by Peggy Webb
Suddenly she had tears in her eyes. There was a big empty spot in the pit of her stomach that was going to swallow her up if she didn’t do something.
She stood up and dusted off the seat of her pants. “You newlyweds wait right there. I’ll go in the house and get you a treat.”
When she came back outside the skunks were gone, and there stood Jake.
“Hello, Emily.”
“Oh.” She put her hand over her heart. It was beating so hard she thought it might fly right out of her chest. “I didn’t hear you drive up.”
“Maybe I should have called first.”
“No…no, that’s all right.” What to do? What to say? They hadn’t parted under the best of circumstances. She hadn’t said, “Don’t come to me unless you mean it.” Why hadn’t she said that? Was that why he had come? To get back together with her?
Or maybe he’d come merely to say hello. Or goodbye. A true and lasting goodbye.
She didn’t think she could endure that. These past few lonely days, she hadn’t had Jake, but at least she’d had hope.
Suddenly she sank onto the front-porch steps.
“Em? Are you all right?”
Jake started toward her, and Emily held up her hand to stop him.
“Don’t come any closer—unless you mean to stay.” He looked startled, and Emily pushed her hair back from her hot face. “I really mean that, Jake. I’m through being Miss Goody Two-shoes.”
Jake’s mouth curved upward. “Miss Goody Two-shoes?”
Emily wasn’t going to be won over by a smile. Nossiree, Bob. She was playing for keeps. All or nothing at all.
“I’m not a fair-weather kind of woman, and I don’t want a fair-weather kind of man. I’m in this with you for the long haul, and unless that’s the way you feel about me, too, then I want you to get in your car and leave and never come back.”
Jake stood in her yard looking at her for a long, long time. Then he did something that astonished Emily, and delighted her so much she knew she’d love this man as long as she lived.
He knelt in front of her, unmindful of the dirt, then took her hand and kissed it and said, “Miss Emily, I love you more than life itself, and I want to marry you, even if you have changed your name to Miss Goody Two-shoes.”
“Is that proposal real, or are you just trying to get on my good side?”
“It’s real.” He scooped her into his arms and kissed her until they both lost their breaths. “Can I still get on your good side, too?”
“Definitely.”
“You’ll have to show me which one it is. I forget.”
“We’ll have to remedy that.”
She took his hand, started inside, and he said, “You didn’t give me an answer, Emily.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
He kissed her again, and the passion between them was so strong it would not be denied. They left a trail of clothes from the doorway to the bed. Her kicked-off shorts, his crumpled-up jeans, her blouse with the top button gone where she’d ripped it away, his shirt jerked over his head and wadded in a ball, their shoes overturned, shoelaces tangled together.
Everything was vivid to her—the blood-red of the upholstered chair contrasting sharply with the gleaming whiteness of her blouse. The rainbow on the wall where the sun caught the colors of the prisms hanging on the lampshade. The silence of the deep woods that echoed through the cabin. The clean smell of Jake’s skin. The hot pleasure that jolted through her when he entered her.
She felt newly born, a Venus rising from the sea with the dark waters still swirling about her feet. With this man there would always be undercurrents of danger, days of uncertainty while he challenged the mountains, weeks of waiting alone in an empty house, an empty bed.
And yet…
He was magic. He was her hero. He was her world.
Without him she was nothing more than a sleepwalker, fumbling her way through the dark. To live that way was unthinkable to Emily, and she knew what her answer would be.
She embraced him, took him deep inside and welcomed him home.
With his face only inches from hers, he said, “I love you, Em. I’ve always loved you and I always will.”
She knew he spoke the truth. In her bones, she knew.
“I love you, too, Jake.”
She wrapped her arms and legs around him and fell slowly into the magic that can only happen in the presence of true love.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
September 15, 2001
So much has happened in the last few days it’s hard to know where to begin.
I’ll start with Jake.
He showed up out of the blue, just walked in one day while I was sitting beside Michael’s bed and said, “Hello, Anne. I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t call first, but I have to talk to Michael.” I said to him, “Well, of course, I don’t mind, I’m happy to see you, Jake.”
Actually, I didn’t know whether I was happy to see him or not. It all depended on why he had come. I know what happened in Atlanta. At least, I know most of it. And I know that Emily came back with a broken heart.
I also know that she came back with a dogged determination to get on with her life, no matter what, and I applauded that. She’s made of stern stuff, my youngest daughter.
Michael would be so proud of her. Well, of course, he is proud of her, because I’ve told him everything. When he wakes up I don’t want him to be confused about his own family. So I keep him abreast of events.
I know he hears. I just know it, but I wish he’d give some sign.
“I could use a sign here, Michael,” I told him last night after I’d recounted how I’d advised Emily to be there when Jake got home, and how it had all turned out so badly.
“I could use some reassurance,” I said. “Did I tell her the right thing, or am I letting my own romantic nature lead my children astray?”
Nothing. Not a single, solitary movement.
Oh, sometimes I get so discouraged. And yet I know I must not. I know, I know. Life goes on. With or without us.
Anyway, back to Jake… He asked to talk to Michael and I said yes.
Here’s how the conversation went from there:
“Why don’t you stand on the other side of the bed close enough so he can hear you, Jake?”
When he moved to the side of the bed, I said, “Michael, Jake wants to talk to you. Now you pay attention, darling, because he’s come a long way, and from the look on his face, I’d say that what he’s going to tell you is very important.”
I squeezed Michael’s hand, then told Jake I would wait outside in the hall. I don’t usually do that. I stay. I don’t want anybody saying things that might distress Michael, and I certainly don’t want anybody coming in here and acting as if he’s nothing more than a piece of furniture, talking over him and about him as if he had no more brain than a turnip.
Of course, I don’t have to worry about that with Jake. He’s the kind of man you trust instantly. He’s the kind of man you look at one time and say to yourself, “My daughter’s safe with him.”
Yes, I know, I know. But in spite of everything that has happened, I still think that.
Anyhow, Jake said he wanted me to stay, that what he had to say was meant for me, too.
“Michael, it’s me, Jake,” he said, and when he took my husband’s hand, I saw tears in his eyes.
Well, I can’t tell you how that made me feel. Proud. Even vindicated. A man who is not afraid to let his emotions show is a real man in my book. A true hero.
“The mountain has been giving me a hard time lately, Michael, and I’ve been wrestling with the demons I’m sure you conquered years ago. I wish you’d been able to give me some advice. It might have saved us some heartache. Your daughter and me.”
Well, when I heard Jake mention Emily, my insides fluttered the way they always do when I’m nervous, and then I looked at his face and everything just settled down. Like a warm blanket bei
ng tossed over a bunch of cold, unruly children.
“I thought about giving it all up, then I made myself climb again, and when I reached the peak, the mountain gave me its benediction.”
The room got so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You could hear a heart break and then slowly, ever so slowly, piece itself back together.
I was holding Michael’s hand on one side and Jake on the other, and I swear to you, Jake’s face was glowing as if he were in the presence of God.
Was it the mountain or Michael that inspired such devotion? I like to think it was both. I like to think that even while he’s still in a coma, my husband was responsible for teaching Jake how to follow his heart.
My Michael has always done that. Followed his heart. And the reward has been joy, indescribable joy.
Well, Jake cleared his throat, unclogging the tears, I suspect, and then he looked at me in a way that said, “Pay attention now. This is the important part.”
“Michael, I’m on my way to see your daughter, and if she lets me through the door, I’m going to ask her to marry me—if that’s all right with you.”
We both waited, hoping for some sign, hoping that at last we’d told Michael something so important he couldn’t stay locked in that deep dark place so far away from the people who love him.
If I let myself, I could imagine a tiny movement of his hand. So slight, so small. Like a baby bird trying to decide whether to get on the edge of the nest and really flex his untried wings.
“Seeing you with Anne showed me what love is. You’ve set a high standard, Michael, and I intend to follow it.”
Wake up, Michael, I wanted to scream. WAKE UP. If you’re ever going to come out of that coma, now is the time.
I didn’t scream, of course. I read somewhere recently that if you’ve been very close to a person, you can communicate with them through mental telepathy. No matter where they are. Even in a coma. And so I thought it with my whole might.
“Well,” Jake said, “that’s about it. I’m going to Emily’s cabin now, and if she’ll have me, we’ll both be back for your blessing.”
Jake glanced across at me, so hopeful, so young.
“Don’t worry,” I said, and then I led him to the door and he hugged me and I cried a little, and he hugged me again.
Oh, he’s going to be a wonderful son-in-law. Daniel is going to be tickled pink, and Hannah…well, Hannah will just have to get over it, that’s all.
She’ll come through for her sister. Family loyalty is important to her. As it is to all our children. Michael and I can be proud of that.
The sun’s going down now and soon it will be dark in this room. I’m glad. With my eyes closed and a cocoon of blackness around me, I feel something Michael must be feeling. A sort of safety. A sense of peace.
I have breathing room. That’s it. Time and space in which to take stock, to reconsider my life. I think such things as, if I had it to do all over again, would I give up my career as a pianist? That’s an easy yes. How about this one—would I have learned to climb so I could have spent more time with Michael? I don’t know. After all these years, I still don’t know.
Maybe if I’d been on Everest the day of the avalanche, Michael would have been safe inside his tent like the rest of the crew. If I’d been there, he would be in my bed at Belle Rose right now, reaching for me with that certain gleam in his eye.
I can’t flay myself that way. I won’t.
What is Michael thinking in his soft cocoon of darkness? Is he reconsidering the choices he’s made in his life? Is he thinking about his children? About me?
Or is he merely drifting, floating above us all, disconnected? A wanderer who can’t get home again, who can’t even remember what home is like?
Oh, it can’t be. I won’t let it happen that way.
In a little while the night nurse will be in here to check Michael’s vital signs. She’ll ask if there’s anything she can get for me. A cup of juice? An extra blanket? And I’ll say no, I have everything I need.
Then I’ll put on my gown—the blue one that’s gone soft with so many washings, the one Michael likes so much—and I’ll climb in bed beside my husband and wrap my arms around him and say, “Don’t you dare leave me, Michael Westmoreland. I would die without you. I’m not going to let you leave. Do you hear me?”
Chapter Forty
I hear you, Anne. I feel you pressed against me, smell your hair, feel the softness of your gown. Is it the blue one?
I’m trying to come back to you, but I can’t seem to reach you. There’s so much fog…I’ve lost my way.
I feel something damp against my skin. Are you crying, Anne? Don’t cry, my love. Don’t cry. I’m not going to leave you. I’ll always be with you.
Always.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-4020-9
THE SMILE OF AN ANGEL
Copyright © 2001 by Peggy Webb
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* The Westmoreland Diaries