We’d talked about it. He knew about my past and wanted to give me a family of my own, having experienced what it was like to be a part of a loving one. It’s like we were living in two realities, and they didn’t reconcile.
“We’ll figure it out. I’ll think of something.” He reached for me then and held me to his chest, rubbing my back. “Let’s get some sleep, Mrs. Carter.”
Not too long after that beautiful day, I was pregnant.
Nathan, I miss you.
I caress each ring once more and kiss them before putting them back around my neck.
Then, I pick up the journal.
I’ve never read Nathan’s private words before. He’d write them down before bed from time to time, but I didn’t need toread them because I had him. After he disappeared, I hid it in the nightstand drawer by our bed in the cottage. I couldn’t open it.
But this time, I do.
The first entries reflect a boy’s handwriting and thoughts. Despite their simplicity, the sentences reveal his sharp mind, his thirst for knowledge, and his desire to delve into the ocean’s mysteries.
Mads learned to swim today, and I got a Game Boy.
I got to meet Dr. Langston on our boat, and he told me about diving in Spain. It was wild. I’m definitely doing that one day.
Dad grounded me. He said I can’t go diving for a week because I went past the buoys. It wasn’t even that far.
Even then, he couldn’t resist pushing farther than he should.
When I reach the entries written when he was fifteen, I’m struck by the sudden shift in his internal thoughts. No longer short bursts of observation about external events, they become longer, more introspective—centered on his own emerging research and his thoughts on his family, on love, on his future.
He was worried about his dad, who was showing signs of a brain tumor, which would soon claim him. He admired his parents’ love. But he’d convinced himself that love wouldn’t be for him because his destiny was underwater.
I continue to burn through the pages, recognizing so much of the man I knew. He was so stubborn, but so easy to bend when it came to matters of his heart.
And he was wrong about love.
The way he loved me.
Quietly. Fiercely. As if loving me was the safest place he’d ever known and also his greatest risk. I remember every breath, every touch, every moment.
It’s when I get to his college years in Miami that I stop. I’m going to make an appearance soon, and I don’t think I can bear to read his first impression of me.
Not right now.
I put the diary back on the table and lay back on the couch. Despite all the pain, I’m grateful. Our time together was good. And there’s Natalie.
Closing my eyes, I drift off to sleep until I hear Denver’s low growl.
Startled, I make my way to the kitchen. Ding’s underneath the table, his shaggy coat spread across the floor, tail wagging furiously. Denver peers out the window.
“What is it, boy?”
He lets out a single bark and then continues his growl. As a Belgian Malinois, he’s trained to guard. It might be a long night if every noise outside puts him on edge.
The yard appears well lit from the window.
“I can’t see anything past the road from here. Let me get a flashlight and check it out.” He runs to me, barking furiously. “It’s okay, I’ll be careful. You can come with me.”
Skeptical, he grumbles, but reluctantly lets me go, trotting along beside me.
I open the door slowly and walk out. There’s nothing unusual out here. However, something has toppled the garbage cans over. That happens sometimes with all the animals runningaround the neighborhood. I walk over and start picking up the trash, using the tips of my fingers. Denver stands by my side, scanning the periphery.
