But with Turner, it hadn’t felt wrong. In fact, everything about him felt right. The strength of his character, his kindness and gentleness, the warmth of his touch, and the way it made her feel when he smiled at her. At first she had been oblivious to these things because she was a married woman and wasn’t looking for a new relationship. But in time his traits had become impossible to ignore. He was everything Brad was not. And with her marriage now over, what was she waiting for? What was she afraid of? Was she afraid of returning to Turner, only to discover that they didn’t have anything in common other than the memory of their experience together? Was everything she had felt based solely on the urgency she experienced at the time?
These were tough questions to be sure. And until she knew the answers and healed on the inside, she was going to follow her counselor’s advice and—wait.
CHAPTER 40
DURING THE NEXT few weeks Turner patched holes, repainted walls, unclogged toilets, repaired air conditioners, oiled squeaky hinges, and installed safety chains. As each item on the list disappeared one by one, Harvey’s blood pressure responded accordingly.
Turner also threw himself into his studies. He did some bonus assignments and was able to improve his marks. He was even selected to be a student counselor for an upcoming three-day camp for his outdoor education class. That alone guaranteed a good mark.
He still received regular e-mails from Cassandra. In her latest communication she said:
Justin’s now saying words and has to verbalize what he wants before he’s allowed to do it. For example, if he wants to play with the toys in the playroom, he has to say exactly that. He’s smiling and laughing now and is becoming impatient with being cooped up. That’s the best sign of all, according to Dr. Courtnall.
The e-mail was good news, of course. But Turner’s heart sank as he noticed there was no mention of when she would return to Lakewood and no invitation for him to visit Las Vegas. And of course he couldn’t raise the subject in his e-mails to her.
He began taking evening walks in the park. Fall was in the air, and the leaves were beginning to turn color, and he enjoyed witnessing the change. His room was too quiet and the walls seemed to close in claustrophobically. And the evening news held little appeal. It had become two-dimensional, showing only the length and breadth of the world, whereas he had plumbed its depths and was no longer placated by mere facts and figures. So he satisfied his craving for a deeper interaction with life by walking in the park and experiencing the world unfold around him in 3-D.
On one occasion he saw a young couple stroll hand in hand through the park, and he thought of the touch of Cassandra’s hand in his. He could still feel her head on his shoulder and smell the fragrance of her hair. The memory of her lips on his cheek was seared in his brain. He sat down on a park bench nearby and stared off in the distance . . . remembering.
On another occasion he watched a young boy chase a small flock of ducks and laugh with glee as they waddled into the pond. Turner thought of Justin and the joy his little buddy had found in simple things: the stuffed monkey, the pillow fight, the canoe ride, the flowers and insects around the cabin. Reminders were everywhere, in everything Turner saw and dreamed.
Cassandra and Justin were dream determinants of the first order. It seemed that she, in particular, was destined to be a lifelong subject of his dreams, featured in HD. His high school memories were painful, and he had gone to great lengths to suppress them. But thoughts of her were equally painful, though not in the same way. They affected a different region of his heart—a place that felt as empty as an unfurnished motel room, languishing from lack of occupancy.
The experiences at the cabin with Brad and the hired thugs were dream determinants too. Turner frequently awoke in the night as dark and frightening images swirled inside his head. Sometimes Twitch was trapped in the fire, and Slick was the one having a bad experience in the nettles. Other times it was Brad who was flailing his arms to keep from going over the embankment. The jumble of distorted images and fragmented memories was disturbing.
As a result, he got very little sleep.
Loretta noticed and finally took matters into her own hands. She invited Mary to come for dinner the following Sunday afternoon. After a delicious meal of fried chicken, scalloped potatoes, steamed vegetables, and banana cream pie for dessert, the two women sat him down in the living room and gave Turner a chance to vent. Harvey was sent to watch television in the bedroom, where he promptly fell asleep.
Turner talked for a long time, sometimes asking a question and then answering it before Loretta or Mary could reply. Other times he left the question hanging in the air because it was unanswerable. He talked about his fears and worries, his hopes and dreams, and Loretta put an arm around him while he plumbed the depths of his soul. There were tears shed, mostly his, and she wiped them away with a handkerchief. When he was finally spent, he looked at Loretta and Mary miserably and said, “She’s not coming back, is she?”
Loretta pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I believe Cassandra came into your life for a purpose, and I know you do too. But just how this will end, I can’t say. I can only hope. And I do hope, Turner. I hope for your happiness and for hers. But this much I can say: Any young woman out there would be lucky to have you. And they had better measure up too or they’ll have me to deal with.”
“Amen,” Mary replied, eliciting a chuckle.
“In the meantime you’re going to have to let go of some things and hang on to others.”
He looked at her quizzically. “What things, Mama Retta?”
“You’ll know when the time comes.”
“As human beings we have an amazing capacity that way,” Mary added. “Trust in the instincts the good Lord gave you. And right now I hope your instincts are telling you that you’re the victim of abuse too, young man. Just like Cassandra and that precious little child of hers. I told her and I’m telling you that it’s important to work through the steps that lead to healing. You can’t ignore or minimize the pain and trauma. Feelings and memories buried alive never die. They just fester and consume you one bite at a time, from the inside out.”
They talked for another hour, sharing experiences and shedding tears. They also laughed. Loretta shared humorous anecdotes, mostly about Harvey, that helped lighten the atmosphere.
When it was over, Turner hugged both women good night and promised to talk to Mary again and continue his own journey of healing. Then he went to his apartment and took the Gideon’s Bible from his dresser drawer and sat on the bed. Thumbing to the Book of Esther, he read the account and pondered what Cassandra had told him about it. Cassandra maintained that he had come into her life for a special purpose and that events had placed him in a position to help her and Justin. She also maintained that it was all part of the plan, that things didn’t happen by chance or coincidence. He had once argued with her about the idea of a plan, but now he felt differently. He believed that she had been placed in a position to help him too. And just who had helped whom the most, he couldn’t say.
He closed the Bible and leaned back against the headboard, wondering if they had been brought into each other’s lives for that one occasion only. He didn’t know the answer . . . yet. He could only be patient and let the plan unfold.
CHAPTER 41
FIVE WEEKS AFTER returning to Las Vegas, Cassandra emerged from the law office of Barnes, Randall, and Associates. She held a file folder that contained receipts for the sale of her home and the two automobiles, as well as a detailed outline of bills paid on her behalf. The money from the sale of her assets had not been sufficient to pay every creditor, including her lawyer. But it turned out Brad had a life insurance policy and that, along with the money Loretta had sent from the donations collected following the TV news broadcast, was enough to clear the outstanding debts. There was even money left over, and for the first time in years, she felt truly free.
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, causing people to bump into her and hurry
on unapologetically. But she didn’t care. She felt deliciously happy and resisted the urge to throw her arms in the air and shout for joy. And despite the sounds of traffic and the hustle and bustle around her, she felt at peace.
Justin was home from the hospital and hardly showed any signs of the trauma he had experienced. He was running around, as active as ever. And talking up a storm. Her friend was babysitting him right now and had been adamant about letting them stay with her as long as necessary. Still, Cassandra thought, it would be nice for Justin and her to get an apartment of their own soon. In time she’d find a job and put money away for his college fund, but that was down the road. Today she was going to celebrate.
She caught a taxi to her favorite restaurant, Alexis Gardens, and had to wait twenty minutes for a table. While she waited, she studied the menu and remembered being stuck in the cave with Justin, cold and hungry. She had dreamed of sitting down to a sumptuous meal and eating whatever she wanted, and now she no longer had to dream. She was going to feast.
After being seated at a table near the window, she placed her order and then watched the people on the sidewalk rush by. Each person had somewhere to go and something to do. Each one had hopes and dreams.
She ran a hand across the file folder and thought about how it represented the fulfillment of her hopes and dreams. Her debts were paid and her name was cleared. And a celebratory meal was being prepared at this very moment.
She decided to e-mail Turner tonight and share the good news. And what an e-mail it would be. Chock-full of nothing but happiness. Justin was doing great, her legal affairs were complete, and she was going to end the appointments with her counselor. Could things be any better?
Her meal arrived, and she sat patiently while the waiter poured her a glass of wine. She unfolded her napkin and placed it across her lap. Then she took a sip of the wine and held it in her mouth, savoring the bouquet. She dabbed the corner of her mouth with her napkin and reached for the salad fork. She ate in silent contemplation and reflected on the circumstances that had brought her to this point.
She finished her salad and began the main course. As she ate, she frequently glanced at the file folder and considered what it represented. Progress. Freedom. Independence.
A gale of laughter distracted her and she turned to see a wedding party enter the restaurant. The bride wore a floor-length, strapless, white satin gown, and the groom was dressed in a black tuxedo, complete with a red cummerbund. They held onto each other passionately, unwilling to let go for even a second. The rest of the wedding party followed behind, laughing and talking excitedly as they were ushered to an adjacent banquet room.
Cassandra tried to concentrate on her meal, but her eyes continually wandered to the bride and groom at the head table, who kissed each other at every opportunity. They looked happy and complete, absorbed in the moment as if nothing else mattered or existed.
She watched them a while longer and then glanced at the file folder. If it represented the successful culmination of everything in her life to this point, why did she suddenly feel so empty? She pushed away from the table and signaled the waiter for the check.
Moments later, clutching the file folder, she hailed a taxi and climbed in the backseat, anxious to get home and be with Justin. An occasion like this shouldn’t be celebrated alone anyway. Right now she needed to be with him.
Justin was already in bed when she walked in the door. So after greeting her friend, she tiptoed in to kiss him good night.
His eyes popped open at her approach. “Mommy, I didn’t have a bedtime story.”
She smiled and stroked his head. “Okay. What story would you like to hear?”
“One about Turner and me.”
She stopped abruptly and looked at her son. Turner’s name had come up various times during Dr. Courtnall’s play therapy sessions, but to hear Justin speak his name so casually caught her by surprise. “What story is that?” she said.
“One about Turner and me hunting for bears. We find one and it chases us and tries to eat us.”
“Really? And then what happens?”
“A nice squirrel shows us its tree and we climb up it.”
“And that’s the end of the story?”
“Nope. The bear climbs up and tries to get us. So Turner wrestles the bear, and it runs away.”
“So Turner saves you?”
“Yeah.” Justin yawned and began to close his eyes. “I miss him, Mommy.”
“So do I,” she said, admitting what she had been hesitant to acknowledge for weeks. In counseling, Meredith had warned her about love on the rebound and that she shouldn’t rush into a new relationship. But what was love anyway but an exciting and frightening calculated risk, all rolled into one? There were no written guarantees, no failsafe switches, no ironclad clauses to ensure success. Love was a gamble—but a gamble worth taking.
She kissed Justin good night and went into the den. Her head pounded with questions as she sat down at the computer. Had she waited too long? Turner could have any girl he wanted and was talented enough to be anything he wanted to be. Was their recent experience together the only thing they were meant to share because other people were being prepared to come into their lives? Maybe she and Turner would eventually find fulfillment . . . but just not with each other. Was love something that happened to you or was it something you made happen . . . with God’s help?
She logged onto her account and entered Turner’s e-mail address. Fingers hovering above the keyboard, she hesitated and stared at the blinking cursor in the blank message box.
What to type? There were news events to relate and memories to reminisce about.
But she didn’t start there. Instead she typed:
Justin asked me to tell him a bedtime story tonight. It was about you and him hunting bears. He had the story all figured out. It ended with you wrestling the bear into submission and it went running away. That was his version. In my version the bear isn’t the only one who’s been running away. But my version is incomplete, and I don’t know how the story ends. I need help finishing it . . .
Cassandra sat back in her chair and read over the message. Then with a determined expression, she hit the send button.
EPILOGUE
THE SUN WAS setting and a thin layer of red-tinged clouds skirted the horizon as Turner drove east on I-70 in Harvey and Loretta’s new silver Buick Enclave CXL. True to her word Loretta had purchased the latest model, with all the bells and whistles. She had even signed up for driving lessons, much to everyone’s relief.
Turner sang along to the radio and tapped the steering wheel to the beat as the tires hummed in harmony. A few minutes later the GPS unit interrupted him, prompting him to take the Airport Boulevard exit. He eased into the right lane and slowed to let a car nudge ahead of him. Then he continued up Airport Boulevard as it headed north and finally turned east once more, ushering traffic to and from the Denver International Airport.
Fifteen minutes later the GPS unit announced, “Arriving at destination.” He drove to short-term parking and pulled into a stall away from other vehicles. A scratch in the paint or a door ding would be catastrophic. Making certain the Buick Enclave was locked and secure, he hurried into the terminal building and checked the arrivals board to make sure flights were on time. They were.
He worked his way toward the large water fountain in the center of the terminal that graced the waiting area. A crowd of people had already gathered, huddled in groups and looking toward the escalators that delivered arriving passengers to the reception area. Turner moved to the outside edge of the crowd and fidgeted in his pockets as he watched arriving passengers make their way toward the escalators.
A tall man, an elderly woman, a teenage girl with pierced lips, and a middle-aged man came up the escalator first. They were greeted by waiting family and friends, embracing and sharing smiles.
Other people followed. A teenage boy with green hair, a woman with a crying baby, a large man who was finishing off a sandw
ich. They too were greeted by family and friends, or they simply walked by on their way to the baggage claim area.
A gap in the line occurred and then a little boy appeared at the top of the escalator. When he saw Turner, he broke out in a grin and ran toward him so fast he almost lost his balance.
“Turner! Turner!” he cried, extending his arms.
Turner scooped him up and swung him around, causing Justin to squeal in delight as several passengers glanced at them in bemusement. The circle of Turner’s swing momentarily brought a woman into view. She had reached the top of the escalator and took a step toward him. The next rotation brought her into view again, and he saw a smile spread across her face. The tears began to flow.
Holding Justin against him, Turner extended his hand and rushed toward her, smiling in response.
Cassandra Todd had returned.
Also Available From Darrel Nelson
The Anniversary Waltz
PROLOGUE
October 2006
WOULD YOU DO me the honor, Miss?”
Adam Carlson stood beside his wife, Elizabeth, who was still seated at the dining room table. He presented her with a single white rose, which he brought out from behind his back. She held the flower close in order to savor its sweet fragrance. Adam extended a wrinkled hand and looked at her expectantly, the question lingering in his smile.
Elizabeth laughed lightly and put the rose on the table beside her plate, pausing to smooth down her white hair and adjust the two-strand pearl necklace around her slender neck. She placed her hand in his, and together they walked slowly into the living room, followed by family members who gathered around the perimeter of the area rug.
The living room was decorated especially for the occasion. A banner that read HAPPY ANNIVERSARY stretched above the doorway, and crepe streamers hung from the center of the ceiling, radiating to the corners of the room like the spokes of a wheel. Balloons were taped to the walls in clusters, and below each cluster was a hand-drawn picture that showed two stick figures holding hands, with the words GREAT-GRANDMA LOVES GREAT-GRANDPA printed across the bottom in irregular block letters. A brass floor lamp stood in the far corner, casting a warm glow throughout the room. A floral arrangement in a ceramic vase sat on the fireplace mantel, and a small pennant attached to a thin wooden stick protruded from the leaves and bore the message HAPPY 60TH, written in glitter paint. An old picture frame holding a photograph of Adam and Elizabeth on their wedding day sat on the coffee table, and an album containing photographs of past anniversaries lay open beside it.
The Return of Cassandra Todd Page 24