breath to calm herself.
"It was no way to treat someone I loved. It was no way to treat anyone. I have been so ashamed, all these years, for how I acted that night. I've waited five years to say this to you. I'm glad to finally have the chance. Nick, I am so sorry."
Nick looked at her in astonishment. Nat faced him for another moment, then looked away, taking another sip of her milk. He watched her and after a moment reached across and touched her arm. Even through her sweater his fingers were cold, she noted sadly. No miracles there. "Nat. I don't see how you can say that. You were more courageous than anyone I know. You risked your life for me. For us."
She shook her head, not looking at him. 'No. What I did was the act of a coward. I knew I was about to lose you, and I tried to manipulate you into staying. I offered you the only thing I could think of that might make you stay with me. I loved you - whatever I thought that meant - and I had allowed my life to narrow down to nothing but you. That was not your fault; it was mine. I was terrified of losing you. I knew how vulnerable you were that night. I knew you wouldn't turn me down. I hoped to bind you to me. I acted like a coed doing her best to get pregnant so her boyfriend won't leave her. It was - despicable." She set down her mug and looked at him fully.
"I was desperate, and I let desperation make my choices for me. That's not an excuse. I spent a long time in hospital, and later, thinking about it. Eventually I accepted that I had done a bad thing. I'd always thought I was a strong person. I'm not as strong as I thought I was. I forgave myself in the end, and moved on. But I've always wanted to apologize to you. I never thought, that night, of the damage it would do you, if you did anything that hurt me."
She looked away, toying with the handle of her mug. "I was never sure you felt about me the way I wanted you to, but I knew you were very fond of me, and that I meant something special to you. Hurting me would do you enormous damage. But I didn't think of that. I just did my best to hang on to you by whatever means, without caring what it might do to either one of us. I should have had the courage to accept the inevitable and let you go. I should have had the love to do that." She looked at him again. Her eyes were bright with tears. "Nick, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I hope you're okay."
Nick looked at her soberly for a long moment. "This isn't the conversation I thought we were going to have." He paused, setting down his wine glass, and leaned towards her, speaking earnestly. "I accept your apology. But Nat, I never thought you were perfect. I knew you had - mortal - weaknesses. I knew I was a temptation to you. My main thought that night, and later, was that I should have left before my uncertainty, my mixed signals, drove you so far that you forgot your principles. I am sorry I couldn't resist you. You were offering me what I had wanted and an excuse to take it, too. I just didn't have the strength to say no.
He paused, feeling out his next words. "Neither of us were at our best that night. We both have regrets. Can we simply accept that, and move on? We both learned a great deal. For that alone, I must thank you. I hope you can forgive yourself, and me, as easily as I forgive you."
Natalie looked at him and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Nick waited to see if she was going to answer. When she did not, he spoke again, his voice quiet. "I have another thing to apologise for, Natalie." He waited until she looked up. "I said we would be together. And then I left you there, alone. I am sorry for that. It seemed best at the time, but I am afraid it caused you pain."
She was looking down at her folded hands when he finished. After a moment she looked up. "It did."
He waited; she took a breath, but said nothing more. "Tell me, Nat," he said. Natalie turned her head away, uncertain how much more she wanted to say. She had already accomplished what she wanted to do with their meeting; she had apologized for what she had done. It seemed pointless revisit the pain she had felt at his disappearance. And she was not sure she wanted to reveal how vulnerable she had been to him, though he probably knew already.
Nick said again, "tell me, unless you'd really rather not talk about it. I'd like to leave nothing unsaid. I never wanted to hurt you. After all this time, I at least owe it to you to listen." He looked at her steadily.
Nat considered. Perhaps it was better for him to hear how his disappearance had hurt her. He might think twice about doing the same to someone else, in future. And though she had recovered, perhaps she might still feel better for telling him. Finally she nodded. "If you wish."
She took a breath, and thought back. "I want to tell you it's all right, Nick, that I understand. But it isn't, and I don't. It's much easier to forgive the fact that I nearly died. I gave you license to kill me, after all, though to be honest I didn't think you would. But your disappearance felt like a betrayal. It affected everything I thought of you.
"You said we'd be together, whatever happened. And I never heard from you again. I called you from the hospital when I was well enough to pick up a phone, and your number was disconnected. All they knew at the precinct was that you'd resigned that day. The captain had heard you'd left town. No one knew where you were.
"It was a month before I got out of the hospital. I hoped so much to find a note, anything, from you at the apartment, but there was nothing. I was still too weak to do much but lie in bed, and try to sleep, and wonder where you were. A nurse came in once a day to make me eat; I just didn't see the point. I spent a long time recuperating. Most of it I spent crying. I felt so stupid. I watched the phone to make it ring. Hated anyone who called that wasn't you. I checked the mail twice a day. All those adolescent things you've probably forgotten, if you ever did them.
"When I started to get my strength back I got angry. I felt like everything I'd believed about you, everything I thought was true about how you felt about me, was a lie. I thought about all the other women who had trusted you, whom you'd loved, and raped, and murdered." Nick inhaled sharply and she looked at him briefly. "You'd told me enough, in bits and pieces, over the years, but I'd discounted it all. Now I didn't. But the worst part was, I didn't care about them. I didn't even care what it made you.
"All I cared about was, I'd thought I was different. But was I? Or had you reverted to type? It seemed I been seduced and abandoned like all the rest. At least I hadn't been abandoned in death; but even that was a close call. I knew that you cared for me, but I certainly wasn't the first thing on your mind. And for so long, you'd been the first thing on mine.
"I felt like a fool. I had duped myself. I had nearly lost my life. And I had spent six years never pressing you, never confronting you - until that awful night. I hoped so hard for so long that somehow it would work out and we would be together if only I didn't push you too hard. And in the end it seemed that you'd showed me what you really felt by walking away without a word.
"It was my fault I hung on so hard, let it go on so long. But when I finally accepted that you were really gone it hurt so badly. I took a long time to get over it. Eventually I was talked into seeing a counsellor. I told her everything I could tell her, and that helped a lot. She helped me see how my own choices had brought me to where I was, and how I could learn to make better choices in future. She gave me hope. Eventually I recovered. I moved to Vancouver, and I put my life back together.
"I forgave you, eventually. I'd always known that you were fighting demons. I'd hoped I could help you do that, but I always knew, though I tried not to think about it, that I might be a casualty of that battle instead. My pain, even my near-death, were predictable. The way I came to feel about how I'd acted that last night, I couldn't help but think that I deserved it. But it wouldn't have hurt so much if you'd said goodbye."
There was a long silence when she finished. She looked up. Nick's eyes were haunted. He appeared to be in almost physical pain. "Nick, I'm sorry," she said at once. "I didn't mean to-"
He waved her apology away and shook his head. "No. You were right to tell me. I did need to hear it. It took me a long time to recover as well, but at least I knew where you were. There's one thing you must know, Natalie. You were unique in my experience. If that weren't true, I wouldn't be here now. And for what little it's worth, I didn't get in touch because I promised not to."
"LaCroix?" Natalie guessed.
"LaCroix," Nick agreed. "He persuaded me that it was best for both of us. I was not strong enough to resist him. He promised, in turn, that if I wished, in five years, to contact you again, he would not put any obstacles in my way. Of course he hoped I would forget. I am, truly, sorry for the pain I caused you, Natalie. If I'd known, I would, I hope, have acted differently."
"Well, it was horrible, but it's over," said Natalie. "I wouldn't have spoken of it if you hadn't asked. I did eventually see how much of it I had brought on myself. I was too stubborn for my own good. I could have let go sooner, and recovered much faster. So even that wasn't entirely your fault." She felt, surprisingly, much better than she had. A knot of unresolved pain seemed to have dissolved inside her in the telling, leaving her feeling almost light-hearted. Nick had been right to press her to talk about that terrible time.
"It's generous of you to say so, Nat. But I behaved like an utter jerk, and I'm sorry."
Nat nodded. "I won't argue with you there. You could at least have sent chocolates. Honestly!"
Nick laughed, and sobered, looking at her. He pushed his wineglass to one side, and looked at her mug. "Are you actually going to finish that?"
Nat glanced with distaste at the cooled, skinned milk remaining. "I think I'm done."
He stood up and held out his hand. "Then come. If it's warm enough for you, let's go for a walk. It's too pleasant an evening to spend it all inside." She nodded and stood, pulling on her coat as she rose.
He turned to her once they were outside, saying, "I thought we might walk along -" he stopped, inhaled sharply and stared at her. "You're pregnant!"
Natalie felt herself blush. "Yes," she said baldly. "Three months." Nick continued to stare at her, speechless. Finally, she turned away and began walking towards the park. Nick caught up to her side. "How did you know?" she asked curiously. "I'm barely showing yet. Not at all in this coat."
"Your scent," Nick answered briefly. "It's quite distinctive. It was muffled by the other odors in the cafe, but it's unmistakable now. Though I should have guessed before; I've never seen you drink milk willingly."
"I still don't drink it ‘willingly'," said Nat. "Can all—"
"Of course. No vampire will feed from a pregnant woman. For the same reason hunters won't kill does in season - it cuts down the size of the herd. It's a very old rule."
Natalie digested this. They walked a block in uncomfortable silence. Nick broke it as they waited for the light. "Artificial insemination?" Natalie looked at him in blank surprise and he looked embarrassed. "I'm grasping at straws, aren't I."
"Well, it wouldn't be most people's first guess."
Nick's gaze fastened on the trees across the street. "I suppose - I didn't realize how much I'd hoped you would wait for me."
Natalie bit her lip to control herself. It was no use. "Wait for you?" she said incredulously. "Is that what you expected? I had no reason to think I would ever see you again. I haven't heard a word from you in five years. You didn't even send me a card in the hospital..."
Nick broke in. "I told you I wanted to, but - "
'Oh sure." Nat was furious now. "There were all sorts of things you WANTED to do. There were a thousand things I'm sure you MEANT to say. But you never did any of them, did you? You never said any of them. I was supposed to read your mind? Wait for you? What the hell for?"
There was a pause. Nat struggled to calm down. Eventually Nick spoke. "So you're saying it wasn't artificial insemination?"
Nat stared at him, incredulous. Nick was smiling at her. Helplessly, she began to laugh. Finally she hiccuped to a stop and dried her eyes, leaning weakly against a lamppost. Nick watched her, amused. "No, Nick," she said when she could. "It wasn't." She stood up and straightened her coat. "Shall we keep walking?"
Nick gestured ahead on the sidewalk. "After you. You're sure you're not going to strain yourself?"
"No, walking is good for pregnant ladies, even of my advanced age." They strolled through the pools of yellow streetlight. Their silence felt much more companionable now. Nick watched the play of light and shadow on her face.
"Tell me more?" he suggested.
Nat sighed. "Okay. I don't know where to start."
"How about, who is the father, and why isn't he here watching over you every minute like an anxious hen with one chick, the way I would be if it were my child you were carrying?" Nick suggested. "Sorry," he added at her look. "But who is he?" He looked at her sharply. "Are you married?"
"No." Nat tried to order her thoughts.
"Is he married?" Nick asked patiently.
"What? No, of course not!"
"Sorry," Nick said again.
"If you'll stop interrogating me, I'll tell you about it," Nat said.
Nick nodded. "Go ahead."
Nat sighed. How much should she tell him? "He's a doctor. I met him through work. He's left the country. He didn't know I was pregnant." Perhaps the bald details would be enough to hold him. It wasn't as if it was any of Nick's business.
"You didn't tell him you were pregnant?"
"When he left, I didn't know either."
Nick was silent for a moment. "And you can't send him a singing telegram now?"
Nat smiled against her will. "Do you want the whole story?" Nick nodded.
She considered. It would be a relief to talk to someone. Well, she corrected herself, it would be nice to talk to Nick in particular. Partly, if she were honest with herself, for reasons of pride. Let him know she HAD moved on with her life; he hadn't crippled her after all. She had a base but entirely human desire not only to prove that she was okay, thanks, but also, if he felt any jealousy at all, to repay him some of the pain she had felt over him. But even more, it would just be good to talk to him. To let her guard down around him, talk about what really mattered to her, as she'd never really done when they were in Toronto.
They had paused under a tree. Nick looked at her, waiting. Nat nodded in assent. "Okay. Shall we walk through the park?" They turned onto one of the paved paths under the trees.
Nat began. "Marcus is a doctor. He's spent most of his career with Médécins San Frontieres in trouble spots all over the world."
"That sounds admirable."
"Yes. That kind of dedication is rare. It takes very special people to do that kind of work." She paused, ordering her thoughts. "Anyway. He came back to Canada a year ago because he had come down with a particularly nasty case of malaria. He had a drug-resistant strain, and it took a long time to cure it. He was in Sudan at the time, and medical supplies were hard to get, and - well, he nearly died. Even after the disease was cured, he was too weak to stay in Sudan while he recovered; there weren't the facilities to nurse him back to health.
"So he came home to recuperate, and stayed with his sister, who's an ob/gyn specialist like me; we'd met through work. She introduced us at a small party she had, when he was well enough to socialize a bit, and we hit it off." Nat smiled. "I think she was hoping to set us up, and it worked."
"We became friends, went to movies and so on for a while, and gradually we became close. It was - so reassuring for me. I'd thought I was never going to meet anyone. I was afraid I was too old, and too scared after - after everything that happened before." She glanced up at Nick. "I'm not saying that to make you feel bad. What happened between us was as much, more, my fault as yours. But that made it even harder for me to get over. If I could make such major mistakes once, how could I trust myself, trust my judgment, again?"
Nick took a breath, but Natalie went on. "And I'm shy around men as a rule anyway. I don't meet many to begin with. Coroners only meet corpses; ob/gyn specialists only meet women, and VERY married men. But Marcus seemed to like me just fine. We made each other laugh a lot. He respected my commitment to my work, and he never treated me as if I was worth less than he was." Nat paused, remembering. "It felt like a drink of cold water in the desert, to be around him. I felt refreshed in every cell. I'd recovered physically, and I'd made a lot of changes in my attitudes, in the few years before I met him, but when I started spending time with Marcus it felt like - really coming back to life. Joining the world of the living again."
She paused. "So where is this paragon of virtue now?" asked Nick coldly. She stopped walking and turned to look at him. "Nick. You wanted to know about him. I didn't want to tell you much. But if I'm going to say anything at all, I want you to understand the whole relationship."
She waited for him to respond. Nick hesitated, and nodded. "I'm sorry. It's a lot to digest all at once."
Nat waited a moment. When Nick said nothing further, she continued. "When we started seeing each other seriously -"
"You mean sleeping together," Nick said. He still sounded strained.
"Yes," Nat answered, ignoring his tone. "Well, before that. When it was pretty clear we were going to start soon. Marcus wanted to be sure that I understood, before we got in too deep, that he might not be staying in Canada. He wanted to be with me, but he still felt that his work was with MSF, and that he would probably return there. So we decided to give it a trial. He took a job as an emergency room doctor, for which he's very well qualified after ten years in the field. He would see if he liked that, and I would think about going with him if he decided to return to Africa, or Kosovo, or wherever he felt called to go this time.
"We spent several months together. And it was - great, in a lot of ways. I felt as if I had a best friend. He was unfailingly kind, and respectful, and decent to me. He never lied to me or shut me out. We had great conversations. We had fun together.
"But after a couple of months it began to be clear that he didn't enjoy working ER here. It really bothered him to have access to the resources we had here, compared to what little is available to the people in most of the world. And so many of the people he treated were prosperous, and older, and had brought their own problems on themselves, he felt, by overindulgence. He told me once that it really felt wrong, to him, to be treating self-indulgent rich men instead of saving the lives of malnourished children with easily treatable diseases that would kill them, if he weren't there. Or that's how he felt, at least.
"He's a bit of a Puritan, really." Nat smiled reminiscently. "He wants to save people who haven't got a chance otherwise. But he rather disapproves of people who HAVE had chances, and haven't used them. He wants to bring medicine to the millions who have no access to it, or as many as he can reach in a lifetime. He wants to reform the health care system of the whole world, I think; but in the meantime, do as much good as he can for the desperate."
"A Puritan, or a Crusader," Nick suggested.
Nat paused, and glanced at him. "Perhaps. I hadn't thought about it."
"So then?" Nick prompted.
"Then." Nat thought. "Well. It became clear that he really wanted to return to the field. And I hadn't been thinking, that hard, about going with him; I was hoping he would stay in Vancouver. But I thought about it, very hard, for the next couple of months. And it became clear to me that I really didn't want to go.
"I was ashamed. I have so much respect for his dedication, and it turns out I just don't have it myself. I thought I should want to go. But - I've just seen too much death already.
"It takes all kinds," Nick said gently.
"I suppose. Still, I felt that I should have wanted to go. But I'm happy here. I like my work. I have friends. I get to see happy women and babies every day. The city is beautiful. I've set down roots; I don't think I ever did, in Toronto. I want to stay here.
"And - and this is something else I'm ashamed of - he'd told me about the living and working conditions in most of the places he's been. I didn't - I don't - want to live like that. I like having running water, and a shower, and being able to go for walks at night, and rent videos sometimes. I know this is all trivial, and shouldn't matter to me. But it does. I don't live a luxurious life but I don't want to give up all comfort if I don't have to. I don't have the dedication to think that any sacrifice is worth it, as he does. Also, I was - afraid. I don't want to work with bombs and gunfire going off around me. I don't want to be taken hostage by paramilitaries. I don't want to show up on the front page of the newspapers. I know I'm going to die someday, but I don't want it to be tomorrow.
"Marcus just doesn't think that way. He thinks he can do more good out in the field. He's probably right. And he thinks he'll die when his number is up, wherever he is. He's probably right about that too.
"But I just didn't want to go."
"Perhaps you're not called," Nick suggested. "Perhaps your calling is here, assisting women in childbirth. There's nothing wrong with that. There's a lot right with it. You help people every day. You save lives. Who is to say you're supposed to be doing something other than what you're doing?"
Nat nodded. "That's exactly what Marcus said. He didn't seem to lose any respect for me when it became clear that I didn't want to go. He said that we all have different tasks, and I should honour mine. It made me feel a little better about myself, though I still wonder, if I just had a little more courage ... anyway. I'll never forget that he said that." She blinked rapidly.
"You have a lot of courage, Nat. You wouldn't be here otherwise," said Nick. "Your courage gave you the will to live."
Nat smiled up at him briefly. "Thanks. Maybe. Anyway. He left for Sierra Leone, two months ago. I had a postcard from him in Amsterdam, where he spent a week gathering supplies before he set out for Africa. Nothing since. I know he's in-country, and it's difficult to maintain contact. I worry about him, some. But he's always come through okay before, or so I tell myself."
Nick waited, but she seemed to have finished. "Are you - do you think of yourselves as a couple?" he asked.
"No," Nat said. She paused. "Or I would have said not. We agreed, when he left, that we were both free to find other partners if we wished. Though of course we will stay in touch, when we can. I can't imagine not wanting to be his friend. But - I can't help but feel that if he really loved me, he would have been happy to stay; it would have been unthinkable to do anything else. Or, if I'd really loved him, I would have been happy to go with him, even to Sierra Leone to get my head shot off. But that's not what either of us chose."
"That's a hard test to put love to," said Nick. "You had conflicting responsibilities and desires. Most people don't feel any sense of mission in their lives, so they never have to ask these questions. It doesn't mean you didn't love each other."
Nat was silent as they walked on. She nodded slowly. "I guess. Perhaps it just means there was something he loved more. It's hard to say. Love isn't as easy to label as I used to think."
They drew near a park bench. Nat hesitated when she saw it, and asked, "Would you like to sit down for a bit?"
"Yes, if you wouldn't mind. I'm tiring more easily lately. I'm sorry."
""You needn't apologize. You have to take care of yourself." Nick sat at one end of the bench; Nat settled towards the middle, with her coat wrapped closely around her. Nick looked at her.
"But you still think you may be a couple?"
" I don't know. We agreed we weren't, but now it turns out that I'm pregnant. I don't know if that changes things."
"I can see that it might."
"Yes." Nat sighed. "I don't know. I thought over what I ought to do when I first discovered I was pregnant. Once I decided to keep the child - which took about one second," she added to Nick's startled expression - "I knew my first priority was the child's welfare. And obviously it would be best for him or her to have two parents."
She fell silent. Nick prodded gently. "And? What did you do?"
"I wasn't sure what to do. I thought of taking Marcus up on his offer to go to Sierra Leone. But if I don't want to go there myself, I certainly don't want to go there pregnant, or raise a child there. The best thing for the child, I think, is to be raised in Vancouver. It's got to be better than being raised in a succession of war zones.
"I wondered if I should simply not tell Marcus, but that was the coward's way out. He has a right to know he will have a child, so he can make his own decisions on what to do next.
"So I have tried to get in touch with him in Sierra Leone. But the phone number I had isn't working. I've emailed him, and written to him care of MSF headquarters, and also care of the base of operations in Sierra Leone. I've done what I can."
"And what did you say?" Nick asked.
"I told him everything that was on my mind. One mistake I made with you, Nick," she said, turning to look at him, "was that I never really told you everything I thought, or felt, until the last minute when it seemed like my last chance to hang onto you somehow. I was afraid to, for fear you would reject me. But my fear kept me in a constant state of rejection, I see now - I was living with the very thing I feared, because I refused to talk to you. In fact, if you had rejected me, I would have survived it and gone on, but I didn't see that." She looked away from him and focussed on her hands, clasped together in her lap.
"I decided, while I was recovering, never to make that mistake again. I would always tell anyone who was important to me how I felt, and what I was thinking. If this meant they - distanced themselves, well, it was better I should know how they felt, than live in a fantasy, or in fear. And the sooner I know the truth, the sooner I can deal with it and go on."
Nick smiled. "And you say you have no courage," he said.
Nat smiled slightly. "I may have acquired some. In any case. My letter told Marcus that I was pregnant. I said I still didn't want to go to Sierra Leone, particularly given my medical condition - "
Nick looked at her and opened his mouth to speak, but she continued - "I'll tell you in a minute; it's not serious, as long as I stay in reach of Western medicine. I said that I understood and accepted that even under the circumstances, Marcus might well not want to come back to Vancouver. But if he was willing to come back, I would be happy to marry him." Nick inhaled sharply, and Nat looked up. "Well, Nick, what else would I do? The best thing I can do for my child is provide her, or him, with a good father and a stable home. If I can't do it, I can't; but it's my first responsibility." Nick hesitated, and nodded. "I also said that if he didn't want to live in Vancouver full time, but was willing to spend part of each year here and part working overseas, I was willing to accept that, though it wouldn't be my first choice."
"It doesn't sound ideal," said Nick.
"No. I always thought that, if I married, it would be to someone who was going to be around all the time. But I think even a part-time father would be better than one who's never there at all, so I'm willing to go that far."
"You don't speak as if you really want him here," Nick commented. "You speak only of what would be best for the child."
Nat paused, and considered. "I'm not sure. It was wonderful to be with him, and I'm very glad of the time I spent with him. But if what he really needs is a woman who wants to work by his side in the war zones of the world, I'm not her. Perhaps when I was younger, but not now. And if what I really need is a man who's content to stay in Vancouver and make a stable home, well, for all his many virtues, it isn't Marcus. And once we agreed to part, I pretty much closed the door on the relationship, at least, on thinking of him as more than a dear friend.
"If he were to come back I would be able to open up to him again, I think; over time. But I haven't heard from him yet. I won't know how to feel until I do."
"When did you try to get in touch?" Nick asked.
"Five weeks ago, once I was sure I was pregnant. At that, I may have been premature. " To Nick's questioning look, she added, "Even now, I'm not quite out of the 'miscarriage window' yet; the time when I'm most likely to miscarry, if I'm going to. And older women are more likely to miscarry. I wondered about waiting until I was pretty sure I wasn't going to lose the baby, before I got in touch. But I decided he had a right to know as soon as I did."
"You're not an 'older woman', Nat; don't be silly" said Nick. "And you're healthy and take care of yourself. Surely you don't need to worry."
"That helps, but I am elderly for a first-time mother. And then there's the, um. The medical condition. I have a blood disorder which can affect pregnancy. It's not serious otherwise. But it makes miscarriage more likely."
Nick frowned. "You never told me this!"
"I didn't know, when I knew you. I'm grateful for it, though, because it saved my life. My blood clots very easily. That's why I didn't hemorrhage and die after that night five years ago. The full transfusion at the hospital saved me, but if the blood hadn't clotted quite quickly at the wound it would still have been too late. The doctors told me later."
Nick looked at her, appalled. "I had no idea it was so close."
Nat raised an eyebrow. "No? You believed I was dead. I heard you say so while I lay on the floor. Just before it all went black."
"At first, I did think so. I knew I'd taken too much." Nick stopped. "I was devastated," he added in a low voice. " I asked LaCroix to stake me. I didn't want to live."
"LaCroix was there?"
"He came in. After."
"But he didn't stake you," Natalie said.
"No. He hit me with the stake. Knocked me halfway across the room. And he asked if you were really worth dying for."
Nick paused. His mind returned to the loft that night.
****
LaCroix standing over him, lying crumpled against the wall, too weak to stand. Natalie draped lifelessly in LaCroix' arms. LaCroix looking at him in disgust, saying "Nicholas, don't be a fool. Does this mortal really matter so much to you that you will die for her?" Nick nodding, too overcome to speak, tears trickling down his face. LaCroix shaking his head in weary contempt, saying "your despair is premature. Her life can still be saved. Once again, Nicholas, you leave your messes for me to clean up."
****
Nick returned to the present with a start. Nat was looking at him inquiringly. "He picked you up and flew off. I called after him to promise that he would not bring you across, but he didn't answer.
"By the time he returned, it was nearly dawn. I had opened the shutters. I was ready to face the sun.
"He swore to me that you were alive, and receiving good medical care. He promised that he had not brought you across. I thanked him for caring for you.
"'Don't be a fool', he said. 'I don't care for her. I saved her life because otherwise, it's clear you would find a way to kill yourself.' He was right, of course."
Nat watched him, speechless, as he told the story. "I always thought it was you who took me to the hospital," she said finally. "I assumed."
Nick shook his head. "I was in no condition. LaCroix saved your life. He closed the shutters and stayed with me for the next five days, talking, keeping me fed. He even supplied me with steer's blood. I suppose he saved my life as well.
"He convinced me, in the end, that I was not a good influence on you. Well, you were nearly dead; no thanks to me you weren't completely dead; I wasn't hard to persuade.
"And he convinced me that if I were to stay in your company, I would continue to endanger you."
Nat shook her head. "I don't think so. I think I would have been okay. I'd learned - "
Nick looked at her and she slowly stopped speaking. "Really, Nat? You've changed a lot in the last five years. But if I had been there, would you have changed and learned as much as you have?"
Nat breathed out slowly, and considered. Eventually she said sadly, "perhaps not. But it would have meant a lot to me."
Nick nodded. "I know. It would have meant a lot to me too. But I'm not sure he was wrong."
Nat stared out at the trees, swathed now in evening mist. "You could at least have sent me a get-well card," she said eventually. "A teddy bear. Even just a note saying "sayonara, it's been swell." "
"I could have," Nick agreed. "In retrospect, I believe I should have. But I let LaCroix talk me into believing that a clean break was best. I was still very weak, and I allowed him to lead me. If I was wrong, I'm sorry."
"I don't understand why YOU were weak," said Natalie. "Nobody had nearly killed you."
"Emotionally I was devastated," Nick said. "You meant a lot to me, and I was overcome with guilt. Thanks to me, you were at death's door. I couldn't get past that. I was suicidal. LaCroix talked me through it. I believe I may have allowed him his former dominance over me then because I knew that otherwise, I would not survive. And - I really didn't want to die."
There was a long silence. Nat broke it. "Neither did I. We were both under a lot of stress at that time, Nick. I'm glad we both survived it."
"I know, "said Nick. "That wasn't what either of us intended. We should have spoken more, a lot more, in the years before. I've regretted that more than almost anything. All the chances we had just to talk, and we never took them." Nat nodded, looking abstractedly before her, remembering.
"I do have one question, Nick," she said finally, without looking at him. "One thing I never understood. Why were you so unwilling to bring me across? You had done it for many others. Did I mean so much less to you?"
She looked at him as she finished speaking. His head was turned towards her, face hidden in shadow; she could not read his expression. His voice, when he spoke, was gentle. "Not at all, Nat. You meant so much more. You were everything I wanted to be. You were my hope of humanity, of life. Everything you were, everything that mattered about you, would be lost if you joined me in this darkness. You don't know what it's like; I do. I couldn't do that to you. I don't regret that decision."
Nat said nothing for some time. Nick watched her quietly, allowing her time to respond. Finally she said in a low voice, "you want me to believe that if I'd mattered less to you, you would have done it."
"Perhaps," Nick said. "But if you'd mattered less to me, I wouldn't have been close enough for you to ask."
"What about Tracy? You were about to bring her across when I found you," Nat said. She added immediately, "I'm sorry. That's petty of me. But it has bothered me."
"I felt responsible for Tracy's death," said Nick. "It was an impulse borne of guilt. But I'm not sure I would have gone through with it even if you hadn't interrupted. But if I had — it would have been easier with her because it would have meant nothing to me. If that makes sense."
"Sure it does," Nat said. "Like, it's easier to have sex with someone you don't care about than with someone with whom it would mean a commitment. Fewer consequences; far less frightening."
"More or less," Nick said. He looked at her oddly. "How would you know?"
Natalie smiled mischievously at him. "I read a lot." She added seriously, "if it's any help, Nick, you were right not to try to bring me across. I never wanted to be a vampire. I wanted to be with you, and I thought, then, that it wasn't too high a price to pay. Now I shudder to think how close I came. My life is a gift. I would have lost it by becoming a vampire, just as utterly as I would have by dying that night."
"That's exactly what I meant", Nick said. "What you would have become, if I had brought you across, would not have been what you are, or what you wanted to be. You would have regretted it bitterly. I could not do that to you."
Nat looked at him. "If that was your actual motive, then I appreciate it. I was never sure."
"Be sure," said Nick.
She nodded. They sat together for a moment longer, without speaking. Finally Nat shivered and put her hands in her pockets. "Could we start walking again? It's gotten a bit chilly.""
"Of course." Nick rose to his feet. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."
They continued along the path towards the lights marking the far boundary of the park. "So why does a blood clotting disorder endanger your pregnancy?" Nick asked.
"There's a long technical answer, but basically it makes me more likely to miscarry. It also makes me more likely to have a stroke, or develop a blood clot at some inconvenient moment. I started taking blood thinners as soon as I knew I was pregnant, so I'm not liable to develop those complications. But the blood thinners themselves carry other risks. Hemorrhage in childbirth is the main one," Nat answered calmly.
Nick stared at her. "But - that sounds very dangerous, Nat! Are you sure you - "
"What, Nick?" Nat asked when he stopped suddenly. "Want to go through with this? Of course I'm sure. We lose very few mothers these days. I'm more worried about losing the baby, and I'm doing everything I can to avoid that. To be honest, what bothers me most is that the blood thinning drugs aren't compatible with the use of an epidural during labour, and from what I've seen in my practice, I'm going to want one."
Nick looked puzzled. "An epidural?"
"The greatest invention of the twentieth century. A gift straight from God to women. It's an anaesthetic used in childbirth that actually works. And I'll have to do without it! It seems so unfair. But I suppose your mother did, and she survived." Nat grinned at him. "So did you. Don't worry. It will all be fine."
Nick still appeared uneasy. "I suppose. It's your choice, after all. It just never occurred to me that there were still dangers to childbirth in this day and age. When I was born women died in childbirth all the time. But I never thought they still did."
"Well, they don't often. You needn't concern yourself, Nick. Honestly." They had reached the street and Nat turned to him. "I live just down that way a block or two, so why don't we say goodnight - "
Nick interrupted her. "Don't be silly, I'll walk you home. That is, if you don't mind."
Nat nodded. "I'm sorry to be such an early bird, Nick; I tire easily these days, and I need to be sure I'm getting enough rest."
"Of course. Don't think about it." They turned left and walked along the avenue. "You haven't heard from Marcus at all since you wrote?" Nick asked.
"No. I'm trying not to worry. Mail is unreliable, especially since he's somewhere out in the bush. The phones and email frequently don't work either. And even after he gets my message, it may take him awhile to respond. Still, in another week or so I will begin to wonder if the message made it there. Or if he's delaying his answer while he decides what to do."
Nick hesitated. "Do you want to marry him, Nat?" he finally asked.
Nat looked at him. "I think I already told you that, Nick."
"I'm not sure I understood."
"I wouldn't be thinking about marrying him if I weren't pregnant. But if he wants to marry me, I think we would be able to get along very well, and that he would be a good father," Natalie answered.
"But you won't be devastated if he doesn't want to."
"No. I won't even think ill of him. I'll be disappointed, but - life is good. It will be good if he comes back to Vancouver. But it will be good if he doesn't, too."
Nick nodded, looking at her face. They had reached her building, and she reached into her pocket for her keys. He stood over her, ready to open the door once she had unlocked it. "Nat?" he said uncertainly. "It's been so good to talk to you. To see you so well. Can I see you again before I leave? There's so much more to say." He paused and looked at her, a trace of anxiety in his face.
Nat thought about it. "When?"
"Tomorrow evening?"
Nat shook her head. "I can't tomorrow, I'm having some people over to dinner for my birthday. The day after would be fine."
Nick closed his eyes in exasperation. "Your birthday! I forgot!"
"It's been five years, Nick, I would hardly expect you to remember. It's not like you remembered so regularly in Toronto, you know," she said in amusement.
"Um. I could come too?"
"Why this eagerness?" Nat asked. "Will another day matter?"
"No. I just - it's been so good to see you."
"Well, I'd be happy to ask you to join us, Nick, but all of these people knew Marcus, and you might be hard to explain."
"I'm an old friend from Toronto," Nick said instantly. "I came into town unexpectedly. You took pity on me and asked me along."
Natalie thought it over. It would be fun to have Nick there. To be honest, it would be good for her ego, too, since Marcus had gone back to Sierra Leone, and all her friends knew it. It would show that she did know other attractive men. An ignoble motive, but undeniable.
She looked up at Nick and detected a gleam of amusement in his expression. "What's so funny?" she demanded.
"I can be the blonde toyboy you ditched in Toronto when you came out here," Nick offered. "I can look pathetically devoted, and you can brush me off. Your friends will be green with envy, I promise."
Had he read her mind? Nat said, "actually, I wouldn't mind having a -" she paused, uncertain how to phrase it.
"Designated date? Male arm-ornament? Dependent cutie? Adoring puppy?" Nick suggested helpfully, grinning.
"No!" Nat said, exasperated. "At least - no. But -" she thought, and changed tack. "Nick, why are you so eager to come?"
Nick hesitated. Finally he seemed to come to a decision. "Because we've got so much left to talk about, Nat. We've just scratched the surface so far. There's a lot I haven't told you, about the last five years. I'd like - I don't know if it's possible, but I'd like to become friends. If we can. As much as we can. I know you may not feel the same way, and that you have other commitments. But I've really missed being able to talk to you."
Nat considered this. "I missed you too. But it isn't that simple. I don't think we can just pick up where we left off. In fact the idea makes me shudder."
"I wouldn't want to either. I'd like to start fresh, and do it right this time. If you're willing," Nick added.
Nat thought it over, and answered honestly. "The whole idea frightens me right now, Nick. You're moving very fast. Meeting for coffee once I can handle. There were things I needed to say to you, and I thank you for giving me the chance. But having you back in my life — I'm not sure. Even as a friend. That's where we started last time, and look what happened. And my life has moved on. I'm not sure I want to look back. I'm not saying no. But I would need to think about it."
Nick nodded. "I can understand that, and I won't press you. But I was hoping to move forward rather than back. As for tomorrow night, well, in the old days, I never met your friends."
Nat smiled sadly. "In the old days, I didn't have any."
"Perhaps. But it didn't even occur to me to ask what your life was like. Who else was in it. What you did when I wasn't around. I was consumed with my own problems, and never thought about you. I'd like to rectify that, if I could."
Nat thought it over. Was she being too cautious? What could happen? She would be surrounded by her friends, after all, and on her own ground. Still, she felt uncomfortable, as if she was being rushed into unfamiliar territory. Finally she decided to trust her instincts, and shook her head. "I need to think this over, Nick. I never expected to see you again at all. You've had five years to think about it. I've had two minutes."
Nick looked disappointed, but nodded and stepped back. "Of course. I'll be here until Sunday night if you'd like to talk again before I go."
Natalie felt suddenly downcast, and trusted her instincts again. She said immediately, "Of course I want to talk to you again before you go. I see no harm in that. If you'd like, we could get together for coffee or something on Saturday evening, and I could hand over the research files then too."
Nick relaxed, looking relieved. "I was afraid you didn't want to talk to me again at all, ever. Which is no more than I deserve. Would you like me to pick you up here at 8:00, and we could walk over to the café?"
Nat thought it over. "How about 7:00? I usually go to a movie on Saturdays. If we wanted, we'd have time to catch a late show."
"What, King Kong is back in the theatres?" Nick teased.
"Even worse," Nat smiled. "I haven't seen Mission Impossible 2 yet."
Nick winced. "Whatever my lady wishes," he said. "But perhaps we'll have a lot to talk about after all."
"You wish!" said Natalie. "I'll see you Saturday, then, Nick."
"I'll look forward to it." He held the door for her, watching until she gone through the double doors into the elevator, and turned away.
*********************
As Nick walked through the park towards his hotel a figure appeared beside him. "LaCroix," he said in a resigned tone, without turning his head. "I thought you said you were too revolted to watch."
"Curiosity overcame me, Nicholas," replied the silken voice. "So tell me, how is the good doctor?"
"She's doing very well," Nick said without expression.
"She has recovered from your betrayal, as I said she would?"
Nick was silent.
"She has gone on in her life without you?" LaCroix pressed. "She is taken up with her mortal concerns and has forgotten you?"
Nick looked up at this. "She hasn't forgotten me, LaCroix. But you're right; she has recovered and developed a life without me."
LaCroix nodded approvingly. "Dr. Lambert is a resilient woman with some strength of character. I knew that, left to herself, she would find her way."
Nick said nothing. LaCroix sighed. "Still blaming me. Nick, if it weren't for me, she would have died."
"I don't blame you for saving her life."
"But for keeping you out of it? Is she not better off without you, Nick? Answer me honestly." Nick's answer was inaudible; LaCroix raised an inquiring eyebrow.
"I said, I don't know. She is happier now than she was the last year in Toronto. Perhaps any year in Toronto. But it's not clear to me that she couldn't have been happy with me around. Perhaps happier."
"But she wasn't happy when you were." Nick shook his head and started to reply, but LaCroix cut him off. "There you have your answer, Nicholas. You had your chance. It didn't work. You were right to let her go."
Nick looked away. "I could at least have said goodbye. She hasn't forgiven me for leaving without a word."
"And if you had? Would that not have fanned the flame in her heart? Would it not have given her hope that you would return? As it was, she believed you did not care for her. She let go of you, and moved on. Could she have done that, if she still hoped?"
Nick hesitated. "I don't know," he finally said again. "I think I could have said goodbye. I could have done that much."
Silence fell between the two men as they walked. "So." LaCroix said at last. "What are your plans now?"
Nick was silent. LaCroix repeated, "Now, Nicholas. What are you going to do now? You've seen her. What next?"
Nick put his hands in his pockets and considered. "I'd like to become friends", he said. "I told her that. But do a better job of it this time."
"And is she willing?"
"She's not sure."
"If you are concerned for her welfare, Nicholas, ask yourself how such a friendship would benefit her," said LaCroix.
Nick was silent. "I don't know", he finally said again. "I would leave that to her. If she doesn't want it, I won't press her."
"So your plans are?" LaCroix said again.
"I'm not sure. Stay in the area awhile, and see what happens," Nick said. "I'm ready to move on from Paris in any case. Vancouver looks pleasant enough."
"How long is ‘awhile'?" LaCroix sounded exasperated. " A week? A decade? Forty or fifty years? While you watch your - friend - grow old, and sick, and die, and she, in turn, sees you remain ageless and beautiful? Do you think this would be a favour to her? Do you think you'll even want to remain in her life, in one city, that long? Fixity of purpose has never been your strong suit, Nicholas."
Nick sighed. "I don't know," he said again. "I don't know how long. I don't know if she'll want me here, or for how long. I don't know how it will work out."
"And this will assist her - how, Nicholas? Will she even welcome you here? She has, as they say now, 'got a life'. Will she want you in it?"
Nick hesitated. "I don't know. But I want to find out. If she doesn't want me here, I'll leave. But I've spent the last five years wishing I could just talk to her again. I'm not going to pass up a chance to do that, while I can. It's not for her, LaCroix. It's for me."
LaCroix looked at him closely. "As long as you are clear about your motives, Nicholas," he said. "Do you return to Paris before you take up this new hobby?"
Nick ignored the jibe. "Yes. There are some deBrabant Foundation details I'll need to deal with personally before I leave."
"Then I will see you on your return. Adieu, Nicholas." LaCroix stepped back and disappeared into the fog. Nicholas deBrabant walked on alone through the dripping trees.
Raven image courtesy of Lisa Konrad, who retains copyright, and whose clipart website can be found here.