by Sarah Ready
“If you care about me,” I say, “then you’ll stay away from me. Out here in the world, you’re Frederick Knight, and I never want to see you again.”
“Veronica?” His voice is full of shock and…fear?
“No,” I say. And it hurts, it hurts so much. “Your story was right, you’re Theseus. And I’m Ariadne. I saw the other women. I helped you out of the labyrinth, and now…we’ll go our separate ways.”
“No. That’s not what I want, I want you.”
The worst part of this is…I want him too. Even knowing who he is.
Then the paramedics rush to my side, help me to the stretcher. Nick, Chloe’s husband, is there and I reach for his hand. Thankful to see someone I know and trust.
“Nick,” I say.
“Vee, are you okay? Thank God, you’re safe,” Nick says.
“Veronica, please.” Sam…no, Frederick, says. I have to think of him as Frederick. He rushes forward, tries to reach me.
I close my eyes at the sight of his face. It hurts too much. “Stay away from me,” I whisper.
Sam grabs for my hand. His fingers brush against mine and a small sob escapes when I remember all the times he laced his fingers through mine.
I hear a scuffle, then, “Buddy. You heard her. Back off.”
That was Nick, former military man, uber-protective of his wife, and apparently also protective of his wife’s best friend.
I open my eyes. Nick’s back at my side. I’m being loaded into an ambulance.
“Is he…backing off?” I hate that I really hope he says no. That I hope Sam keeps coming. Except…I don’t want that.
“Nah, the reporters surrounded him. He couldn’t get past them.”
I sigh with relief. Suddenly, exhaustion overwhelms me.
“Did he…hurt you?” asks Nick.
“No,” I cry. “No. Never.” At least not in the way Nick’s asking. My hand goes to my heart. “We got lost in a cave. He saved my life. I just…I don’t want to see him.”
“Then you won’t,” Nick says.
The paramedic comes close and attaches a blood pressure cuff.
“I’m alright,” I say. “It was just…I’m just a little dizzy.”
It doesn’t matter what I say. They’re taking me to the hospital.
They boost me into the back of the ambulance.
Sam, no, Frederick, has been swallowed by a mass of reporters. I wonder if they’ll get him to the hospital. He needs fluids, food. Someone needs to make sure his vitals are okay. I stop my line of thought. He’s not mine to care about or take care of.
I can see him still trying to push his way through the crowd, to get to me. My chest pinches. He looks up, sees me watching him. Determination fixes on his face. He wants to get to me. He wants…me.
I shake my head. “I want to go now,” I say. Then more forcefully, “Now.”
“I’ll meet you there,” Nick says. “Chloe’s already in the hospital.”
“What? Why?” I look at Nick, and I notice that he looks exhausted and worried, worried for more than just me. “What is it?”
He takes a deep breath then, “The baby. She came early. They don’t know if…they’re doing everything they can.”
Oh no. Chloe’s baby. She’s…
I picture Chloe holding my hand over her stomach, the joy in my best friend’s eyes every time the baby kicked.
I nod. “I’ll see you there,” I say.
The doors to the ambulance slam shut.
I clear the past five days from my mind. I wipe Sam from my heart. I push away all the weakness that I feel for him, all the love. I wash it away.
I made it out of the cave alive, I did it. Except, why is it then that I feel less alive than I did when I was with him, sure we were going to die?
I made it out, but I didn’t make it out with my heart intact.
Sam is Frederick Knight. Sam is…
Frederick Knight.
14
Sam
Veronica is gone. I fight my way through the reporters. The ambulance lights flash, it pulls out of the clearing onto a service road and drives away.
Dang it.
Another paramedic team makes their way toward me. It’s an absolute zoo.
“Frederick. Mr. Knight.” The reporters clamor around and shout questions. “Where have you been the last five days?”
“Were you worried for your life?”
“Is it true you and Clara are getting married?”
I flinch at the last question. It was Clara in the helicopter, coming to the search under some misguided attempt at publicity. Apparently she played the grieving girlfriend while I was lost.
“No,” I say to the media. “We are not.”
I pushed her away as soon as possible and told her in no uncertain terms that we were not together. She knew that, but she’d wanted to use the press for a career boost.
“Are you and Veronica Diaz dating?” another reporter shouts.
I swing my head toward the reporter that asked the question. I hadn’t known Veronica’s last name. She would hate these questions. She’d hate being under the scrutiny of reporters and tabloids. Even more, she would hate the insinuation that she’s one of many women that I, Frederick Knight, has played.
“No comment,” I say in a hard voice.
The paramedics back the reporters away.
“We need to take you to the hospital. Any family here with you?”
“My sister,” I say. I point out Evie. She ran to me after I pushed Clara aside. I was so happy to see her. I didn’t realize how much until she was hugging me, crying in my arms. She chided me, told me I was an idiot, and that I was never allowed to go hiking again. A pain pinches in the center of my chest.
If Veronica…if she’ll have me, I’ll be hiking a lot.
We’re loaded into the back of the second ambulance.
The sirens blare and the ambulance bounces over the dirt service road.
At the hospital I’m given a thorough exam. Filled with fluids, calories and antibiotics. I’m cleaned up, poked, prodded, x-rayed, bandaged and declared as healthy as can be expected. I don’t care. None of it matters. The only thing that matters is finding out where Veronica is. If she’s okay.
I keep asking. The nurses, the doctors, the x-ray tech, but no one will tell me anything. It’s as if she’s disappeared, or…she doesn’t want me to see her.
Two hours after I’ve arrived at the hospital I’ve had enough.
“Where’s Veronica?” I ask the nurse. “I need to see her. Make sure she’s okay.”
The nurse shakes her head. But she says more than anyone has before, “She’s not taking visitors.”
My heart pounds in my chest and I close my eyes. She’s here. She’s here somewhere.
When the nurse leaves the room I turn to my sister.
Her eyebrows are raised and she’s watching me with a funny expression on her face.
“Sam, I think…are you…”
“Do not psychoanalyze me, Evie,” I warn.
She smiles and her eyes crinkle. “She looked like a nice woman,” she says.
My hands clench into fists. “She’s not nice,” I say.
Evie’s forehead wrinkles.
“She’s brave and strong and kind and funny and loving and I…” My throat tightens. I take hold of the IV taped to my arm and I slowly pull it out. “I’m going to find her.” I pull off the heart rate monitor, the pulse ox, all the ties and cords.
“Okay,” she says. “I’ll wait here. I’ll tell them you’re in the bathroom.”
“Thanks, Evie.”
“Of course.”
I hurry from the room. When I see someone coming down the hall I duck my head and turn the opposite direction. It’s a small hospital. If I can remain inconspicuous I’ll be able to find her room. After a few close calls, some eavesdropping, and blatant lurking, I find her. I grab a newspaper from an empty nurse’s station and hold it in front of my face while I stand diagonal
to her room. The tall guy, Nick, comes out looking stressed and worried. He strides down the hall. I pray that he’s a cousin or a eunuch. Because if he cares about her as much as it looks, and he tries to press his advantage while she’s hurting, I…my stomach bottoms out. I imagine she’d choose him over me.
I can’t let her do that.
I love her. And I know that she loves me.
I look around. The hall’s empty. I step into Veronica’s room and close the door.
“Nick?” she asks.
“No, it’s me,” I say.
She looks up and I think her eyes flare with happiness, although I can’t tell because the expression is quickly covered.
“Who’s Nick?” I ask. “Are you together?”
She shakes her head. “Nick? No…I…why are you here?”
I sit down next to her. She’s hooked up to an IV just like I was. I’m glad they’re taking care of her.
“I wanted to explain,” I say.
She shakes her head. “I saw you kissing that woman. I know who you are. There’s no explaining it away.”
“I wasn’t. I didn’t…” I stop. I realize how lame it sounds. I know what it looked like and it didn’t look good. “Please. You said that there weren’t supposed to be any secrets in the cave. There weren’t. I was myself with you. I was more myself there with you than I have been in years. You know me. You do.”
“I hate this,” she cries. “You sound like Sam, but when I look at you, you’re not Sam, you’re…him.” The way she says him, with such hurt and fear and disgust, makes me flinch like I’ve been struck. I look across the room and see my face in the mirror. It’s me. Light brown hair, hazel eyes…him. The man on all the covers of magazines and in the news. I turn away from my reflection, look back at Veronica, desperate that she see me. Hear me. An idea strikes.
“Close your eyes,” I say.
“What?”
“Close your eyes,” I say. I nod, urge her to listen.
She looks at me then lets her lids close. I breathe out a sigh of relief.
“It’s me,” I say. I thread my fingers through hers. Her lips shake. “We made it.”
A tear falls down her cheek.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was. At first, I was scared. So many people only see what the media says about me. Or they see the money or my appearance. They don’t look past that. I wanted you to know me, not what other people say or write about me. I was scared that if you knew who I was you would turn away. You would believe the worst of me. And that me being Frederick Knight, in that cave, would hurt our chances of surviving. I wanted to be myself with you. Then after a while I wasn’t Frederick Knight anymore. I wasn’t even Sam. I was the man who loved you. And that’s all I am. The man who loves you.”
Her lips tremble and more tears squeeze from her closed eyes.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I can’t change my past. But I can be the man you know going forward. I can show you every day that I’m the man you know. The one you fell in love with.”
I stop, let go of her hand and reach up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Rub my thumb over her lip. I want more than anything to settle down next to her and pull her in my arms.
“What do you say?” I ask. “Shower and bed?”
Her eyes open and when she looks at me she flinches. My chest fills with icy dread.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I can’t.”
“What if I told you that not even a hundredth of what you see in the news about me is true?”
She shakes her head. Holds back a sob.
“I’d be true to you,” I promise her. “I’d give you the world. Everything we dreamed of. Italy, New Zealand, sunset in Central Park. I’d give you everything. Heaven on earth. The only catch is, it’d come with me.”
I hold out my palm.
“Hold my hand?” I ask.
I wait, holding my breath, praying that she’ll reach up and take my hand in hers. The seconds tick by. My chest tightens, my stomach sinks. Long after I know she isn’t going to reach up I leave my hand hanging there. Waiting.
She looks at my face, my eyes, my mouth, my hand.
“I’m scared,” she whispers. “You…I look at you and…” She stops. “Please.”
I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know how to fix this. My body feels leaden, weighed down and I don’t know that I can leave.
She forcefully wipes the tears from her cheeks. Then her shoulders stiffen and she seems to come to a decision. I can tell she doesn’t like it, and I won’t either, but she’s stubborn and I know she’s chosen her path.
“Remember when I asked if what we felt in the cave would pass?” she asks.
“Don’t,” I say, scared of what she’s going to say.
“I said that maybe what we felt was because of the situation. The adrenaline and the fear for our lives. That situations like that cause people to feel emotions that don’t exist.” She sniffs back tears and nods her head.
“No,” I say. I ache to pull her in my arms, kiss this idiotic idea from her head.
“Yes. That’s what happened,” she says. “It wasn’t real. None of it was real.” She swallows and presses her lips together so tight that they turn pale.
“No,” I argue. “You don’t mean that.”
She looks at me again, then deliberately looks at my face, lets the knowledge of who I am fill her.
“I do mean it,” she says. And whether she does or not, I can tell she’s made her decision. The stubborn, beautiful, determined woman.
She means it. She’s saying goodbye.
My breath rushes out and my ribs ache. I feel trapped in the cave again, unable to break free. The darkness closes around me. I look at my palm, hanging in the air between us. Empty.
I cling to the hope of my last argument. “You claimed that I’m your soul mate,” I argue. “You said—”
“That I would never, ever love Frederick Knight.”
The darkness that I thought I escaped weighs down on me.
“You’ll never love Frederick Knight,” I repeat, my voice sounds wooden and hollow.
She watches as I drop my hand. Close my fist around empty air.
“I can’t,” she says.
This is the same moment as so many that came before. When someone sees me, they reject me. Except, not Veronica. She wouldn’t.
“You’re scared,” I say. “I understand. I’m here. I’m not leaving. We’ll do this together, I’m—”
“Goodbye,” she whispers. Then, “Goodbye, Frederick.”
And the way she says the name Frederick, cold and distant, like she doesn’t know me, I understand that this is the end. This really is goodbye.
I think about all the things she told me about her soul mate. Even I thought he was reprehensible. Even I didn’t want her to be with him. From her view, and the view of the world, he was a player.
The kind of man that doesn’t deserve her.
I understand.
“Goodbye,” I say. I brush my fingers over hers. Memorize the feel of her hands. “For what it’s worth, thank you. I owe you more than my life.”
She drops her head. “You’re welcome,” she says.
I turn to go, start to walk out.
“Sam?” she says.
I stop. Turn back to her. Pray that she’s changed her mind, realized that she’s not scared, that she’s brave and courageous and…
“Thank you too,” she says. She smiles and lifts her hand in farewell.
I nod, my throat too tight to respond. Then I do what I promised never to do. I leave her.
15
Veronica
I stand in the hospital’s neonatal intensive care unit with Chloe. My goddaughter lays all alone in a bassinet covered in clear plastic. The hospital staff calls it an incubator. There’s a door that I can reach through to hold her hand.
“Can I?” I ask Chloe.
I blink my eyes and try to keep back the tears. Chloe doesn’t need
to see me cry or break down. Her baby was born prematurely and needs oxygen, pulmonary support, nutrition, and more to make it through the next few weeks. Chloe needs a strong friend, not a weepy mess. But when I look at Ava, my goddaughter, all alone in the plastic box, it reminds me of being trapped in the cave. The one thing that got me through it was being able to touch Sam. Just hold his hand. If I had to be alone in a cave, surrounded by walls on all four sides, with no one to touch…no one there, I’d…
“She likes to hold hands,” says Chloe. “You can see her heart rate calm when you do.” She gives me a watery smile.
“I understand,” I say. I’ll stay as long as I can. Hold Ava’s hand as much as she needs.
“I get to have skin to skin contact too. She lays on my chest and I sing to her. She likes that best. Well, she likes Nick’s voice best. He used to sing to her this lullaby and she’d always go to the side of the womb where he sang. Whenever he sings it now, she turns to him and reaches out.”
Chloe wipes at her eyes and I pull her close for a quick hug.
“I’m okay,” she says. “Just tired.”
I reach into the incubator and gently place my pointer finger in Ava’s hand. Her hand is small and soft, and she wraps it around my finger. My heart skips a beat at her firm hold.
“She’s strong,” I say, surprised at the strength of her grip. “Hello, Ava Marie.”
“We chose a different name,” Chloe says.
I look over at her. “Really?” They’d settled on Ava Marie as soon as Chloe knew she was pregnant.
Chloe nods. “Ava Veronica.”
“What?” I shake my head. “Why’d you do that?”
Chloe leans into my side. “The day after you left you didn’t answer any texts, then we heard Frederick Knight was missing too. The next day I had the emergency C-section and you still didn’t answer. I knew something was wrong. You would’ve come if you’d known. Nothing would’ve stopped you from coming.”
I reach over and clutch her arm.
“So, I realized you were in trouble. But I also knew that you’re the most kick-butt, bravest, strongest woman I know. You’d get out of whatever trouble you were in. When Ava was born too early to breathe without help, and I realized she was going to have to fight for her life, I wanted her to fight. To be brave. To be like you. Fearless.”