All We Knew

by Jamie Beck

When dawn’s first rays finally peeked through the window, she roused herself from bed despite the pounding headache and aching muscles.

  Listlessly, she went to the bathroom and splashed cool water on her face, hoping it would revive her. Patting her skin dry, she stared into the mirror. Sara Daly Cabot. Thirty-four and counting. Faint wrinkles fanned out from the corners of her eyes. Fainter ones showed around her lips. A few rogue gray hairs could be found if one looked hard enough. Her body still looked young and strong. No stretch marks on her belly, of course. She hadn’t been that lucky.

  Who might she be today had Hunter not chased her down in the Glade? Would she be living close to her mother and sisters? Would she have married someone less ambitious? Would she be happier?

  She stared at herself, as if her image could give her the strength to do what she’d been considering. Leave. Forever? The sudden thought shocked her, yet maybe sudden was the only way this kind of notion ever struck.

  The word “separation” tasted like a mouthful of vinegar, but she needed to regroup. To get distance from Hunter so she could think about her future.

  At the back of the cavernous closet, she found a large suitcase. She set it on the bench and opened it. Her breath came in shallow gulps as the walls closed in around her. With effort, she forced herself to thumb through her clothes. A lifetime of items accumulated, one by one. The dress she’d worn to Colby’s first wedding. The jeans she’d bought when she’d gone with Hunter to New York last year. The funky belt Gentry had bought her for Christmas two years ago. Sara closed her eyes, as if she could unsee that silver-and-turquoise buckle.

  She couldn’t stand it, so she spun around to another corner of the closet. For now, she’d take enough to get her through a couple of weeks. She wouldn’t think about Hunter or his family, or how they’d feel about her decision. Only herself. Her family. Her heart. She needed a sense of family and love she seemed to have lost here, no matter how terrifying it felt to leave.

  She folded four pairs of jeans, some wool slacks, and several shirts and sweaters. At the bottom of the suitcase, she layered her favorite boots and a couple of pairs of shoes first, then added the clothing. She had to sit on the suitcase to zip it.

  Choosing her favorite lululemon pants and cozy hoodie, she dressed and then tied her hair back, brushed her teeth, and applied a stroke of mascara. She stared in the mirror again, this time feeling somewhat stronger and more determined than earlier. The vanity was full of her stuff, so she retrieved a smaller bag and tossed in her makeup, facial creams, brushes, and hair gizmos.

  Her bravery faltered when she took a final sweep around the bedroom. Years of memories—so many of them happy—replayed. The warmth of her comfy bedding after she and Hunter made love. That first Christmas as husband and wife, when Hunter had surprised her by setting up an extra Christmas tree in the room simply because she loved tree lights. His face had beamed with pride from pleasing her.

  If she closed her eyes, she could smell the lingering scent of his cologne that wafted through the room every morning when he dressed for work. Hear his humming while he shaved.

  They’d begun their marriage with so much love and no comprehension of how life might blindside them. No concerns about the limits of what they or their bodies could do. No doubts that their values and goals would remain in sync.

  Somewhere along the way, they’d grown in different directions, and no amount of talking had bridged the gap. She didn’t know why their communication had faltered, but continuing to torment and frustrate each other wasn’t making it better. They both deserved better.

  Her gaze landed on the bamboo plant from Leslie. It hadn’t lived up to its promise any better than anyone or anything else had.

  Right now, Hunter believed the most important thing he had to do was save CTC. That left it to her to save herself. The drive to Sacramento would take nine hours, but the pull toward home had never beckoned more than it did this morning.

  She passed by the pictures hanging on the wall along the stairwell, refraining from looking at them, especially the candid black and white she’d taken of Hunter. He’d been lounging in his pajama pants and an old T-shirt, reading a book, his feet propped up on the leather ottoman. She’d captured him in a rare relaxed moment. The beauty of his face in repose always took her breath away, so she could not let herself see it now.

  She got as far as the kitchen before she hesitated. Before the enormity of this act hit her. Everything inside these walls—from the paint they’d selected to the knickknacks they’d collected—owned a piece of her heart, and if she left, those pieces would be ripped away, leaving even more raw, exposed wounds. That scared her, but fear wasn’t a good reason to stay.

  Before she left the house, she sat at her kitchen desk. The early-morning quietude mirrored the solemnity of her mood. Pulling out a sheet of paper, she chewed on a pencil, thinking.

  Her throat ached from the lump wedged in there like a too-big bite of bread. Her heart beat out an irregular and heavy pace. She pushed away the image of how Hunter’s face would droop when he read her note. When he discovered the missing bags and realized that everything had changed.

  Sadly, she welcomed the guilt of hurting him because at least it made her feel something other than numb. Despite it all, she couldn’t continue living in limbo, hoping for change.

  Hunter,

  I’ll always love the life we had and the love we shared, but it’s not the same anymore. We’ve reached a place where our wants and needs no longer match, and we both deserve better than feeling misunderstood or unappreciated. I know you love me, as I love you, but love is only part of this equation. You want CTC to be your legacy, while I wanted love and a family to be our legacy. I’m accepting that I won’t get my wish. Knowing you, you won’t stop until you get yours. I hope it’s worth it.

  Love, Sara

  Her hands trembled slightly, but she set the note on the island. She twisted her wedding band around and around, staring out the window at the lake far below, remembering the thrill of buying this house. A home. Their home.

  But mementos and pretty views didn’t make a home. A home was founded on love, constructed by shared values, commitment, and compromise, and decorated with laughter. The foundation of her home had been strong, but somewhere along the way, the construction had grown shoddy, the decor neglected. Now the roof couldn’t keep out the rain.

  She dragged her suitcases to the garage and loaded them into her trunk, nose tingling from the urge to cry. Adrenaline surged through her heart as the engine roared to life.

  For a moment, she sat in the car, garage door opened. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, eyes staring at the back wall, throat swollen from unshed tears. The low hum of the engine muddled her thoughts. For all the drama in her head, she’d be leaving without fanfare. No teary goodbye. Nothing but her memories and disappointments.

  She backed out of the driveway and, as she drove away, couldn’t stop herself from watching the home get smaller in her rearview mirror. She swallowed hard.

  Once on the main road that led out of town, she put her foot on the gas and headed south, praying for relief.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hunter removed his glasses and rubbed his eye with the palm of his hand, waiting for his garage door to open. Hellish day. Cortland had brought two board members to lunch, but despite their interest, the board members’ approval, which was needed to green-light this undertaking, would take time. More time than it would take Pure Foods to finalize its offer.

  More troubling than that, however, was the fact that Sara hadn’t taken his calls all day.

  In the doghouse—again.

  Despite exhaustion, he’d taken advantage of the time difference and rescheduled his return flight for today. That effort should mitigate his offenses. He’d hoped she’d still be awake, but the dark house suggested otherwise. Only after he’d pulled into the garage did he notice her missing car.

  He lugged his unused overnig
ht bag out of the trunk and speed-dialed Colby to see if Sara went to A CertainTea for a drink and some company.

  He stood in the garage, staring at the empty space. “Hey, sis. Is Sara down there with you?”

  “No. Why would she be here?”

  “I just got back from my trip, and she’s not home.” He sighed, too exhausted to come up with a white lie. “She’s not answering my calls.”

  “You took that trip after what happened?”

  So she knew about Gentry. It shouldn’t surprise him, but right now he didn’t need her judgment or a debate. “Have you spoken with her today?”

  “No. I left a message, but she didn’t call me back. I assumed she wasn’t ready to talk. I’m really sorry, Hunter. I worried about something like this happening. Now I’m torn between hurting for you and Sara and understanding how Gentry’s feelings changed.”

  “Stop there. I’m not near ready to empathize with Gentry.”

  “I’m sorry. I get it. As for Sara, maybe Mom coaxed her into coming over for dinner. If they opened a bottle of wine, they could’ve lost track of time. You know how Mom loves to keep people talking, especially if she’s worried about Sara being alone.”

  “Maybe.” He couldn’t picture that, though. Sara wouldn’t want to talk about everything yet. She’d want to do something or go someplace that made her feel better. “I think I might know where she went. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  He set his suitcase just inside the mudroom and got back in his car. A total long shot, but he couldn’t think of anything else, and she’d mentioned something about hearing that Pam got that waitressing job. Ten minutes later, he drove by the apartment he’d rented for Ty and his mother. Strike one.

  He then took a spin past the Angel House. Strike two. A quick drive by his mom’s turned up empty, too. Only one place left, and his stomach soured just thinking about it. He slowed as he approached his dad’s house, not sure what to hope for. He didn’t want to see Gentry yet, but he wanted to find Sara. It was possible she’d gone there hoping to persuade Gentry to reconsider.

  No luck, and now it was after eleven.

  On his way home, he dialed Sara again, but it went straight to voice mail. Where the hell had she gone? Panic flitted around like a hummingbird in his chest.

  He returned home to a still-empty garage and stormed inside, leaving his bag in the mudroom. When he flipped on the kitchen lights, he saw a letter on the island. Thank God—an explanation. Relief whooshed through him, making him a little light-headed.

  He blew out a long breath to settle himself, then picked up her note and its familiar cursive script. Line by line, the room around him dimmed until his peripheral vision turned nearly black. He focused on each loopy letter, convinced that his brain was misunderstanding her. That she hadn’t actually left town. Left him.

  She’d left him.

  Sara was gone.

  He set the note down and stared into space, aware of the heated air pushing in and out of his lungs as he struggled for each breath. Sara. Aside from the low hum of the refrigerator, the house was silent and still. He’d been alone in their house before, but it had never felt this lonely.

  It wouldn’t be a home without her. Just an assortment of furnishings and carpets, dishes, and artwork. Her leaving might as well be a match tossed in the living room for how it would burn the place to the ground.

  He’d been happy here with her, with their friends and family. Of course, Sara had always projected ahead to when the spare bedrooms would be nurseries. To when they’d host first birthday parties and leave cookies for Santa. Her enthusiasm had always made him smile, although, in truth, he’d never needed that in the same way she did. He’d just needed her. He’d been satisfied—no, grateful—for her, and their marriage would’ve been enough.

  Obviously, she didn’t feel the same.

  His phone buzzed, causing his heart to jump. “Hello?”

  “Did you find Sara?” Concern edged Colby’s voice.

  “Not exactly.” Although she hadn’t mentioned where she’d gone, he knew she’d run back to the comfort of her loving family. The kind she’d tried and failed to re-create in Portland. Her sisters and their kids would help her regroup. “She went to Sacramento.”

  “That makes sense.” His sister sounded relieved, but only because she didn’t understand that Sara had gone for more than a visit. “Her mom will help her get over this latest setback.”

  “Or maybe she’s not planning on coming back.”

  “Of course she will, Hunter. She’s upset, but she loves you. She just needs a little time away from Gentry to get perspective.”

  “I’m not so sure.” He then read the note to his sister.

  For a short while, Colby said nothing. “I’ll call her tomorrow.”

  “No. Don’t pester her. She obviously wants space.” He closed his eyes. “Listen, I’m exhausted. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  “I’m here for you.”

  “I know.” A grateful yet bleak smile flickered. “Thanks.”

  After he hung up, he glanced at the note again, staring at it for minutes, memorizing each word.

  His wife had left him.

  What now?

  His body jerked to attention, and he ran up the steps, through their room, and into the closet. A trickle of hope soothed him when he found a majority of her clothes, shoes, and other personal items left behind.

  Burying his nose in one of her sweaters, he inhaled, searching for her scent. He tried three more before realizing nothing clean would smell like her. On the top of the pile of discarded things in the hamper, he found the sleep shirt she’d worn last night.

  He slung it over his shoulder and went to the sink to brush his teeth. His reflection wasn’t pretty. Pale. Hair disheveled from raking his hands through it a few too many times. A hint of panic in his weary eyes. He looked away, spit out the toothpaste, wiped his mouth, and headed to bed.

  Once under the covers, he looked at the empty side of the bed where his wife should have been. The bed—the whole room—was cold. He clutched her pajamas to his chest like a kid with a stuffed animal, hoping to keep the monsters away.

  The sheer white curtains of her childhood bedroom billowed from the breeze coming through the window Sara had cracked open last night. The room might as well have been a furnace, despite the fall weather. Or maybe it was simply her body temperature burning hotter than a summer sun in Phoenix.

  Restless. Distraught. Benumbed. In the span of twenty-four hours, she’d experienced pretty much every emotion on the spectrum of human reaction.

  Her old twin mattress hadn’t helped matters. If she tried to stretch her limbs wide, like she could on the king-size mattress at home—or former home—she’d have banged into the wall or fallen off the edge. In truth, a part of her was grateful that the narrow bed didn’t leave room for a blank space where Hunter should be.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d awakened alone. Curling into a ball, she pulled the rosebud-print quilt up to her chin and gently brushed her wedding ring against her lips.

  Hunter’s original plan was to fly home this afternoon, so his worried messages last night had caught her off guard and unprepared. They’d stopped at eleven, so he must’ve finally found her note. She’d texted him around midnight, after she’d cried to her mom and settled down, saying she wasn’t ready to talk yet.

  He hadn’t replied or tried to reach her again since then.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  “Yes?” She sat up with some effort, looking toward the door.

  Her mom peeked into the room and smiled. She was a little on the short and stout side, and her round face and sandy hair lent a bit of youthfulness despite her sixty-one years. Although decades had passed, Sara was reminded of all the mornings of her childhood when her mom’s pleasant smile had been the first thing she’d seen each day. “I made some coffee.”

  “Okay. I’ll be out in a minute.” Her stomach clenched at the thought of digesti
ng the acidic drink. In fact, her whole body ached and begged to lie down again.

  Still standing in the doorway, her mom tilted her head to the left, face glowing with compassion. That look, coupled with her naturally sweet voice, had always comforted Sara. “You don’t look like you got much sleep.”

  Sara shook her head and pinched her nose to stop it from tingling.

  A sad, lopsided grin appeared. “I’ll make French toast with almond extract. That was your favorite, right?”

  “Mimi’s, actually. But I like it fine, too.”

  “Oh, sorry. I’ll go to my grave getting all of you girls’ preferences jumbled up.” Her mom closed the door, and Sara sank back into the pillow.

  The memory remark made her think of Jed’s neurological issues. For most of her adult life, he’d been like another father to her. Of course, over the past couple of months, Jed’s choices and health had wrought unwelcome changes on the man who’d otherwise always been loving and kind and fair.

  Those changes had conspired to send her husband even further into a tailspin.

  Losing another baby hurt. Losing her marriage and her other family hurt more. Would they care? Would her leaving turn them against one another, or would they rally around Hunter? Worse, had her absence only jacked up Hunter’s anger toward his dad and Gentry?

  Hunter would be awake now, if he’d slept at all. Maybe he had. Maybe, after the shock wore off, he was relieved to have her and her complaints out of his life.

  She hadn’t thought ahead yesterday, so she wasn’t exactly sure what to do next. Separation, divorce, conscious uncoupling—concepts she’d never planned to consider. Didn’t know where to begin to do so, either.

  One day at a time, she supposed.

  Looking around her cluttered room, she marveled at the assortment of crap her mother had kept. Each memento represented old dreams—some fulfilled, others not yet realized. Triumph on the soccer field had yielded a couple of trophies. Her high school diploma and National Honor Society certificate were pinned to the large bulletin board hanging over her old desk. There were pictures of her high school friends along with her dried-out senior prom corsage. There were also a few college photos, including one of her and Hunter from a Pi Phi formal.