My Blue River

by Leslie Trammell

  Hannah Rose

  to

  Jackson A. Cooper

  I stopped reading. I can’t read any more. Why had I insisted that no one was allowed to keep me briefed on the happenings of Jack? But this was the big one—this was the big event for which my dad decided the rules must be broken. He sent me the invitation along with a note that read, “I thought you would want to know. You would find out someday anyway.”

  A picture fell out and floated to the ground. I picked it up and slowly turned it over, knowing I would hate what I was about to see. Jack looked perfectly adorable despite how his arms were wrapped around Hannah’s waist. I traced his face with my finger and hated to admit he looked happy. Hannah was the beautiful, country pixie I remembered her to be. Why does her middle name have to be Rose? My favorite flower—really? It made her that much more perfect. I suppose they’ll get married in a rose garden, too, just to pour salt on my wound. It had been five months since I met Hannah in Jack’s hospital room. Well, he didn’t waste any time, I thought to myself, but really, I knew I was being ridiculous.

  I clenched my fist around the invitation, crumpling it into a tiny ball. I tossed it in the direction of the trash can, but missed. I picked it up, tossed it again and still missed. I tried one more time and when I missed, I kicked the trash can, leaving a dent in its side. How had I let this happen? He loves me!

  Jack obviously loved Hannah, too, or this wouldn’t be happening. He wasn’t the type of guy to enter into marriage without regard for the seriousness of the commitment. This is my fault! How many chances had there been for me to fix this? I didn’t know. I had lost track there had been so many. I could have turned this around, specifically, at the hospital when Jack said he would give up his relationship with Hannah just to be with me. It wasn’t his fault I was conflicted between my love for him and a commitment to the goals I had made long before I met him. I had come to believe there would be no way to blend our worlds and that eventually, our relationship would fail anyway.

  I flung myself onto the bed and let the tears fall until I skipped to the point of rage, putting my pillow on my head, yelling at the top of my lungs. That felt better—no, I’m wrong. I didn’t feel better. Nothing was going to make me feel better. What began as weeping transformed into sobs that wracked my entire body.

  Once again, I was asking myself why I had been so incredibly arrogant. Why did I think he would just be mine forever when I was the one who let him go? I felt physically ill.

  I wished Kate hadn’t gone home to North Dakota, but school had ended months ago. It was now August. I felt so alone and empty inside that I resorted to calling my parents. I began by sarcastically thanking them for the “hate mail.” They ignored my sarcasm and offered their condolences as if someone had died, which was exactly how I felt. The family I dreamed of having with Jack had just been thrown in the trash can. They tried to comfort me, but I had the distinct impression my dad wanted to say “I told you so.” For once, he and Mom switched roles and she was now the sensitive one. There was really nothing any of us could say so I mumbled “goodbye” and hung up.

  Hours had passed by when the telephone rang. I jump in anticipation, irrationally thinking it could be Jack calling to say he would give me one last chance and this time, I would take it.

  “Hi, Sweetie,” said Mom. “You feel better yet?”

  My heart sunk from the disappointment. “Why would I feel better? Of course I don’t,” I snapped at her. She was silent which made me realize the sincerity of her concern for me. I changed my tone. “But thanks for worrying about me, Mom,” I actually felt bad for snapping at her.

  “Addy, I think…I think it’s time we had a talk.”

  “About?” Holy crap! More family secrets?

  “About…first loves…loves lost, things of that nature.”

  “Why in the world would we have that talk, Mom?”

  “Because I understand better than you think I do and honestly, I think I’ve contributed to you and Jack’s breakup.”

  I let out a heavy sigh. “Mom, I’m exhausted, I’m emotionally spent, and honestly, I have no idea what you’re talking about so can we just do this another time?”

  There was a really long pause. I began walking back and forth, waiting for her to say something. The pause was so long I thought maybe she changed her mind about our talk but then she said, “Addy, I once had a first love…someone I loved so much, that…I wore his ring and was ready to take his last name.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks. She had my attention. Mom was at one point engaged to someone other than Dad? I didn’t speak, but she knew I wanted her to continue.

  “When I was in high school, I was in love with a boy named…Arthur.”

  I laughed. “Arthur? Are you kidding me? Did you make up that name to protect the innocent?”

  She laughed. “No, that’s really his name. Arthur and I dated throughout most of high school and on graduation night, on a beach in California, he asked me to marry him and I said yes. He even had a ring. It wasn’t a very big diamond but it didn’t matter, because it came from him. From that moment on, we were officially engaged and I thought our love would last forever.”

  “So what happened? Why isn’t my dad’s name, Arthur?”

  “Your Grampa Stewart had a stroke when I told him about our engagement. He would have nothing to do with me marrying at such a young age. My dad had a lot of plans for me and none of them included Arthur. He was relentless in his efforts to break us up and I finally cracked from the pressure. I broke off our engagement, went away to college, and to this day, I wonder. I wonder if that had been the right thing to do. Oh sure, Arthur and I kept in touch for a while after I went away to college, but it was never the same and eventually, he gave up on the idea that I would change my mind. He finally met and married someone else. Still today, I wonder where he is and what he’s doing. I just…wonder…” I could tell she trailed off in thought. I bet she’s picturing Arthur’s face right now. I would if it were me.

  “Holy crap, Mom! Do you regret marrying Dad? Is that what this is about?” I actually felt a little weird about what I thought she was telling me. I was torn between, “Please go on,” and “Dear, Lord, please make her stop talking!”

  Just then it hit me; my mom finally made sense to me. She wasn’t a cyborg; she was a real person who had loved and lost. She knew exactly what I was feeling because she’d had an entire life before there was a Bill, or an Addy, or an Aaron.

  “No! No, Addy, please know that I love your dad. I love you and Aaron. I love my life, I do. Even though we’ve had some rough patches, to this day, I have no regrets. But when there are those interfering forces that make a relationship end without the chance of closure, it’s just…difficult…to move on. It’s hard not to wonder about all of the “what ifs?” I didn’t end it with Arthur because I no longer loved him or because marriage wasn’t what I wanted. I ended it out of pressure from my dad.”

  I was speechless and not for one second could I have predicted her next words.

  “Addy, I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I’m the one who put this exact same pressure on you. There were so many times I watched you and Jack and I saw Arthur and I. I saw that your love was real and yet, I couldn’t help but want something different for you. Honestly, part of that is because my life DID turn out so well, even without Arthur. But I now know I’ve made a horrible mistake with you. Now you face losing Jack and I’m so incredibly sorry.”

  “Mom, stop.” I heard her sniff. “Please stop saying you’re sorry, besides, in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve already lost him. He’s about to be Hannah’s HUSBAND.” I gagged on my own words.

  Should I be angry? Was this all her fault? No, it wasn’t her fault because I had the chance to make my own choices, too. It couldn’t completely be the pressure she put on me that forced my choices. It would have been really nice to blame all my choices on the actions of others, but life wasn’t that simple.

  “Addy, I know t
hat Arthur wasn’t my forever love. I haven’t slept in days because the guilt is killing me.”

  “Mom, what guilt? What are you talking about?”

  “Let me just say that after a lot, and I mean a lot, of prayer…I believe…no, I know…Jack is your forever love.”

  Her words were so raw and so honest that it caused me to suck in a breath. She wasn’t speaking to me as Margaret Stewart Davis, the Psychologist, she was speaking to me as my mom, the woman who had lived life and experienced a young love. She was a woman who knew how it felt to hurt. She was my mom, the woman who knew that Jack was my forever love.

  “Addy, you need to fix this.” Her voice sounded urgent.

  “What? What do you mean? How can I fix this? Jack is about to get married!”

  “I mean, get on a plane and get to that church. Tell Jack you love him and that you’ll come home and spend your life with him.”

  “What’s Dad think?”

  “I don’t care what your dad thinks.” She was so shocked by her own knee-jerk response that I heard her hand clap over her mouth. “I mean…to be honest, this has been a sore spot between your dad and I. He’s almost acting like he’s losing a son. He keeps moping around the house, refuses to go to Brody’s or Emmy’s, or even the post office. He has kept his distance from the Cooper’s and spending more time in Middleburg and frankly, he’s acting a bit foolish."

  “So you guys don’t know anything about the wedding or Jack and Hannah?”

  “No. We got the invite and it sparked an argument, especially when I told your Dad this was your loss, not his. We decided it would be best to keep our distance for a while. We won’t be going to the wedding…but you can.”

  “What do you mean I can? Why the hell would I go to their wedding?”

  “To stop it before it’s too late. Get on a plane and stop Jack from marrying Hannah. If you don’t at least try….you’ll always wonder.”

  I was stunned by her words and my mind began to swirl. We talked over the complexities of what I wanted to do, what I should do, and how I would recover from the guilt of hurting Hannah if I chose to do it. She ended with, “sometimes life gets selfish.”

  ********

  As daylight broke through the shades of my dorm room window, it became my dawn of remembrance. I groaned as I slowly raised my head from the pillow. All that crying had left me with a pounding headache. I wasn’t a drinker but I could imagine this was what a hangover felt like.

  I fished the invitation out from the trash and spread it out, repeatedly flattening it. I stared at Jack’s face until a lone tear drop hit the paper, forcing me back to reality.

  My reality was that I had lost Jack. Or have I? Is there still hope? Yes. There was….there was a fragment of hope. They’re only engaged. They’re not yet standing at the altar about to get married. I felt a surge of energy—a rebirth of will. I might just be intoxicated with love and border line criminally insane, but my mom was right, I had to fix this. She fixed her part with her apology, now I had to fix mine. I had to tell him I loved him and only him. I loved him from the first kiss at Castle Peak Falls through every kiss in between to our last kiss in the hospital. He needed to know I would move back home—Montana is my home—and I wouldn’t wait until I graduated.

  I called my mom and told her my plans. She told me she would book the flight and that I should start packing. I hung up from her and called a taxi cab, packed a carry-on bag, and once in the cab, I was off to the airport. Mom texted me the flight information on the way. I didn’t know what would happen. I imagined he would still marry beautiful Miss Hannah, but not without knowing how I felt and what I was willing to do. I would leave California for Montana—for him. If I didn’t finish my degree, I didn’t care because I would be with him and that was all that mattered. I would work at Emmy’s or Brody’s Market. I visualized Jack married to Hannah; I visualized running into him at Emmy’s Café or the post office and how he would still look at me with those thoughtful brown eyes. He would still love me and I would love him, but we’d be living separate lives.

  I took another look at the invitation, searching for information about what church and what time.

  What am I thinking? Actually, I do know what I’m thinking…I’m thinking…Jack’s my forever love.

  40. Prayers

  The problem with my plan to stop Jack from marrying Hannah was that it had literally turned into stopping a wedding. My only option was the flight arriving in Middleburg at three-thirty, Saturday afternoon, and the wedding was at four o’clock.

  I only had a carry-on bag so boarding the flight was relatively easy; however, once seated, the pilot announced a delay on the jet-way. I was just on the brink of a panic attack when the airplane finally began to move. I let out a heavy sigh of relief. Once we were in the air, I pondered my next steps. I knew I might not find a cab. They didn’t line up knowing they’d get customers like in big cities. I needed a rental car; yes—a rental car—that will be faster. Even though Middleburg wasn’t a very big city, I was barely going to arrive in time to rent a car and get to St. Peter’s Catholic Church. This would be an extremely close call, if it even worked at all.

  The flight seemed endless, but I knew it could have only been a one hour flight and it still would have seemed endless to me. We arrived right on time—three o’clock. I shoved my way past people, offering obligatory apologies along the way. I told myself that if they only knew why I was being so rude, they would understand. They would spread apart as Moses did the Red Sea. It was just that important.

  I found one person at the counter of the car rental agency. The pimple-faced kid behind the desk looked young and seemed to be inexperienced. I prayed he didn’t wear a name tag that read, “Please be patient with me—I’m new.” He finalized the transaction for the older lady in front of me, but she continued to talk. When she started to babble on and on about something that had absolutely nothing related to renting a car, I tapped my foot impatiently then finally cleared my throat. She glanced back at me with a snide look, but got the hint. She thanked Mr. Pimple and moved along.

  “Hi. I need a car—and fast,” I impatiently told him.

  “Okay, well, let me see what we have.” He punched the keyboard of the computer. He browsed it momentarily and said, “We have a Pontiac Grand Prix. Will that work?”

  “Does it have an engine and four wheels?” I sarcastically asked.

  He looked perplexed by a question that should have been a simple “yes” for an answer.

  “Never mind. Yes. Thank you. That will be just fine,” I replied in a kinder tone.

  I would have slipped him a sizable tip to avoid the paperwork, but he looked as though he wouldn’t really understand the idea. I rushed my way through the paperwork, tossed him my driver’s license and a credit card. I started to strum my nails on the countertop. He glanced at my hands as if to say, “Please stop. You’re making me nervous.” I stopped and offered myself to prayer. I hadn’t prayed in years so I had to have faith that God still listened to people like me. Please God—get me to the church on time!

  He examined my driver’s license and found a snag in the transaction. Being under the age of twenty-five, I would need to pay some extra fees. He started to tell me the details, but I pulled the papers away and declared, “Yeah, I get it. Where do I sign?”

  He rolled his eyes at my actions, but continued with the transaction. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally announced, “You’re all set! Here’s your credit card and your keys.”

  I signed the credit card receipt and snatched the keys from the counter. I was already running away when I hollered, “Thank you!”

  The attendant took his sweet time finding my car. He rolled up, got out, and I hopped in. I wasn’t sure if I remembered where the church was. I knew it was on Maple Street. I thought about the directions while I drove away. Time was of the essence. Forty minutes had passed since I had departed the airplane. My heart beat faster and faster with each passing mile.
>
  I managed to remember where the church was, which was in an older part of town, right in the center of the city. I weaved in and out of traffic, trying to not break any laws. If I had to stop and take care of a speeding ticket I without a doubt would not get to the church on time. The seconds ticked into minutes. Crap. Crap. Crap. I won’t make it! With each red light, I thought my chest would burst open. Okay, God. I know I haven’t been the best, but if you could just do me a solid I would truly appreciate it. You might even say I owe you one.

  The light instantly turned green as I finished my prayer. Maybe God IS listening. Funny how I always turn to God in crises mode, not when I should—on an everyday basis—thanking him for the blessings I have. I vowed to give more attention to my prayers in the near future.

  I arrived at the church at four-fifteen. The ceremony would already be in progress but I had to continue. Ideally, I would have preferred to find Jack alone but nothing had ever gone smoothly for us in the past so why would it now? I had the sinking feeling I was too late but I bolted for the entrance anyway. Fifteen minutes is a lot in wedding ceremony terms. I reached the large, wooden double doors of St. Peter’s, flung them open and entered the foyer. I grabbed the handles of the next set of double doors but stopped. Can I really do this? I pictured Jack’s face—I pictured the first time we met, I pictured him jumping off The Cliffs, I pictured star gazing with him, I pictured him serenading me under my bedroom window—and yeah—hell, yeah—I can do this!