Page 219 of The Havenport Collection

Luke

N ora stared at the photos in the albums silently. I paced around, not sure what to say. I loved her, and she loved me—it was time to let her in. Time to tell her all my deepest darkest secrets.

That’s why I had shown them to her. I didn’t want her pity, but I wanted her to know me, the real me.

Because I was in love with her. There was no going back now.

Nora had plowed through all my defenses head-on, forcing me to confront so many things about myself.

She was bold, she was brash, and, as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I had been falling in love with her for the past six years.

Because I loved the prickly, difficult Nora.

The Nora who pushed me and failed to be impressed by me for so long.

But I had fallen head over heels in love with the passionate, protective, and sweet Nora.

The one who held me close and kissed me with abandon.

The one who made me want to crack myself open and spill every single one of my secrets.

So I sat down on the couch and waited, knowing there would be questions and steeling myself for the answers I’d have to give her.

Her fingers carefully turned the decades-old pages.

“Look at you. Such a gorgeous baby. Those cheeks!” She was flipping through a carefully arranged photo album of my early years.

My mom loved to take photographs and scrapbook, and there were dozens of albums on the shelves documenting all my formative years.

“Is this your dad?” she asked, pointing to a stern looking man in the photos. “He’s so tall and blond.”

I nodded.

She looked up at me, noting my discomfort, and shut the book.

“We don’t have to do this now, Luke.”

“I want to. You asked about my family, my childhood, and I want to tell you. I trust you, Nora.”

“I value that trust. But I’m not going to push you.”

I stood up and ran my fingers through my hair. “There is no easy way to say this. The reason I’m so devoted to the crisis center, why I spend so much time working there and helping those families? It’s because my mom and I…well, we are survivors of domestic violence too.”

Nora’s jaw dropped, and she instinctively reached out and grabbed my hand, gently stroking small circles on my palm. “I’m so sorry, Luke.”

I could have stopped there. But I needed to tell her everything.

Make her understand where I came from so she would know what she was getting into.

“My mom and dad met when my dad, who was an executive for a global shipping company, was living in Seoul. My mother worked in the same office tower, and they used to flirt in the elevators. After a whirlwind affair, I was conceived, and we moved back to the states. Dad worked in Manhattan, and we lived on Long Island, in a big house with a swing set.”

I pointed to the album she was holding. I was a toddler, so I don’t remember much about these years, but I’d seen the photos.

My mother took classes at the local community college, eager to earn her degree, and we had a solid middle class family life.

The photos in the album show birthday parties, Christmas mornings, and my dad pushing a lawnmower and smiling.

I hated him, and I hated looking at those photos, but they were an important part of my past, a part of who I was.

I continued to pace while Nora sat very still.

“Then my father started drinking, and soon it was not just drinking but cocaine. He became verbally abusive, first to my mother and then to me. My mother suggested counseling and AA, but he wasn’t interested.

And when I was five, he lost his job, no doubt due to his substance abuse issues.

And that is when things got really bad. He got physical.

” Nora gasped, and I looked at her large brown eyes.

I wanted to grab her and hold on to her and never let go. But I needed to get this off my chest.

“As you can see in the photos, my dad was a large man, over six feet tall and broad, and my mother and I were no match for him. My mother always protected me, always shielded me. I only have a few memories from those years, but they mostly involve hiding in my closet while listening to my mother sob.”

Nora got up from her seat and pulled me into her arms. We stood there, holding one another for a few minutes while I gathered my courage.

“In first grade, I was pulled out of class one day by the school nurse who asked to examine some suspicious bruises on my body. I remember it so clearly. Miss Owens, the school nurse, was so kind, and for some reason—maybe it was because it was spring and I was feeling hopeful—I wanted to tell her.

“I took off my shirt and showed her. And when she gasped and her eyes filled with tears, I knew I had to do something. So I told her. Everything.”

“Oh, Luke. I am so sorry.” She held me tighter, and the warmth of her body eased the pain of this horrible memory.

I was lucky. I had many wonderful childhood memories, but tucked away were these darker ones, the ones that crept into my head during moments of self-doubt and sadness, and they were the hardest to shake.

I had only shared this story with a few people, and it felt right to let Nora in.

“I don’t know what happened after that. But a few weeks later, my mother and I moved to Massachusetts and left my father behind.”

“In Boston, we met some distant cousins of my mother who took us in and helped us get on our feet. We lived in Boston for a bit and then moved up to the North Shore where my mom had found work as a home health aide. Eventually, we moved to Westbury.”

I held her close and let her familiar smell comfort me. “Things were hard. We didn’t have a lot. And we were the lucky ones. So many families don’t have any help or support. They don’t have relatives to lean on, a legal system that can protect them, or the ability to leave and start over.”

She held me closer. “You are a good man, Luke.”

I closed my eyes and fought against the rising tide of panic in my chest. I hated being vulnerable.

I hated sharing my secrets. But this was Nora.

I loved her and wanted her to love me for who I really was.

Not a shiny rich guy, but a complicated person who was walking through life with some heavy baggage too.

“And your father?” she asked tentatively.

“Things were messy for a bit until the divorce was finalized. But he stayed away. My mom got a restraining order, and eventually he moved to Florida. He found me a few years ago—probably read about my success—and tried to contact me. I told him to fuck off and that was that.”

“Good for you.” She kissed my cheek and moved toward the kitchen where she was instinctively filling the kettle. My heart softened at the gesture. She didn’t know my mom made me tea when I was upset, but she wanted to comfort me. And that meant so much.

“I didn’t have an easy childhood, but it turned out to be a pretty good one thanks entirely to my mom,” I continued, my past struggles just flowing out of me.

“She was dedicated and loving and gave me absolutely everything she could every moment of her life. She was always smiling, always happy, and always feeding me.”

I looked down and found myself holding the butterfly oven mitt and smiled.

Looking back, I cringe at what a brat I was, always asking for toys and sneakers and electronics.

But she never denied me, just worked even harder to make sure I had what I needed.

She was my anchor; it was the two of us against the world. When she died, I was set adrift.

“I hate that she spent so many years working so hard only to succumb to cancer in her fifties. I wanted her to have a long, cushy retirement where I got to spoil her in thanks for all the sacrifices she made.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you miss her so much.”

I nodded. “That’s why it still hurts so much. She only knew struggle. She didn’t ever get luxury or relaxation. She gave every single thing she had to me, and I never got to repay her. I never got to make her dreams come true.”

“You did, Luke. I only met your mom a few times, but she seemed like an incredibly strong woman. And I’m sure she was so proud of the wonderful man she raised. Moms—at least good ones like yours—they don’t want luxury. They want to know they raised good kids.”

She pulled me into her arms and continued. “And you are one of the best. Your mom knew that, and so you did make her dreams come true.”

I looked away to hide the tears in my eyes. Nora knew just what to say to me. She knew what I needed even when I didn’t. I felt so much affection for her in that moment I thought I might burst.

“So that’s why I am so devoted to the crisis center. Because it helps so many people, people like my mom and me, build better lives.”

“I admire your dedication.”

“I can’t just write a check and feel like I did enough, you know? That’s why I’m on the board, and lead the job training committee, and throw parties and fundraisers, and have the kids over for basketball at my estate. I want to do as much as I can. Actually, I need it.”

She cupped my cheek. “Of course you do. And I’m so proud of you.” She kissed me gently, and I pulled her onto my lap. I needed Nora right now. I needed to see her and smell her and feel her softness.

She sat up and stared into my eyes. “Thank you for sharing this with me. I know it was difficult.”

“I wanted to. And you need to understand, very few people in my life know all this. Josh, Astrid, and Erica—that’s it.”

“I am honored you trust me enough.”

I ran my hands through my hair. Vulnerability was exhausting.

“That’s how I realized I was in love with you.

When I wanted to start telling you things all the time.

I found myself needing to talk to you, to share things with you—even the ugly stuff.

” I took a deep breath. This conversation was heavy and I was nervous.

I was laying myself bare, showing all the dark corners and asking for her acceptance and understanding.

It was a big step. But as strange and terrifying as it felt, I wanted to take this step with Nora.

I had never felt this way about any woman in my life.

I wanted more. I wanted the intimacy; I wanted to deepen the connection.

After being numb for the past few years, I was finally feeling things.

And as much as it scared me, losing Nora was much scarier.

I pulled her close. “What I feel for you, Nora, it’s so much more than lust. I never realized how much I wanted a partner—a real partner—until I met you.”

“I have no clue how to be a real partner, Luke.”

I looked into her eyes, feeling the connection between us deepen. “Neither do I.”

“So we’ll make it up as we go along?” She smirked, leaning in to kiss me softly.

“Sounds perfect.”