“Well, that’s something to be grateful for.” Jake’s shoulders relaxed. “Now all you have to do is face your mother.”
Rosalie cried, once the whole family was back at home and sitting in the den, but not for the reason Griff expected.
“Poor Arden,” his mother said, wiping tears and her makeup onto the tissues her husband offered. “No wonder she’s been so unhappy these last few weeks.”
When Jake snorted, she fixed him with a fiery stare. “Don’t be so harsh. Arden has never had a family or people to love her. I can only imagine how hard it must be for her to give that up.”
“She didn’t have to go,” Griff pointed out. “All she had to do was tell the truth. I would have accepted anything she’d done to keep her.”
“Evidently not,” Kathy said. “You couldn’t accept that she hadn’t told you everything.” When he frowned, she only shrugged. “That’s just logic.”
“She hasn’t had much experience with forgiveness,” Jim pointed out. “Maybe she didn’t know how to ask.”
“And you didn’t offer.” Dana’s icy stare rivaled Jake’s for its paralyzing effect. “Did you?”
The discussion proceeded with a thorough dissection of Arden’s emotions, motivations and needs, a comparable analysis of Griff’s psyche and enough tears to drown a dinghy.
But he removed himself mentally and emotionally from the process. They were his family, and they’d forgive him eventually. Whatever punishment they inflicted in the meantime would be no less than he deserved.
Finally, with various gestures of sympathy or displays of disappointment, his sisters and their husbands went to their own homes. His parents went to bed without saying much at all, which meant more deliberation to come.
Griff sat on alone, staring at the fire. His thoughts had dwindled to a mix of sadness, longing and, yes, some anger.
Mostly, though, he simply missed her. She couldn’t be more than a hundred miles away, but it might as well be a thousand. What could he do to bridge the distance?
Arden’s last words came back to him. “If there’s anything else you want to know, send me a letter. I’ll answer whatever you ask.”
He was at the secretary desk before he realized he’d moved, with a sheet of thick note paper in front of him and a black pen poised and ready.
“Dear Arden…”
A MARCH VISIT WITH her audiologist documented the continued decline in Arden’s hearing.
At the front desk, a woman who reminded her of Rosalie Campbell wanted to set up the next appointment.
“I’ll call,” Arden told her. “When I’m ready.”
“But—but…” Distress wrinkled the secretary’s forehead and widened her eyes. “You should maintain a regular schedule of examinations. The doctor says so.”
Arden smiled. “I don’t need the numbers to know my deafness is getting worse. I’ll come back if I have doubts. Thank you.” Waving away the continued protests, she left the office and stepped out into bright Miami sunshine.
Her mother waited nearby on a bench under a palm tree. She looked up from her newspaper crossword puzzle as Arden sat down. “How did it go?”
“As expected.” Arden shrugged, hardly bothered by the news. Compared to losing Griff, losing her hearing didn’t matter much. “My acuity is down to about fifty percent. I’ve lost most of the high frequency tones.” She paused as a thought struck her. “Maybe I should play the cello.”
“Or the tuba.” With the puzzle folded into her purse, Lorraine Burke lifted her pale face to the breeze. Her bright blond hair, barely an inch long, didn’t stir. “Contrabassoon? I always enjoyed the bassoon.”
“Bass drum.” Arden pantomimed the sideways strokes. “Boom, boom, boom.” As her arms dropped, she caught sight of her watch. “We have fifteen minutes to reach the clinic.”
Lorraine sighed. “My favorite part of the day.”
“At least you get to sit in a comfortable chair.”
Arden’s mother laughed. “Now, there’s a bright side. Five hours in a recliner.”
Rosalie Campbell would probably have offered a hug with the laugh, but Arden’s reconciliation with her mother hadn’t progressed quite so far. Still, they were living in the condo together until this round of treatments ended, and managed to communicate without arguing most of the time. If Arden had taken the first step—a phone call made one stormy night in late February, when she thought the loneliness might kill her—Lorraine had responded with grace and gratitude.
The daily visits to the chemotherapy clinic, where Arden occupied a folding chair while her mother mostly dozed in the big recliner, had allowed them time together without confronting the past. Knitting had become a new pastime for them both, inspired by posters at the hospital requesting blankets for children and newborns. Arden had already donated the box items from her now-empty closet. So far, she’d knitted and unraveled at least two blankets’ worth of faulty rows. Today, she would start once again.
First, though, she took Griff’s letters out of her bag. She carried them all with her, all the time. His voice came through so strongly, she could almost believe he stood beside her. And she needed him there.
She had kept her promise and answered every question he asked, which meant revealing her childhood, the years spent traveling, the isolated college days. He hadn’t responded with pity, however, which made each confession a bit easier. She’d asked a few questions in return, and the envelopes they sent back and forth were becoming increasingly heavier as their letters stretched to five and six pages. He always made her laugh. Sometimes, she thought they could spend their lives together in correspondence and be content.
Then there were the nights she woke up aching from a frustrated dream, only to lie for hours longing for Griff’s arms around her. His letters became torture, at that point—she could hear him and see him in her mind’s eye. But what she craved was his touch—warm, assured, erotic.
“You’re wearing that expression again,” her mother said in a sleepy voice.
Arden kept her eyes on her hands as she folded the letter and composed her face. Then she looked up. “What expression would that be?”
Lorraine shook her head. “Why don’t you just ask him to come? Haven’t both of you been punished enough?”
“Punished?” The word struck her as completely wrong…and then, in the next moment, completely right.
Of course she deserved to suffer, after the way she’d treated Griff. And maybe she’d wanted to punish him for his anger. For sending her away.
But surely punishment didn’t have to last forever. She and her mother were working to forgive. Was there a chance that Griff could offer forgiveness, too?
GRIFF TIED THE RENTED speedboat to the dock on Chaos Key and headed across the beach to the path through the trees he had followed with Arden four months ago.
At least, he hoped he’d found the same path. He wouldn’t appreciate the irony if he showed up without warning, only to get lost in the jungle and die of snakebite or starvation or alligator attack. Jaguars, maybe. Who knew what wild animals lurked in the underbrush? Besides Igor.
Then he remembered the security system and felt better. She would see him on the monitors at some point and come to rescue him.
He hoped.
Once the old mansion appeared on his right, his sense of direction improved. Or maybe some kind of mystic connection was leading him straight to Arden. At least he was going the right way.
Her little cottage came into sight just a few minutes later, shaded by live oak trees from the late afternoon sun. His gut clenched with nerves and anticipation. With sixty days of desolation behind him, he hated to take anything for granted.
But she wouldn’t have asked him to come just to tell him to leave her alone, right?
Lifting his hand to knock on the porch door, he hesitated. Would Igor come tearing out to rip him up? They never had managed to make friends, even after the rescue. Griff still had scars on his leg from the last bite.
“Aw, hell,” he muttered, knocking anyway. Igor would need a minute or so to chew through the screen. Griff could be up in a tree before he got out.
The woman who stepped onto the porch was a stranger. She didn’t have a dog with her.
“Hello,” she said. “Looking for someone?” Her blond hair was cut pixie short; her pale skin flushed with pink. A tall woman, she wore a bright turquoise muumuu that ended above her ankles, but not because she was heavy. Her collarbones showed plainly above the neck of the dress and her arms below the short sleeves were bone thin.
He recognized her eyes, though—the shape and set of them, the stormy green color. Arden might have inherited her dad’s dark hair and ivory skin, but she had her mother’s eyes.
“I’m Griff Campbell,” he told her. “Are you Lorraine?”
She held the door open for him to step inside the porch. “That’s right. Lorraine Burke.”
He shook the hand she offered, noticing the sharp bones. “Glad to meet you. Arden says you’re feeling better.”
Her smile was Arden’s, too. “I am, thanks. But that’s not what you want to talk about right now, is it? She’s down at the beach with the dog.”
“Thanks.”
Back at the main path, he took the turn leading to the western side of the island, where they’d met. Though the walk sloped downhill, the minutes seemed to stretch into hours. He thought he’d never get there, until a sudden turn brought him straight out onto the white sand beach.
The empty beach.
Griff groaned out loud and dropped onto his knees. She’d written, asking him to come. Now he couldn’t find her. How much longer could the universe torture him?
A distant shout, off to the right, gave him the answer. He scanned the horizon and saw a dark spot running back and forth. Igor. And maybe, just maybe, the pale shape following would not be an illusion?
He waited on his knees, watching, as the pair drew closer. Whatever Arden wanted to say, he’d be glad to beg, if that would convince her to come back.
She was throwing a stick for the dog as they approached, giving Igor ample opportunity to run. Finally, the stick landed about a hundred yards up the beach from Griff.
Igor raced to pick it up, but dropped the stick as soon as he recognized the man nearby. Then he charged.
Griff tried to scramble to his feet, but the dog was too fast. Igor’s front paws slammed into Griff’s shoulders, pushing him back into the sand. Covering his face with his arms, Griff waited for the first chomp.
But Igor seemed more likely to lick him to death. Snuffling and panting, he acted as if he’d just found his best friend in the whole world.
Arden arrived and laughed as she watched. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” she said finally. “I think he’s missed you.”
“Yeah, yeah, Igor. I missed you, too.” Griff pushed and tugged and played with the dog as he struggled to stand in the slippery sand. “Right. Got it. Down, there’s a good boy. Now stay.”
To his surprise, Igor did stay for a moment, before dashing off to snap at an incoming wave.
“Whew.” Griff tried to brush himself off, to restore some order to his hair and clothes. “He’s, um, energetic. A good thing,” he added, talking at random. Finally, he gave up and just stared at the woman he’d come to see. “How are you?”
“Wonderful.” And she did, indeed, look great, with cheeks rosy from the sun and eyes as bright as sunlight on the ocean. She wore loose linen shorts and a flowered shirt that reminded him of the ones he’d worn during his exile. “You came.”
“Of course.” He wasn’t going to burden her with the hell he’d lived in these last weeks. “You asked me to.” After a pause, he asked, “Why?”
“Only a fool throws away the chance to bring love and laughter into their life.”
Griff threw back his head and laughed. “That’s my life lesson you’re talking about. The one I had to learn.”
“And I decided,” Arden said, “that I don’t want to be a fool anymore.”
“That makes two of us. Thank God.” He closed his arms around her.
She looked up at him. “Will you take me back, Griff? And will you take me home?”
“If you’ll take me back and forgive my foolish, stupid pride.”
“Oh, yes, I will.”
Then he kissed her over and over, and she kissed him, until they dropped to their knees in the warm sand. And still he held and kissed her, stretched out beside her with their bodies pressed tightly together, celebrating the return of joy.
At last they could relax a little, and breathe. With perfect timing, Igor ran up to be petted, to sniff and nose and lick both their faces, before running off again to chase a seagull.
Arden said, “And in the interest of divulging secrets, I got some news this morning.”
Griff brushed her hair back from her face. “What news was that?”
Instead of answering, she reached into the breast pocket of the shirt she wore and pulled out a stick.
A wand, his mind corrected. A small wand with a plus sign at one end.
“You’re pregnant?” he whispered.
She nodded, her face as bright and beautiful as he’d ever seen it. “I guess I was too late with the diaphragm.”
He grinned. “That’s a good omen…for a big family.”
Arden nodded. “It is. And I only found out this morning. I wrote because I wanted to be with you, Griff, baby or no baby.”
“I believe you.”
Her smile dimmed as she gazed into his face. “I’m still losing my hearing. I may very well become completely deaf.”
Griff took a step backward. Using his arms, hands and fingers, he gave her his response in American Sign Language. “It’s not a problem,” he signed, “I love you. Forever.”
Arden’s smile returned, more brilliant than ever. “I love you, too,” she signed. “I’ve been studying,” she said, “Thinking about working wtih deaf children.”
He put his arms around her once again. “So who needs words, anyway?”
The kisses they shared said it all.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-8964-6
A CONVENIENT PROPOSAL
Copyright © 2011 by Cheryl B. Bacon
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*At the Carolina Diner
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