Because of Kathy Lynde's refusal to let her pain color her children's perceptions of their father, Sarah had never understood exactly why he left. Her mother had only said that he wasn't ready to be a father. He was 19 when Sarah was born; her mother was 17. That meant he was only 24 in the photograph which appeared to show a pair of hippy love birds with their joyful, rosy-cheeked children. By Sarah's sixth birthday the following May, he was gone.
Kathy had never forbidden either of the Lynde children to seek out their father, nor had she encouraged it. Sarah always felt so much love in their tight-knit little family that she never seriously considered searching for him, no matter how badly she wanted to know why he left. She had theories: that he was a drug addict or an alcoholic, that he was in love with another woman, or maybe he was gay. Perhaps he'd had a horrible childhood and he had never reconciled all of that pain. Maybe being around two children was too much for him to bear.
Despite their close relationship, she and Adam never discussed their father. Her brother had never expressed a desire to know the man who provided half his DNA. Like Sarah, he'd always felt loved, accepted and assured of who he was. And he had even fewer and fuzzier memories of the man than his older sister. Their mother was a remarkable woman; she really gave them the love of two parents, plus they had grandparents and aunts and uncles who had embraced them and filled their childhoods with happy memories.
Sarah started to feel worthless as she pored over the photograph, reflecting on how her mother, then and now, was so beautiful, glowing with love and joy from deep within. It radiated outward, casting an aura all around her, touching everyone she came into contact with, the core of her essence. The answer to why Sarah opposed letting her children develop relationships with their fathers suddenly grasped at her heart: I’m not enough for them. I didn't show them the love my mother showed Adam and me. I've never been as patient or wise as she is. Maybe if I had been, Abby wouldn't want to find her father.
She took one last look at her father before placing the photograph back in the shoebox and returning it to the bottom of the closet. Joseph Lynde, a voice inside her called out, where are you now? Did you ever find yourself? Were you ever able to be part of a family? Cause you really missed out. The one you left is pretty damn awesome. I'm sorry you never really knew us.
***
The sun was glaring in his eyes as he headed across the lot. The dining facility had just been fully repaired and the last glance he’d taken in the mirror confirmed that the wound to his temple was merely a reddish-purple one inch scar, so much better than it could have been, he thought gratefully. Everything had returned to normal, or as normal as things can be in a war zone, he smirked. The chapel windows that had been blown out by the blasts had just been replaced. He ducked inside to see how the repairs looked from the inside.
James was not a religious person, but he had been raised Catholic. Even though he was non-practicing, there were tenets of his faith that he clung to. He liked the idea that God had brought the world and mankind into existence and that He had infinite love for all His Creation. He also found the ideas of forgiveness, redemption and salvation to be particularly compelling. But like many believers had struggled to understand for hundreds and possibly thousands of years he desperately wondered: how could a loving God let horrible things happen to good people?
He tried to look at the email he’d received from his father that morning objectively. Scientifically, even. His mother had just been diagnosed with breast cancer. But the odds of survival are good, the message read. Cancers of her stage and progression had an 80% cure rate. His father sounded optimistic, and James tried not to dwell on that fear-inspiring 20%. He hadn’t replied to the email yet.
I just need to call her, he decided. Let her hear my voice. He was waiting till later in the day when it would be a more reasonable time for a phone call to Ohio. He could just imagine the way she’d sound on the other end of the line, “Oh, Jamie, I’m so glad you called.” He knew it would go a long way toward making her feel better. And it will make me feel better too. After all, he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he’d always been a bit of a momma’s boy.
The wooden pews in the chapel were plain and unadorned. There were six rows of them with an aisle leading to an altar in the middle. Everything in the chapel was religiously neutral in accordance with Army regulations. During Mass, crosses, candles and the implements to serve communion were brought out. The Chaplain didn’t seem to be in, so James took a seat in one of the pews near the back of the empty sanctuary, spread his legs and bent his body forward so that he could cradle his head in his hands between his knees.
God, please save my mother; please heal her body and rid it of this cancer, he prayed. His hands were trembling as he gripped his scalp, his fingers digging into the nearly bare skin under his freshly shorn hair. He felt helpless being so many thousands of miles away, not able to be there with her as she faced doctor’s appointments and surgeries and chemotherapy. If I was in Maryland, I could take leave and go home to be with her. Oh, God, please bring me home safe. If something happened to me...what if she lost the will to fight this thing?
James blinked in rapid succession to stave off the threat of tears and rose from the pew. A conversation he’d once had with Sarah about the existence of God fluttered around in his head, making him feel a bit dizzy when he remembered how he’d teased her and told her he was going to prove the existence of God by making her call out His name. They’d both erupted in laughter, collapsing onto the bed into each other’s arms, and then, within moments, his cock found its way inside her and the laughter morphed into moans. I should not be thinking about that in here, he thought with embarrassment.
As he made his way back to his office he continued to let his thoughts drift to Sarah. I thought when I came out here that it would be easy to move on, but in some ways I think I miss her more now than ever. He started to feel a bit guilty that Maggie didn’t know he was still talking to Sarah. I’m sure she wouldn’t care if we stayed friends, he thought. But he hadn’t mentioned Sarah’s name to Maggie since the week he spent in Ohio pre-deployment, the week he’d proposed to her. At one point she’d asked if he’d broken things off with Sarah, but it was more of a statement than a question, as if she understood it to be true and just wanted confirmation.
What does breaking it off really mean though? he wondered. Does that mean there’s no more romantic interest? That there’s no more sex? That you don’t ever speak again? Because if there’s feelings, you can’t really just turn them off cold turkey, and if they’re deep feelings...they’re never going away. And I’m starting to think that...maybe my feelings were deeper than I thought.
***
Sarah asked her mother to come over that night for dinner. Kathy thought nothing of this very ordinary invitation, obliging her daughter’s request by showing up at 6:00 PM as instructed. Sarah had done some yoga and meditation earlier in the day, attempting to arrive at a Zen-like state to avoid blowing up at either generation of women at the dining table. I’m going to voice my displeasure, and then we’re going to come up with a game plan for this, she thought calmly.
Abby was quiet and sulky throughout dinner, regretting that she had incurred her mother’s wrath. She half-heartedly poked at some peas with her fork but hadn’t actually managed to ingest even a morsel of food. She had not yet shown her mother the email from her father; she’d only made her aware of its existence. Fortunately she heeded James’s advice before replying. She had told her mother that it was James who suggested coming clean.
“Since when do you talk to James?” Sarah had asked, shifting her attentions temporarily to the new matter at hand.
“We Skype sometimes,” Abby replied sullenly. “It’s no big deal.”
Sarah had brushed off that admittance. What do I care if she talks to James? she thought. That’s actually not such a bad thing, she realized, but was unable to stop herself from wondering else they chatted about. Do they talk about me? Clearly
he knew Sarah well enough to know she’d be upset about Abby’s contact with her father and encouraged her to spill the beans. He cares about my relationship with my daughter, she thought. That realization made her warm, almost like feeling his arms around her.
Sarah waited till her mother was mostly done with her lasagna before broaching the subject. “So, Mom, Abby tells me she’s received an email from Matt,” Sarah simply announced.
Kathy’s lips spread into a wide, yet sheepish grin. “Oh, that’s wonderful!” she beamed.
“Is it?” Sarah asked, keeping her tone neutral. “I thought I’d made it clear that she was to wait until after her 18th birthday to contact him? And I know she didn’t have any information about his full name or whereabouts to enable her to contact him...unless you were to assist, of course.”
“Ah,” Kathy replied, but she continued to smile. It was a wise smile now, as if she knew that her daughter was angry but would someday recognize that her mother had done what she felt was right, and if Sarah had been in a parallel situation, she’d probably have done the same thing.
Abby’s eyes widened. It wasn’t every day she saw her mother go head to head with her grandmother. Before her mother had an opportunity to express her dismay at her grandmother’s indiscretion, Abby offered an apology. “It’s my fault,” she confessed. “I begged Grandma to give me the information. And I promised her I’d tell you what was going on.”
Sarah’s dark eyes shifted to her daughter. “I see.” She folded her napkin and tucked the edge under the white porcelain plate. “Well,” she continued, “you both already know that I am unhappy my wishes were ignored but what’s done is done and now we need to decide how to handle this. Abby, I would like to read the email.”
She nodded solemnly and reached for her phone. She pulled up the message on her Facebook account and handed the phone to her mother. Sarah turned the plastic jewel-encrusted fuchsia case over and peered at the glowing screen.
Dear Abigail,
I have to say that your message really gave me pause. Although I think of you and your mother often, I never thought in a million years that I would hear from you. How old are you now? I’m guessing you’re in high school. Do you have any favorite subjects? Do you play sports? What do you like to do for fun?
I’m sorry there’s no manual for how to answer an email from your long lost daughter. So I just want to say thanks for reaching out and I think your sisters will be really interested to see what you look like. Give your mother my best.
Take care!
Matt
After all the hurt and all the bad memories, Sarah expected to feel something when she read her former boyfriend’s words. Anger, regret, forgiveness, sentimentality maybe...But she felt nothing. Just sort of hollow, really. Hard on the outside and empty on the inside. He’s just another man, she thought. He’s not the Matt I knew back in college. She handed the phone to her mother.
Kathy perused the message and smiled. That was the way she reacted to most things, always offering up a wise smile. It was a tool she used to throw anyone off from her gut reaction to things. She’d smile while formulating a brilliant response, usually deeply philosophical, the smile a mask that afforded her enough time to avoid saying anything she would later regret. “My how people grow and change,” was her chosen response to the email. “So, you haven’t written him back?” she shifted the focus back to her granddaughter.
Abby shook her head. “I didn’t know what to say. I mean, he doesn’t seem to mind talking to me, but he didn’t add me as a friend or really give me much information.”
“He’s a little traumatized by all this right now,” Sarah analyzed. “It’s surreal to him, but he’s left the door open for communication because he’s asked you questions. If he wasn’t open to it, he wouldn’t have asked you those things.”
Kathy nodded in agreement. “So, it seems like she should just answer his questions and not push for anything else right now. Keep it low key. What do you think, Sarah?”
Sarah nodded. “Abby, I want you to show me both sides of the correspondence from here forward, do you understand?”
“Yeah, okay,” Abby replied. She looked a bit shell-shocked, as if the possibility of a whole new world opening up to her had just become a reality. “Hearing from my dad was really all I ever wanted for Christmas,” she said quietly, earnestly.
Sarah patted her daughter’s head affectionately and ran her fingers down her long honey-colored ponytail. “I just hope you’re not disappointed if this is all that ever comes from it.”
Abby shook her head emphatically. “No, I just want him to know I’m here, that his flesh and blood is somewhere out there,” she explained. “And now he knows.”
Sarah took a moment to process her daughter’s words. That’s all anyone really wants, isn’t it? Just to be seen and heard. For others to know you’re out there. Acknowledgement. Acceptance.
While clearing away the dinner plates and continuing to discuss the Matt and Abby situation with her mother, Sarah missed a phone call. She sprinted into the living room where she’d left her phone and retrieved a text from Rachel that simply said, “Call me ASAP.”
Sarah’s heart began to thump against her ribcage. Although Rachel overreacting wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility, with her being pregnant Sarah didn’t feel like she should wait around to see if her friend was crying wolf. She pressed the call button next to her name without hesitation. “What’s wrong?” she asked when her friend answered on the first ring.
“I just got back from the hospital,” Rachel panted, short on breath.
“Oh my god,” Sarah reacted, unable to disguise her panic. “What happened?”
“I had this terrible headache and my feet swelled up really bad on our way back from Florida,” she explained shakily. “We went to the ER immediately and they said I have pre-eclampsia.”
“Oh, god, Rachel, that sucks. You probably shouldn’t have been flying this close to your due date. But the baby is okay? What do they want you to do for it?”
“The baby is fine, thank God! They put me on bed rest,” Rachel lamented. “Me! On bed rest! Can you even imagine?” She laughed. “I can’t even sit still through a fucking movie.”
Sarah laughed too, glad that her friend had maintained her sense of humor. “Well, I’m still on winter break for another week. I’ll come keep you company, don’t you worry!”
“You will? Oh, thank you, Lovechop! Jack should be around for the next few weeks too. I am going to need some help getting the rest of the nursery painted and all that stuff. Shit, I can’t believe I only have eight more weeks to go! There’s so much to do!”
Sarah could nearly feel Rachel’s head spinning with all the items on her to do list. The only way she is actually going to stay down is if Jack or I enforce it, she predicted. “Garrett and I could come and paint the nursery for you. He’s got some time off between semesters too.”
“Maybe I should have a New Year’s Eve painting party!” Rachel suddenly brightened. “Do you think Abby would watch all the kids? I could just sit on the sofa and play Queen while everyone else paints and does shots.” She laughed at the vision she’d conjured up of her friends drunk and covered in lavender paint.
“Like Queen the band?” Sarah questioned, starting to formulate a much different vision than her friend’s.
“No, no, no!” Rachel fired back, still giggling. “Where I am the Queen. You know, sitting on my throne and giving orders and such!”
“Ahhh, okay, I get it,” Sarah replied. “Sounds like fun to me!” She is definitely taking this better than I thought she would!
“Sweet! Let’s plan on it, Muffin!” Her mind was already racing figuring out the details, Sarah could sense.
“As long as you promise to stay horizontal,” Sarah qualified.
“When have you known me to have a problem staying horizontal?” was Rachel’s response, which resulted in uproarious giggling on both ends of the phone. Sarah sighe
d and realized that for the next eight weeks, she was going to have to join forces with Jack to make sure Rachel complied with doctors’ orders.
***
Sarah had a quilt wrapped around her legs and feet to fight off the damp December chill as she perused some of her social networking sites before calling it a night. She decided to check in on Garrett’s blog on the fetish site to see if he’d updated it at all during his trip to visit family. She hadn’t heard much from him in the past few days, but she knew he was traveling back to Maryland and she was to pick him up in Baltimore at the airport. She took a look at his wall where friends could leave messages and the most recent post from earlier that day caught her eye immediately:
sugardreamz69: Last night was amazing! Thank you so much @TheNavigator. Can’t wait to see you again.
Sarah’s fingers began to tremble and her nerves went haywire as she clicked on “sugardreamz69” to see her profile. She was 23, identified as a submissive, and her location was Columbia, Maryland. In her relationships designation it said “Belongs to TheNavigator.”
Sarah nearly dropped her laptop.
***
It was dusk and the setting sun was hazy and low on the horizon, perched like a giant orange ball about to explode and paint color across the desert. The heat of the day was finally beginning to subside, and he knew the night was going to be cold and unforgiving with blowing sand. James hung up from the phone call with his mother and headed back outside to where his men were gathered around a small bonfire enjoying a bit of a New Year’s Eve party.
His mother seemed to be in good spirits and certainly happy to hear from her son. Maggie had stressed the importance of her future mother-in-law maintaining a positive attitude throughout her battle, even citing research to back it up. James couldn’t help but think of Sarah and all the times she referenced research studies in their day-to-day conversation. Is it bad that I’m so turned on by intellectual, sciencey women? he wondered. Is “sciencey” even a word? If not, it should be.
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