Nightchild--The SeriesBook 1--Falling

Chapter 5

What followed his father's timely departure blended into the years thereafter, but would haunt Nate in some form the rest of his life, as if he were caught in the middle of a perverse domino theory.

The insult added to the injury was that Robert had not left impulsively, not out of anger or guilt, not even because of Nate catching him. His actions had been cold, calculated and deliberate. He'd simply proceeded sooner than originally planned.

More than a month before, Robert had talked Claire into signing papers, releasing her joint ownership in the hardware store. Nate never found out why she did it or what tactics he used, but detested the man all the more for his ruthlessness. Two weeks prior to Mr. Stevens leaving, he sold the store to a businessman in Dallas who was to take possession a month from the date of the transaction. The proceeds from the sale departed with Robert Stevens the day he left Tremont, Texas, deserting his wife and son. It was no surprise either when they found the savings depleted, the stocks sold.

Claire and Nathan Stevens' legacy consisted of twenty-five hundred dollars in a checking account, the house they lived in, with a second mortgage on it and two months of past due payments, and a car with a hefty balance due on its note. Life, as they'd known it, had come to an abrupt end.

In the years to come, Nate would always remember Marybeth standing on her front lawn, calling after him as he ran from her house into the storm, for that was the last time he saw her. Marybeth Eileen Carlson, along with her mother, disappeared the same day as Robert Stevens. It could be said that his father had literally taken away everything important to Nate.

The next few years were a constant struggle and reminder, forcing him to take a construction job, working after school and on weekends to help supplement his mother's tenuous income. Nate was compelled to drop his music lessons and sports, except football, concentrating all effort into that one thing, knowing his only chance for college would be on an athletic scholarship.

Nate did earn the scholarship, but during his second semester at S.M.U. Claire suffered a stroke. Fortunately, she was not left disabled, but weakened to the point she was unable to work for months and would never be able to put in long hours at the bakery as she had in the past. Now, added to the other expenses were medical and hospital bills. Nate gave up his scholarship, his football, dropped his classes to only one a week, and moved out of the dorm and back in with his mother, working as many hours as possible as a carpenter.

During this bleak time in Nate's life there was one bright spot, Sonny Nash, who he met his first week at college. They had been in three classes together before Nate had to drop all but one. There the similarities ended. Sonny was short and though stocky, he was solid and muscular. His sensitive angular face was framed by straight copper hair that hung to broad shoulder, completely incongruous atop the bullish build.

Sonny had never been involved in sport, had never held a job and had never had to worry about a thing one day in his short spoiled life. His parents were wealthy and he was the youngest of four brothers, one of whom had died in Vietnam during the outset of America's involvement there. Sonny had only two causes in life, Susan Williams and peace, in that order. He lived off campus and was an active protester, rhetoric flowing consistently in eloquent unending streams from his wide gentle mouth.

Nate, by comparison, had worked since he was fifteen, was an athlete, unspoiled and extremely quiet yet volatile, and definitely the most responsible person Sonny had ever gotten close to. Surprising to both boys was what the other was majoring in; Nate—music, Sonny—architecture. Their differences however resulted in an instant friendship. Nate found that he could always go to Sonny and they could talk for there was a deep and thoughtful understanding in him. This bond was unusual for Nate. It had been a long while since someone he'd cared for was not dependent on or needing something from him. For the first time he could remember, he could actually count on someone else.