Chapter Twenty-six
The night I spent under the tree after running from the bear was one of my worst nights in the wilderness. It came only second to the night after Seth fell into the ravine.
Though perhaps one could argue that my polar bear night—accompanied by a cracked jaw and bloody lip—was a crucial turning point in my life because that’s when the seeds of my future were planted.
It probably sounds crazy, and in my line of work, if I were hearing this story now, I would try and educate the patient by suggesting that sometimes a person can retreat into fantasy in order to seek comfort or escape an unpleasant reality.
No question, that’s exactly what I did that night.
In my case, however, I have no regrets about my so-called escape from reality, because I’m not sure I would have survived the next year without more of the same.
o0o
It was exceedingly dark and cold that night, no moon or starlight at all, and I was in so much pain I couldn’t sleep.
Loneliness hit fast and hard. All I wanted was to be back in my warm bed at home, even if I was tossing and turning, or at the coffee shop once again chatting with the clerks in the morning. I imagined our conversation and the feel of the hot paper cup in my hand as I slipped it into the cardboard sleeve.
A hot beverage is one of those simple things in life we don’t appreciate nearly enough. I swore that, if I was ever lucky enough to set another kettle onto a stove to boil, I would never take it for granted again.
It was dark in the woods. There is no other darkness like it anywhere, and I feared I might simply expire from loneliness.
In an effort to ward off such wretched thoughts, I did something proactive instead. I dug into the pack to search for Seth’s phone.
There was barely any battery life left, but enough at least for me to scroll through his photo gallery and search for the pictures of his wife in the park on that hot summer day in Boston with the swan boats in the background. That woman had inscribed his compass with words I could not let myself forget: So you’ll always find your way home.
I needed to hear her voice.
At last I found the video Seth had shown me, and I pressed play.
There she was. Carla, with that cute, flirty smile.
Her eyes were impossibly blue. I exhaled with a feeling of calm, and it helped to stop the shivering.
“Someday I want you to buy me a house on a lake where I can plant purple flowers…”
I watched that video over and over until the battery died. Then I rummaged through Seth’s wallet and found the printed photograph of Carla. Because my own wallet and phone had been lost in the crash, it was the only picture I had of another human being. I stared at it for a long while, then slipped it back into the wallet and put it in my pocket.
That night, I fell asleep dreaming of the house on the lake with purple flowers.
Looking back on it, I now believe that God had not forsaken me after all. On that particular night, he was definitely paying attention.
Loneliness
Chapter Twenty-seven
Carla
I never did tell Gladys about how Seth cashed in his life insurance policy and left us with nothing but his personal belongings, because I couldn’t bear to tarnish her memory of Seth as a brave mountain climber and devoted father. Nor did I want her to know how Kaleigh and I had been struggling over the past few years—because there was nothing she could do about it anyway. She wasn’t any better off than we were.
On one particular night as I lay in bed tossing and turning, feeling guilty about my anger towards Seth on so many different occasions, I came to a decision that I would ask my boss if I could be considered for full-time work at the bank. Maybe I could even work my way up to a clerk’s position. I already knew the bank’s daily operations inside out, and I certainly needed the money.
I felt good about that decision because I believed it was important to take the initiative in difficult situations and not simply drift along in the current. To have a goal would help.
Nevertheless, I was still unable to sleep. Though I’d cranked the heat up full blast, there was an inescapable chill in the air that night, so I slid out of bed, donned my slippers and fuzzy robe, and went to the kitchen to make a cup of hot chamomile tea.
While I waited in the silence for the kettle to boil on the stove, I stared at the kitchen wall and tried to recall happier times with Seth. I thought about the day we walked to the Public Garden and went for a ride on the swan boats. That was probably our best day. I was so in love with him back then, bursting with hope and optimism. I truly believed he would stay and we would become a real family. Oh, how I’d wanted it to be so.
The kettle boiled and I turned around to pour the steaming hot water into my oversized mug, then took hold of the string and dipped the tea bag up and down.
What a pleasure it was to make tea on a cold night like this.
When it was fully steeped, I moved into the living room and sat on the sofa to watch some late night television.
Mindlessly, I flicked through the channels, then settled on The Tonight Show.
As I cupped the warm mug in my hands and blew on it to cool it, a strange feeling came over me.
Sometimes I swore I could feel him out there in the cold, and I felt the chill inside myself. It was a strange feeling because in my heart I knew Seth was gone, but sometimes I still felt something—as if he were calling to me, or as if I was the one who was lost out there, lonely and shivering in the frigid, unforgiving North.
Why was I feeling this way? Was it possible Seth wasn’t dead? What if he was still out there somewhere, surviving and praying to be rescued? What if he was hurt?
Suddenly I was overcome by a terrible sense of loneliness and didn’t know how to fix it. The tension made my jaw ache and I laid a hand on my cheek, stroking the pain gently away.
The Tonight Show continued, but I was barely able to focus on the opening monologue. I kept thinking of that one perfect day in the park when everything was so lush and green. When I felt it was possible that my husband would stay. I replayed those memories over and over in my mind.
A house on a lake, with purple flowers…
Moving On
Chapter Twenty-eight
Carla
Six months after we held the memorial service for Seth, Jane—one of the temps at the bank where I now worked full-time—expressed her condolences over my loss, then immediately asked if she could fix me up with her older brother, who was widowed as well.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not ready for anything like that.”
Though it was true that Seth hadn’t been gone that long, I had essentially been separated from him for quite some time before his plane went down, and for years had considered myself single. So, why I didn’t feel ready to date, I’m not sure.
I’d always imagined I would love again someday, ever since it became likely that Seth was not coming home to us and I would eventually divorce.
I also imagined that the person who would come into my life would be decent and reliable, a family man who would appreciate the love he had at home and not take it for granted. For once I wanted to be someone’s whole world, and I wanted that someone’s passion to be for Kaleigh and me, not some mountain on the other side of the world. Was that too much to ask?
Those were fantasies, I knew, but how could I ever expect any of it to come true if I kept refusing even to go out on a date? Who was I being faithful to? No one. There was no one in my life now. It was time to stop acting like I was in a relationship.
“I apologize,” Jane said awkwardly as she sat down on the stool at her teller station next to mine. “I shouldn’t have suggested it.”
“No worries,” I assured her. “I think I just need to get my head around the idea of starting over. Tell me about your brother.”
Since it was quiet in the bank and there were no customers, Jane was able to tell me that he was forty-seven years old, incred
ibly fit and good looking. “Imagine Matt Damon,” she said. “But not like Jason Bourne. He’s like the guy in the zoo movie.”
That sounded promising.
“He has two grown children,” Jane continued, “who are both in grad school, and he works for the IRS. But don’t let his job scare you. He’s lots of fun and has a great sense of humor. He loves movies and enjoys eating out. Makes his own wine.”
“He sounds like a great guy,” I said. “I’m surprised he hasn’t been snapped up.”
She rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately, women throw themselves at him all the time. I don’t know what it is about handsome widowers. He’s like catnip for every woman he talks to. They all want to bring him casseroles and clean his house. I can’t stand it and neither can he. He doesn’t like rejecting people.”
I laughed. “It doesn’t sound like that bad of a situation.”
Jane shrugged. “No, I guess not, but I’d just like to see him end up with a woman who doesn’t have an agenda.” Then she pointed a finger at me. “I love the fact that you said you weren’t ready. You’re just what he needs, because he says the same thing to me all the time.”
A customer came in and I took his deposit.
“Maybe the best thing would be to talk to us both again when we are ready,” I said to Jane after the customer left the bank.
“When will that be?” she asked.
I thought about it for a moment, then let out a sigh. “I don’t know. I must need therapy.”
Jane reached over and squeezed my hand.
o0o
That night when I dropped Kaleigh off at the rink, the coach saw me in my car and waved me over. She asked me to come inside for a chat in the office.
My stomach lurched as I pulled into a parking spot and turned off the engine. Closing my eyes, I let my forehead rest on the steering wheel, then gathered my courage and got out.
A few minutes later I knocked on her open door.
“Hi Carla,” she coolly said. “Come in and have a seat.”
I moved to the chair in front of the desk, but she remained standing.
“I hope it’s okay for me to say this,” she said, leaning back against the window sill and folding her arms across her chest, “but I’m aware that you’ve had a rough time these past few months.”
Of course she would know. Seth’s disappearance had been all over the news. There had even been a Facebook page set up as a fundraiser to help Kaleigh and me, but the donations stopped coming in after about a week when a new political scandal broke and everyone forgot about the small private plane that had crashed somewhere up north.
There was some talk about a lawsuit, because George Atherton certainly had the funds to offer settlements. I’d spoken to a lawyer, but everything moved so slowly.
“It hasn’t exactly been a cake walk,” I replied.
She nodded, then reached for a piece of paper on the desk and handed it to me. “Your last pre-authorized payment bounced. This is the third time it’s happened since January. I’m not sure what to say.”
I stared at the notice and swallowed uneasily. “We’ve been a bit strapped.”
“I get that,” she said, “and I really want to help. That’s why I haven’t mentioned it before now. I was hoping you’d get things straightened out.”
“I’m trying,” I replied. “I’m working full time now.”
“That’s good to hear.” She paused. “Is there any way you can make sure the next payment goes through?”
“There are a few calls I can make,” I replied as I leaned forward and placed the sheet of paper back on her desk.
“You can keep that,” she said.
With a half-smile and a nod, I rose from the chair and slid the notice into my purse. “Thanks for cutting me some slack,” I said. “It’s been tough, to say the least, but this skating club has been so good for Kaleigh—keeping her busy. I don’t want to lose this.”
She gave me a look of compassion, or maybe it was pity. “Just try to make sure the next payment doesn’t bounce, okay?”
I nodded and walked out, then sat in the car for the rest of the hour, contemplating my options while I waited for Kaleigh to finish her practice. Maybe I could get rid of our home phone and just keep our cell phones. And I should make more of an effort to clip coupons to use at the grocery store.
I really didn’t want to ask Garry and Jean for more money. They’d been very generous, helping me pay for the lawyer, but I did have my pride.
At the end of the hour, Kaleigh got into the car and threw her skates on the floor. “I hate my coach!” she said.
“Why? What happened?” I asked with a frown.
“She said I wasn’t trying hard enough. That I was slacking off and I didn’t appreciate what I had.”
“Why would she say that?” I asked, wanting to march right back in there and ask the coach myself.
Kaleigh let out a huff and rested her forehead in a hand. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. Tell me what happened. Do I need to go talk to her?”
Heaven help me, if the coach was punishing Kaleigh for my bounced checks, I would have a few words to say to her about that.
“No!” Kaleigh replied. “I just want to go home. Let’s get out of here. I’m sick of this place.”
She’d always loved skating. Hearing her complain so bitterly was disappointing, to say the least.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
“No,” she replied, “I just want to go home.” Kaleigh immediately whipped out her phone and began texting.
Deciding that I would call the coach later tonight and get to the bottom of the problem, I shifted into reverse and drove out of the parking lot.
Ten minutes later, only a few blocks from home, we were crossing an intersection on a green light when a huge tractor trailer came speeding through.
It all happened so fast, I didn’t even have time to hit the brakes.
The driver blared his horn. His tires screeched across the pavement. All I remember seeing was his shiny front grill to my left as he smashed into the rear passenger door behind me and sent us spinning.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Kaleigh and I had both been wearing our seatbelts, so we remained strapped in as the car spun 360 degrees and slid across the intersection. My front end took out the back bumper on another car that had the misfortune to be in our path, but other than that, miraculously, there were no other vehicles involved.
As soon as we came to a jarring halt next to a light post, I turned to Kaleigh. “Oh, my God! Are you okay?”
She was braced rigidly against the seat, her eyes wide open in terror, gripping the door with one hand. She nodded quickly.
“Are you sure?” I asked, and she nodded again.
My heart was thrashing against my ribcage like a wild animal.
Someone knocked on my window and I jumped.
“Are you okay in there?” the man asked.
With trembling hands, I pressed the button to lower the window, which still worked, surprisingly. “I think so.”
A woman ran up to the other window. “Anyone hurt? I’m a nurse.”
“I think we’re okay,” I replied. “Kaleigh are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” she replied.
I turned my eyes back to the nurse. “We’re just shaken up.”
“No wonder,” she said. “He slammed you pretty hard. You should still be checked out. You should go to the hospital.”
“Is the other driver okay?” I asked.
She glanced back at the eighteen wheeler, which had jack-knifed in the center of the intersection after he hit us.
“He just hopped out of the cab,” she said. “He looks fine.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.”
Suddenly I heard the wail of sirens, and two cop cars skidded to a stop nearby.
o0o
“What do you mean it was my fault?” I asked the officer after I finished
describing what had occurred. “The truck went through the red light. Not me.”
The officer’s gaze lifted and he studied my expression.
I studied his in return. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and seemed a bit macho. I suspected he worked out in the gym a lot. Maybe he was into body building.
“The driver of the other vehicle said it was the other way around,” he said. “That you were the one who went through the red light. You haven’t been drinking, have you?”
I stared at him in shock. “Of course not. He came out of nowhere and rammed into my back end.”
Kaleigh approached after being checked out by the nurse and took hold of my hand.
“Did you see what happened?” I asked her. “The truck went through a red light. Didn’t he?”
She looked up at me uncertainly. “I…I’m not sure.”
I felt my forehead crinkle with concern, because all of a sudden, I wasn’t sure either. I had definitely been distracted during the drive home.
Glancing to my left, I saw the man who had been first to knock on my car window. He was describing what happened to a different police officer, and another cop was taking photographs of the scene.
“What are the other witnesses saying?” I asked. Then I leaned in to read the cop’s badge. “Officer…”
“Wallace,” he finished for me. “So far they all say it was you who went through the red light.”
I met his concerned gaze and felt something inside me crumble. Then I looked down at my shoes, shut my eyes and shook my head. “I guess I’m not sure. Maybe it was me.”
Kaleigh squeezed my hand. “Was it our fault?” she asked.
“Not your fault,” I replied. “My fault. I wasn’t paying close enough attention.”
“Were you talking on a cell phone or texting?” Officer Wallace asked.
“No, nothing like that. It’s just been a rough year, that’s all.”
The Color of Love (The Color of Heaven Series) Page 7