Chapter 47 "I'm Taking You and This Tree Home"
Every afternoon when high school ended, Carol would usually find Alvin lounging in a faded deck chair directly beneath the sugar maple. He would have his clunky headphones on, listening to the baseball broadcast, completely ignoring the fact that his wife was sweating on the patio, tending to her tomatoes and prepping dinner.
But the absolute second he saw Chloe trudge up the driveway with her backpack, Alvin would spring out of the chair. "You're back! Hungry? Dinner will be ready soon!"
"There are apples in the fridge," Carol would yell from the kitchen window, using the opportunity to finally put him to work. "Have your father wash them for you! The moment he gets home from the plant, he just glues his ass to that chair!"
"Okay, okay! I'll get our little treasure her apples right now!" Alvin would cheerfully march into the kitchen. He would meticulously wash the fruit, carefully peel the skin, dice it into bite-sized pieces, and place them in a small ceramic bowl. Then, he would carry the bowl into Chloe's bedroom, where she was already bent over her desk doing homework. "Here, sweetie. Have some fruit."
Chloe wouldn't even look up from her textbook. "Wait a minute. Let me finish this equation first."
"Open wide." Alvin would spear a piece of apple with a small fork and literally hold it to her lips.
Chloe would mindlessly crunch away. The sudden burst of sweet juice would finally make her pause and look up, flashing her father a bright smile.
"Is it sweet?" Alvin would ask eagerly.
"Yeah."
"I drove out of my way to the good market to buy those this morning."
"Thanks, Dad!" Seeing his desperate need for validation, Chloe would praise him generously.
Alvin would sit on the edge of her bed, quietly watching her do her homework, occasionally feeding her another piece of apple like she was a toddler.
Outside, Carol would sit under the maple tree, watching the father and daughter through the window. She would smile, shaking her head. "That lazy man. He's only ever happy when he's waiting on that girl hand and foot."
The memory hit Chloe so violently she felt physically sick.
Standing in the freezing municipal park, she stroked the rough bark of the transplanted maple tree, tears rapidly welling in her eyes.
She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the wood, and whispered softly, "Maple tree, do you still recognize me? I'm finally back. When I have enough money, I'm going to buy a big house with a huge yard, and I'll move you back, okay? Will you still be our family tree?"
She wrapped her arms around the massive trunk, hugging it tightly, her heart completely overflowing with an agonizing longing.
The park was utterly quiet. Only the biting wind rustled through the bare branches.
Suddenly, a single, dead, dried-up maple leaf broke loose from the canopy, drifting down to land perfectly on Chloe’s shoulder, as if the ancient wood were physically answering her.
Chloe picked up the brittle leaf, wiping her tears, and looked at Nathan with a fragile, wet smile. "See? The tree agreed. It still wants to be part of our family."
"Hmm. I suppose it did," Nathan replied, humoring her with a soft, indulgent gaze.
Chloe stepped away from the tree, walking over to him. She handed him the dried leaf and tilted her chin up, her eyes locking onto his. "What about you?"
Nathan took the leaf, genuinely puzzled. "What about me?"
"When will you agree to marry me again?" Chloe demanded softly.
Nathan twirled the brittle stem between his long fingers, a faint, bitter smile touching his lips. "Who proposes marriage with a dead leaf?"
"This isn't just any leaf," Chloe insisted stubbornly.
Nathan’s smile deepened slightly. "Right. It's your family's leaf."
"Exactly," Chloe said, stepping directly into his personal space, her voice dropping to a low, magnetic hum. "This leaf was meant to come back to my home eventually. Just like you."
Nathan’s breath hitched. He looked away, staring at the frozen pond. "You probably don't know how astronomically high property taxes are these days, Chloe. Buying a house with a yard big enough for this tree isn't easy."
"Then I will work hard," Chloe declared fiercely, her eyes blazing as if she had suddenly found her ultimate purpose in life. "I will work incredibly hard, and I will make the money."
She spun around, practically skipping a few steps down the path before turning back to call out to him. "I am taking you and this tree home! You both belong to me now, and neither of you is getting away!"
Nathan stood frozen on the path. He watched her radiant, retreating figure, completely unable to suppress the helpless, defeated smile curving his lips.
Beneath his heavy wool coat, his ruined heart began to pound so violently that his forearms visibly trembled. He forcefully clenched his hands into fists, shoving them deep into his pockets, and dragged in a ragged, freezing breath to steady himself. It took him a long, agonizing minute to slowly exhale.
It didn't matter how much time had passed, or how broken his body had become. This woman still had the absolute, terrifying power to bring him to his knees.
On their walk back toward the hotel, they passed the sprawling, brick campus of their old high school.
The massive sign out front had been replaced. It no longer read Lincoln High School; it now proudly declared Lincoln University Preparatory Academy.
The school had clearly been gentrified. The chaotic mass of teenagers pouring out of the gates weren't wearing the baggy hoodies and torn jeans Chloe remembered. They were dressed in crisp, navy polo shirts and tailored khaki pants. They looked shockingly proper and smart.
Chloe stared at them, a sudden pang of envy hitting her.
She tugged at Nathan’s sleeve. "Ugh, if only our uniforms had been that nice back then! You would have looked so unbelievably handsome in a fitted polo, just like a preppy private school boy."
She sighed dramatically. "But honestly, maybe the principal made us wear ugly hoodies for our own good. If you had been dressed up like that every day, who would have had any focus left for studying? All the girls would have just been thinking about prom and dating you."
Nathan glanced at her, utterly unimpressed, and didn't say a word.
Chloe noticed the silence. She tugged his sleeve harder. "What is that look for? Are you implying I was shallow?"
"No," Nathan replied, his tone dripping with dry, professorial earnestness. "I just fundamentally disagree with your hypothesis."
"Huh?" Chloe frowned, deeply offended. "What did I say wrong?"
Nathan offered a dark, knowing smile. "Some people spent all day daydreaming about romance and boys, even when they were wearing completely hideous, oversized sweatshirts. Whether a student actually wants to study has absolutely nothing to do with the uniform. It's an inherent flaw in their character."
Chloe scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're talking about me, aren't you?"
"I never said that," Nathan murmured, looking straight ahead.
Chloe narrowed her eyes, deciding to deliberately provoke him. "Well, if I had actually dated someone else in high school instead of following you around like a lost puppy, I probably wouldn't be stuck with you right now."
Nathan’s long stride faltered. He shot her a sharp sideways glance, the temperature of his voice plummeting instantly to sub-zero. "If you start dating someone else right now, you won't have to be stuck with me later, either."
Hearing the sudden, lethal edge in his tone, Chloe realized she had pushed the wrong button. She quickly closed the distance, wrapping herself around his arm. "Oh, stop! I was just joking! Why are you getting so violently upset?"
"I am not upset," Nathan lied through gritted teeth, aggressively walking forward.
Chloe hooked her arm tighter through his, a massive, victorious grin spreading across her face. "Look at my Nathan. Always lecturing me about how old and mature he is. Yet here you are, acting sulky and throwing a jealous temper tantrum—hardly the composed, steady middle-aged professor you claim to be. You're still just a petty little boy."
Nathan glared down at the woman literally hanging off his bicep. His irritation was still boiling hot in his chest. He gave his arm a sharp, aggressive shake. "Walk properly, Chloe."
"Okay." Chloe immediately stood up straight, looking at him with wide, painfully innocent eyes.
Nathan snorted, turning to walk ahead.
Chloe immediately jogged to catch up, reaching out to grab his hand.
Nathan violently snatched his hand away.
Chloe lunged and grabbed his hand again. Nathan ripped it free. She aggressively intertwined her fingers with his. He tried to physically shake her off three more times, but she clamped on with a vice grip.
Finally, exhausted by her sheer, relentless stubbornness, Nathan stopped fighting. He let his hand relax, completely surrendering as she happily swung their locked hands back and forth.
A wicked, triumphant smile spread across Chloe's face.
Did he really think he could escape her clutches? Absolutely no way.
Tonight, no matter what excuse he tried to invent, she was getting inside his hotel room.
They ate a quiet, simple dinner at a dimly lit steakhouse near the hotel.
Throughout the entire meal, Chloe methodically chewed her steak, her eyes fixed entirely on Nathan like a predator tracking its prey, silently mapping out her evening strategy.
Nathan felt his skin crawling under her intense, unwavering stare. As soon as the waiter cleared the plates, he quickly paid the bill and stood up. "I have business to attend to tonight. You should go back to your room and rest."
Chloe wiped her mouth, immediately suspicious. "What kind of business?"
"We're flying back to Chicago tomorrow morning. I need to meet a friend before we leave," Nathan said smoothly, buttoning his coat.
"A friend? Who?"
"You wouldn't know her," Nathan replied.
Chloe froze. "You have a female friend in this city that I don't know?"
She was completely taken aback. She had aggressively monitored Nathan's social circle since they were teenagers. The idea that an unknown woman had suddenly appeared was entirely unacceptable. "Can I come with you?"
Nathan paused, studying her fiercely defensive expression. "Sure. If you want to brave the cold."
Seeing how easily he agreed, the territorial panic in Chloe's chest immediately subsided. She grabbed her coat and followed him out the door.
Instead of going to a bar or a coffee shop, Nathan led her straight to a late-night florist. He meticulously selected a beautiful, chaotic arrangement of wildflowers.
"Is this for her?" Chloe asked, eyeing the bouquet warily as they walked back out into the night.
"Yes."
"When exactly did you meet this woman?"
"A long time ago. I was about fourteen," Nathan said, his breath pluming in the freezing air.
"Oh," Chloe said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Your first love?"
"No," Nathan chuckled softly, a genuine sound of amusement. "Her name was Patricia Evans. She lived next door to my parents' house. My mother and father were always working or at galas, so I was left alone in that massive house a lot. Patricia ran a small, struggling flower shop down the street. I used to go sit in there for hours just to escape the quiet. She was incredibly kind to me."
"She sounds like a very gentle, refined woman," Chloe remarked, feeling a sudden pang of guilt for her jealousy.
"Not at all," Nathan laughed, clearly recalling something specific. "Patricia was deeply eccentric. She drank heavily and cursed like a sailor. She had no family left. Even when she couldn't make rent on the shop, she would just sit among the rotting inventory and say, 'As long as the flowers bloom beautifully today, that’s all that matters. Making a profit is irrelevant.'"
"Well, she must have come from serious money, then. How else could she afford to run a business without caring about profit?"
"Maybe," Nathan murmured.
He suddenly stopped walking. They had reached the edge of the city limits, standing on a pedestrian bridge overlooking the dark, violently rushing waters of the Mississippi River.
"We're here," Nathan whispered.
"Where is she?" Chloe asked, confused, looking around the empty bridge.
Nathan didn't answer. He slowly untied the ribbon binding the bouquet. With agonizing, gentle care, he dropped the loose wildflowers over the iron railing, watching them scatter and vanish into the black, freezing current below.
"Patricia passed away from pancreatic cancer about five years ago," Nathan said, his voice dropping to a raw, hollow frequency. "She left me a letter before she died. She said she didn't have a single relative left in the world to claim her, and she asked if I would be the one to scatter her ashes into the river."
Chloe went completely still.
She raised her eyes, looking at Nathan's sharp profile in the moonlight. She could suddenly sense the profound, heavy anchor this eccentric old woman had provided for him. During the absolute darkest, most isolated years of his life, Patricia had been his sanctuary.
"You never mentioned her to me before," Chloe whispered softly.
"I know," Nathan murmured, his gaze fixed on the dark water. "I rarely think of her when I'm happy. But over the last two decades, whenever the grief became entirely unbearable... I would come walk by the river. Sometimes, that was the only time I remembered her."
He bowed his head, the wind ruffling his dark hair. "Patricia was a wonderful, chaotic person. She taught me how to survive."
Chloe swallowed the lump in her throat. She stepped closer, pressing her shoulder against his. She clasped her hands together, closed her eyes tightly, and silently whispered into the freezing night:
Patricia, I am Chloe. I'm Nathan's wife.
Why did he only tell me about you now? He is so ridiculously guarded. He kept you completely hidden from me all this time.
Thank you for keeping him alive when I couldn't be here. I will come visit you at this river often from now on. Please... wherever you are, please bless us.