Providence

It’s like I’ve been addicted to her, but I didn’t know it until tonight. As if I didn’t already have to be near her to protect her, now I just need to be near her. It’s infuriating.

So now I’m here, watching her talk to Cynthia. I stil don’t know what my problem is. For the first time, I was afraid that I would fail. And not just fail— that I would fail HER. Claire accuses me of being a perfectionist, maybe that’s what it is. Or maybe I just didn’t want to let her down. But why the hel should I care? She wouldn’t know either way. I don’t want her to die, but that should be obvious, right? She dies, I die.

Maybe I just care. And that wouldn’t be a bad thing… for me to care about her. She’s a sweet girl. She’s kind to others. She’s intel igent. She’s comical y stubborn. She does that cute tuck-her-hair-behind-her-ear thing when she’s nervous. She’s beautiful… unbelievably beautiful. Anyone with any sense would care about her…spending al this time around her, I guess it was inevitable. But this is more than just caring. If I wasn’t bleeding al over myself I would have grabbed her and…I don’t know. What am I thinking? She can’t know about me. Maybe that’s what I’m angry about. Maybe I want her to know I’m protecting her. I think a part of me wants her to know. She’s walking around her house and has no idea that I saved her life today. And that should bother me WHY? She shouldn’t know. She shouldn’t know that I protect her or that I care about her or that I think she’s beautiful. Wouldn’t that be ridiculous if I had feelings for her? But maybe that’s what it is. Maybe it’s more than that. I think it’s more than that.

I think I’m in love with her.

I looked up from the pages of Jared’s journal to see that he was watching for my reaction. I pul ed myself up quickly and scrambled to kiss him. His mouth turned up into a smile as I pressed my lips against his, so I pul ed back to look into his eyes. His expression was triumphant.

I took in a deep breath to speak, but Jared’s face twisted into a frown. “Don’t say ‘aw’.”

I shook my head quickly. “I wasn’t! I was most certainly not going to say ‘aw’. That was amazing, thank you.”

“You should read the night of your sixteenth birthday. Or the day you graduated from high school. Or the night you went out with Philip Jacobs.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t think I want to relive my sixteenth birthday. And I know I don’t want to relive the three hours with Philip Jacobs. Yech.”

Jared smiled. “I could read it to you. And I’l leave out the parts you don’t want to hear.”

I leaned back against him, settling in to hear my life through Jared’s eyes.

I was amazed at how much he loved me for so long, and how he fought the sometimes insufferable longing to speak to me. There were parts that were difficult to listen to, and parts that—if I had wanted to interrupt him, which I didn’t—I wanted him to go back and read again.

He skipped to the entry he wrote the day of my high school graduation. He wrote how proud of me he was, and how beautiful I looked in my cap in gown. He spoke of how happy I felt and wondered where my col ege years would take us. Jared wrote a lot about being worried that once we gained distance between us and Gabe and Jack, that he would introduce himself.

His eyes clouded over as he read to me his fears that I would fal in love with someone at col ege, and the unknown reaction he would have watching me be with someone in that way. I learned how devastated he was at the prospect that I would never know how much he loved me, and how he dreaded the day I got married and had children with someone else. Jared’s voice broke as he read the words.

When he turned to the entry on the day that my father died, tears wel ed up in my eyes as he described watching Gabe fade away. Jared’s hand tangled in mine as he spoke of the moment he stood a few feet away from me, watching me sob on the bench. When the bus left the curb, the fight in him to stay away from me was gone. The tone of the pages changed significantly after that.

Jared smiled as he cited the joy he felt every time he ran into me, the expressions and feelings I would have, and how it felt the first time I’d said his name.

“Read what you wrote today,” I smiled.

“I wil later. The rain stopped,” he said, shutting the book.

I looked up as I listened for the rain, but the only sounds were the intermittent dripping from the roof and the fronds of the palm trees, and the birds singing brightly just outside the cabin.

“What’s the plan?” I asked, sitting up and stretching.

“Why don’t you show Cynthia around the vil age?”

I smiled at his selfless suggestion, kissing him before I made my way to my mother’s cabin. She was drying her chair with a towel, a book in her other hand.

“Hel o, Dear,” she said. Her sunglasses moved up with her smile.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go to the vil age with me. It’s real y eclectic. I think you’d like it,” I said, resting my arms on the wooden railing.

Cynthia sat in her chair and opened her book. I knew the answer before she’d given it.

She smiled politely as she always did before she diplomatical y turned down an offer. “I think I’l just relax here, Nina. Why don’t you and Jared go exploring?”

“We’ve been almost everywhere,” I shrugged. “Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

Cynthia didn’t look up from her book. “I’m sure. Go have fun.”

I clambered up the railing and leaned far over it to land a kiss on her cheek. She simply grinned and continued reading.

Jared waited for me outside his cabin. “No dice, huh?” he said, opening his arms to hold me.

“She’s never been this way. I don’t understand it,” I said, pressing my cheek against his chest.

“She just misses Jack,” he reassured me. “What do you say we rent one of those cycles from the vil age and take a ride up the coast…try to find a vil age we haven’t seen, yet?”

I smiled enthusiastical y and nodded.

Jared took turn after turn, indiscriminate of dirt or paved roads. A few huts came into view, and moments later we were in more of a town than a vil age. It looked like it might have been one of the more populated places on the island. Jared parked the bike and we walked along a cobble stone road. The buildings were less primitive than in the vil age we frequented.

The sunlight began to wane when Jared squeezed my hand. “We should head back. It’s going to be dark soon.”

I sighed, sad that another perfect day was over. Just as we turned around, a bel began to ring. I turned my attention in the direction of the beautiful tol ing and noticed a group of people standing together on a street corner a block away, staring in the same direction.

“Let’s go,” I said, tugging on Jared’s hand. “I want to see what al the commotion is about.”

Half way down the road, a bright white chapel came into view. I gasped as I watched a newly married couple walk slowly down the steep rock steps to the smal crowd that cheered, chanted and sang. Soon, they al began singing the same, happy song.

The group fol owed the couple down the street, clapping and singing in unison. The bel tol ed a few more times and, as if on purpose, rang one last time before the last of the joyful procession disappeared.