The Night We Met Read Online Free

"I supported her right to have them."
    "So what happened?"
    "She couldn't accept the fact that I wouldn't join her. Said she couldn't live with someone who promoted violence. About a year before Keith was killed, she left me for a fel ow student and antiwar activist. They're married now and just had a baby."
    "I'l bet she's got Dr. Spock's book," I said to cover my unexpected desire to comfort this man. I was completely out of my element. "He was indicted last week for conspiring to help others avoid the draft," I added when Nate said nothing.
    "I hadn't heard that."
    "I've been listening to the news a lot lately."

    "Because you're interested or because you know you won't be able to after next week?"
    Could the man see straight into my thoughts? My heart? That idea wasn't as threatening as it could have been.
    "The latter, I'm afraid."
    "There's absolutely nothing wrong with that."
    "It feels... duplicitous."
    "Wanting what you can't have, believing the grass is greener on the other side, is part of the human condition."
    "You make it sound so...normal."
    "It is," Nate said. "Listen, if it was easy to make the right choices, there'd be no glory in doing so."
    His words made me think.
    "You're a smart man, Nate Grady."
    He chuckled. "I've made some pretty stupid decisions, that's al , and had to learn from them."
    I wanted to know what each and every one of them was.
    But I didn't dare ask.
    We moved aside on the walkway to make room for a family dressed in church clothes. The son, about ten, I'd guess, had a stain on the knee of his slacks and his tie was askew. The little girl, with bows in her hair and lace on her socks, was pristine. The sight made me smile.
    "You've never mentioned the rest of your family," I said. "Other than Keith."
    "He was my only sibling."
    "What about your parents? I imagine they took his death hard."
    Hands still in his pockets, Nate slowed. "My father doesn't know. He took off right after Keith was born."
    "You've never heard from him?"
    "No."
    "Have you ever tried to find him?"
    "Nope. What was the point? He knew where we were. If he wanted contact, he knew how to get it."
    Nate didn't seem bitter. Or the least bit victimized, either.
    I glanced sideways as we walked, trying to see his expression. "Aren't you curious about him?"

    "Not really. I vaguely remember him. My mother said he never wanted kids and that made sense.
    He'd come and go as he pleased, and he never heard me when I talked to him. I don't think he loved my mom. They had to get married."
    "Because of you?"
    "Yeah." Nate nudged a stone off the cement with the toe of his shoe without missing a step. "I suppose he wasn't a bad guy. He didn't beat us or anything. Some people just aren't meant to be parents."
    I thought the man sounded incredibly selfish.
    "What about your mother?"
    "She loved him."
    As if that said it al .
    "Do you see her often?"
    "After our father left, she drank herself into liver disease and died ten years ago."
    "So she didn't know about Keith."
    "If the alcohol hadn't kil ed her, his death would have." Nate's voice was far calmer than mine would have been. "She drank a lot, but only after the two of us were in bed. Or out. She was a great mom, always there for us whenever she could be. She had no family support, which is why I think she fell into trouble with my father to begin with. Yet she raised two boys who knew they were loved, who never did drugs or got in trouble with the law. And she did it all on her own."
    "In his sermon this morning, Father John talked about God's work in our society today," I said, returning without explanation to his earlier question. "He mentioned Jacques Cousteau's first undersea special on TV this past week. And the space-probe landing on the moon. Man's potential is limitless. But without God's help none of that could have happened."
    "You say that as if you aren't sure you agree with him."
    "I don't disagree," I said. "Not at all." Father John was a highly revered priest. I