Since You've Been Gone

by Allan, Christa

  “Do you want to have dinner or a one-man night at the improv? I’m counting to three . . .”

  He was out the door before two, and when I saw him, it was as if my entire body had been dipped in warm honey. His dark suit was tailored to accentuate his broad shoulders and trim body. He was stunning. And when he sat in the car, I forced my eyes to the road because if I looked at him, there would have been no hiding the thoughts my eyes would have revealed.

  Our conversation in the car was limited to discussions of our parents, my running, and any other topic of little consequence. I asked him about where he’d been, but he said he’d go into all that later.

  When the valet opened my door, and I walked around to Evan, he looked at me so long, I felt as if he were drinking me in. Not totally unpleasant, but enough to make me glance down to be sure I hadn’t drooled on myself watching him walk to my car. I brushed the front of my dress.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Absolutely not,” he said and caressed me with a slow, easy smile. He reached for my hand as we walked to the door. “Hungry?”

  Oh my, you have no idea, do you?

  At the table, he ordered a bottle of wine and, after our glasses were filled, he leaned forward. “You look better than anything on the menu,” he said.

  I slapped back my sarcasm before it spoiled the moment. Even though it would have deflected my awkwardness much better than my wineglass dinging the edge of my plate when he dropped that line.

  “Thanks,” I said. “You don’t look too shabby yourself.” Olivia, really? That’s the best you could do?

  Fortunately, the waiter appeared for our orders and saved me from humiliating myself more and provided a break from my awkwardness.

  “One of the reasons I wanted to have dinner with you was I felt like I owed you the truth about why and how I came back from Baton Rouge.” Evan refilled our glasses, then said, “I want you to know the real reason I decided to leave the law firm.”

  “Okay,” I said and already felt my heart preparing to go on lockdown. I wanted to ask him to cut to the chase. If this was his good-bye speech, I’d rather leave on an empty stomach. But he’d already sat back in his chair, ready to give his testimony.

  “I was the defense attorney for someone I knew was guilty. He was acquitted, then three months later he stabbed his pregnant wife. She and the baby died. I couldn’t sleep for months. The guilt almost killed me, and that’s not hyperbole. That’s when I knew I had to leave to save my own life. My fiancée thought I’d get over it. That practicing corporate law would make a difference. Maybe it would have, but I knew in my gut that I needed to do something different with my life. I ended up at the club. They needed a pro, and I needed something to do. I never intended to stay, and I thought my being there was an absolute fluke until you showed up. I was such a pompous idiot in college, and I’m sorry for that because I realized too late that I had lost any chance with you.”

  “In all fairness, I was pretty inflexible myself. I thought a relationship should be the romance for the ages. When I met Wyatt, it was comfortable. He was always ready to do whatever made me happy, and I wasn’t used to that. Then Wyatt dies on our wedding day with a mess of unanswered questions, and I find I’m pregnant and, well, you know the rest. Not exactly the romance I intended it to be.” I shared the Jenny, Jacob, and Laura story, which took us all the way to dessert.

  “And here we are, figuring all this out, and before long we’re going to be almost four hundred miles apart. Our timing hasn’t been good, has it?” I said, trying to decide if my Spanx could tolerate cheesecake.

  “But I think your moving to Houston is the right thing for you to do,” Evan said, with a bit more enthusiasm than I expected.

  I mentally drummed my fingers on the table, impatient now to leave because what I thought might have been a beginning was now looking like the end. “Of course, it doesn’t seem like there’s any reason for me not to go.” I hoped I sounded mature in my bitterness.

  He asked me when I planned to go back, and then he ordered coffee and flan.

  Might as well order two desserts, Olivia. I told our waiter I wanted espresso and the praline cheesecake. “Bryce has already sent me some places he scouted out. I figure sometime in the next four weeks, I should be able to make a decision about where I’ll live.”

  “Bryce is doing the same thing for me,” Evan said.

  “So, you’re looking for a place in New Orleans?”

  “I’m not staying here,” he said. He sounded too chipper about his willingness to jet off to wherever this new life of his was.

  “Then where?”

  “I interviewed for a teaching position at the University of Houston law school. And I’m starting this spring semester.”

  “You’re moving to Houston?” The anxiety let go of my lungs, and I wanted to both strangle him and hug him for leading me through this torture.

  “So, what do you think Kavanaugh? I still owe you some golf lessons.” He smiled and reached across the table to lock his fingers with mine. “And stir-fried eggplant from P.F. Chang’s.”

  “What do I owe you, then?”

  “Another chance,” he said.

  CHAPTER 58

  On my way out of town, I stopped at the mausoleum to leave a bouquet of wildflowers with a letter tucked inside. I set the flowers in the vase attached to the stone front where Wyatt’s name had been engraved. I traced each letter of his name with my finger and, when I finished, whispered, “Good-bye. I love you.”

  Dear Wyatt,

  I’m on my way to Houston, but I didn’t want to leave without stopping to tell you good-bye. I almost didn’t write this letter because, at first, it seemed ridiculous. For one thing, I have no idea what the postage rates are to mail something to eternity. Plus, it’s not like I can’t talk to you anywhere I am.

  I guess this letter is as much for me as it is for you because I’m starting, not a new life, but a different one almost four hundred miles away. And there’s this part of me that feels like I’m leaving you behind. Not just geographically, but emotionally. I haven’t figured it all out yet, but I suppose that will take time like everything else has.

  I finally met Jacob and Jenny. He looks so much like you, and I see so much of you in him. The way he bites his lower lip when he’s totally focused on something. How he tilts his head when he’s asking a question. He already has your compassion. When we were at the park, he heard a baby crying, and he asked Jenny if he could hug the baby because it was sad. Jenny is self-assured, kind, and so grounded. She’s an amazing mother, Wyatt. She is playful and yet firm, she’s patient, affectionate, and she’s invited me to be a part of their lives. Jenny wants Jacob to know about you. When I gave her those two gifts that you had picked out for him, she hugged me. Those two packages were albatrosses that weighed me down for months. But when I saw the surprise and gratitude in her face, I knew that you had done the right thing.

  Being with Lily and Jacob, I’ve learned that I enjoy the company of children. Who knew?! My parents, understandably, are surprised that I want to shift from public relations to preschool education. Ruthie told them there really wasn’t that much difference. That teaching was PR with a different age group. I’m going to miss her, but I did tell her she’s the reason I opted for a two-bedroom condo. She has no excuse not to visit. When I get settled, I’m going to look into certification programs.

  Evan’s moving to Houston in a few weeks. He’s going to start teaching in January. We’ve been spending time with one another, but neither one of us is ready to rush into anything. We’re going to see where these new lives take us. He’s a different man than he was when we were together before. We’ve both been changed by unexpected tragedies, but we’re learning so much about ourselves and one another through them.

  God and I are working things out. Or, as Ruthie reminded me, “God worked things out a long time ago, girlie. He’s been waiting for you to catch up.” After you died, and I found out about Jenny an
d Jacob, I thought I lost the life I’d dreamed about because God had decided I was next in line to be punished. Thing is, I was doing a great job punishing myself. God didn’t need to step in. But I’m realizing I don’t have to understand; that’s the whole point of faith. Like in Raiders of the Lost Ark, when Indiana Jones is told he has to take a leap of faith and step out over that enormous chasm even though he doesn’t see the bridge. He does, and it’s there. So, I’m learning. One step at a time.

  I love you, Wyatt. I still miss you, miss who we were together. I miss Stella. Even though I never had a chance to hold her in my arms, I held her in my heart. And that’s where you are. Tucked away with her in a place where only the three of us can meet.

  While I was writing this, I remembered these lines from a poem by e. e. cummings that will forever remind me of you and Stella:

  “i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart) i am never without it . . .”

  I love you,

  Livvy

  EPILOGUE

  Almost two years later . . .

  Granny Ruth says lightning can’t strike twice in the same place. We all know that’s a myth, but nobody would dare say that to her. It’s her way of telling us that everything’s going to be okay.

  And we don’t just want to believe her.

  We all need to believe her.

  Because, once again, we were all there. Waiting for you. All the plans we’d made, reserving a special suite, the balloons, the confetti.

  Six hours later, you finally, blessedly, and miraculously arrived.

  All seven pounds and fourteen ounces of you.

  Your father whispered, “Thank you for our beautiful son,” and placed you in my arms. Arms that had been empty. Arms that waited and longed for you.

  Evan Samuel Gendusa, born on New Year’s Eve, was about to meet his family.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Once upon a time, I had an idea. It grew up and over and into this novel that I am now thrilled to share with all of you. The characters in Since You’ve Been Gone refused to be silent, tugging on my writer’s sleeve like impatient children determined to be heard.

  And heard they were. First, by my enthusiastically persistent agent Jessica Kirkland of the Blythe Daniel Agency. She encouraged me at a time when I wondered if the gig was up. Her honesty and fearlessness are admirable. Because of her, Erin Calligan Mooney, acquisitions editor at Waterfall Press, gave these characters life, and Megan Makeover, my developmental editor, gave them a purpose. To everyone at Amazon who had a part in bringing this novel to readers: thank you for your kindnesses. Waterfall Press has blessed me.

  Thanks to Phyllis Puglia Welsh who answered some legal questions for me, and her husband, Dennis, who invited us out to eat and cooked for us, sending home leftovers enough times that my husband actually ate cooked food at least once a week.

  God bless Jenny B. Jones, who faithfully answered my neurotic and frantic texts, emails, and phone calls. If she can’t talk me off the ledge, she pulls me through the window every time. Also, thanks to Nicole Deese for her patience, and Amy Matayo for her pre-deadline encouragement.

  I appreciate my teacher friends, readers, and cheerleaders who haven’t forgotten me since I retired. Carole, Carrie, and Shelley never fail to check in with me to make sure I haven’t bashed myself on the head with my laptop.

  Last, but certainly and never not least, my children and children-in-law, who understand when I’ve slipped into my writing coma. I even remember their names: Michael, Sandy, Erin, Andrae, Shannon, Sarah, John, and Amanda.

  I’d like to thank our dog, Herman, but he was the one member of the family who felt obligated to annoy me. I don’t recall how many times I had to delete lines of “rob,rob,rob,rob,rob . . .” from my manuscript because of his incessant barking.

  Then there’s my husband, Ken. Even though he decided that we should move and continue to manage three vacation rentals while I was on deadline, I am happy to report that he is still very much alive and loved. He’s been on the front lines for the agony and ecstasy of my writing life. I so owe him. For everything.

  Eternal gratitude to God for reminding me that I’m not Him, for the countless blessings in my life, and for allowing me to write about His grace and mercy.

  And to all the readers (and the audio listeners), I am humbled by and grateful for your support. Thank you for changing my life.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  A true Southern woman who knows any cook worth her gumbo always starts with a roux, Christa Allan is an award-winning author who writes stories filled with hope, humor, and redemption. Her novels include Test of Faith; Threads of Hope; Walking on Broken Glass; and The Edge of Grace.

  Christa is a mother of five and grandmother of three, and she recently retired after twenty-five years spent teaching high school English. She and her husband live in New Orleans in a home older than their combined ages. They spend their time dodging hurricanes and pacifying their three neurotic cats and Herman, their dog.