the optimist.
“Perhaps,” she agreed, but she didn’t seem convinced.
She left for the hospital soon afterward and I served breakfast, cleaned the kitchen, and then tackled changing the sheets and getting the inn ready for another set of guests.
By the time I finished and changed clothes, it was noon. I waited on the front porch, expecting Nick to stop by any minute. After fifteen minutes I realized he wasn’t coming. A text from him confirmed it. I studied my phone for several moments, doing my best to read between the lines. All he said was that something had come up. I didn’t believe him.
Fine, then I’d go to him. I set off walking. As soon as I rounded the corner of Bethel Street, Nick’s house came into view. I felt its welcome the same as I did the first morning.
Elvis, who was on the front porch, saw me first and barked a greeting. Almost right away, Nick stepped outside the kitchen door. Just from the way he stood I knew something was wrong. He leaned against the column with shoulders hunched forward as if he hated himself for having disappointed and failed me.
“Hey,” I said, walking up the concrete pathway.
“Hey.” He feigned a smile.
“You’re late,” I said casually, keeping any censure out of my voice. “I thought we had a date.”
“You didn’t get my text.”
“I got it. Doesn’t look to me like you’re too busy to keep our lunch date.” Something had happened between this morning and now. From his earlier text he seemed eager to see me.
I noticed that his hands had started to fidget, clenching and unclenching, and his legs shook. He was getting ready to have another panic attack.
“Nick,” I said softly, gripping hold of his hand. “Tell me what’s happened.”
“You should go.”
“If you don’t want to take me to lunch, fine, but I thought you wanted me to check out the kitchen. You painted the walls, right?”
“Come back another time.” His teeth were clenched.
I could see he was barely holding himself together. The shaking in his hands and legs continued.
“Please, Em, just go.”
“Don’t think so. I want to know what happened.”
Nick sank into a chair on the porch and his knees started to bob up and down and his breathing went shallow. “Just leave.”
I squatted down in front of him and grabbed hold of his hands again. “Talk to me.”
He adamantly shook his head. His breathing went shallow, and he started to hyperventilate and seemed unable to get his breath. I saw the panic in his eyes. I’d had some experience with those with one of the children in my class.
“Look at me,” I demanded.
His shoulders heaved as he panted.
“Nick.” I squeezed his hands and forced him to look at me. “Count to five and then breathe.”
He didn’t seem to be able to hear me.
“Nick,” I repeated firmly.
Elvis barked and that caught Nick’s attention. His eyes were wide, wild, and frantic. Nothing I said seemed to make it through to him. For one crazy moment I feared he was about to pass out. He needed help, more than I could give him. The only thing I could think to do was call 911.
I grabbed my phone out of my purse.
He seemed to understand what I was about to do and cried out, “No.”
“Then breathe,” I demanded. “Hold your breath to the count of five and then breathe.”
I could see him trying, but by this time his lips were nearly blue. I could see his jugular vein throbbing in his neck. Finally, not knowing what else to do, I grabbed hold of him as I had before and hugged his upper body to mine. He was shaking so violently that he shook me, too, but I refused to let go. After what seemed a lifetime, he slowly relaxed and tucked his head against my shoulder.
I brushed his hair back from his forehead and whispered, “You’re going to be okay.”
He snickered as if he didn’t believe me. “I heard from my parents,” he whispered. His hand tightened painfully around mine. “I haven’t seen them since the funeral. They called…They want to stop by the house.”
“Of course they want to see you. You’re their son.”
His eyes flared with resentment. “Don’t you understand, I killed my brother! How am I supposed to face them?”
I continued to brush the hair from his forehead. “Your parents have already lost one son; they don’t want to lose you, too.”
His eyes shot to mine. “How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“Those are the exact words my mother