Love, Carry My Bags

by Everett, C. R.

  “Anything he may have said without passion.”

  She verified her suspicion that he was likeable, even lovable. And she not so subtly exposed, again, our place together in the pod. Reese and I snuggled on the couch.

  “Just don’t gross me out,” Elizabeth said, leaving the room.

  * * *

  Christmas day felt like Christmas day is supposed to feel—full of family and warmth, and love. Nestled into our home, amid howling winds slapping wet snowflakes onto the windows, we played a rousing game of Trivial Pursuit in front of the fire after Sydney and Elizabeth treated us to a home-cooked turkey dinner. Reese kicked our butts with his extensive expertise in music and motion picture trivia. It was like he had an inborn knowledge. Sydney had insisted on preparing dinner with no help from me. “It’s not every day my mom gets a new husband for Christmas,” she had said, polite jab intended.

  Reese gave me a delicate gold bracelet to replace the one he had given me over three decades prior. I had accidentally lost the first one down the washing machine drain during the second year married to Glenn. He gave the girls boxes of assorted chocolates, something near and dear to their hearts. Elizabeth opened hers. “He’s a keeper!” she said with delight. I gave Reese a heartfelt card with his first-place blue ribbon from track inside. Reese read the note he had penned in his late teens and had taped to the back . . . It means a lot, so I’m entrusting it to your care until you return to me safely.

  Now Reese fought back tears, as did we all after witnessing his reaction. “I’m grateful for a second chance,” Reese said, struggling with his emotions. He caressed my arm while his mind filled with anguish over our lost years, and also with hope of a shared future, which seemed a sure thing, but not yet a done deal.

  “I have something else for you, Camryn.” Reese pulled a small black velvet box from his pocket.

  “This is it,” Sydney whispered excitedly to Elizabeth. She jabbed Elizabeth with her elbow. Reese opened the box, revealing a promise ring—a brilliant opal aglow with shimmering purples and blues.

  “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” A jolt of happiness struck, and I hugged Reese with a velocity that toppled us both over from where we had been sitting on the carpet. Kisses followed, not pecks, but soft tender kisses.

  “Hey, none of that,” Elizabeth admonished. She wished us all that, just didn’t want to witness it.

  “Gross. Cut it out you guys.” Sydney stood up. “Well, you’ll get around to popping the question sooner or later. Looks like later. It’s been real and it’s been fun and it’s been real fun, but I’m out of here. E, let’s go catch a movie.” Elizabeth stood up.

  “Sounds like a plan. Vamanos!” Elizabeth’s Dora indoctrination from her preschool years held strong. The girls vacated promptly.

  * * *

  December 26th was three days before Reese had to head back home. Over the years he had worked his way up the management chain at Chicago based Saxton’s, a retailer ranking somewhere between Target and Sears. Reese told me all about the sales and profit goals for the year, the hot trends, and what was out. It was a miracle they had given him three weeks off at Christmastime. His boss, having worked with him ten years, understood the compelling nature of Reese’s vacation request, but insisted Reese return before New Year’s to wrap up the financials. We had three days to do the Hoh.

  Taking Reese to the Hoh Rainforest was the culmination of my plan to lure him into complete love with the Northwest. We enjoyed another spectacular ferry ride, this time from Keystone to Port Townsend, the Olympics in clear view and Vancouver Island in the distance. We then toured scenic highway 101, glimpsing the Strait of Juan De Fuca and enjoying picturesque Lake Crescent along the way.

  “This place is unreal,” Reese said with excitement. “I can’t believe you live here!”

  “I tell myself that every day. I have to pinch myself to make sure it isn’t a dream.”

  “It is a dream. A dream come true.” Reese looked at me with earnestness in his eyes, then back to the scenery. Towering Sitka Spruce and droopy-topped Western Hemlock lined the roadway into the Hoh. Mosses draped everything in ninety-eight shades of green and we hadn’t even reached the main spectacle. “Let’s get out,” Reese said. I smiled. He had read my mind. The temperate rainforest invited us both. We hiked on an unfrequented trail, stopping along the way to hear the still quiet. I sat on a fallen moss-covered tree; the damp inconspicuously seeped into my jeans.

  “Camryn,” Reese said as he took my hand, deliberately admiring the ring he had just given me, touching it with his fingers. He sat beside me on the log. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Terrific excitement coursed through my body, yet I said nothing and waited for more. A wren flitted in the canopy overhead. He knelt on one knee in oxalis-disguised mud. “I should have asked this when I was twenty, when we had our whole lives ahead of us, but . . .” Reese paused. An occasional dewdrop from Oregon spikemoss tresses punctuated the calm, dripping on our heads. Events from three decades, lessons, plowed through our minds in three moments. We’d been over it all—the positive, the negative, where each of us went wrong, the good that came because of seemingly bad decisions, and our heartaches and grief in spite of it. “I can’t turn back time, but we can pick up where we left off. I love you with my whole heart, as much or more than I ever did.” He held my hand tighter, sending ripples of anticipation to my heart. “Camryn, will you marry me?” Slight rain had started to fall and was hard to discern from the tears on my face. Reese waited expectantly for a yes. But the unpleasant surprises unearthed during my years of marital education prevented a spontaneous yes. Starting over where we left off was not an option. Beginning anew, knowing now what I didn’t know then, was.

  “I love you so much. More than anything. And I am thrilled, honored that you asked.” I wept, pawing at my cheeks. “Being married was the second hardest thing I’ve ever done.” Reese listened, focused. “Being married to someone other than you was the first. I want to spend every last moment on earth with you. I want you to move here and live with me for the rest of our days, but I’m not ready for marriage and I don’t know when or if I will be.” I cried harder, feeling that I had closed, no, slammed this wide-open door shut.

  “I’ll wait,” he said, unbothered. “I’ve waited this long. A while more is nothing. I’ll gladly do it because I’m grateful we are finally together. Being with you again is a gift I was never sure I’d get.” Just when I thought Reese could not get any more wonderful, he did. “When I contacted you, before Elizabeth was born, just the fact that you wrote back . . . . My knowing that you didn’t hate me after what happened, carried me through.” Reese held me close. “I’ve never known anyone as loving as you. I know things have happened, life went on and sometimes you’ve carried a heavy load. Sometimes hurtful things have happened, hanging on like baggage weighing you down. I don’t care how many bags you have, I’ll carry them.” The door had not slammed shut; it opened wider, accommodating all I had to bring. Reese went on, “It’s not about making a life together, it’s about sharing the life we have left.” I squeezed his hands, kissing each one, appreciating him being mine. We kissed, rain and salt tears seasoning the embrace. Reese’s understanding, sensitivity, and unconditional love showered me.

  “Thank God for you,” I whispered.

  “Thank God for you.”

  * * *

  We wandered through the rest of the trail with drizzle-dampened clothes, the ground squishing beneath our shoes. Our hands, hearts and minds interlocked, yet we said nothing until a Roosevelt Elk stirred foliage ahead of us. We froze, knowing sudden noise would cause it to run. Reese and I watched, hearing, at first, only our own breath. The elk snorted into the wild grasses it munched, and stomped gnats away with its hoof. Treetops filtered setting sunlight, and a chill breeze wafted through.

  “Ready to call it a day?” asked Reese.

  “Ready.” I shivered.

  We rented a secluded vacation home on the Hoh R
iver for the night. Mrs. Anderson, the owner, had it warmed and ready for us when we arrived. I unpacked leftovers from our picnic lunch into the fridge.

  “Look what’s in here.” I said, staring into the refrigerator at a steelhead that appeared to be staring back at me. Reese peered in.

  “Mrs. Anderson left a note,” he said. “She said her husband went fishing today and thought we might like fish for dinner. I’ll run up to the store and get a few things to go with it.”

  “Yum,” I said, giving him a parting hug and kiss.

  Two blanket-thick terry robes were on the bed. I shed my wet clothes, showered and slipped one of them on while he was gone.

  “You look comfy,” he said when he returned with apples, a lemon, broccoli, rice, and hot cocoa mix.

  “Very.” I prepared our meal while Reese showered and robed as I had. We dined at the log table, watching the rain pour down. Reese finished first.

  “Cocoa?” he asked.

  “Love some.” Reese fixed the hot chocolate we sipped by candlelight. The rental came purposely without television and we talked well into the night. I yawned. “I’m going to turn in. You too?” I asked while standing up.

  “No, I’m going to stay up and finish this book first.” Reese picked up a worn paperback. I hadn’t fully appreciated Reese’s love of books when we were young. I hadn’t known it was important to me.

  “Okay. Goodnight,” I said, leaving him lost in the pages. Forty-five minutes later, Reese crept into the master bedroom and over to the bed. Unlike years ago, he didn’t leave after two hours of passionate kisses and sweet somethings, but joined me beneath the sheets.

  CHAPTER 40

  “Wisdom is supreme; therefore get wisdom. Though it cost all you have, get understanding.”

  Proverbs 4:7 (NIV)

  Dear Megan,

  Do you like the postcard? It’s from the Hoh Rainforest where Reese and I spent a fantastic couple of days. He proposed, but I’m too chicken, so I didn’t say yes or no. He said he’d wait forever. He’s just as kind as I remembered him. The girls love him.

  Nicole got back from her trip today. I guess it went alright, she really didn’t say much.

  More later. Love, Camryn

  * * *

  “I’ll come back as soon as I can,” Reese said as he disappeared through airport security. It used to be that loved ones could see you off at the gate just as you boarded the plane. There was a time when I cried and cried at departure, but now nothing resembling a tear surfaced, only an emptiness. I wondered if it was because I didn’t love as hard as I used to.

  When I closed the screen door after returning home, Nicole called out from the living room, “Camryn?”

  “Yes, I’m home.”

  “Come here, dear,” she said, her voice not as happy as usual. “Sit down.” She motioned for me to sit next to her on the couch then said, “You miss him already, don’t you?”

  “Yes. I wish he didn’t have to go.” I fiddled with a throw pillow. Thinking the house was too silent, I said, “Where are the girls?”

  “Elizabeth’s at work and Sydney is out on a date, that nice boy, Keith.”

  “Mmm.” I nodded, making a mental note to pay the cell phone bill that was due—family plan.

  “Reese proposed, didn’t he?” she asked suddenly.

  Surprised, I answered, “Yes, how did you know?”

  “He asked my permission.”

  The very thought of it lit a tender tear in my eye.

  “I told him it’d cost him,” she said.

  I gave Nicole a quizzical look.

  “I made him give me five bucks.” She laughed, then took my hand with her warm wrinkled one. It reminded me of my dad’s just before he died. “No. I saw the sparkle in his eye every time he spoke of you. I told him I’d be honored for him to marry my daughter.”

  And with that, I wiped dry my eyes.

  “I didn’t say yes.”

  Unalarmed, Nicole, who had turned Mom long ago, said, “You might not know how things will turn out, but you can always make something good out of it. Woodland Park Zoo sells their animal shit; Zoo Doo, they call it—cleans things up, makes good fertilizer and gives them an income. Marriage isn’t about having the perfect relationship day in and day out. It’s about living life to its fullest, good or bad.”

  For better or for worse flitted through my mind.

  Appealing to my geek nature, she said, “It’s the difference between auditing a course and taking the tests.”

  “Could be,” I said, thinking of how many men Megan had audited.

  “He’ll come back sooner than you think,” she said, reading my sad face.

  “It’ll be a while,” I said, thinking it had been thirty-two years, what was another couple of months? “He had some pressing business.”

  * * *

  “Grandma in bed?” Sydney asked after blowing kisses goodbye to Keith from the front door.

  “She just turned in. You can probably catch her to say goodnight,” I said.

  Sydney knocked on the bedroom door, returning ten minutes later.

  “That was a long goodnight,” I said.

  “Yeah, Grandma wanted to make sure I didn’t let Keith get away.”

  The next morning Elizabeth asked, “Mom, why is Grandma out there in her Barney suit and red hat?” She watched Nicole through the window. “Looks like she’s wielding a mean salt shaker.”

  “She’s got it in for slugs today, said they were eating her daisies,” I answered while finishing up the dishes.

  Sydney grabbed her jacket, heading out for a run. “See ya in a few,” she said, interrupting our conversation in passing.

  “Mom, are you sure she’s . . . okay?” Elizabeth continued, and tapped her head suggesting that Grandma may be going nutso. “Daisies aren’t even up yet.”

  “Well she’s getting a little older,” I said slowly, “besides, she calls all flowers daisies, it’s a generic term. And who’s to say that just because someone salts slugs that they’re losing it?” I drained the sink and dried the counter while watching the red-hatted Barney toddle to the far side of the garden. I smiled, remembering the night before. We had bust a gut together, laughing when Grandma said that she had used the men’s room on the airplane, her embarrassed expression as red as her hat. Dumbfounded when Sydney pointed out that they were unisex bathrooms, Nicole said, “They’re only for transvestites? No . . .”

  “It’s just not like Grandma,” Elizabeth said, concerned, disrupting my continuing fond recollection of shared humor. “She used to pluck them out of the garden and set them free in the woods.”

  “Some people would say she’s come to her senses.” I stopped to look at the pictures of Reese and me framed on the refrigerator—the old one of him hugging me from behind, his head resting on mine and a current re-creation of the same pose. We looked happy in both.

  “Do you miss dad?” Elizabeth asked out of nowhere.

  “A little every day,” I said, upbeat.

  “Why not a lot?”

  “When you miss someone a lot, you stop living.” I picked up Mouser, snuggling his soft fur to my face. “When you miss someone a little, you never take them for granted and you appreciate every little thing.” I thought about my girls and my home, the journey along the way. “If you don’t miss them at all, you lose all that.”

  “I miss him a little too,” she said, petting Mouser. “So.” Elizabeth turned suddenly, clapping her hands as if she meant business. “Speaking of living . . . are you going to marry Reese, or what?”

  “I don’t know, honey . . . why?”

  “You should,” she said. “Grandma thinks so too.”

  “I know she does,” I said, peeking out the window to see Nicole weeding the daisy bed, salt shaker at the ready. Sydney ran by the window and waved, several laps into her run.

  Elizabeth looked at our pictures on the fridge. “He’s hot cocoa isn’t he Mom?” she said thoughtfully.

  I smiled, ple
ased that she remembered our earlier conversation. “Yes, he is.”

  “Mom!” Sydney barged in the front door. “Barney’s down. Call 911!” she yelled.

  Elizabeth placed a frantic call as I rushed to where the purple mound lay aside the dormant daisy patch. “Nicole, are you okay?” I asked, kneeling beside her, my frantic heart beating wildly, my head yelling silently, no—No—NO!

  Elizabeth hopped up and down in a nervous panic, whispering loudly to herself, “Barney don’t die, Barney don’t die.” Then with tears running down her face she said, “Please don’t die, Grandma.”

  I felt no breath . . . I felt no pulse. I felt my heart deeply murmur—she’s gone, let her go.

  The distant wail of a siren crescendoed, halting out front. I heard Sydney say, “They’re back here.” I heard a static radio, a garbled message from the other end, then “Ten-four” from the EMT heading my way. Everything became a blur.

  And then the coroner arrived.

  * * *

  Already weeping when Reese picked up the phone, I said, “I need you.”

  EPILOGUE

  “Keep your face always toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you.”

  —Walt Whitman

  Reese guides me to the car, an angel by my side. I hold a small unassuming box in my lap, the contents of which is Glenn’s mother, but the grief feels as if she were my own.

  “That looks like the same box we used for Daddy,” Elizabeth says.

  “It is,” I say, while Reese gives my arm a reassuring squeeze. He drives to the marina where we meet Kurt at his boat, a small yacht, really.

  “Good to see ya, man,” Kurt says extending his hand to Reese for a hearty handshake that gives way to a bear hug. Sydney and Elizabeth file past, taking their seats on the deck. “It’s good we waited ‘til spring,” Kurt says, admiring the colorful bouquet I clutch.

  “You’ve done well,” says Reese, admiring the boat.

  “So have you,” Kurt says, glancing my way. We all smile. Reese and I hold hands.

  Kurt and I exchange knowing looks. I know he’s pleased, proving to himself that the high school peers who thought he’d never amount to much were mistaken and now he’s the one driving the ship rather than being an insignificant gob.