Yours Always

by Rhonda Dennis

  “I don’t see it that way,” I argue.

  “If you give it some thought, you’ll agree. I’ve already cancelled your ticket, and we’re being issued a reimbursement.”

  “Fletcher!” I fuss.

  He pulls his chair closer to mine, props his elbow on the table, and lightly tips my chin with his finger. “I’m right about this one.”

  “You cancelled my ticket,” I say, still fuming. He brushes his lips against mine, but I don’t respond to his kiss.

  “Savannah, this is for the best. Everything I do is because I believe in my heart that it’s for the best. Please don’t be mad. Please.” He gives me puppy dog eyes and a pouty lower lip.

  I sigh. “I’ll concede, but only because you say it’ll interfere with your treatment. Am I at least allowed to bring you to the airport?”

  He smiles. “Of course. I want you to give me a send off that will leave the masses blushing.”

  I laugh. “You sure about that?”

  “Oh yeah, baby,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

  We arrive at the airport about an hour before his flight. I’m with him while he checks his bags, checks the flight info to make sure everything is still on schedule, and makes his way to the security gate. I’m suddenly filled with yearning for him, and he hasn’t even left yet. It’s the anxious anticipation of knowing that we’ll be apart from each other longer than any time since we’ve met. The thought of it tugs at my heart, but I work hard to hide it from Fletcher. I see in his face that he’s battling with his emotions, too, but I don’t call attention to it.

  We find a quiet little corner to huddle in, and I’m the first to speak. “It’s pointless to pretend that we aren’t going to miss each other. My thoughts are going to be on you day in and day out, but it’s going to be okay. I’m going to be eagerly counting down the days until you come back to me. I love you, and I’m so proud of you for reaching out for help. Finding you was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’m so grateful that you saw something in me that no one else did. You’re my heart, Fletcher Reilly. I hope you have a good flight, and please call me when you get settled in at the hotel tonight.”

  “Ah, my sweet Savannah, everything I do is for you. You make my life so much better. Thank you for standing by me through all of this. There are a lot of women who would have bolted after the first incident, but you… Well, please remember that my love for you is immeasurable, and that I’m so incredibly sorry for ever hurting you. I’m grateful for your confidence and devotion. It’s what gets me through.”

  “Fletcher, you never hurt me on purpose. You’re a good man. Please, quit punishing yourself for something you had no control over.”

  He shakes his head. “None of that matters. I’m supposed to protect you… to keep you safe. It crushes my soul to know everything you’ve been through in your life and to know that I added to that pain.”

  “That’s not how I see it at all, Fletcher. You rescued me from that life. Your love saved me from the nothingness that consumed me. Please, baby, please quit being so hard on yourself. You’re sick right now, but you’re going to get better, and the day you come home to me is going to be a new and better beginning for us.”

  He’s holding back tears, but I’m not able to contain mine anymore. They gently fall down my face. “Don’t mistake these tears as a sign that I’m not going to be okay while you’re gone. I am. I’m going to be just fine, so don’t worry about me. All these tears mean is that I’m going to miss you like mad because I love you so much.”

  “That’s exactly what I want to hear,” Fletcher says, scooping me off my feet so he can kiss me. After one final parting kiss, he sets me down and picks up his bag. Hand in hand, we walk to the end of the security line. I stay with him all the way until it’s his turn to be processed, and I put on a brave face as he waves to me through the glass window that now separates us. I blow him a kiss, wave a final goodbye, and then quickly turn away so he won’t see the fresh tears falling.

  Once I’m home, I immediately start cleaning in an effort to preoccupy my thoughts. I start with light house work, but then I move onto the heavier stuff. Even getting down on my hands and knees to viciously scrub the floors doesn’t work at keeping my thoughts from drifting to Fletcher. Eventually, I give up on the cleaning altogether and expend my nervous energy elsewhere. I’m constantly checking his flight status, flipping on the news to be sure there weren’t any emergency landings or crashes, and in between, I’m simply wearing a hole in the floor with all my pacing. Hopefully, this severe anxiety will end once I know he’s safely arrived at the treatment facility. He’s still somewhat of a loose cannon, and I pray that he doesn’t have any triggers to set him off on the way. I should’ve insisted on going with him, but damn Fletcher and his smooth talking ways! He didn’t want me to go, his reasons for not wanting me to go were actually pretty valid, and no matter, it’s too late to do anything about it now.

  I check the flight status, and it shows that Fletcher’s plane landed in Colorado three minutes ago, so I breathe a sigh of relief. Now I just wait for him to check into the hotel and give me a call, then the first step will be complete. I’m sitting with my hand on the phone when the doorbell rings. So excited about Fletcher’s phone call, it doesn’t even register to me that someone’s at the door, and I answer the phone instead. Realizing my silly mistake, I hang up the phone and head to the front door. Not thinking twice about it, I tell the sheriff’s deputy that he must have the wrong address because I didn’t call in a complaint. The door is almost closed when he pushes his hand against it to keep it open.

  “Is this the Reilly residence?” My stomach flips. The guy Fletcher hit is pressing charges, and Fletcher’s out of state. What does this mean? Are they going to have to cut his treatment short? Can they wait until he finishes treatment before they do something? Maybe I can talk to the guy, explain the situation, and he’ll drop the charges?

  “Yes sir, it is, but Fletcher’s not here right now. He’s in Colorado.”

  “May I come inside?” he asks.

  “Of course,” I say, holding the door open for him. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

  “No, ma’am. Thank you anyway.” His hand rests on the pistol on his gun belt, and he’s quiet for a beat as he takes in his surroundings. Once he’s made a full sweep around the place with his eyes, he asks, “Are you here alone, Mrs. Reilly? I presume that you’re Mrs. Reilly, Savannah Reilly.”

  “Yes, I’m Savannah, and yes, I’m alone. As I mentioned before, Fletcher is out of town.”

  “This truly is the worst part of my job,” he says, moving to cross his arms in front of himself while shifting his gaze to look down at his feet.

  “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

  “May we sit down?”

  I hold out my hand to gesture that the sofa is available. Once we’re seated, he looks at me, a sympathetic sadness shows in his eyes. It suddenly clicks.

  “This isn’t about the other night, is it?”

  “No, ma’am. I’m not sure what you’re referring to, but this is unrelated.”

  “No,” I say with disbelief.

  “It’s with great regret that I have to inform you…”

  “NO! Don’t say it. I dropped him off at the airport. I saw him go through security.”

  “Mr. Reilly never boarded the plane.”

  “He had to have! It’s some kind of mistake. A terrible mistake.”

  The deputy uncomfortably picks at his thumb nail while disclosing the information he has, “Mr. Reilly walked out of the airport and rented a car from one of the nearby agencies. He then drove himself to a secluded area not far from I-10 where I’m sorry to say, he appears to have intentionally overdosed on sleeping pills. He was found by a deputy patrolling the area and pronounced dead at the scene by the coroner. There was a note. The original is in evidence right now, but it will be released to you at the close of the investigation. However, I have a copy of it for you. You
have my deepest condolences, Mrs. Reilly.”

  I sit, my mouth agape, shaking my head. The deputy places the letter in my hands, but I refuse to look at it. It’s a joke. A terrible joke. Fletcher isn’t a quitter. He loves me, and he’d never leave me, not on purpose anyway. No. He’s not gone. He’s not!

  “Were you the deputy who found him?” I ask.

  “No, ma’am. It wasn’t me.”

  “Because it might not have been Fletcher in that car. I was going to show you a picture, and then you could tell me…” He knows I’m grasping at straws, and he interrupts me.

  “Mrs. Reilly, it was Fletcher in that car. There’s no doubt about it. Is there someone I can call to come be with you?”

  I lurch from my seat. “Julia. I guess you can call Julia,” I say, tossing him my phone as I hurriedly pace the floor. I run my hands through my hair as the full weight of what he’s told me sinks in. Fletcher has left me forever, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to get him back.

  I drop to my knees, collapse to the ground, and beat my fists against the floor. “NOOOOOOOO!”

  The deputy helps me stand, and I turn my anger onto him. “He gave up. He gave up on us. How could he do this to us? Why? Why wasn’t my love enough to save him? Why didn’t he give the treatment a chance?”

  Julia comes through the door just as the patient deputy is helping me to the sofa. Her blotchy red face is streaked with tears as she grips me tightly. I squeeze her back, unable to talk because of the sobs that rack my body.

  “Is there anything else I can do? Anyone else I can call for you?” the deputy asks.

  “No, thank you very much, sir. We’ll take care of each other,” Julia says, taking control of the situation.

  “Here’s my card. Please don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. We’ll be in touch as more information becomes available. Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  Julia nods and offers the deputy a little wave as he leaves the house. I desperately cling to her as I wail in agony.

  “Shhhhh. It’s okay. Savannah, it’s okay. Cry. Get it out.” She gently strokes my hair. After a few minutes, the tears refuse to come, and I pull away from her shoulder.

  “How can you be so calm through all of this?” I ask in between shaky breaths. “Is it all just a joke? Is this some kind of cruel joke that you guys cooked up so I’d be relieved when Fletcher surprises me by walking through the door? Please tell me that’s it. Please!”

  “No, sweetheart. It’s not a joke, though I wish like hell that it was.” She pulls her hand to her mouth, and her eyes brim with fresh tears. “I’m not cool and calm. Inside I’m falling apart, but only one of us can fall apart at a time. One of us has to be strong.”

  “I need to call Ben and Lizzy,” I say, suddenly swallowing a huge hunk of emotion so I can semi-function on autopilot. They are in their car on their way back to Dallas, so I ask Ben to pull to the side of the road before breaking the news to him. He’s as devastated as the rest of us and promises to be back in Lafayette as soon as possible.

  Julia’s still sobbing when I decide to return the favor from earlier and hold her. She calls out for her brother asking the same question I did—“Why?”

  “There’s a letter,” I tell her. “I don’t know if I want to read it, though. Once I do, it’s over. This letter is the last communication that I’ll ever have from him. That will be it. He’ll never have anything new to share with me.”

  She nods. “I understand what you’re saying, Savannah, but reading it is the only way we’re going to know what happened. We have to know.”

  I slowly open the envelope, and my heart grips when I recognize Fletcher’s handwriting. I slowly peruse the letter my love has left for me.

  My Dearest Savannah,

  If you’re reading this, then I’ve been found and you know what I’ve done. Please let me start by saying I’m so incredibly sorry for the hurt I’m putting you through right now. Understand that I’m doing this for a very good reason, and that it’s the only way. I’ve thought this through very extensively, and no matter which avenue I explored, this always came back as the best option. I’m broken. More broken than anyone knows. I got really good at hiding it, but towards the end, it surfaced more and more. And then I physically hurt you, not once but three times. Savannah, a piece of me died each time I realized what I had done. You told me that it wasn’t my fault, and that you forgave me each time I laid hands on you, but regardless of whether or not it was intentional, I HURT YOU. You deserve so much better than me, and I know for a fact that you would never leave me, so I had to leave you.

  Maybe treatment would’ve made me better, but I can’t depend on a maybe. What if I’d accidently killed you or someone else? Who’s to say that it won’t happen sometime down the line? When I was home alone, I was able to do a lot of soul searching, and I believe my life’s purpose was to connect with you in a way that no one else could. We’d both been through terrible tragedies, but where you were able to work past your trauma, I bathed in mine daily. The faces, the smells, the sounds, the pain, I couldn’t make them disappear, not even for one stupid day. I’m sorry that I hid that from you, but you blossomed so much while we were together, and seeing that is what got me through the last couple of years.

  I always knew in my heart that though we were meant to be together, it would only be temporary. I was the guy who awakened you, but there will be another who will complete you. You thought it was me, and so did I, at first, but that’s not the case. I could barely take care of myself. It was getting harder and harder to function every day. Ben was nice enough to keep me on salary, but what he didn’t tell you is that I was messing everything up. I wasn’t working on stuff for the business all those days, I was writing in a journal, keeping track of my thoughts. I desperately hoped that writing about the demons would make them disappear. It didn’t. It intensified their power, but I couldn’t stop. I was once again trapped in their darkness, and the only light around was the one that came from you. But what happens when something drains the power from a light source? It doesn’t matter if that source shines as brightly as the sun, it will eventually dim if it’s taxed enough. That’s what I was doing to you. I helped you to find your light, but then I started to drain it. No way am I going to be responsible for your light going out.

  You promised me that you’d continue with school. I expect you to do that. Please, mourn me, but don’t be consumed by it. I’m free now. My shackles have been removed and my demons slain. I hope that it’s not too far off before you’re able to smile when you remember me, instead of shedding the tears that I know are falling from your eyes right now. Imagine me there, wiping them from your face.

  I promise that if I’m able, I’ll look for Lucas, your dad, and Grampy. I’ll give your baby the hug you’ve been longing for, and if that sort of thing is allowed where I’m going, I’ll adopt him as my own. We’ll be waiting for you when it’s your time to join us, but don’t rush it. You now know how to live a beautiful life, so go out and live it. Do all the things we weren’t able to do. Look for the signs. If Molly was right, I’ll try to give you some from time to time to let you know that things are fine.

  I adore you. I cherish you. I love you. Live for me! Live the life I could never have.

  Yours Always,

  Fletcher

  The last page is a copy of a photograph from our wedding. Me, with my glowing smile, and Fletcher with his handsome face… My falling tears smudge the ink.

  I hand the letter to Julia so she can read it, and then I immediately scour the office for the journal he referred to in the letter. I find it in the top right drawer underneath a life insurance policy, a list of final wishes, and a wilted daisy. Julia enters the room.

  “He had this planned, Julia. He knew. He knew when we went to bed last night. He knew when we had breakfast this morning. He knew when I kissed him goodbye. He fucking knew the entire time! How could he do this to me? How could he leave me? How did I not see it c
oming?”

  She softly rubs my back. “I don’t have the answers. I wish I did, but I’m just like you. I’m feeling the same anger. I’m feeling the same guilt. I’m feeling the same sadness.” She sighs heavily. “Don’t blame yourself. None of us knew. None of us noticed how bad it was.”

  There is a sticky note on the plastic sheath covering the insurance policy. On it he’s laid out where he’d like the money to go: funeral costs, paying off the house, taking the trip we were going to take (I’m to bring Julia and Molly with me), and then I’m to save the rest for a rainy day.

  “What does he say about funeral arrangements?” Julia asks.

  “He wants to be buried in a plot next to Brody. He feels that he should’ve died that day, and even though he physically survived, he considers that day his true date of death. He wants to be laid to rest next to his brother.” I swallow hard because all of this is steadily ripping my heart to shreds. “He says that he didn’t die a hero’s death, but if possible, he’d like ‘Taps’ played at his funeral. Oh my God, this is so hard to read.” I put the note down until I can better compose myself.

  “Savannah! Savannah! Where are you?” Ben calls from the front room. I’m suddenly filled with so much rage that I run through the house and charge at Ben full force. The collision not only startles him but knocks him off his feet. I take advantage of his confusion and pummel the hell out of him while he’s on the ground. Lizzy screams at me to stop, but I can’t. I hit him over and over until I’m exhausted, and Ben just steadily takes it. When I collapse onto his chest from fatigue, I start to sob. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you hide the fact that he wasn’t doing his job right? I could’ve gotten him help. He’d still be here if it weren’t for you. You have to know that. It’s your fault he’s gone.”

  “Savannah!” Julia fusses, trying to lift me off Ben.