When I took the job at Vanderbilt I knew what it meant for us. I hoped . . . but I knew.
You want a lot from this world, Tully. Me, I just want you.
It ain't exactly lock-and-key perfect, is it?
Here's what matters: I'll always love you.
Light the world on fire.
It was signed simply,C.
"I thought he loved me," Tully said when Kate handed her back the letter.
"It sounds like he does."
"Then why would he leave me?"
Kate looked at her friend, hearing the distant echo of all the times Tully had been abandoned by her mother. "Did you ever tell him you loved him?"
"I couldn't."
"Maybe you don't love him, then."
"Or maybe I do," Tully said, sighing. "It's just so damned hard to believe in."
That was the fundamental difference between them. Kate believed in love with all her heart; unfortunately, she'd fallen in love with a man who didn't know she existed. "What matters now is your career, anyway. There's always time for love and marriage."
"Yeah. When I've made it."
"Yeah."
"Someone will definitely love me then."
"The whole world will love you."
But later, long after Tully had said, "Screw him anyway," and laughed a little desperately, Kate couldn't expel those last words from her mind. Suddenly she was worried.
What if someday the whole world loved Tully and it still wasn't enough?
Tully had forgotten how long and lonely a night could be. For so many years, Chad had been her protection, her port. With him, she'd learned to sleep through the night, breathing peacefully, dreaming only of her bright future, and because he'd loved her, she'd slept well in her own bed, too, on their nights apart, comforted by the knowledge that she could go to him anytime.
She threw the covers back and got out of bed. A quick glance at the alarm clock on her nightstand revealed that it was just past two o'clock in the morning.
As she'd thought: long and lonely.
In the kitchen, she put a pot of water on the stove and stood there, waiting for it to boil.
Maybe she'd made a mistake. Maybe this emptiness she felt right now was love. With the life she'd led it made sense that she would notice the negative of an emotion rather than the positive. But if she did love him, what difference did it make? What would she do? Follow him to Tennessee and settle in university housing and become Mrs. Wiley? How would she be the next Jean Enersen or Jessica Savitch then?
She got a big KVTS cup out of the cupboard and poured her tea, then went to the living room, where she sat on the couch, tucking her feet beneath her, warming her cold hands on the porcelain. Fragrant steam floated upward. She closed her eyes and tried to let her mind clear.
"Can't sleep?"
She glanced up and saw Kate, who stood in front of her bedroom door, wearing the same flannel nightgown she'd worn for years. Tully usually teased her that she looked like one of the Waltons, but tonight she appreciated the familiarity. It was funny how a single garment could remind you of years together—slumber parties and makeovers and breakfasts spent watching Saturday morning cartoons. "I'm sorry if I woke you."
"You walk like an elephant. Is there more tea water?"
"The pot is on the stove."
