by Wolf, Bree
But none of that matter. As though my life depended on it, I pushed onward.
He led me farther down the path, through the forest and then across a field. I felt more and more weak as though my strength had long since abandoned me. Sometimes I even had to stop to catch my breath, convinced I couldn’t take another step. Although he was walking ahead of me and rarely turned around, he always knew when I’d stopped. Then he would turn back and look at me with eyes that made me gather what was left of my strength and hurry after him.
After about half an hour, we reached the frozen lake. Stopping at its banks, he looked at me before setting a foot onto the ice.
“Are you crazy?” I shrieked, standing only a few feet away from him. “What if the ice breaks?”
He didn’t care, though, and took another step onto the ice. And then another. Here and there, I heard the ice crunch under his weight, but before long, he stood almost in the middle of the lake.
Unsure what to do now, I just stood there, watching him. It was a strange deja-vu.
In another time, he had walked away across the frozen lake before, and I had stayed behind. I hadn’t followed him. For obvious reasons.
Only then and there as I stood in the cold, staring at him, I couldn’t think of any of them. Nothing seemed to matter.
He held out his hand. “You need to hurry,” he said, his voice urgent. “He needs you.”
As though someone else was moving my leg, I set a foot onto the ice. Then I hesitated. As he beckoned me forward, I took another step. And another. Slowly, I approached him, and for once, he didn’t walk away. He waited for me.
“Who are you talking about?” I asked, now only a few steps away from him. “Who is he?”
He didn’t say anything, his eyes focused on mine, but then they slowly shifted downward to my belly.
For a moment, I was confused. However, from one second to the next, realization hit me with full force and knocked the air out of my lungs. My hand went down to my belly, shielding the precious life inside protectively.
Another wave of nausea and dizziness washed over me, and suddenly it made sense. My eyes opened wide, staring at him. How could this be? I didn’t understand any of it.
He was still standing there, holding out his hand, his eyes beckoned me forward.
Again, I hesitated; only for a moment though. Then I took another step toward him.
That’s when I heard the splintering sound of ice breaking.
I froze, and a deep-seated panic rose into every fiber of my being.
“Come back to us,” he said then, his eyes pleading, never leaving mine. “Come back to us.”
Again, the rational part of my mind kicked in, urging me to head back and get off the ice as fast as possible. However, there was something else that told me no matter what happened I would be safe with him.
So, instead of making for the safety of the lake shore, I took a leap of faith.
Reaching for his hand, I moved forward. Step by step, until his hand finally closed around mine, and he pulled me to him. His arms came around me, and he smiled, relief plain on his face.
Looking at him, I frowned, not understanding, when I suddenly felt a ripple go through the ice and I heard it breaking in several places.
Again, panic crept up my spine.
Before I could form another thought though, the ice under our feet broke, and with a sudden drop, we plunged into the freezing water underneath.
I gasped at the cold and felt the ice water fill my lungs and paralyze my body. Unable to move, I sank deeper and deeper. My body didn’t respond to any of my commands.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. The cold held me trapped, my skin becoming more unfeeling with every second the water rushed around me.
And then there was just a big, endless nothing.
I led it carry me away and stopped struggling. The only thing I still felt was his hand closed around mine, not letting go.
The Book Mark
Chapter Twenty – Today & Tomorrow
It was dark and cold.
My arms and legs were unbelievably heavy, but at the same time, I felt myself floating around aimlessly. From inside my head, a blunt pain spread through my body, making everything ache. I started to shiver as the cold ran over me in waves, again and again.
Desperately, I tried to hold on to something, anything. But there was nothing. I was alone.
Panic crept up my spine, shaking me mercilessly. Again, I groped around for something to hold on to, but again there was nothing. It was like the world had been swallowed up by a black hole, leaving me alone in a place that didn’t exist.
All I wanted was to go back. I wanted to leave the freezing water behind, get off the ice and go home where it was warm and safe. Why had I come? Why had I taken this risk? I had because I had trusted him.
Suddenly, I remembered I wasn’t alone, and although my entire body felt frozen, there was a tiny fire burning where he still held my hand. It was warmer. Warmer than the rest of me, and I held on to it. I let its flame catch me on fire and its warmth slowly spread through my body.
As though the ice suddenly fell from me, I could feel my limbs start to tingle as my body temperature rose. It was like tiny needles pricking me, again and again. I shook my head, trying to chase away the fog that had settled there, dimming the world around me. Slowly, my senses returned.
My skin no longer felt painfully cold. It was warm. Something was wrapped around me. It felt smooth and welcoming as though I was inside a cocoon that was keeping me safe. My mouth was dry, and I realized that there was no water in my lungs. I could breathe. Fresh air filled my body, and I sighed in relief.
It was as though I was waking from a dream.
At first, the world around me seemed far away. But then with every step I took, it came closer, welcoming me back. There was a strange sense of recognition when my ears were filled with a weird beeping sound, coming in intervals. I knew I’d heard it before. In my dreams. Only now, it didn’t come and go. It was simply there. Constantly. Always.
And I could match my heart beat to it.
At first, I wondered why there were no pictures to match what I was hearing, why I couldn’t see. But then I realized that my eyes were closed. That was strange. I didn’t remember shutting them. Maybe it had been a reflex when I had sunk into the water.
Slowly, I opened them.
At first, everything was out of focus, and I only saw shapeless, white blotches. Then my eyes cleared, and I found myself in a room with white walls and a white door. Looking down, I finally realized that I was lying in a bed. A bed with white covers.
I turned my head to the right and found a strange-looking machine. A cable ran from it all the way to the bed and was attached to my finger by a clip. There was a line running across the screen that spiked in regular intervals, always accompanied by the beeping noise from my dream.
I took a deep breath that went all the way through me as a sudden squeeze on my other hand made me turn my head.
Surprised, I found that I wasn’t alone. Sitting on the chair next to me, with his head resting on the mattress, was Nathan, sleeping.
For a moment, I just looked at him, wondering. I couldn’t say what exactly went through my head or what it was that finally brought me back. But seeing him like this, holding my hand, watching over me, everything suddenly came rushing back.
My name was Jena Alexander. It was the year 2015. And the man sleeping in the chair next to me was my husband.
He was a science-fiction author, and we had met in 2013 at an interview a friend of mine had asked me to do because his little girl had had a soccer game that afternoon. Since that day we had been inseparable and had spent every free minute together, and only a year later we had gotten married. While Andy had argued that it was too soon, Abby had been psyched.
Suddenly, a strange feeling I couldn’t quite grasp came over me, and my free hand automatically moved to cover my belly.
Again, it click
ed.
Now, about a year after our wedding, we were having a baby. A little boy. I didn’t know how I knew that. But I did. A smile spread over my face, and I couldn’t remember ever having been this happy.
Finally, I remembered everything. I remembered my life. My life in order.
Turning my head, I found a pile of books on the nightstand by my bed. At the very bottom was Little Women, followed by Jane Eyre, Hamlet and Pride and Prejudice and at the top, still open, was Persuasion. These were my most favorite books in the world. Maybe because they had been the most worn ones. Maybe because my mom had loved them just as much and had read them more than the others I had found in the boxes that were all that was left of her.
And Nathan knew that. He had read them to me when…
All of a sudden, I remembered what I was doing in the hospital.
There had been an accident.
It had been November, and the cold had come early this year. Overnight, the streets had been covered in ice, but they had only looked wet. After an interview, I had wanted to return home when my car had stalled. I had called my brother to pick me up; but he had been in a hurry. Meeting Abby that night for a romantic dinner, he had even more than usually ignored the speed limit.
I remembered holding on to the handle on the door, one hand clutched around the seat belt. I had told him to slow down, but he wouldn’t listen.
Only a mile from the house, the wheels had lost contact with the ground below. I vaguely remembered the car spinning out of control. Skidding on the ice, Andy’s attempts to keep us on the road had been in vain. We had slid into the frozen lake, the same lake Nathan had guided me to.
I had hit my head, and then everything had gone dark; and when I’d opened my eyes again, I had found myself on the floor of the kitchen at City Gardens.
I had been unconscious, then. For quite some, time judging from the books Nathan had read to me. Everything that had happened in the past few weeks had been…what? Not a dream. But somehow I had relived my memories. The books had taken me back to different times in my past.
The bookmark.
I remembered it now; and it meant what I thought it did. I had never been overly sentimental, and people promising to love each other always were just idiots who’d lost their hold on reality. I remembered a movie night at home, similar to the one I had relived with Owen at the movies. Abby had been over the moon with the romantic story, which at the same time had made me want to switch off the TV. An argument had ensued, and later that night, Nathan had asked me why this had upset me so.
And then and there for the first time, I had spoken to him of my mother. She had promised to always be with me. To always be there. And I had believed her.
But then she had died.
That loss had taught me once and for all that some promises could not be kept and that these promises should not be made in the first place. A broken promise hurt more than a promise not given. Because it felt like a betrayal.
Unlike Abby, who had never been able to overcome her romantic notions, Nathan had simply understood.
A few days later, he had given me the bookmark with the engraving Today & Tomorrow. He had hoped that I would believe him when he told me he loved me today, and that I’d also believe him when he promised he’d love me tomorrow. Then and there, he wouldn’t make any other guarantees, wouldn’t reach any further into the future. But soon tomorrow would be today, and then there would be a new tomorrow. And so he would slowly make his way to always and forever. Step by step.
It was a compromise we’d both been able to live with.
Looking at him now, I knew why I’d married him. I reached out a hand and stroked his head, brushing back a few strands that had fallen into his face.
Slowly, he stirred. His eyelids began to twitch, and then ever so slowly, they opened. I smiled at him, again moving my hand over his head, I whispered, “Hey.”
Startled, his eyes opened wide, and he sat up abruptly. He stared at me in disbelief, mumbling, “You’re awake,” over and over again.
Nathan leaned forward then, staring into my face as though trying to make sure that his eyes weren’t cheating him. He squeezed the hand he still held in his, unable to let go. Then he ran his hands up my arms and brushed the hair from my face, all the while still staring at me. Gently, he stroked my face and kissed my forehead.
“Are you all right?” he asked, eyes searching my face for any sign of pain. “Maybe I should get the doctor.”
He rose, but I held him back. “Wait,” I said, my voice only a whisper. “Tell me what happened…after the crash? How long have I been here?” An awful thought struck me. “What about Andy? Is he all right?”
Looking down at me, he nodded. “Don’t worry. He is fine.” His eyes grew dark. “For now,” he hissed, a scowl on his face.
I took his hand then. “Good,” I whispered, dread being replaced by relief. “So?” I shifted my eyes to his again. “How long have I been here?”
Again, he took a deep breath, and I could see the lines on his face. He had been through a lot. He swallowed. “About five weeks,” he said, and my eyes opened wide. “You were in a coma.”
“Coma?” I whispered, unbelieving.
He nodded. “The doctors said that with every day that passed your chances of waking up were decreasing.” A weak smile played on his lips, and I could see the tears in his eyes. “I was afraid you wouldn’t wake up.”
I pulled him down to me then, wrapping my arms around his strong shoulders and let him cry with relief. As the strain of the last few weeks fell from me as well, I felt tears of my own stream down my face.
I had been gone for almost five weeks. Lost in a world of thoughts and memories. But he had stayed with me. Had been by my side the whole time. Holding my hand, he had read to me, unconsciously directing my memories. Somehow his words had found their way into my mind and shaped my dreams. I had not gotten lost. I had known who I was.
However, the pull of unconsciousness had been strong. It had been easy to give into it and stay there. But at the same time, I had heard him. Not the memories he’d conjured for me, but his plea for me to return.
Finally, I realized that there had been two Nathans after all. One had been from my memories of 2013 when we’d met. But the other, the one that had always had that pained look in his eyes, he had been real.
Somehow Nathan had found a way to make me hear him. He had reached inside my head and touched me. I had heard him, but it had taken me a long time to listen. He had always seemed so evasive, suddenly disappearing although he’d wanted to talk to me. Desperately, he had tried to reach me, speak to me. He had always walked away, but he had always wanted me to follow. He had always wanted me to follow him back.
He had been like a beacon, guiding my way. Only I hadn’t known. It had taken me a long time to simply trust him. But once I had, he had led me out of the dark and back into the light. Back to my life.
It had been up to me. He couldn’t simply have taken me back. He had needed me to let go. I had to be willing to take the plunge. To trust him and take a leap of faith.
After what seemed like forever, we were both all cried out, our hearts feeling lighter. A tremendous burden had finally been lifted.
“And you’re sure you’re all right?” he asked for the millionth time, still holding my hand. It was as though he was afraid that if he let go, I would slip away again.
Then the expression on his face changed, and his eyes opened wide. “I completely forgot,” he started. “There is something I need to tell you.” He smiled then. “I guess under normal circumstances you’d be the one to tell me but…these aren’t normal circumstances, I guess.” He took a deep breath. “A few days ago, they did some tests and…”
I took his hand then. “I know,” I whispered.
He looked at me then, a slight frown showing, and I could see that he didn’t wonder about what I meant, but simply how I could know.
Not only he had reached me. Our son had, too
. Although I hadn’t known I was having a baby, I had felt him somehow. Even my subconscious hadn’t been able to ignore the symptoms of pregnancy.
“It’s a long story,” I said, “and I’m not sure you’ll believe me.”
However, in the end, he did believe me. He even got so inspired that he wrote it all down. With his compassionate narrative voice, he spoke of how an accident had almost ended our life together, of how I’d gotten lost in the dark corners of my mind and then of how he had helped me to find my way back. But it was the one book that no one else ever got to read. The one book he wouldn’t publish. It was our story.
Only our son would one day hear of it.
Epilogue
One Year Later (Christmas Eve 2016)
More snow had fallen late last night, burying our little cottage under a heap of white flakes and effectively cutting us off from the rest of the world. However, I couldn’t have cared less.
For within its walls were the people I needed for a happy Christmas.
Years ago, we had all gathered at my grandmother’s old cottage to celebrate the holidays, and it had been the most wonderful Christmas I could remember.
Now, this year, after everything that had happened, after everything we had been through and everything we had almost lost, it felt only natural to return to a place that had always been home.
“Are you sure we have enough fire wood?” Abby asked, eyeing the winter wonderland outside the windows with apprehension. “What if we’re stuck here for weeks?”
Chuckling, I walked over to her, slightly bouncing in my step, rocking my sleeping son from side to side. “It’ll be fine, Abby. Temperatures will rise again soon, and the snow will melt. It always does.”
“But what if it doesn’t?” she worried, her voice slightly high-pitched.
As though he had an Abby-radar, my brother came walking into the living room in exactly that moment. Smiling, he pulled her into his arms. “Would it make you feel better if I went outside and chopped more wood?”