Engaging Carol

by Pepper Espinoza

  “Go, Mommy. But I’ll miss you.” She wrapped her arms around Carol’s neck, squeezing her as hard as she could. Carol held her, watching Daniel over Rebecca’s shoulder. He joined them, wrapping his arms around both of them. Carol closed her eyes, trying to imagine a life without either of them. The prospect terrified her.

  * * * *

  Carol watched the blur of snow and dead trees pass as the bus roared toward the sunset, thinking of the two she left behind at the bus depot. There had been tears, and hugs, and promises. Already, the excitement of a new adventure, the thrill of a new challenge, the heady rush of anticipation, burned in her blood.

  Smiling, Carol pulled her new stationary out of her backpack. It had been a gift from Daniel, which had come complete with stamped and addressed envelopes. Holding the paper on a book against her lap, she bit the top of the pen, gathering her thoughts.

  Rebecca would want to know about every moment of Carol’s journey. Determined, she put pen to paper. Rebecca would be with her in spirit until they met again, and she would see everything Carol saw.

  Chapter 7

  Denver, Colorado

  1970

  Dear Rebecca,

  Thank you for the last batch of pictures. I can’t believe how much you’ve grown in the past year! I bet by the time I’m home, you’ll be taller than me. Which reminds me, I plan on coming home after this trip to Vietnam. This last mission has been very exhausting. We toured the entire state of California, raising money everywhere we went for clothes, food, and medical supplies. We raised over thirty thousand dollars! Can you believe that? A lot of it came from kids your age who wanted to help.

  We’re working with several churches this time from all over the world. I’ve met the most interesting people. I’m actually going to Vietnam this time due to the size of the mission. They said I’m the person with the most practical experience when it comes to organization. I guess I’ve got them fooled!

  I’ve actually been in Hawaii for the past month, getting everything organized. We’ve been using a minister’s home as a sort of staging and training area. I’ll be back in California for about a week, and then it’s on to Vietnam!

  Please make sure your father attends his graduation ceremony. I want lots of pictures!

  Oh, I can’t wait to see you again. I’m looking forward to your next letter.

  Love you,

  Mom

  Rebecca hauled the massive scrapbook from Carol’s old office to the kitchen table once Daniel had cleared the dinner dishes. She sat with it, flipping to the first blank pages in the giant book. She pulled out two letters and a postcard from Hawaii, carefully attaching each one to the cardboard. She leaned back to admire her work.

  “What do you think, Dad?”

  He looked over her shoulder. “That’s very nice. What did your mother have to say?”

  “That Hawaii is beautiful, and she’s excited about traveling to Vietnam. Look, she sent a few pictures.” Rebecca handed four photographs to him. “I think she looks tired.”

  “I agree,” he muttered. She looked tired, but happy. Her face glowed, and her body looked hard, but she still had her alluring curves. She wore her hair cropped very short, but he liked the new style—it seemed to accentuate her pretty face. “Any mention of when she’s coming home?”

  “At the beginning of next year.” Rebecca looked up. “Why are you standing over my shoulder? Don’t you have to go change?”

  Daniel shook his head. “I’m not changing because I’m not going anywhere.”

  Rebecca stood, her hands on her hips. Daniel kept himself from smiling, knowing that she’d only be angered by his amusement. “I promised Mom I’d get pictures of you graduating. She’s looking forward to them!”

  “Becky, it’s enough that I have the paper. I don’t need a ceremony to go along with it,” he said. He hoped Rebecca wouldn’t push, but he knew she would. He didn’t want to explain that he felt too old for such things. Graduation ceremonies were for bright-eyed kids, not for middle-aged men who just wanted a better future for his kid.

  “It’s really important to Mom,” Rebecca countered. She hugged him, looking up with her mother’s large eyes. “And to me, too. I’m proud of you. You’ve worked really hard. You deserve to celebrate a little.”

  Daniel studied his daughter with perplexed eyes. His little baby was growing into a young lady, who seemed far older than twelve. He consoled himself with the thought that he still had a full year, maybe two, before boys started sniffing around the house. “I was looking forward to a quiet night at home, but if you insist.”

  “I do! Now go get changed. Wear something nice.”

  Daniel laughed. “Do you have any suggestions?”

  She tilted her head, scratching her temple. “Your black slacks, and that shirt Mom sent you from San Francisco.”

  “The black one with the gold?” Daniel wasn’t fond of the shirt, but he supposed it wouldn’t kill him to wear it for one night. Plus, Carol would appreciate seeing it in the photos.

  “That’s the one.”

  “Your wish is my command,” he said, turning to the stairs. “Is there anything else you’d like to suggest?”

  “Ice cream is a good way to celebrate!” she called after him.

  He trudged up the stairs, feeling every day of his thirty-five years. He often wondered if Carol felt old, traveling around the world with a bunch of college students. She’d be forty in just a few short years, and the thought made him dizzy. Where had all that time gone?

  He opened his bedroom closet, pulling out his own collection of letters and memories. Carol wrote him like clockwork—her words to him considerably more dark and serious than in her letters to Rebecca. He mailed two letters a week to her, but he hadn’t sent even one that week. Things had just been too hectic as he prepared to finally receive his Bachelor’s degree in business management.

  Changing your life was always a chaotic experience, he found. The past week had been a flurry of activity—his final classes, his big project, meeting with professors, and putting together the final details of a plan that kept him up every single night for the past year.

  Everything was moving forward. He hoped he’d be able to keep up the momentum.

  Daniel dutifully dressed in the clothes Rebecca had chosen, even digging out the silver cufflinks his mother had given him on his thirtieth birthday. He slicked back his hair, grimacing at his reflection. When had his face gotten so fat? His head looked more like a balloon.

  His daughter was almost a teenager, his fiancé was three years late in returning home, and time hurled forward without consideration. He pointedly ignored the growing bands of gray radiating from his temples.

  “I’m ready,” Rebecca shouted from the hallway. “Hurry up, we’re going to be late!”

  He glanced at the clock hanging above the bed. They would be late. Perhaps he could talk Rebecca out of attending the ceremony—perhaps he’d have to resort to bribery. Shelling out a few bucks for root beer floats seemed much more reasonable than standing at the center of attention.

  “Why don’t we just go right for the ice cream?” he suggested as he descended the stairs.

  “No. Look, I have the camera ready. Don’t forget your coat.”

  He smirked. “Thanks for reminding me.”

  “Well, you are getting older,” Rebecca teased.

  Daniel sighed. “Thanks for reminding me.”

  “I was right about the shirt. It looks great on you.”

  He resigned himself to the fact that Rebecca had the same awful taste as her mother. “Well, if we’re going to do this thing, we better leave now.”

  She skipped out of the house, obviously a hundred times more excited than her father. He couldn’t help but smile, though. She was excited because she was proud of him, and that was a damned good feeling. He was a bit proud of himself.

  * * * *

  Rebecca joked and chatted on the short drive to Red Rock Community College, telling him about
her teacher, her best friends, and the boy she thought was pretty cute—his heart almost seized with that. He listened with half an ear as he navigated the empty, but icy, streets. The snow had come surprisingly early that year, and with it, freezing temperatures.

  The modest graduation ceremony was held in the assembly hall at the center of the small campus. Maybe only half of his fellow classmates showed up—most of them were much younger than him. The dean called each person to the podium, offering their degree with a firm handshake.

  Daniel studied his with watery eyes and Rebecca stood in the back of the room, clapping loudly and cheering his name. Maybe coming to the shindig hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

  After the short ceremony, they were all invited into the hall for light refreshments. There, Daniel proudly introduced Rebecca to everybody, beaming with pride as she dazzled them with her bright smile and quick wit.

  “She must get it from her mother.” Dr. Harding laughed as Rebecca regaled them with a surprisingly funny story about school. “I don’t think her dad has a sense of humor. I’ve never even seen him smile,” Harding explained to the man standing beside him.

  “That’s not true,” Daniel replied, “I laughed that time you came to class with toilet paper stuck to your pants.”

  Harding turned red. “That wasn’t funny.”

  Daniel checked his watch, frowning at the late hour. “Well, gentlemen, it’s been fun, but I’ve got to get this one home.”

  “But, Dad, I’m not tired,” Rebecca protested.

  “It’s way past your curfew, young lady,” he said, taking her elbow. “You shouldn’t be out this late on a school night.”

  “You should listen to your father, miss,” Harding encouraged. “A full night’s rest is the first step to success. Speaking of success, I understand you have a new job lined up, Daniel.”

  He nodded, feeling oddly shy. “I’m managing a site for Atkinson Construction. They liked the combination of my degree and my experience. It’s a great opportunity.”

  Rebecca looped her arm through is. “You promised me ice cream.”

  “I did, in fact, promise ice cream. We better leave or it’ll be too late. Good night,” Daniel said, nodding to his companions.

  “Can I see your diploma, Dad?” Rebecca asked once they stepped out of the bright building into the chilly night.

  “Sure,” he said, absently handing it to her. It slipped from his fingers before she had a hold of it, and a gust of wind blew it into the parking lot.

  “I’ll get it!” she announced.

  “Becky, wait!”

  But she was already gone, racing into the dark lot. Daniel hurried after her, but he froze when he saw the old Cadillac turn down their aisle, its lights bright, its tires slipping over the thin layer of ice that coated the asphalt.

  “Rebecca!” he shouted, trying to reach her, but his feet went out from under him. He fell hard on the ground, new pain mingling with the old, forgotten pain of his war injury. He turned over, shouting her name again, but she didn’t have time to move.

  She screamed as the car hit her small body.

  * * * *

  Daniel’s days were endless. Time lost all meaning. Reality was out of reach. Everything became a gray flannel blur. He heard voices but he couldn’t understand what they said. He saw people but he couldn’t distinguish their faces. He didn’t remember sleeping, but he thought he must have dreamt, must be dreaming. He felt hollow inside. There was nothing left in his body. Somebody kept telling him to eat, but he didn’t even know what that meant.

  He just sat in Rebecca’s hospital room, all day, every day, holding vigil over her battered body, and praying through numbed lips. He didn’t even know if he uttered words or basic animal sounds.

  Carol’s touch brought Daniel crashing back to Earth. When his eyes focused on her face, he thought he must be hallucinating. She said his name. She kissed his forehead. He didn’t remember calling her. She asked him what the doctors said about Rebecca’s chances.

  The simple question finally destroyed the dam he had built around his emotions. An icy fire engulfed him, and he lost control.

  Daniel embraced Carol, sobbing. He tried to tell her it was all his fault. He tried to tell her he was so sorry. He tried to tell her that he would take Rebecca’s place in that hospital bed, under all those bandages. The words were drowned in his tears. He buried his head against her belly, crying for his daughter until he had nothing left within him.

  “Here,” Carol said, pushing a sandwich into his hand. “You need to eat.”

  “Thanks,” he muttered, forcing the food between his lips. He chewed mechanically, not tasting it.

  “Daniel, let me take you home,” she said softly, holding out a cup of coffee.

  He finished the sandwich, chasing it with the coffee. “No.”

  “You’ve been here for days. You need to sleep. You need to shower. You’re a mess.”

  “I can’t leave her. What if she wakes up? She’ll be alone and scared, and I can’t leave her.”

  “Dr. Roberts promised he would call if there were any changes. She’s under close observation. We’re not far from the hospital, Daniel. Please.”

  He couldn’t look away from his little girl—so small and pale beneath all the bandages and tubes. Both arms were in casts, the top half of her head was tightly wrapped, and the few patches of skin visible were blue with bruises. The thought of her waking up alone, in pain, afraid, killed him.

  “Daniel, Dr. Roberts is worried about you. He insists that you go home for the night. Rebecca will be fine. He said so. But it’s going to be a little while before she’s ready to wake up. Please, if you won’t leave for your own sake, go for hers. You won’t do any good if you’re exhausted, right?” She threaded her fingers between his, tugging gently on his hand. He allowed her to pull him to his feet, unable to protest farther. He was too tired to think of the words.

  Once they reached the house, Daniel wanted to turn around and leave again. It reminded him of a tomb, far too quiet and dark. Carol urged him up the stairs, not allowing him to turn on his heel and flee. She helped him undress. He noticed distantly that he was wearing the same slacks and ugly black shirt. His cuff links dinged against the wall as she tossed aside the shirt.

  “When did you remodel the bathroom?” she asked as she guided him into the room.

  “We finished a few months ago,” he said hollowly. “It was Becky’s idea.”

  She had wanted to add a shower and update the “totally ugly wallpaper” and get a new toilet. He had been happy to oblige, doing most of the work himself. And he had been proud of his work at the time, but now it served as a bitter reminder of what he had almost lost—of what he could still lose.

  “I’ll cook some soup or something while—”

  “No,” Daniel said, showing a spark of life for the first time in days. “No. I don’t want to be alone right now.”

  “I’ll stay. No problem.” She smiled as if to reassure him. He didn’t feel reassured. He felt cold.

  The shower was hot. The soup she fed him in the kitchen afterward was hot. He still felt cold.

  “I should have stopped her. I should have stopped her or saved her. I saw the car coming and—”

  “There were a few witnesses,” Carol informed him, “I spoke to them and the police. Everybody agrees you couldn’t have done anything, Daniel. It was an accident. Please don’t blame yourself. Please.”

  He didn’t respond. It occurred to him that she could have the same cold, hollow feeling in her chest. He wanted to reach out and comfort her. He wanted to be the rock, the steady one, for both of them, but he just couldn’t find the strength. He wanted to hold her and tell her that everything would be fine. He didn’t have the energy.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he sighed, pushing the half-empty bowl away from him.

  “Are you done eating?”

  He nodded.

  “Maybe you feel better after some sleep. You look
so exhausted.”

  Daniel knew he’d only feel better if he could see his baby girl’s clear blue eyes, looking at him with amusement, and pride, and love. Even so, he followed Carol to bed like an obedient child, recognizing that the sooner he slept, the sooner he could return to the hospital.

  Stripping naked, Carol crawled into bed with him, folding herself into his arms. He held her like a frightened child, taking a modicum comfort in her heat, and her softness, and her sweet breath against his face. She rubbed his shoulder and back, caressing him with infinite tenderness, her fingers like silk on his skin. She spoke to him, meaningless words that, combined with the movement of her hands, lulled him into a doze, and finally, a deep, exhausted sleep.

  * * * *

  Dr. Roberts met them at the hospital early the next morning, obviously pleased that Carol had finally convinced Daniel to take a break from his vigil. Physically, Daniel felt better, but he resented that he’d had to leave the hospital at all.

  “How is she?” he demanded as soon as he saw the doctor.

  Roberts held up his hand. “She’s improving.” He caught Daniel by the arm before he could race off to Rebecca’s room. “She might wake up soon, but we don’t know the extent of the trauma to her brain. She may be fine, she may be confused. She may be worse.”

  Daniel understood. She might be a vegetable. He tried to push the thought out of his mind, but it lingered like the stench of decaying fish.

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Carol said as Daniel pulled free and made a beeline for Rebecca’s room. She exchanged more words with the good doctor, but Daniel wasn’t interested in sticking around to hear them.

  Rebecca looked exactly the same. She hadn’t moved. She hadn’t changed. His heart twisted. Sinking into the familiar chair by her bed, he touched her knee—the only part of her that didn’t seem bandaged, bruised, disfigured, or hooked up to machines.

  “I’m here,” he whispered. He heard Carol enter the room. Without looking up, he asked, “Did I call you?”

  “What?”

  “When she…from the hospital. Did I call you? Did I tell you she was here? I really don’t remember,” he explained, his eyes still trained on Rebecca.