This story was written for littlemsmessy's birthday, from this prompt:
Mrs. Nickerson invites Nancy to lunch, where she tells Nancy to stop being so evasive with Ned when it comes to her feelings for him. She also asks Nancy to decide once and for all whether she wants a future with Ned because her flirting with/dating other guys bothers him more than she knows. (Can be Mystery Stories or Files universe.)
I've set it during the Mystery Stories, in the mid 1960s. Chapters 2 and 3 contain adult content, but have been edited down; if you are of age, the full version is posted at archiveofourown.
"Land sakes, Nancy!"
Nancy Drew tried to maintain her composure as Hannah Gruen clucked over her. She had only been in her father's house for a moment, had barely taken three steps inside, before Hannah had greeted her with no little alarm. The abandoned house on the outskirts of Carbondale she, Bess and George explored for clues that morning had been dilapidated, the interior in very poor condition, and Nancy was thankful that her only injury had been a bad scrape on her shin when a rotting floorboard had splintered under her weight. The injury looked ugly, and had smarted, but it hadn't bled much. Bess had immediately insisted that they leave, worried that the rest of the house would just collapse around them too, but Nancy had found a coded note during their search, so the sleuthing expedition hadn't been a total loss.
Nancy knew her hair was still disheveled, despite her hasty attempts to fix it on the way home, and her shoes badly scuffed. She brushed at a streak of soot and damp dust clinging to her navy wool skirt, and Hannah's frown deepened. "Take that off, and I'll go ahead and get to work on it," Hannah declared, shaking her head. "The things you get yourself into, girl..."
Nancy unfastened her skirt and slipped out of it, glancing over at the small table near the door. The new mailman had come by; a neat pile of envelopes stood waiting for Nancy and her father, and that jogged Nancy's memory. "Were you able to visit Mr. Dixon this morning?" Nancy inquired, hoping to distract the housekeeper from dwelling on her misadventures any longer.
"I did," Hannah answered, smiling. "He was very happy for that jar of peach preserves, and the arrangement you made for him was definitely appreciated. Cheered him up considerably. I'm just glad his miserable cold has almost passed."
Nancy smiled, glad that her gift to the retired mailman had brightened his day.
"Shoo! Go on upstairs and change for lunch," Hannah called over her shoulder as she took Nancy's skirt. "And then you can look at the letter that came for you."
Nancy opened her pocketbook for a second, just to confirm that she had secured the note inside, then picked up the letter with some interest, taking it upstairs with her. Although she was currently investigating some rather ominous threats made against the two Cassiti brothers, who owned a small boutique in River Heights, she couldn't deny that the prospect of another mystery to solve sent a delighted tingle down her spine. Bess claimed Nancy had to be crazy, but Nancy's idea of a perfect day always involved a mystery—and she was always both ecstatic and saddened at the conclusion. She loved finding the solution, but hated that it was over.
And the letter in her hands, while a minor mystery, still puzzled her a little. For the return address she easily recognized as that of the Nickerson home in Mapleton—but the hand definitely wasn't Ned's. The beautiful even script was markedly feminine.
Nancy had deduced that Ned's mother Edith had written the letter before she opened it, but she was still pleased to find that she was right. However, she was still left wondering why Ned's mother would write her a note, instead of Ned himself. Her stomach filled with butterflies for a second. Her last communication with him had been the previous Friday, and she hoped nothing had happened in the interim to cause him harm.
Surely Ned's mother would telephone her if Ned had suffered some serious injury, instead of writing.
Nancy had taken off her short navy wool jacket, and sat at the edge of her bed still wearing her ruined stockings and scuffed pumps, in a thin cream-colored slip.
Dear Nancy,
I hope this letter finds you well, and that your father and Mrs. Gruen are in good health. When I spoke to Ned yesterday he told me how disappointed he was that he had been unable to accompany you on your recent trip to New Orleans.
Nancy glanced away from the letter for a second, flushing slightly. Nancy, Bess, and George had been visiting a school chum in Louisiana, and in Ned's absence, a handsome young co-ed with lovely eyes and a winning smile had attached himself to their group. Nancy had been vague and polite with him, but he had insisted on dancing with her during the few breaks they had taken from the mystery. Bess had teased Nancy that Frederick was definitely developing a crush on her, and even George had noticed. After ascertaining that she was not engaged or otherwise spoken for, Freddie had practically begged for Nancy's address and permission to write her, and Nancy had tried her best to dissuade him. When she had been unsuccessful, she had reluctantly agreed to his request.
After her brief, perfunctory response to Freddie's two letters, she had been relieved that a third letter had not followed. She hadn't wanted to hurt his feelings, and he was a perfectly delightful young man who had provided much assistance during her case. He was charming and his attention, while she had found it a touch too intense, had given her some small feeling of pleasure.
And that, Nancy reflected quietly to herself, was what she appreciated so much about Ned Nickerson. He was affectionate toward her without smothering her or insisting upon the formality of a label for their friendship. Since they had met he had always been her favorite date and escort, and though she was aware he wasn't pleased when she dated other boys, he had kept his own counsel over it.
Nancy shook her head briefly, then returned to Mrs. Nickerson's letter.
I know that your schedule can be rather unpredictable, but I wanted to extend an invitation for you to have luncheon with me soon. At your convenience, please give me a telephone call, and we can find a date and time which will accommodate us both. In case you might be wondering, my son won't be in attendance. I just wanted to have some time to speak to you myself, and I would be most pleased if we could have a nice meal together.
Nancy read the letter once more, her brow furrowing slightly. While she had always been fond of Ned's mother, she had not found much occasion to spend time with her alone. Ned's parents had offered to provide transportation to Emerson a few times when they were going to see their son and Nancy had also been invited, and their conversation had always been pleasant and general.
For a second Nancy considered, then shook herself from her reverie when she realized that she was nowhere near presentable condition. Soon Hannah would be calling her down for lunch. Hastily Nancy washed her face and combed her hair, changing into a long-sleeved royal-blue dress with a white collar and white cuffs. Her stockings were well beyond any repair, and Hannah would certainly grumble over her shoes.
Nancy felt a little apprehensive about doing so, but after she had put on a pair of low heels, she stopped at the telephone in the upstairs hallway before heading downstairs.
"Hello?"
"Mrs. Nickerson? This is Nancy Drew. I just received your letter."
"Nancy! How wonderful to hear from you."
Three days later, Nancy parked her convertible in front of the Nickersons' house, glancing down at her outfit. The crisp January weather had left a blue-white blanket of snow over River Heights and Mapleton, and Nancy had left her home considerably earlier than she normally would have, in case conditions made travel slower. She didn't want to disappoint Mrs. Nickerson by not being punctual.
That desire had even made her solve the mystery of the threats against the Cassiti brothers more quickly. That morning she had confronted the culprit and seen him taken into custody by River Heights police officers. Vincent and Michael Cassiti had been profuse in their thanks, so much that Nancy had protested and deflected their praise, self-conscious to be the center of such attention. When they had offered to make a gift of any piece of merchandise in the store as repayment for her efforts, Nancy had initially refused, then reluctantly selected a set of fine lace-trimmed handkerchiefs. While they were very reasonably priced, and the brothers had insisted yet again that she could have anything her heart desired, Nancy had again requested the handkerchiefs. They would make a nice gift for Ned's mother.
Nancy buttoned up her black wool toggle coat, made sure her scarf was firmly wrapped about her neck, then climbed out of her car, the wrapped box of handkerchiefs in her gloved hand.
Mrs. Nickerson answered the door almost immediately. "Come in, come in," Edith said with a smile, and Nancy stamped delicately on the porch mat a few times before stepping inside. Mrs. Nickerson was a small woman, slender and petite, with greying dark hair and sparkling blue eyes. She took Nancy's coat, scarf, hat and gloves, and Nancy gave her own clothes one last glance. Her powder-blue-and-white sleeveless tweed dress complimented her figure, and the coordinating boots allowed her to maneuver well enough to drive and maintain her balance in the snow. Mrs. Nickerson wore a black wool skirt and a white blouse, pearls and low heels, and when Edith wordlessly beckoned Nancy to the dining room, Nancy smiled as she followed her hostess.
"I hope you've worked up an appetite," Edith said pleasantly as she crossed to a large steaming teapot and poured a cup of piping hot apple cider flavored with cinnamon. "This should help you warm up. The day is certainly beautiful, but very cold!"
Nancy nodded in agreement, gratefully accepting the delicate cup and saucer. "Thank you so much for inviting me, Mrs. Nickerson."
"Thank you so much for accepting my invitation," Edith replied with a smile. "Now, wherever shall we begin..."
The first course of the meal was a light salad, then creamy tomato soup served with lovely crusty French bread. Their entree was ham served with crisp green beans and delicious scalloped potatoes au gratin. Afterwards Edith suggested that they retire to the living room before partaking in dessert, which was a gorgeous light coconut cake.
"Everything was delicious," Nancy told Ned's mother with a smile. She extended the box of handkerchiefs, wrapped in elegant silver and white paper, to her hostess.
"Oh, Nancy, really—"
"It is a very small gift," Nancy said apologetically.
After Edith opened it, she gave the girl a genuine smile. "This is very thoughtful, Nancy. Thank you so much."
She placed the box on the coffee table before them, then crossed her legs and rested her clasped hands on her knee.
"I need to raise a rather delicate topic."
Nancy swallowed, her heart beating faster for a moment. She had tried not to anticipate this luncheon, had tried not to become anxious about the reason behind it, but she simply wasn't accustomed to leaving such puzzles alone. Nancy would be very surprised if whatever Edith said next didn't involve her son. Above that, though, Nancy had been almost too nervous to contemplate.
"You and Ned have been seeing each other for quite some time," Edith said, her voice calm and pleasant.
Nancy nodded once, slowly. She felt very nervous, and didn't know what to do with her hands, so she left them clasped loosely in her lap.
"I realize that I may be biased, but that doesn't change the fact that my son is a very special young man. He has a good, practical head on his shoulders, a quick mind for figures, and once he graduates Emerson, his father and I are sure he will have an excellent career."
Nancy nodded. "I'm sure he will too," she said.
Edith smiled. "And in the time I've known you, I've seen that you are also a very unique young woman. I can't say that I've ever met anyone quite like you, and I know Ned hasn't either.
"He cares very deeply for you, Nancy."
Nancy flushed and looked down, idly picking at a small loose thread in the hem of her dress before she forced herself to stop fidgeting. She supposed that she should feel pleased to hear that, but she just felt nervous. If Ned felt that way...
"He has been of great help to me when he's assisted me—"
Edith raised her hand a few inches, and Nancy cut herself off, glancing down again. "I'm not talking about the help he provides you when he accompanies you on your investigations. He invites you to dances at Emerson as his date, and I believe you understand that he is not seeing anyone else, socially. He has dated before, but once he met you... he was no longer interested in anyone else. Hasn't been, for quite some time now."
Edith paused, and Nancy swallowed. "Oh," she murmured.
"I want the best for my son, and I'm sure you can understand that. I also understand that while he has dropped hints about how he sees your relationship developing in the future, he has left such comments open-ended. I believe he might be afraid of frightening you.
"But I don't share such qualms."
Nancy looked up, and it was the hardest thing in the world to keep her gaze on Ned's mother.
"I invited you here today because I was hoping that you and I could speak frankly to each other, dear. He—Ned is already looking forward to his graduation, and so are we. He will want to find a girl who can share his life, and be his companion. I know that he hopes you could be that person in his life, even if he has not said so yet.
"So I think it's only fair for you to be honest with him. If you don't share those feelings, please tell him—it may hurt him now, but it will hurt him much, much more if you wait. Whenever he hears that other young men have assisted you with your mysteries or escorted you to social events, it already disturbs him far more than he would ever tell you. The young man you met in New Orleans, for example. Ned, if he could, would be with you always, dear. It's only dedication to his studies that keeps him from doing so."
A dozen responses flitted through Nancy's head, but she stayed quiet. None of those other escorts had become an indispensable companion the way Ned had, and she had to admit to herself that if Ned was always available to help her, she would always be happy for his assistance. He had never forbid her from seeing other men, but she definitely remembered dances at Emerson, Ned's jealousy when he saw her dancing with other students for the majority of the night.
And he had dropped hints, but she had always been more comfortable ignoring or deflecting them than acknowledging them. Because the life Edith described, becoming Ned's companion, becoming Ned's wife, Mrs. Ned Nickerson—it meant she would no longer be Nancy. She wouldn't be free to explore mysteries or travel or help people. She would be tied to their home, just as Ned's mother was, marooned while he had his separate life at the office, earning money to support them. She would cook and clean and raise their children, and that would be her life.
The thought just made her recoil, unhappy. Maybe in ten years, maybe, that kind of life might sound appealing to her... but by then, Ned would have lost interest in her and found someone else, some other girl who would happily be all those things to him.
That was the real reason she had never wanted to answer those gentle hints. She didn't want to disappoint him, she didn't want to lose his help and their relationship, and doing what Edith described would only hurt both of them.
Edith's gaze was a little sharper when Nancy glanced back up at her again. "And if you can see that kind of life with him... then tell him. He is very brave, and strong, but when it comes to telling you about how he feels, all that confidence just seems to melt away. I think he's afraid to jeopardize what you two have, for what you might."
"I'm afraid too," Nancy admitted. "Just as you say, Ned is a very special young man, and I would hate to risk our... our friendship."
The change was subtle, but Nancy saw a small frown cross Edith's features. "Then tell him," she said, her voice quiet and firm. "I understand that impulse to... leave your options open, as it were, but please tell him so he can stop pinning his hopes and dreams on a life he can't have. It will be better for both of you, in the long run."
Ned would find someone else. Of that, Nancy had no doubt.
Even so, she was disturbed when her throat began to ache faintly with tears, when they began to glaze her eyes. "He deserves a woman who could share his life," she told Ned's mother. "And I do envy her. I've never met a finer man."
Edith paused for a beat, then gently patted Nancy's knee. "I'm sorry I've upset you. I think I might be able to have a very slender slice of coconut cake, if you're interested...?"
Nancy took a deep breath, then forced a smile. "I thank you, but I should probably start for home. The roads only seemed to be getting worse."
Edith nodded, her own smile bittersweet. "Well, I will have to send some home with you, then. Please give Mrs. Gruen and your father our best."
"I will."
Nancy wasn't sure how she managed to get through her departure. Edith served a generous slice of cake, plenty for all three of them, and wrapped it in waxed paper, handing it to Nancy. After Nancy had finished wrapping her scarf back around her, buttoning her coat and slipping on her gloves, Mrs. Nickerson had given her a quick embrace.
"Be gentle with him, please," Edith said, flashing Nancy another brief, sad smile. "I know he's brave, but... he cares so very much for you, Nancy."
And I care for him. Nancy returned that brief smile, and when Edith closed the door behind her, Nancy finally let out her breath in a long sigh, stepping off the porch and onto the walk. Another light dusting of snow was falling, and the sky had become a blinding, sullen grey, promising more.
Nancy blamed the biting wind for the sudden prickling glaze of tears in her eyes.
When it came to the confrontation of villains, crooks and swindlers, Nancy didn't hesitate. She didn't feel shame or fear about it. Bringing dishonest people to justice was her second favorite activity, after helping those who needed her.
In most situations, she wasn't a timid girl. When it came to the discussion Ned's mother wanted Nancy to have with him, though... Nancy found herself shamefully reluctant. She didn't want to tell him through a telegram, in a letter, over the telephone; given his feelings for her, and her own for him, telling him in person was her only option.
But he had invited her to the Emerson Valentine's day festivities, to the Omega Chi Epsilon mixer afterward, and she had already accepted his invitation. Bess and George had already accepted Dave and Burt's similar invitations. He didn't have a school break between, and she was already planning to be at Emerson.
Valentine's Day.
Well, Nancy reflected, once she had that discussion with him, they would have no more dances, no more opportunities to linger in each other's arms. She knew she would miss it. She would miss him more than she could ever truly say.
So, she decided, she would make it a weekend to remember. If it would be their last, she would make it as pleasant for him as she could.
When Nancy selected her dress for the occasion, though, Bess immediately objected. "Don't you want something more festive?" she asked, her gaze sweeping over Nancy's dress. "Valentine's Day is a very romantic occasion, after all, and you will be spending it with Ned..."
Nancy shook her head, turning to check her own reflection one last time. "No," she said quietly. "This is what I want."
During the long drive to Emerson, the three girls chatted about Nancy's most recent case, their plans for her birthday, what the summer might bring, and while the prospect of finding another mystery did lighten her spirits a bit, Bess and George still noticed Nancy's heavy mood. She deflected their concern, though, always turning the conversation to lighter topics.
She didn't want to talk to Bess or George or anyone, really, about what she was feeling. Ned was special to her, and in her heart of hearts, she knew she would never meet another man like him. Having this discussion with him would be one of the hardest things she had ever done.
For once, Nancy did not find a mystery, and Ned seemed to be both relieved and a little disappointed. He enjoyed the opportunity assisting her presented to spend time with her, debating different theories, playing whatever role she needed him to play, and while plenty of events were scheduled to fill her time, she still found herself both dreading and wishing for another puzzle to solve. She wanted something to distract her—but she couldn't bear the thought of it, either.
From the first moment Ned greeted the three of them at Omega Chi, when his warm dark-eyed gaze had lingered on Nancy, she had been dreading the thought of leaving him. She didn't want to waste time she could be spending with him, not if this was the last weekend she would ever share with him.
He was a very handsome man, but Nancy hadn't lied to Edith when she had said Ned was unlike anyone else she had ever met. He was sympathetic and kind-hearted, intelligent and athletic, charming and protective. When she was around him, she felt a warmth she couldn't quantify or explain, as though just being in his presence was enough to give her a soft, happy glow. Oh, if they had never needed to label this...
But she wasn't being fair to him, to let him stay devoted to her when it could never end the way he wanted.
On the night of the dance Nancy dressed and checked her reflection one last time. Her golden hair shone, the ends just brushing her shoulders. Her gown was black, the bodice strapless and the hem floor-length, with a black lace overlay that came all the way up to her collarbone, all the way down to her wrists. Even though she very much wanted to dress in the customary way, in blush-pink or deep crimson, she couldn't bring herself to do it. It was the last dance they would attend together, and she supposed that, somehow, some part of her was mourning at the knowledge.
Ned's eyes lit up when he saw her outfit, and Nancy melted a little inside, smiling up at him. "You look very beautiful tonight, Nancy," he told her, offering her his arm.
"And you look very handsome," she told him, sliding her arm through his. He looked very crisp and proper in his black suit, black tie, and snow-white shirt, and every inch the genuinely charming man he had always been to her. He, along with the rest of his fraternity brothers, wore a red carnation in his buttonhole, and when he solemnly presented her with the single red rose he, like each of the brothers, had purchased for his date, she gave him a soft smile, his eyes sparkling when they gazed into hers.
She gave him every dance she could, only leaving his arms twice, and swallowed her nervousness and sadness as he twirled her, clearly delighted. They danced until they were both exhausted, and when she saw the tenderness in his eyes, she had to force herself not to drop her smile, not to show him what she was feeling. Instead she focused on the safety she felt in his arms, how much she savored his closeness. She would always fondly remember this.
The party back at the Omega Chi house was crowded, and the boys had really outdone themselves in their preparations. The long table in the dining room was decorated with vases of pink and red roses, flickering white candles, and paper hearts. The raspberry sweetheart punch was delicious. Bess and Dave were holding hands as they sampled the heart-shaped pink and white frosted sugar cookies, and George and Burt were twirling each other and laughing. One of the Omega brothers turned on the radio and soon most of them were dancing.
The night was cold enough that no one wanted to linger outside, but when Nancy suggested that she and Ned go out for a minute to get some air, Ned agreed. They bundled into their winter coats, scarves and gloves, and after the music and laughter inside fraternity, the silence and stillness that fell over them after they closed the door behind them was profound.
And fitting, Nancy thought.
She waited a moment, then took a breath. "Your mother and I had a conversation a few weeks ago," she said, her voice quiet and firm. "She mentioned that since your graduation is fast approaching, you had been considering the future..."
"I have," Ned agreed.
Nancy looked down. "She also told me that... you haven't been entirely honest with me, about how much it upsets you when I date other people."
Ned made a soft sound. "She said that?" he murmured.
Nancy nodded. "I hope you understand how much you mean to me," she said quietly.
"I don't," he replied, and when he touched her elbow, Nancy swallowed hard before she glanced over at him. "Nancy, I am not at all sure how much I mean to you."
Her gaze shied away from his. "Ned, I... I care about you very deeply."
"And I care for you very deeply," he replied, almost instantly. "Nancy..."
Nancy blinked hard, fighting tears. "But that doesn't matter," she said. "You won't wish to waste your time with me anymore, and I understand."
Ned made a soft noise, taking off his glove, and then reached up and touched her cheek. "But I'm afraid that I don't understand," he replied. "What do you mean, waste my time...?"
"You will be looking for a wife," she said, her voice trembling faintly. "And that woman will be very lucky."
Ned was quiet for a moment. Then he left her side, walking over to the swing at the edge of the porch. In the colder weather, it had been left unused, and the seat was covered in snowdrift that Ned brushed away. Nancy waited for him to take the few steps back to her and touch her arm, and just feeling his touch through the thick wool of her coat was enough to leave her both powerless to do anything but follow him, and to send another wave of sadness over her. Oh, how terrible she felt. If only she could just spend the rest of the party wrapped in his arms, just let herself forget for a little while that soon he would no longer be hers...
Nancy shook her head. He had never been hers. And that was the way it had to be.
They sat down on the swing together, and Ned reached for her, his fingertips cool against her cheek. He gently guided her so she was facing him, and yet again Nancy tried to swallow the ache of tears in her throat, but they just wouldn't go away.
"I know you may be predisposed to be mysterious, but, Nancy, please. Clearly you're upset about something, but I don't understand..."
His dark eyes were tender and so sweet as they gazed into hers, and her heart ached. He was the first man who had ever kissed her, and while the kisses they had shared had been soft and brief, the feel of his fingertips against her skin, so close to him, on such a night, made her almost delirious with desire for that closeness again.
But they would never share it again.
She moved slowly, almost dreamily, as she tugged her glove from her hand. It would be so much easier if tonight was just a terrible dream, if her conversation with Edith had never happened. Nancy reached up and lightly touched Ned's cheek, and at the contact, a pair of tears spilled from her lower lashes, tracing down her face.
Ned brushed them away with his thumbs and Nancy struggled mightily against her longing for him. She wanted to move into his arms, to linger in the safety he provided, to never let him go.
But ignoring what was between them, and what never could be, had brought her to this place.
"You're an amazing man, Ned. Once you graduate, you'll have such prospects..."
He nodded. "I've already made a few contacts in Chicago," he said, his eyes bright. "A few firms in particular that I think could be a good fit for me."
Nancy nodded. "And I would have expected nothing less," she told him with a smile. "In all the time I've known you, I've always been impressed by you, by your ambition and determination."
"And I by you," Ned murmured, and when his gaze dropped to her lips, Nancy felt a familiar tingle slide down her spine—and she had to shake herself. No matter how strongly she wanted to give in, to put this off just another day, she would just hurt them both. "You are the most fascinating girl—no, person, I've ever met."
"And part of settling down... you'll be looking for a wife."
"Oh?"
Nancy tipped her chin down, closing her eyes. "Please don't tease me," she whispered.
"I'm not. I'm just genuinely surprised to hear this."
"But it is true. Isn't it?"
Ned's thumbs stroked her cheeks before he crooked his finger under her chin and gently tipped it up again. "You say it as though I'm planning to put an advertisement in the newspaper. Diploma, yes; promising career, yes; next on the list, wife."
"You've always said that you plan on settling down one day."
"One day," he agreed, with a small nod. "With... with you. If you wish."
Nancy pulled in a trembling breath. "But I can't," she whispered, and she felt like her heart was truly breaking. "I can't be that woman."
She saw his handsome face fall, briefly, before he mastered himself, making his expression more neutral again. "Because you don't feel that way about me."
"How I feel about you... that doesn't matter," she said, blinking another pair of tears down her cheeks. "I—"
"What do you mean, it doesn't matter?"
She shook her head. "I mean that I'm not ready to give up my freedom or my life or doing what I love," she said, her voice firm. "I don't want to be tied to homemaking and children, not yet and maybe not ever. What I told you, when you were home for break..."
"The reporting," Ned said, nodding.
"I know it will be hard, but I think it might be perfect," she said, and she could hear a faint pleading note in her voice, begging him to understand the way he had seemed to understand when she had told him about the possibility. Reporting was in no way glamorous, and the city editor of the major newspaper in Chicago had been slow to believe she was serious about pursuing a career as an investigative journalist, when she had approached him. She had a suspicion that his granting her an audience was partially due to the cache of her name and reputation, and partially from his own morbid curiosity. The newspaper might gain readers who recognized her name from other articles focused on her sleuthing, or at least that was the editor's belief—even if she didn't turn out to be a good reporter.
Part of her didn't mind so much what it took to get her foot in the door, to get him to give her an opportunity to prove herself. The rest of her was determined that she would be the hardest-working reporter on his staff, if he let her.
"And if that's what you love, that's what makes you happy, then you should pursue it," he told her. "You'd be the most fearsome reporter the city has ever seen. Mobsters would quake in their boots, if they knew you were on their trail."
His dark eyes were warm, but she didn't sense that he was being insincere.
"But I can't..." For a second Nancy wished that he wouldn't make her say it, but he waited. "But I can't ask you to wait for me."
"To wait for you... Nancy, exactly one thing matters to me, and that's how you feel about me. I haven't wanted to press you on it, and I've been more than a little dismayed... very disappointed, in fact, when you allow other men to escort you. I was under the impression that you didn't see our relationship as exclusive, that maybe you were content to accept my assistance on your cases without wishing anything further..."
Nancy shook her head. "You... you have always been my favorite," she told him, searching his eyes, and her voice was trembling faintly. "I'm always disappointed when you aren't able to accompany me on my adventures."
"And those men who step in when I can't be there," Ned said, his voice dropping to a murmur as the freezing wind picked up—but she couldn't feel the cold, not with the sudden charge in the air between them as he glanced from her lips back up to her eyes, dipping his head. "I always fear that they might... take advantage..."
She was very sure that, the closer his head came to hers, the more danger she was in. She couldn't resist it, though, couldn't fight it, and when she felt his breath against her lips, then the lightest brush of his lips over hers, she closed her eyes, the electricity between them sending a glorious tingle all the way down to her toes. His lips felt just a little rough against hers, and when he stroked his fingertips against her jaw, over her hair, she opened her mouth just a little—
And she shivered when he barely touched the tip of his tongue to her mouth.
Her curiosity got the better of her, as it almost always did, and when he deepened their kiss she didn't stop him, didn't pull back. He tipped his head a little and she tipped hers accordingly, forgetting for the moment that this would only hurt them both later, to give in to it. All she could hear was the urgent pulse of her own heart in her ears, and all she could feel was him.
How could this feel so right, so very right, if they could not be together?
Nancy's ungloved hand was resting on Ned's shoulder when they parted, and for a moment she was left speechless. She was warm, but that warmth was nothing compared to the heat that swept over her from the expression in Ned's eyes.
"I can honestly say," she murmured, "that none of them have ever taken advantage in quite that way."
Ned cupped her face again. "But you say that I won't wait for you," he murmured. "Do you honestly think that one day you might want to give up sleuthing?"
"I..." Nancy faltered, unwilling to give him any false hope.
"Because I don't," Ned replied. "Maybe reporting will fill that need in you, but part of what drew me to you was your curiosity and how very fearless you were. I don't see that changing. Nor am I naive enough to believe that your determination and focus will lessen if you become a reporter."
"But, Ned..." Nancy shook her head. "I can't be both."
"Can't be both a reporter and a wife?"
Another shiver went down Nancy's spine when she heard him say that word in reference to her. "I can't be the housekeeper and cook and mother and a reporter, or a detective..."
"I think..." Ned looked at her lips again. "I think you're looking at this the wrong way. And I did too, for a while. As I told you, if you and I feel the same way, then we'll work it out. Because, Nan... I... I love you. I have loved you for the longest time."
Nancy swallowed hard. "You do?"
He nodded. "And I've been trying to tell myself for so long that I needed to just be what I could to you, because regardless of how you feel about me... I just want you to be happy."
"And that's all I want for you, too," she murmured, her gaze locked to his. "It breaks my heart to know that I'll have to let you go, so you can be happy..."
"But you just don't understand, detective," he said, leaning down, brushing his lips against her cheek. "I won't be happy without you."
She shivered again as he slipped his arm around her. "I suppose I'm just wondering how I've misunderstood what it is you want," she murmured. "How have I been looking at this the wrong way?"
"Because... when you imagine what it means to be a wife, what do you imagine?"
Nancy paused for a moment. "Your mother," she admitted. "She always seems very collected and proper, and she keeps the house in order, cooks and cleans, she's devoted to you and your father... And that seems to be the whole of her life. Volunteering, the bridge club and the women's circle at your church, and taking care of you and your father."
"And that, as far as I know, is what makes her happy," Ned said. "I want you to do what makes you happy. And if that's tracking down leads and stories, then that's what I want you to do." He gave her a small smile. "As much as I want to be with you, if I thought you would be miserable with me... then I would let you go."
"But I'm so afraid you will be miserable with me," she admitted to him.
"If I didn't know you so well, if I was walking into this expecting to change you, then I think I would be miserable," he told her. "Just put a little faith in me, Nan. If you believe in me, if you believe we can find a way, then we will."
She gave him a brief smile. "I... I don't know what love is, not when it comes to you," she said quietly. "I know that I love my father and Hannah, Bess and George, but the way I feel about you is different. It's been that way since the day we met at the Raybolt estate. I miss you so much when you're not around, and every time you call me or write me, it just makes me wish all the more fiercely that I could see you. When you touch me, I feel almost lightheaded with happiness. I love being with you. I love dancing with you; I love... being close to you, as we just were."
"But you never told me."
"Because I knew I could not be Mrs. Ned Nickerson," she said, sadly. "Not the way I thought you would need."
"I don't need Mrs. Ned Nickerson," he told her. "I need you. I need Nancy Drew. Who, it seems, feels the same way about me as I do about her."
She held his gaze, her own eyes shining. "You feel the same?"
"Very much," he told her, stroking her cheek. "I have never felt this way about anyone, and I don't think I ever will again. Because no one else could ever be you."
Nancy caught herself gazing at his mouth, then averted her eyes. "I can't help feeling that your mother will be disappointed," she murmured.
"How so?"
"I think she wants the best for you. Someone who will be the perfect wife."
Ned leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers again. "If you'll have me, Nancy, I will be the best husband to you that I can be," he whispered. "And that's all that matters to me."
Nancy's head was spinning, especially when he kissed her again. She couldn't seem to marshal her thoughts. At the beginning of the evening, she had told herself to treasure every small moment, every dance, every embrace, so she could remember fondly what they'd had; now, somehow, all the fears that had cast a pall over the evening, for her, had been stripped away, one by one, and she had no idea how to feel or react.
Ned wanted to be her husband. And he didn't want to do what she had always feared. He didn't want to buy a lovely suburban home and maroon her inside for the rest of her life, cooking and cleaning and raising children.
She had thought marriage would be a prison. But he... he would let her be free.
When he pulled back, she bowed her head. She didn't doubt his sincerity, but she also knew how deeply Ned respected his parents and their opinions and beliefs, and she was still unconvinced that Edith Nickerson would be pleased with what he had just told her. Edith had talked about settling down, when Nancy's life was almost always the opposite.
Save one way. She loved that she didn't have to hide the way she felt from Ned anymore. Just as he had resolved, she had resolved to leave her feelings for him guarded and hidden, since a lasting bond between them wasn't a possibility.
It still may not be, she admitted to herself. He may believe what he says now, in the heat of the moment, but in the morning? After his graduation? After... after the wedding?
Ned kissed her one more time, and when they heard the door open they sprang apart—but not in time to truly conceal what they were doing. "Oh," Bess said, clearly embarrassed to be interrupting. "I was worried something had happened to you..."
"Something has," George pointed out with a grin. "Apparently they came out here to cool down, but I don't believe it worked..."
Nancy stood, smoothing the skirt of her dress, and Ned followed. "May I bring you a glass of punch?" he asked Nancy, and she wondered if her chums could hear the faint note of humor in his voice. Punch was the last thing on her mind.
"Yes, please," she replied, willing the soft blush she could feel in her cheeks to fall. She exchanged a glance with Bess and George; Bess's eyes were bright, and George was already laughing, eager to rejoin the bustle of the party.
Ned reached for her hand and squeezed it before they walked back inside. Trust me, he mouthed, and gave her a smile.
She dipped her head once, her lips curving up a little.
She would try. That was the least she could do.