I laid the envelope down on the kitchen table while I put on my coat and let Gina and Mark know I was leaving. It wouldn't do to arouse suspicion, so I called to them, "Going for a walk. Be back later." "Okay, Hon’," Gina responded. "Love you, Kiddo," Mark added. I had to exert an iron grip on my voice so I could respond, casually, "You, too. 'Bye."
Then I left through the kitchen door, closing it for the last time. And my walk began. It would take a while to get to the scenic overlook on foot, but that was okay. I knew the way from Mark and Gina’s house, and I would arrive before the sun went down. All I had to do now was walk. The thinking and deciding and planning were over. And the feeling would wait until after. Just one foot in front of the other.
Time was blurred. But it didn’t matter. I arrived at the park with the swings where Will had re-entered my life. I didn’t slow down. I didn’t even look. I kept walking, focused only on reaching my destination. My final one. After a while, I realized I had left Will’s envelope on the kitchen table. Did it matter? No. Mark and Gina wouldn’t open it, and would give it to him after . . . well, soon. It would work out.
The snow got heavier, then let up, then got heavier again. It was warm enough that only a few flakes stuck to the grass. The rest melted quickly on the path. Later, it lightened to occasional flurries, then stopped altogether. Exercise had warmed me, so I took my coat off and tucked it under my arm.
And I kept on walking.
There was a rumbling noise, and I realized my stomach was growling. Of course. I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since yesterday. Did it matter? Again, no. No problem.
Sooner than I had anticipated, I was there. It was still quiet, just as it had been when Will had brought me here. Though instead of being light and sunny, it was dreary and cold.
My legs pulsed and tingled from the long walk. It would be wise to rest them before their last effort. I shrugged back into my coat and sat at the picnic table to, again, wait. It wasn’t time yet. The sky was clearing, which was good. It would be easier to walk into the inviting colors of the setting sun than into a depressingly dark cloud bank. I turned to tuck my legs under the table, and put my arms and head down on it, making sure not to think or feel.
I wasn’t sure if I had dozed off or not, but, all of a sudden, a frenzied voice tore through me. “Cassie!” It made me jump. My head shot up and my eyes searched the surrounding area carefully. I knew that it would do no good to try and sense someone, because the someone that voice belonged to was Will Stuart. But he wasn’t there. That was good. He shouldn’t be there. It was vital that he not be there.
The sun was setting, and the western sky had begun its subtly changing display of light and color. It was a glowing white gold with sprays of light shooting out through openings in the clouds. It was beautiful. I hoped it would be welcoming. I sat watching it for a while, until it became evident that the spectacle was winding down.
Walking slowly to the ledge that was to be my springboard out of this torturous existence, I leaned over carefully to see how far I would have to jump in order to be certain of the result. Not far. (Was that a car I heard?) It was an almost straight drop to the boulders in the river bed below. (Was the car coming up here?) I placed my toes so they were even with the edge, then took three steps back. (It was going too fast for the road.) That should be a sufficient distance to get the minimal momentum I would need to leap effectively. (Must have slammed on the brakes to throw gravel like that.) My eyes closed, and my arms hung limply at my sides. (Running feet were quickly pounding the grassy ground, coming closer.) I was ready. (The feet stopped.) I took in one last long, deep breath.
“You aren’t really going to jump, are you?” asked a breathless, strained voice.
My eyes opened. No. He can’t be here. He mustn’t see this.
“It’s the only way,” I barely whispered. I looked at the fading sunset, and knew I had to act quickly.
But he mustn’t see.
“Mustn’t see what, Cassie?” He was trying to stay calm.
No answer.
“Cassie?” He was having to work harder to maintain any composure.
Still no answer.
“Cassie?” The pathos in his voice was wounding. It stabbed my heart through. “Look at me, Cassie.” His voice was trembling.
“Please?” Now he was pleading. Begging. I could not resist him. Slowly I turned to face him.
Will was standing a few feet away, yet was close enough that I saw him clearly even in the fading twilight. The look on his face was ravaging. He was flushed, tense. On the verge of panicking. And the pain, the fear in his eyes. It wrenched my heart to see it.
Is that my doing? My fault? I demanded of myself.
Of course it is, part of me finally rebelled.
How could I do this to him?! I accused myself. I had to stop. Immediately. There had to be another way . . . .
But how?
“Killing yourself is not going to make anything better, Cassie.”
Killing myself? Yes, that was exactly what I was planning to do. The rest of my brain started to come around. Killing. That wasn’t right. I should never kill anyone.
But others were being hurt and killed because of me! Didn’t that make me responsible? Shouldn’t I put a stop to it by ending my own life? My one life for how many others? I couldn’t hold it in an instant longer―
“You won’t be hurt anymore because of me, Will! You won’t die because of me!” I heard my own voice, and some part of me recognized that it was hysterical.
“I’m hurting now, Cassie, because of you! I’m dying right now!” I could see the truth of his words in his eyes. And I knew what he was going to do. Then, almost immediately, I sensed it. He wasn’t just allowing me in this time―he was pulling me in. And I was experiencing him completely; feeling the inexpressible torrent of emotion within him: The profound attachment, the ardent love, and the acutely painful terror of losing me, again. Forever.
The force of it was overpowering, and, to my weakened and worn out body, staggering. I felt myself knocked backwards. I tried to catch myself, but first one foot, then the other, slid out from under me on the snowy wet grass. I began to fall where there was nothing to stop me but the rocks below.
“NO!!” Will commanded, thrusting his hand toward me. A look of concentration deepening on his face, he stretched out his arm and hand as far as humanly possible, as if willing them to stop my fall even though they couldn’t reach me.
And I stopped falling.
It was surreal.
I watched, mesmerized, as Will slowly and deliberately drew his hand and arm back toward him. My body moved with them until I was upright on my feet, but still precariously close to the edge. He continued to draw his arm in toward him as he took one, then another, and another careful step back, pulling me with him. I was now several feet from the edge, and could stand on my own.
I was safe.
But standing on my own lasted only seconds. The world went black, my knees gave way, and I collapsed on the damp ground.
Trying to remember what had actually happened was hard. At first, I was falling toward an end to all the guilt and torment of my irreparably flawed life. And it truly was an accident. I had finally allowed myself to acknowledge that I was about to do something permanently misguided. But my shoes gave on the slippery grass after I was almost knocked down by the sheer force of Will’s feelings, and . . . .
Will. He had intervened for me, again. He had literally pulled me to safety, but without physically touching me. It was . . . miraculous.
Where was he?
My eyes opened slowly.
Everything was dark, but I wasn’t cold. And I wasn’t shivering, but I seemed to be moving. Gently rocking. Back and forth, back and forth. I looked up.
Will. His eyes firmly shut. An indeterminate expression in his countenance. He was sitting cross-legged on the ground near where I had fallen, clasping my blanket-wrapped body tightly against him in an unyielding hold. And r
ocking. Gently rocking.
He was not in a good way.
I didn’t speak. Instinctively, I understood that words would be useless. But I had to reach him. Sense him. Be with him more than I already was. And help him in any way that I could.
But, how? I didn’t know what to do!
At once, Melinda’s words came to mind―what she had done when she didn’t know what to do. Alright, then. I closed my eyes to concentrate. “Please, Heavenly Father. Help me to help Will. Please,” I begged.
I left my eyes shut, and looked inside of Will. The old shield was there. The one that he knew I could penetrate. It was an invitation for me to enter. I slipped through easily, and stopped. Something was very wrong. Everything was still. Silent. Almost like he was asleep. But not asleep―there was still activity while he slept. This was different. Like he had shut himself down completely. He didn’t want to think or feel at all for some reason.
I had never seen him like this, and it scared me.
Why . . . ?
Oh, no! What had I done now? I should have known better! How stupid and dense could I possibly be?!
Could I ever make this right? Or even better? I had no idea, but I had to try. Something. Anything.
An idea slipped into my mind―
I started by honoring his need to withdraw, to be still. I was still, too. It felt as if I were floating, hovering in his consciousness. But that didn’t feel like enough. What else could I do? I began roaming back through my memories with him, searching for something that might help. Something that was comforting, or healing for him. Anything that would draw him back from wherever he had gone.
Suddenly there was movement, and a small sound. Good signs. What had I been remembering? Of course. It was the beginning of our Thanksgiving holiday together, and I was singing to him. Singing made all the sense in the world. He had often asked me to sing for him―before. And that was exactly what he had wanted from me when he was lying in sickening pain from his broken legs. The last time he had saved my life.
I began where I was inside him. I chose the simple melody that had been my first attempt at singing for him after our years of separation. It instantly took on a life of its own, a flowing ribbon of transparent sound, waving gracefully as it made its way through the recesses of Will’s dormant consciousness. At first, there seemed to be little response―only slight shivers of motion. But I was not going to give up.
I continued to sing and, ever so gradually, the movement increased. The visuals began to emerge. And the sounds grew, calibrating themselves to harmonize with my song.
The rocking stopped.
It was time to pull back and draw him outside of himself with me. I began singing quietly in my regular, audible voice as my mind eased away from his. His grip on me loosened slightly as I freed myself enough to sit up on his lap and gently turn his face toward mine. His eyes remained closed.
I completed the song once more, more slowly, lingering on the last note until it faded away of its own accord.
“Will?”
His eyes began opening gradually, cautiously, then widened abruptly as they saw me. “Cassie?” he questioned, as if he didn’t realize that I had been in his arms all along. Then, a procession of thought flashed across his eyes in an instant, catching him up to the moment. “Thank God!” he exclaimed. His face crumpled from relief and exhaustion as he grabbed me fiercely to him, repeating my name again and again―as if attempting to convince himself that I was real―until his words evolved into sobs that shook us both with their intensity.
Thank God, indeed. My arms reached around his neck, and I held on for dear life as he wept. “I’m here, Will. I’m here,” I kept reassuring him. When his tears eventually subsided, I added firmly, “I promise you, I will never be so stupid again. I’m so sorry. Forgive me. Please forgive me.”
Will released his hold enough so that we were face to face. If his eyes could have caught fire they would have from the intensity of his expression. “You’re right. You will never, ever do anything like that again,” he declared vehemently. Then he pressed his mouth to mine, long and hard. Not so hard as to hurt me. But it felt as if his whole soul was forcing itself into communion with mine through this one unmitigated caress.
And I had almost lost it all. I had almost lost him.
The passion in his voice and the energy of his lips aroused me, making my heart pound and sending blood pulsing through every fiber of me. The fire in his eyes took hold of me, and I had no desire to extinguish it. My mouth pressed back against his, demanding more. My hands leapt to his face, his hair, his chest, and I knew I would not stop. The dark of the night itself was enticing. I didn’t care that it was cold and damp. I was alive. And so was Will.
All I cared about was being one with him to the fullest extent humanly possible, body as well as soul. To blend physically as well as spiritually, becoming one and whole―and healed. All I had been through, all I had put him through―it would pale in comparison to what we would now live through together, in the most perfectly sensual and completely fulfilling meaning of the words.
I freed myself from the blanket in which Will had wrapped me, letting it fall to the ground, and opened my coat as I turned in his lap so I was facing him. I reached inside his coat, discovering the contours of his chest and stomach with my hands―and he let me. I suggestively pushed him back to lie in the warmth of the large down coat he was wearing then lied on top of him―and he complied. It was when I started to unbutton his shirt that he rolled us onto our sides, being careful that I was inside his coat with him instead of lying on the ground. He enclosed me entirely in his big coat next to him, capturing my arms in a firm embrace, and somehow managed to grab the blanket and bunch it up under our heads to serve as a pillow. He kissed me everywhere on my face that he could reach, then pulled me tightly against him.
It only took a moment for me to realize what he wanted me to understand: He knew that I was overreacting to the emotional turbulence of the last few days in general and the last few hours in particular. This was not the time―or place―to finish what I had attempted to start. It was not the way he, or I, wanted or needed our first time to be.
So, I focused on breathing deeply to calm myself. Physically and emotionally exhausted, I fell asleep, content to be alive with Will.
It seemed only a short time later that I was suddenly awake. And shivering. I opened my eyes to find Will gazing at me.
“Cold?” he asked, though―as usual―he already knew the answer.
I nodded.
“Me, too. But I didn’t want to disturb you.” We sat up as he gently pulled his coat from around me and got to his feet, offering me his hand. “Let’s go get warm.”
I took his hand, and he pulled me easily to my feet. He grabbed the blanket and, checking to make sure it was only damp in spots, draped it over my shoulders. Then he put his arm around me and steered us toward his car. Partway there, I stopped. He stopped, too, and waited for me to speak.
I’m not ready . . . , I started. But my brain felt completely worn out. And numb. What was I trying to say? It felt like too hard a task to pursue the answer.
Will saved me the trouble and exertion by going in after the rest himself. “You’re not ready to face anyone yet?”
That sounded about right, so I nodded.
“Okay.”
Will helped me into the back seat, still with the blanket around me. I heard him get into the trunk, then he came back with a sleeping bag that he was unzipping. “I’ll join you as soon as the car is warmed up,” he explained, tucking the open sleeping bag around me. It didn’t feel very warm at first, but that changed dramatically once Will had the engine warmed up and ran the heater on high for what felt like a long time.
While waiting for the car to get warm, Will took out his cell phone and called home. “Mom? Yes. She’s right here. Yeah, she was pretty upset. But she’s calmer now. No, we’re at the overlook. We’re going to stay here for a while. We’ll be fine. I had tha
t old sleeping bag and a wool blanket in the trunk. I’m doing that now. You did? Thanks, Mom. Okay. Please don’t worry if you don’t see us until morning, though. Yes, I’ll leave it on. Love you, too. ‘Bye.”
I had long since stopped shivering and was finding it difficult to stay awake when I heard Will turn off the car, then felt him get into the back seat with me. He pulled me to lean against him, covering us both with the sleeping bag, then slipped his arms around me.
“Sleep, Cassie,” he instructed me.
I did.
It seemed as though little time had passed when I heard his voice again. “Cassie? Cassie, wake up. Look.”
I opened my eyes sleepily, taking in at once that we had gone from sunset to sunrise together. I sat up straight enough so I could see through the windshield that the faintest glimmers of light were just beginning to peek over the hilly horizon to the east.
Will took my chin in his hand and turned my face to his. “I know the news about your family is horrible, but we will get through it.” He took a deep breath. “It is going to be a beautiful day today: We are going to spend every single minute of it together.” He paused to search my face. “Yes?”
I twisted around enough to touch my lips to his. “Yes.”
He stroked my cheek, his eyes taking in my face as if he had never really seen it before. “Happy New Year, Cassie,” he murmured.
“Happy New Year, Will.” I nestled back into his arms, securing their hold around me with my own. Then we sat and watched while the sun painted water colors of light as it rose in the eastern sky.
.Chapter Twenty-four
I made Will promise that he wouldn't say anything to his family regarding my intended demise. His parents were apparently okay with his explanation about last night―that I had been so "far gone" (not clinical, but descriptive) when he found me that it had taken quite a while until I was ready to even be around anyone else. Given my history, the news about my family, my reaction to Will's absence, and so forth, his brief summary of the events of last night―while not all inclusive―was accurate and, to them, reasonable. I got a vague impression that they fully expected Will to share more information with them later. And, knowing him, he would. At least about himself. But, also knowing him, he would keep his promise to me in the process.
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