Loud and joyous, you couldn't help but grin just by hearing it. I was drawn to the sound and found myself standing near a pile of hay bales where I watched her for a few minutes. I had always known she was beautiful. We had gone to school together since Kindergarten and I had grown up along side her. Maybe it was being away from her for a few years while I was at college, but whatever it was I was looking at her in a whole new way.
She stood under a string of white lights talking with a couple former classmates. She wore a light blue summer dress, it hugged her on top and flowed out toward the bottom hitting her mid thigh. She had on simple gray flip flops and her long brown hair was thrown up in a ponytail. The day had been hot and she had dressed for comfort. She looked relaxed, confident and simply gorgeous.
Feeling like a bit of a stalker I had finally walked over, shaking hands with Scott, an old baseball buddy. I gave Dawn a sideways hug glancing quickly at her before going toward Cyan.
“Cyan, it's nice to see you. You look wonderful.” I hoped she couldn't hear my heart beating, because right now it was drowning out all other noise.
“You too Ian. You look great! It's been too long.” She hugged me just a tad too long. Her cheeks were pink when I pulled back.
We were inseparable from that night on. Cyan was perfect for me and I for her. Our bond was strong, our love deep.
Coming back to the present, standing beside my Jeep in the cool evening breeze, I pulled Cyan against me, my arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders. “Let's go for a walk,” I suggested softly against the side of her head. I was a little anxious but was doing my best to calm my nerves. I slid my hand in my pocket again, touching the cool metal, reassuring myself.
“Sounds good. Do you want to walk along the beach?” she asked.
“I was thinking we could walk out on the boat docks,” I said. “There's no one out and it's so quiet and peaceful.” I loved walking out on the docks in the late evening. The crickets were out in force, the warm summer evening bringing them out. I loved the rhythmic chirping sound.
The lake was small and was hugged by hundreds of white fir, cedar and pine trees. The wildflowers had just started blooming, the hills lighting up with colors. A fish jumped in the distance as we neared the docks, probably a rainbow trout. Fish and Game regularly stocked the lake with trout. Good fishing helped keep our sports shop busy all summer long. In the winter we rented out snow play gear, boats and fishing equipment.
The sports shop on Pinecrest Lake that I had opened with my best friend, Matt Brady, was shuttered for the night. Our kayaks and paddle boards were stored away. The CLOSED sign hung in the window, slightly crooked. I felt a touch of pride as we passed the shop, it had been a struggle the first year but we had built up a good business.
We strolled along the docks in no particular hurry, holding hands and looking out over the water. You could hear muffled conversations, carried from the campgrounds across the lake. I have all night to do this right I thought. And then the rest of my life to make it perfect.
The breeze was just cool enough to encourage cuddling, but not cool enough to be uncomfortable. We sat at the end of the dock, shoes in a pile next to us, our feet swinging in the water, our shoulders leaning up against one another. Cyan rested her head against my shoulder and held my hand in her lap. I rubbed small circles over her thumb with mine enjoying the moment.
We talked for nearly an hour about nothing and everything. How busy the sport shop was, how Cyan's photos were selling at the small gallery up the road. We talked about our families and siblings, our friends from high school that we'd seen in the last few weeks. As our conversation turned to our relationship and our future, as it inevitably seemed to do lately, I pulled my feet from the water and flipped over into a kneeling position.
Cyan turned toward me, silhouetted by the setting sun, the blond highlights in her hair seemed to catch fire in the glow of the falling sun. There was a slight crease on her forehead as she silently questioned what I was doing. Her green eyes looked dark in the low light and my breath caught as I looked at her.
I slid the platinum ring from my pocket, never taking my eyes off hers. She didn't break eye contact until I brought the ring up between us. I held it by the bottom of the band, the small marquise diamond sparkled on top. She lowered her gaze from my eyes, down to the ring, and back up. Her eyes widened slightly and her breathing grew heavier.
“Blue, our hearts have known one another forever. We grew up together. Went off to college and spread our wings, but we still flew home to one another. Our love has grown the last two years to a point that I could never imagine my life without you. You are my one, my only, my Blue. I want to celebrate a new anniversary with you every day, our thirty-second anniversary of eating chocolate together, the eighty-sixth anniversary of grocery shopping together, even the ninety-ninth anniversary of changing our baby's diapers.” I knew I was starting to drift off course with my speech, but I didn't know if I could ever put into words how incredibly much I loved her.
I was on one knee now, the other balanced behind me, my Blue sitting crossed legged in front of me. The breeze was lifting her hair up and away from her face. The sun had dropped lower in the sky and I leaned forward. My forehead resting against hers as I asked her the most important question of my life. “Will you spend your life with me, will you love me, will you make me a father to our children, will you marry me?”
Our heads still together, Cyan placed her lips lightly against mine so I could feel and hear her words, “It would make me the happiest woman in the world to be your wife Ian. I couldn't imagine my life without you, my heart not loving you, my children not having you as their father.”
“So is that a yes?” I grinned.
“Yes, that's a yes!” She laughed as I slid the ring on her finger. Leaping to my feet I lifted her off the ground and spun around. My heart was full, my love overflowing, my glorious future with Cyan laid out before me.
After hugs and kisses and whispers of our love we walked back up the floating dock. The platform shifting and swaying gently on the lake with each of our steps. The sun had long since set and a full moon hung low, making it's rise over the lake.
“I did good,” I said with a cocky smile, my arm wrapped across Cyan's shoulder.
“Yes BB, you did good,” she said with a satisfied sigh.
I squeezed her tighter against me as we stopped at the end of the dock for another kiss. I took my time sealing the engagement with my kisses. I never wanted to stop kissing her.
Pulling her left hand up between us I lightly kissed the top of the ring and then her perfect lips. “Forever Blue. I will love you until my last breath.”
“I couldn't imagine my forever without you BB,” she said. A little tear slid down her cheek and I brushed it away with my thumb.
“Happy tear?”
“Definitely,” she said with a smile. She wrapped her arms around my waist and we stood holding one another until I felt Cyan shiver in the cooling breeze.
The pine needles lay thick at our feet as we walked arm and arm along the path toward the parking lot. Cyan's head rested against my shoulder as we walked and I smiled at her contented sigh.
The whistle caught my attention first. A weird little tune, sharp and irritating, repeated over and over. The path between the docks and parking lot didn't have any light posts and the only light we had was from the moon. The grove of trees above the beach area followed the water line casting deep shadows around the edges of the beach.
Looking around trying to follow the sound of the whistle I noticed a couple figures sitting on the picnic tables under the trees. As we approached I glanced at them noticing one guy was whistling through his teeth and watching us. I didn't give them much thought, just a couple visiting campers I figured.
We had just passed them, a good ten feet to their right, when I heard them approach. “Nice proposal dude,” one of them growled. “Now give up the ring.”
We both turned, looking at the
men over our shoulders. Late twenties I figured, white guys, dark clothes, hats pulled low. They were both on the big side but I wasn't sure how serious the situation was. Should we run, should I stand my ground and try to fight them. What about Cyan? She was tough for a girl, but not against either of these guys. I couldn't do anything to jeopardize her safety.
“Keep walking,” I whispered against her ear, picking up the pace.
We were nearly to the parking lot when I was shoved from behind. “I said give us the ring. We're not playing games here.” I spun around facing the shorter guy. I regained my footing as he slid a knife out of his waste band, flicking it open with one hand.
I slid Cyan behind me with my left arm and decided to try and reason with them. “Look dude, we don't want any trouble. I just proposed to my girlfriend and this is supposed to be one of the best nights of our lives. Cut us a break here.” We had continued stepping backwards and were now on the paved pathway. The area was dark, the street lights were on, but too far away to make much difference. The market and tavern were less than a hundred feet away. I could hear the live band playing, the sound muffled but louder each time someone opened the tavern door. Surely someone would come along and scare these two jokers away.
I was distracted by the knife and didn't see the second guy reach out and grab Cyan's arm. She yelled out in shock, striking him on the shoulder, trying to pull her hand back. As I turned to defend her, the other guy came in with the knife.
The pain was hot and sharp. I grabbed my chest as I crumpled to the ground. “What the hell did you do?” I heard the guy who had been grabbing Cyan yell at my attacker. “Let's get the hell out of here.” Their footsteps retreated into the dark.
My thoughts of the day and what had happened were jolted from me as I heard Cyan's voice above me.
“BB? Are you okay, talk to me, what happened. I can't see anything in this light.” Cyan was panicking. I could hear it in her voice and it matched what I was feeling.
I tried to stay focused on her face but my vision kept blurring as the pain rolled over me. As the past fell away I saw my future flashing before me. A future I wouldn't have. The edges off my vision were cloudy, like a soft mist swirling around my head. In the mist I saw Cyan in a beautiful white dress, walking toward me, holding yellow roses in front of her. Her face was lit up like an angel a bright glow all around her. Our wedding. The swirls shifted and a little girl with my eyes and Cyan's long brown curls emerged. She was giggling at me as I spun her round and round. Our daughter. Her giggles and beautiful smile spun away as the mist grew darker.
I started to panic as the swirls floated away, carrying my future with them. I looked up and focused on Cyan's face. Her eyes locked on mine and I whispered “I love you Blue. Always and forever.” I could feel the tears sliding down my face.
Cyan's voice was nearing hysterics, “Ian, don't you leave me. Don't you dare leave me.” Then she was begging, “please don't leave me, please don't leave me!”
Then I left.
Chapter 2 – Cyan
The praying mantis had startled me when I first saw it. I had stopped into a local general store, and there sitting on top of my wallet inside my purse, was this beautiful, green praying mantis. I hadn't walked under any trees and I had come from the car, straight into the store, so I had no idea how he had gotten in there. After leaving the store I found a flowering bush in the parking lot and shook him onto it.
It happened about six months after I lost Ian and ever since seeing that small insect my heart had healed a little. Out of curiosity I had looked up the symbolism of praying mantis and read that it was a symbol of keeping a calm spirit in bad times, having endurance during suffering. With everything I had gone through since losing Ian this really resonated with me.
I didn't really buy into symbolism that much but I thought it was kind of cool that they were supposed to come to you when you needed to feel peace and calm. All I know is I needed some comforting and that little green bug, in the unlikeliest of places, made me feel that Ian was with me, that he was looking down on me, and from that moment I had started to breathe just a little easier.
Two years after Ian's death and two hundred miles from the lake Ian loved, the lake he died beside, I was watching another visiting praying mantis. He was climbing among the green leaves of the lilac bush planted in an old wooden wine barrel on the wharf I was standing on.
With his company I didn't feel quite so alone. I no longer fantasized that whenever I was visited by another praying mantis that it was Ian coming to say hi, but I still took comfort in their presence.
I pulled my thick gray cardigan tighter around me as the cool breeze picked up, the salty smell of the sea tickling my nose. My hair was blowing around my face and I wished I had a hair tie. Leaning against the weathered posts I crossed my arms and rested my chin on my hands, looking down at the water. I knew I was hiding out here.
For some reason that thought had been bothering me more lately. I used to enjoy the solitude of cutting most people out of my life, it was just easier that way. I had even grown used to that heavy feeling of loneliness over the years. For the last couple months the loneliness was starting to create an ache, a physical discomfort that felt a little claustrophobic.
I had mentioned this to my landlady Evelyn in a few of our conversations. She was a great listener, but sometimes not as forthcoming with the advice I was seeking. She liked to remind me that I was stronger than I thought and would tell me that I would know the path I should take in this life.
Evelyn lived in a white stucco cottage with yellow trim that was surrounded by overgrown pink, white, red and purple crepe myrtle trees. Set behind, and to the side, of the cottage was a detached garage with my little one bedroom apartment built above. From my living room and bedroom windows I had a lovely view of the lush backyard. From the kitchen area I could see the ocean waves in the distance.
Evelyn lived alone in the larger home. Her husband had passed away five years previously. It didn't matter that Evelyn was in her late seventies, she was still as sharp witted as I imagined she had always been.
Living here was a perfect situation for both of us. I helped with the yard work and kept Evelyn company, in return she lent me a listening ear and kept me stocked in the cookies and little cakes she was always baking.
I looked out over the rail at the gray water, steadying myself against the worn wood. The sun was dropping into the ocean, leaving trickles of orange through the gray. Little rays of warmth in an otherwise cold sea. I took some solace in that image. It's kind of how I was feeling. I knew I was still mourning the loss of Ian, my one true love. How do I move forward in a life without him beside me?
I had been cold for the last two years. Barely living, just doing what I needed to do to get by. But lately I was feeling those little trickles of warmth. I was tired of being tired. Tired of being alone. And even tired of missing Ian. I felt a little guilty admitting that. I had moved beyond the angry phase of my grief long ago. I had come to accept his death. But I was lost. Plain and simple, I felt lost in this great big world.
A pelican flew by clutching its dinner in its mouth. It didn't pay me any attention as it landed on a wooden pylon a few feet away. My photographers eye was drawn to the teals and browns from the rusted bolts and plates attached to the weathered wood of the pylon. The pelican's head was white, his body a salt and pepper gray, dripping water onto the boards below him. His beak was a light orange that matched his webbed feet. Like he was coordinating accessories.
My gaze moved away from the pelican and out over the people on the wharf. I was standing on a section of the wharf, away from the crowds, that serviced the fisherman and the curious tourists who wanted to get a closer look at the sailboats and yachts moored in their slips along the marina behind me.
Round white lights were strung across the wide walkway between the rows of restaurants and tourist shops lining the wharf. The lights twinkled brighter as the sky grew a darker gray. The lights re
minded me of the carnival from the night Ian and I had gotten together and my chest tightened a little. Smells of seafood, baked bread and popcorn carried on the breeze. My stomach grumbled in response.
I had been out for one of my walks and had wandered over to the busy wharf. I liked to people watch and enjoyed the energy of the people around me. The wharf was lined on both sides with restaurants and tourist shops. I had walked by all of them absorbing the energy around me but not joining the shoppers and diners, choosing to head toward the quieter section where I could just be a spectator.
It was late in the summer and there were less and less tourists, especially during the week. Schools were going to be back in session soon and the pace started to slow down. Parents were dragging sleepy children behind them, a few fisherman were hosing down their boats after a day of fishing and a young couple, arms around one another, walked by lost in their own world.
The sight of them made me turn away. The empty, lonely feeling returned and I raised my eyes to the sky to push back the tears. I have been getting stronger and seeing couples together doesn't always warrant a sad response. But this boy has blond hair and blue eyes and reminds me of a young Ian.
I had moved away from Pinecrest Lake and my friends and family about six months after Ian's death, a few weeks after the praying mantis had paid me a visit. I needed a fresh start, a place where every sight, every sound didn't remind me of Ian and all that I had lost.
If I closed my eyes and allowed my thoughts to drift back to that night, the night I called the end of my beginning, I could still see Ian's face. He had lain on the hard pavement with his head turned toward me. His eyes had drifted closed after he declared his love for me. One hand laid across the hole in his chest, the other was limp beside him resting against my knees. I remember screaming over and over. My white sundress stained red by his blood.
Hundreds had attended Ian's funeral. From the moment Ian was gone I had felt like I was simply drifting along and my memories of his funeral were spotty. The minister had spoke of his love for his friends and family. His mom had cried softly in the pew in front of me. His father held her close and his younger sister and brother cried uncontrollably.
Letting Go Page 2