I push up against a rock that slides under my weight, dropping me down hard on my elbow. Pain shoots needles up my arm and nausea engulfs my middle. A hand grasps my other arm, pulling me upright. It’s Ireland. I fall into her embrace and cry. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“You don’t have a choice. Just like you don’t have a choice about your marriage. When you get home, and you will, you’re going to fight with every ounce of your tiny body to keep your family together. Don’t give up on surviving, and do not give up on Daniel.”
I pull back and look up at her. “Why are you saying this?
“Because I know what it’s like on the other side. It’s a very lonely existence. You have to fight. I ran away.” She tugs me toward the dry ground. “How many pages did you get?”
I open my fist. A clump of unreadable paper. They’re useless. There’s no point finding the rest. This is the second time the book has been water-logged. Maybe God is trying to tell me something. I never listen the first time.
JENNA
My culinary skills have arrived at a new level. Whether that’s a compliment or an insult is still to be decided, but I’m actually here in the middle of nowhere, cooking cat meat on an open fire.
I boil one piece with some water in the pot, and another I hold over the flame using two green branches I cut from a baby tree. The smell is amazing, even without spices or seasoning. It’s been two days since we ran out of jerky. Opossum might be tasty before this journey ends.
“When Carrie was little, the only thing we could get her to eat was beans.” I stir the coffee pot of boiling water with our last handful of beans mixing with the meat. “I could cook them any old way, and she’d scarf them down. She didn’t eat meat until her sixth birthday. Mark came home the week before with an elk he’d downed. Carrie wanted to try it, just to please her father. There was no going back after the first bite.”
Ireland nods, but she’s silent. I can’t read her anymore. It seems like everything I say offends her. Was it the mention of eating meat? Or because I go on about my family relentlessly? I know I do it. I can hear myself, but I can’t stop the flow of memories that cross my tongue. It’s like I need to relive every moment of their lives before I’m gone. Like I’m committing them to eternity. I just wish I could get her to eat the cougar.
“Mark turned out to be a pretty good husband.” Vicky combs her fingers through her hair. There’s no expression on her face as it glows in the light of the fire. “You were a good choice for him.”
My jaw tightens. There it is. It’s been stewing for years and it’s finally out of the pan.
“I was the only and best choice for him.” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. This is not the place to destroy each other. Not when we need to stick together now more than any other time. “I’m sorry. I think I’ve been consumed with jealousy for so many years, my tongue gets away from me.” I stand up and pace around. “I literally hate that he loved you first.”
My hands shake in front of me. I squeeze my fists and turn back to the fire, rotating the meat on the sticks. It’s shrinking like it’s drying out.
Vicky shrugs. “He never loved me. He never even knew me.”
“Two years is a long time to be with a man and say he never knew you.” I keep my gaze on the hardening rock that will be dinner. “I don’t think that’s true. Do you know how many times I’ve watched you on television and thought how happy Mark would have been with you?”
My face is growing hot, and I don’t think it’s because of the fire. It’s all bubbling up. More than I knew was down there.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Without even looking her way, I can see the glib expression.
“Why? Because I’m just a mom? Is that it? I couldn’t possibly have anything of value in my brain, because I haven’t used it for all these years, right?”
“Whoa.” Ireland steps back. “Let’s not have a battle of who has it worse or who should have been with whom. None of us is perfect, but the two of you have it pretty darn good. That’s enough negative energy. Oh my goodness, Jenna. You have a husband and three children. Yeah, they left for college. Did you really expect them to sit around the house for you to serve forever? If they had, it would only prove that you hadn’t done your job.”
She turns to Vicky. “And you. If your husband really doesn’t find you attractive anymore, he’s nuts. That isn’t on you. But my guess is the guy probably wants you as you, not as some television evangelist. You can’t manipulate every situation. Be real.”
“What would you know about being real?” Vicky’s voice throws flames with her words. “You have no idea who I am. And you certainly don’t have a clue about who you are. This act”—she throws her arms in the air—“I’m not buying it. I know exactly who I am.”
“Do you?” Ireland’s question is meant for Vicky, but it hits me hard and dead center.
“I don’t,” I say, almost in a whisper.
They both stop, staring at me. At least I could deflect the argument for a moment.
“I don’t have a single clue who I am.” I squat back down, sliding the meat onto a rock and stirring the beans again. “All I wanted was to be a wife and mother. I gave everything to have those babies. We used all our savings, put another mortgage on the house.” I shake my head. “I don’t regret it, any of it. But, sometimes, it’s like I sold my soul for the chance to have children. Now they’re gone, and there’s nothing left of me. They were me.”
“Do you love Mark?” Vicky asks.
It seems like a horrid question coming from the woman who gave him up because her mother didn’t approve. She left a scar on my husband that’s made me furious more than once. But the question remains.
“Of course I love him. He’s my husband. It’s not about loving, it’s about living. It’s about caring for someone else so deeply you’re willing to put them first.”
“When do you come first?” Ireland stares into the fire. “When do you just be you?”
“I don’t know who I am, so how can I ever just be me? Something happened this year. I woke up from a dream. It was a very beautiful dream, but when I went to sleep, I was someone else. And now, I have no idea who I am. I’m not her anymore, and I’m not the woman in the dream. I’m lost. I’m just wandering around in the world, one of the lost people who don’t know why they’re even here.”
“I get that.” Ireland touches my arm. “We come from very different lives, but that thing you said about not knowing who you are, about being lost in the world, needing to know your purpose here. That’s me. I’m one of them too.”
I squeeze her hand, and she grips my fingers.
Vicky’s shuddered breath draws my attention. I walk around the fire and pull her down into my arms. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t kind. It’s hard to remember you’re a real woman when you look so put together on television.”
“That’s not me.” She sniffs. “That’s a made-up character that gives the audience what they tune in to get. It’s not me on the show. It’s not me when I do speaking engagements. And it’s not even me when I go home. I don’t know how to turn it off. I’m so afraid that if I don’t do it well enough, I’ll lose my family.” She shakes her head against my shoulder. “Who am I kidding? I’m out in the middle of nowhere, and I still put a spin on things.”
She stands straight. “I’ve lost my family. My daughter can’t stand me. She spends all day and late into the night with a boy who looks like a wannabe gang member. My son was picked up with marijuana last year. We did a lot of legwork to keep that one under wraps. We’re a mess. Daniel’s interest in my assistant is merely a tiny symptom of our family’s cancer.”
Chapter 15
VICKY
I hate it here. I hate it, but part of me doesn’t ever want to be found. The more truth, reality, and sadness that spills from me, the more I know I can’t bear to go home. I will never fit into that life again. The denial has passed. With it went the fit. I can’t m
anage my family, my life, and my marriage like I do my calendar for even one more day.
Jenna lies next to me under the shelter, while Ireland takes a turn manning the fire and watching for danger. I know Jenna is as awake as I am. The conflict between us is heavy. It’s like another person under the tarp, taking up space and air and comfort. It’s more than Mark. But it is Mark.
I walked away from him to protect him. My mother would have made his life miserable, but he may have made my life wonderful. Daniel was a law student when Mother introduced us. He had this amazing future before him. There were political aspirations, following in his family’s footsteps.
It wasn’t until years after our wedding that I discovered the man I married had no interest in the law or holding office. He’d come home exhausted and bury himself away in the garage with his tools.
That was when I started to push forward on my own power. Maybe it was a way to deflect my family’s attention from Daniel. Or maybe I want to remember it that way because it makes me look better when I deny my frustration with our unwritten contract. I married a man who was supposed to make me into the woman I’d always failed to be. In the end, I had to create the image on my own.
Without thinking, I let a long sigh escape.
“You want to talk about it?” Jenna’s voice is groggy.
“It’s nothing.”
“We both know that’s not true.”
I readjust the sweatshirt under my head. “Why didn’t you tell me when you started to date Mark?”
She’s silent so long, I wonder if she’s gone to sleep. Then she shifts her weight so she’s facing me. I can’t actually see her, but I hear the direction of her breathing. “I was scared. I didn’t want you to come and take him back. Mark took it so hard when you ended it at graduation. I meant to console him. Honestly, there was never any intent for it to go further.”
“You were right to keep it from me.”
“No. I should have been honest.”
“I would have come between you. I was right to end the relationship. My family would have destroyed Mark. But, you know who I am. I would never have let you have him.”
“Mark wanted to call you and explain it. He always felt bad about how it worked out. He feels like I lost my best friend because of him.”
“That’s not the story I told myself. When I got your letter, the one saying you were engaged and all, I decided you’d been planning it all along. I told myself you loved Mark when we were dating, and you were just waiting for a chance to get your claws in him.” Saying the words brings the anger back, even if I know it’s not true. I turn my head away from her, hoping she can’t sense the fury I still hold inside.
“I promise you, I didn’t. I didn’t really even know him when you were together. And I never, not even once, looked at him that way. We started talking one night. You were already gone, and I was still in town working at the restaurant until I could start my teaching job. We were the only people left from our graduating class. And he needed someone to talk to.”
“So, you heard everything? I bet he had a lot of horrible things to say about me.”
“No. And in the end, we both realized how God was in it from the beginning. I love my husband. I’m not going to apologize for that. In fact, that’s the reason I’m going to do everything I can to get home. I’ve taken him for granted. When I figure out who I am and what God has me here for, I’m going to spend the rest of my life striving to do my best at that and at my marriage.”
“I hope you have that opportunity.”
“I hope we all do. Everyone deserves a second chance. You, me, and Ireland. And we deserve each other. I don’t want us to drift apart ever again.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. When we get back, I’ll be a joke in the Christian community. You won’t want to be associated with me in any way.”
A sound escapes her mouth. It’s something between a giggle and a sigh. I can’t read her intent. “Don’t fool yourself. I don’t love you for the image of you. I love you, Vicky. And I love Ireland. You’re the sisters I never asked for.” I can hear the laughter in her words now. When was the last time someone had the courage to tease me?
I reach out and touch her arm. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing.”
“No. It’s really something. I can’t believe I gave this up.”
“Yep. You wasted over twenty years not being stuck in the wilderness fighting for your survival. What a pity.”
The dam is broken. Laughter bursts from my chest. There’s no holding back. No reason to be proper. No one to impress. And it feels like a fresh spring afternoon. Like life.
The covers move beside me and I feel Ireland squeeze into the shelter. “No need to fend off the wild tonight. I’m sure you’ve scared away anything looking for a meal.”
I nudge her with my shoulder.
There’s the tiniest giggle, then a snort.
“You love us,” I say.
“Oh gag.”
And Jenna rolls over the top of me, tackling Ireland in a full-on hug.
IRELAND
My head snaps up and my foot kicks forward, knocking into a stick from the fire. Embers sparkle and rise toward the sky. I stretch my hand in front of me, tip my neck to one side then the other, and try to breathe oxygen into the deepest parts of my lungs.
Just about to step onto the stage, the sun glows at the edge of the sky. I’ve slept little, mainly due to the growling pain in my stomach. Maybe I should give in and eat the cougar. But then who am I?
There’s a natural draw toward survival. It’s a physical instinct that screams from the core of our humanness. But for me, there’s another desire in my soul. Maybe deeper than anywhere else. I long to be done. To say, I’m finished. To close my eyes and let whatever power holds eternity punish me however I deserve. I want to face the end, and find the nothingness of it.
I stand, ensuring I won’t doze off again, and look up into the sky. It’s a whole different world here. The stars shine like they’ve been turned up and millions more joined them. They’re only dimming now with the sun. If God is out there, he doesn’t care about me. For twenty years I’ve tried to walk away from him. I’ve tried to have the same attitude. If he can leave me, abandon me like any parent on Earth, why can’t I walk away and forget him?
The sky is too big above me. I’m supposed to be comfortable in nature. I’ve dedicated my career to saving this planet, this view, this fresh air. But I want to curl up on my mattress at home and watch a senseless television show. I want to drive to the movie theater with friends. Yes, with friends. And I want popcorn no matter what kind of chemicals they use to produce it. And I want butter. Lots of slimy, gooey, slippery butter. So much butter the salt has no choice but to stick.
The brush behind the shelter shifts. The sound is slight, but in this still morning, I can’t miss it. I run my hands over the cool metal of the revolver, keeping my finger off the trigger, but ready to move in an instant.
From the fire, I pick up a burning stick. Its flames soften as I bring it away from the rest, but there’s a bit of light, and I need it. If I have to, I’ll use the fire to protect us first, saving the one remaining bullet. If we survive, there will be other predators.
Two steps closer, and I hear it touching the tarp. Jenna and Vicky are sound asleep. Soft snores come from Jenna’s side.
My heart races. If it’s something big, and I scare him, he’ll certainly kill both of them before I can do anything. I’ll be in the wilderness. And I’ll be alone again.
I don’t want to be alone. Not in this decision and not in my life. I’m tired of that lifestyle. I’m tired of protecting myself.
Stepping around the side of the shelter, I lift the flame high, the gun pointed in the direction of the last sound.
I suck in breath and jump back.
My motion wakes Vicky. She sits up, rubbing her eyes. “What is it?” Then she registers my alarm and starts to kick away the blankets.
/> It’s too late. The torn flap of the tarp moves and she’s face-to-face with a skunk.
“What is that stink?” Jenna rolls over and answers her own question.
I still can’t speak. There’s nothing I can say or do. I can’t shoot the thing. He’s too close. And if I did, he’d probably spray.
Vicky scoots away in a crab-walk kind of motion.
In a second, Jenna is up. She stumbles toward me, alarming our visitor and screaming at the top of her lungs.
He twists, raises his tail, and lets a stream of nasty shower everything in his reach, with a direct hit to Vicky.
Her screams join Jenna’s.
The smell could make a landfill seem like the place to build a home. My eyes water, and I’m choking on the stink that’s so thick it has a flavor. It’s ridiculously horrible. I keep backing away, but the stench follows me.
The skunk, without even an ounce of remorse, saunters off into the brush. He’s left us like the aftermath of an atomic bomb. Jenna gags, losing what’s left of the water and cougar she had for last night’s dinner.
My eyes water so fiercely I can’t get them clear enough to see the mess we’re in. Some sentry I am.
JENNA
It burns. My eyes. My lungs. Everything is on fire. I’m too freaked out to cry, but my eyes run like I’ve lost my entire family in a tragic accident. My throat feels like it’s swelling shut, probably the body’s way of stopping this putrid odor from making it farther inside.
I swat my hand around looking for the jug of water. When I find it, I unscrew the cap and gulp, then pour the rest over my face. It helps for a moment, then the burn strikes back.
Somewhere behind me, Vicky is screaming. I think she’s been doing that since before the skunk sprayed, but I’m not really sure. There’s a hand on my cheek. I hope it belongs to Ireland, because I know it’s not Vicky and I’m suddenly reminded of the man I thought I saw by the waterfall.
“Did you get the spray in your eyes?” Ireland asks.
If We Make It Home Page 14