He crosses the room in two long strides. “What’s wrong with you tonight? Something’s seriously off. What’s going on?”
“Not everything is fated, Nate.”
“There!” He points a finger at me. “You called me Nate again! I know we all have choices, Meredith, but can’t you believe in this one little thing? Just this once, can’t you believe just a little in fate and destiny? Is it really too much to ask?”
“Believe in the you-me together forever because we deserve a do-over because of the bum deal we got handed in the 1800s thing?” I rub my eyes again. If I could will myself into fainting, now would be an awesome time to do that to get out of this conversation. “No, Nathan, I don’t think so. I can’t. I’m sorry. It’s too much to ask.”
He ducks his head to see into my lowered eyes, but I turn my head away. “What is going on with you, Meredith? I thought we had something going here or, at the very least, a promise of something. When we kissed before, I felt the connection. It was more than just physical. Maybe I’m like Ritzi reading too much into things, so why don’t you tell me what you think is going on. You seem able to turn your emotions on and off like a switch, but I’m not like that. Sorry if I’m too optimistic for you or try to see the good in people, but if you had the crap childhood I did, you’d want to look for the good. The alternative is not an option.”
“Jay asked me to marry him.” I spit out my news. I hold up my right hand with the enormous diamond ring weighing it down like an anchor. “It’s more of a promise ring right now since I still have to finish school and he wants to make a name for himself in the pro tour, but I said yes. It’s the right thing to do. There is no you and me, Nathan. There never was.”
Nathan sucks in his breath. I can see the second the news registers because it’s the second his face crumbles like the mountainside during a mudslide. “How can you be so cold?” he asks. “I thought I knew you better than that.”
“You don’t.” My voice sounds emotionless and foreign even to my own ears. “No one does.”
“So that’s it, huh?” Nathan turns toward the door. I hold my breath to stop myself from calling out to him to stay. “That’s it? You will take the easy way out and not even try to change the pattern?”
“It’s what’s right,” I say. “I’m good at doing what’s right.”
“You’re not doing what’s right.” Nathan turns to face me once more after opening the door and stepping into the hallway. “You’re doing what’s wrong but what everyone else thinks is right. You’re not learning anything from the past, Meredith, because you’re too afraid to disappoint the people in the present. Well, what about you? Why not try to make yourself happy for once instead of settling for disappointment? Try it. You might like it.”
I sit on my bed after he’s gone, his last words ringing in my ears. Am I really too afraid to disappoint people? At least if I’m the only one disappointed in myself, fewer people will get hurt. I wipe away tears. The only problem with that logic is I’m not the only one disappointed in myself tonight.
Nathan is disappointed in me too. And there’s nothing I can do to fix it.
It’s one o’clock in the morning, and I’m still awake. I stare at the clock as if watching it switch from 1:00 to 1:01 will somehow make me sleepy. I replay my earlier conversation with Nathan in my head. Do I always take the easy way out just because I’m afraid to try the hard way? What’s wrong with sticking with the familiar? It’s got me through life just fine so far, so why should I change now? I bet Nathan would argue it’s a pattern, and patterns can change, but why should I upend everything in my life just because he says so? Baby steps. I need baby steps.
It may not be the popular choice, but I like the straight and narrow, safe path. Nathan may call it the easy way out, but you don’t have to think too hard or worry too much over decisions on the safe path. I don’t like second-guessing myself and—until now—no one’s ever questioned my choices. The second Nathan appeared, my life turned upside down. It’s more than just the friction caused between Jay and me or, worse, among all three of us when we’re together. Nathan is like the personification of my conscience. He tells me things about myself that I know but don’t want to say out loud. He shines a light on all the things I don’t like about myself like thinking with my head instead of my heart or deciding based on what will please Dad or Jay instead of what will make me happy. Is wanting to make others happy such a bad thing? So what if I forget myself. There could be worse things to push aside than your sense of self.
I need to sleep. Maybe the same relaxation techniques Catalina uses during the regression will work to help me sleep. What’s the harm in trying? I close my eyes and take myself through the breathing techniques Catalina uses during the hypnosis sessions. It only feels like a few seconds before I fall asleep. But instead of the dreamless sleep I hoped for, I’m back in 1880s Haunting.
I’m standing by the retention wall of Stone Lake. There’s a little boat half in, half out of the water with Paradise Shores Hotel painted on the side. The lake is choppy as usual, but the dark clouds signal a storm blowing in from the mountains. It makes the water churn and turn dark. It’s not a good day for a boat trip. Everyone knows you’re not supposed to go out on the lake when a storm is coming in from the mountains. The weather changes too fast. It can be sunny one second, and then lightning could strike the next. I want to call out to whoever plans to use the boat and tell them not to go out, but my voice doesn’t work. I turn when I hear familiar voices. I would recognize them anywhere. I’ve heard them in my dreams and under regression enough by now. Nate and Mercy are standing close together near the boat, voices raised to a higher pitch as they continue to argue. For a second, I expect them to be in sepia tones like their pictures at Mrs. King’s shop or an old-time movie, but here they are standing in front of me in living color. I hang back, unsure if they can see me or not.
“Did you think I wouldn’t know?” Nate asks Mercy, his Irish accent thickening in his anger. “That I wouldn’t find out? An engagement isn’t somethin’ you can hide away, Mercy. Especially from those gossip mongering chambermaids. Do you even know how much that silly little chit Abigail Purse enjoyed telling me the news? They know how I feel about you. Everyone knows how I feel about you.”
“Not everyone,” Mercy says. “Papa and James are quite in the dark still.”
“Everyone who matters knows.” Nate pulls away when she reaches for his hand. “Below-stairs folks are worth a thousand Misters Stone and Piper.”
Mercy steps away as if his words are a slap. “Thank you, Nate. You have just made my decision ridiculously simple. I planned to tell you James’s token was just a promise ring—a promise I intended to break—but now, I believe I shall request the End of Season Ball be an Engagement Ball. Mine and James’s Engagement Ball.”
Nate sucks in his breath. “You don’t mean that, Mercy. You don’t.”
“I do.” She tilts her chin. I recognize the move because I did it less than a week ago. I also recognize the cold “watch me” tone since my voice has sounded the same way more often than I care to admit. “If you do not believe me, you are welcome to see with your own eyes at the end of the season. I believe you know the date? August 24.”