Caroline's Purpose

by Erica Zaborac

  “No, she didn’t tell me anything. I don’t even know who she is.”

  Caroline studied him, her eyes growing wet. “Then how do you know?”

  Connor took a breath, running his thumb across the top of her hand before answering. “I recognized you, on the first day of class. Our parents have done business together off and on over the years. I’ve seen you ride, and I’ve seen you compete. I knew who you were the moment you walked in.”

  Tears spilled out onto her cheeks. “But you never said anything.”

  “You looked so scared, and I’d heard you’d given up on horses. I was so surprised to see you here, and then you told Dr. Carnes you didn’t have any horse experience at all. I figured you didn’t want anyone to know.” Connor shrugged his shoulders.

  Caroline looked down at her boots. “No, I didn’t. It wasn’t until yesterday that I even wanted to tell you.”

  “I know. But why did you say that it doesn’t matter anymore?”

  Caroline sniffed, wiping away a few tears on her cheek. “Because I can’t do this, Connor. I’m not like you. I can’t move past it or believe again. It hurts too much.”

  “But you could be like me. You could believe again. Just let me help you.” Connor felt like he was begging.

  “Why do you care so much?”

  Connor fought away the pain that was taking over in his heart. “I couldn’t save Emily. Or even help her. It was all out of my control. But I can help you.”

  Fresh tears welled in Caroline’s eyes. “Connor…” Her voice was overtaken by sobs.

  Connor pulled her into a hug, tears now stinging his own eyes. “Please, Caroline. Let me be here for you.”

  Caroline sniffed, then pulled herself out of his arms. “Please, just let me go. The girl you’re trying to help…she doesn’t exist anymore. I can’t be her.”

  Connor didn’t reach for her as she jogged to her car. He let her go, as she had asked. But as she opened her door, he had to ask one last question. “Then who are you?”

  Caroline hesitated, blinking several times as she considered his question. She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  Before Connor could respond, she ducked into her seat, slammed the door, and drove away. All he could do was stare at the dust her tires kicked up and pray that she would be okay.

  And wonder how he’d ever be able to let her go.

  Twenty-Three

  The cold breeze lifted her blond hair, blowing it around her cheeks, the ends sticking to her face because of her tears. Caroline pulled her royal-blue sweatshirt closer to her body, setting the hood over her head, and folding the ends of the sleeves over her hands. She leaned back onto the cold metal of the top rail of the bleachers, crossing her arms over her chest and resting her feet on the seat in front of her.

  The crowd was thin, so it had been easy to find a seat alone. That was the story of her life now. Alone.

  She wasn’t sure why she was here. But between the bad dreams and the loneliness, she had needed to get out of her house.

  All of her finals were done. All of her grades for the semester were set. There was no homework to distract her, and no friends to occupy her time. She had made sure of that when she cut off all communication with anyone who had ever cared about her.

  Caroline’s bad dreams alternated between softball and horses. She would be on the mound, throwing her last pitch. Then the pain would shoot down her arm as the ground opened up and swallowed her whole, sending her tumbling into the darkness.

  But the horse dreams were worse. She was always trapped, always in pain, always unable to breathe, and suffocated by fear and pain—hers and the horse’s. The horse kept switching, changing between gray and red. Between Beau and Edison.

  This particular evening, tired of staring at the walls, dreading another night of nightmares, she had gotten in her car and left. She had driven around until she saw the lights sparkling against the night sky. The lights drew her in, and she found herself in the parking lot of the ballpark she had spent endless hours at during her little league and ponytail years.

  And she was learning that maybe softball hurt less than horses after all.

  Caroline had been debating returning to the softball team, resuming her position as manager, after Christmas break. She could find a degree that would help her get into coaching. Sure, it wouldn’t be the same as playing, but it would be something…even though watching was making her cry. It would be a purpose for her life.

  She could still use her knowledge to help the team get outs. Maybe she wasn’t the one throwing the pitches to home plate, but she could call them. She could study scouting reports and films of opposing hitters and decide what pitches would work best against them. She’d been doing it tonight, while she watched the game.

  From her guess, the girls playing were thirteen or fourteen. Old enough to be competitive, but young enough to still be carefree and enjoy the game. The pitchers for both teams were pretty good. They could hit their spots and change speeds, and they had good spin on their pitches.

  Caroline wouldn’t say she was enjoying herself, but the game was a good distraction. It was keeping her from thinking about Connor and the pain she knew she had caused him. She felt awful about it, but better for it to end now than later down the road. He would be okay. He knew what he was going to do with his life.

  But that didn’t stop her from missing him.

  He had been good to her all semester, helping her overcome her fears and helping her get through the class. He’d become her friend, sharing things with her that he wouldn’t tell just anyone, showing her he could relate to the pain and loss she’d experienced in her life.

  He had even kept her secret.

  Caroline ran her hand through her bangs, refocusing on the game, as it was down to the last out. The team batting was down by a run but had a runner on second base. As the next batter stepped up, the cheers of the hitting team grew louder. She was one of the tallest girls on the field, and from the excitement her teammates were expressing in the dugout, she was one of the best hitters, too.

  The pitcher walked to the back of the circle and took a deep breath as she faced center field. Caroline smiled through her tears at the routine that was so much like hers had been. That small pause always had given her a moment to clear her head and focus on the next pitch, no matter what had happened with the previous one.

  Caroline looked on as the pitcher delivered the pitch. Changeup inside. The hitter watched it meet the catcher’s glove, taking it for strike one. Good job.

  Watching the hitter take a few swings as the pitcher prepared for the next pitch, Caroline thought about what she would throw next. Something hard and fast, outside corner.

  She focused on the pitcher’s wrist, trying to see what she was throwing. Her fingers and palm stayed behind the ball, her snap coming straight through. A fastball. Caroline could tell it was headed for the outside part of the plate. The batter swung, fouling it straight back into the backstop. The changeup had done its job, messing with the hitter’s timing just enough for her to miss the next pitch.

  Drop ball, inside. Way inside, for a ball. Make her chase it. She encouraged the young pitcher in her head, telling her the same things she had told herself time and time again.

  Again, Caroline zeroed in on the girl’s hand, identifying the pitch as she threw it. Caroline held her breath as she saw her snap her hand over the top of the ball, pointing her index finger down toward the ground, creating the drop ball spin. But her release had been too far out in front of her hip. The ball wouldn’t have time to drop.

  Sure enough, the ball stayed up. The batter made strong contact, sending it into the night sky toward center field. The girls in the dugout erupted with screams; the pitcher put her glove over her mouth, frozen as she waited. The center fielder had just enough room to make the catch, one hand against the fence as she reached for the ball, securing it in her glove for the out.

  Caroline felt the pitcher’s relief as she
watched the girl jump up and down before running to give her outfielder a hug. She knew that feeling of victory well. But she also felt the disappointment of the hitter. The pain of having been so close, but to come up short.

  There were two sides to every win. Two stories for each loss.

  Caroline sighed, glancing at the time on her Fitbit. 7:04. It was early enough that she wasn’t ready to go home, but late enough that she wasn’t sure what to do, besides go back to driving around.

  She climbed down from the bleachers, sticking her arms in the pouch of her sweatshirt. Head down, she started the walk back to her car.

  “Caroline?” a voice called out.

  She turned and looked, worried about who could have recognized her here, after the incident at the open house. A blond head and green eyes peered out from the window of the concessions stand. “Ryan?”

  “What are you doing here?” Ryan stepped outside.

  “I could ask you the same thing.” Caroline tilted her head as he walked over to her.

  “Just doing some volunteering.” Ryan laughed. “What about you?”

  “I was just driving around and saw the lights. I guess they kinda drew me in.”

  Ryan nodded his head. “So, how have you been?”

  Caroline watched his eyes, seeing if he was being sincere. “I’ve been okay. What about you?”

  “I’ve been okay too.” He hesitated, looking down at the ground before making eye contact again. “What are you up to, now that the game is over?”

  “Um…” Caroline bit her lip. “I’m really not sure.”

  “Would you want to head over to campus, maybe get something to eat? We could catch up a little. No pressure though. Just a thought.”

  Caroline looked at him, not sure of what to say. Maybe she had been too quick to end things. Maybe she should have talked to him, given him a chance to understand what she was going through and where she was coming from. Maybe he had changed and missed her.

  Maybe this opportunity to catch up was just what they needed.

  Twenty-Four

  The student union was so empty and quiet that Connor could hear the buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead. Having just taken what he could assume was the last final exam being offered on campus for the semester, his plan was to grab a quick sandwich from his favorite deli before heading home for Christmas break.

  He paid for his food, taking the bag in his hand, and turned to pick a seat. A few people were scattered throughout the tables, but one couple sitting together caught his eye. He felt his stomach drop, losing his appetite.

  Caroline, no. You can’t go back to him. Connor ducked into a booth before they could see him. He sat on the edge of his seat, gripping the table, watching her.

  Ryan was talking nonstop, that much was obvious. Caroline was listening and nodding her head every now and then. But Connor couldn’t get past how sad she looked.

  He had never meant to make her fear worse. He had just wanted to help her. But maybe he had moved too fast. Maybe Edison had been too much for her.

  He just wished he knew.

  Edison had regressed with Caroline’s absence. He was back to being fearful of everything and everyone. The walls of his stall were covered with new kick marks. He was going to hurt himself, or someone else, which was why his parents had made the difficult decision to have him euthanized. Tomorrow.

  It hadn’t been easy, and they had been agonizing over it for weeks. They had tried everything they knew to do to get close to Edison, to touch him, but he didn’t let anyone near him. He wouldn’t let anyone in.

  All he wanted was Caroline.

  Connor exhaled with a shaky breath, hating the thought of losing them both. He settled back in his seat, leaving his food untouched, staring at Caroline. He wished he could have a chance to say everything he should’ve said since he told her he knew about her accident. He’d been rehearsing it in his mind every day since.

  An idea popped into his head, something that he should’ve done sooner. Days ago. He reached into his backpack and pulled out his laptop. It took a couple of minutes to open up and to log in to his email account. He typed Caroline’s name into the “to” box and selected her email address as it popped up.

  Connor stared at the vertical line flashing on the blank white space in front of him. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. God, please, give me the words.

  His fingers found the keyboard, clicking away as he opened up his heart. He wasn’t much of a writer, but he had to at least try. He couldn’t give up on her yet.

  And he wouldn’t until she knew everything he had to say.

  Twenty-Five

  Wide awake, Caroline stared at the ceiling. She was exhausted, but she was too afraid of the dreams that were waiting for her on the other side. Sitting up, she threw her blankets off her legs and turned on the bedside lamp. She padded across the carpet and sat down at her desk.

  She moved the cursor of her laptop, waking it up. A notification dinged as her desktop image loaded, revealing that she had an email.

  Connor’s name screamed at her from the top of the screen. Her heart pounded in her ears as she moved the little white arrow over to the message. She hesitated to open it, but she knew she needed to see what he had said. Her mouth popped open as soon as she saw how long the email was.

  Dear Caroline,

  I hope it’s okay that I am writing you. You look so sad tonight, and I can’t help but feel like it is my fault. I guess I want one more chance to try and fix things. And I guess I should back up and say I’m not stalking you. I just happened to be in the union getting some dinner, and I saw you with Ryan. Whatever happens, or doesn’t happen, please, don’t get back together with him. You deserve so much more. But I’ll do my best to keep my opinion on that to myself.

  Caroline chuckled under her breath. No worries there, Connor. She hadn’t enjoyed her evening with Ryan at all. He hadn’t asked her about anything, not about her classes or her parents. He had just talked, or bragged, about himself and about baseball. It had been a waste of time. She blinked as she found her place on the email and kept reading.

  Caroline, I’m so sorry for whatever happened at the open house that made you even more afraid. And I’m sorry if I did the wrong thing by not telling you I knew who you were from the beginning. I promise you everything I did, or didn’t do or say, was an attempt to help you. You have such a gift with horses…I just wanted you to see that.

  Horses aside, I wanted to answer my own question. I asked you who you were, and you told me you didn’t know. You are a great person. You are a person who has dealt with a lot of pain and loss. You are a girl with a gift. And most importantly, you are a girl God cares about. I’ve read a few verses this week that I wanted to share with you. I’m sure you’ve read them, back before you didn’t believe.

  Matthew 11:28–30: Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

  Romans 8:28, 38–39: And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose... For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

  And the last one, Jeremiah 29:11: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

  I know in the middle of loss, it is hard to believe that He cares. If He cared, He would have kept the bad stuff from happening, right? Believe me, I’ve struggled with these thoughts myself over Emily. But I’ve come to understand it doesn’t work that way, even if we wish it did.

  God is the master planner and creator. He sees an image and a story that we can’t eve
n dream of. He can use our pain and our loss, and our doubts, to fulfill His plan. We just have to trust Him. I know this is all easier said than done.

  If you hadn’t lost horses, you never would have found softball, and I’m sure there are people in your life that you love, that you never would have met without playing the sport. On the other hand, if you hadn’t lost softball, you probably wouldn’t have met me. And who knows, maybe right now you’re wishing you hadn’t. But I, for one, am glad you did. Our friendship became really important to me this semester, and even if I never hear from you again, it’s something I will never forget or let go of.

  I had never told anyone about Emily before, and it was great to finally be able to talk about her, especially to someone who knows that kind of pain. I’ll always be thankful to you for that. Maybe that’s the end of our story. You came into my life for a season, so I could share Emily’s memory, and now you’re gone. I hope that’s not the end, but again, I don’t know God’s plan here.

  I wish I had the answers for you, but I don’t. I believe your gift and your purpose have to do with horses, with Edison. But even if they don’t, I need you to know that God does have a purpose for you, that He cares about you, and that you matter to Him.

  And that I care about you and that you matter to me, too.

  Caroline wiped away the tears from her cheeks. She wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe God still cared about her, but she just didn’t know how. She blinked, so she could read the last part.

  I feel like I’ve rattled on here and not made much sense. But I can only hope God does what I can’t do.

  There’s one last thing I have to tell you, even though it kills me to do so. Edison has gotten worse, much worse, since the incident at the open house. We’ve made the impossible decision to euthanize him tomorrow before he hurts himself, or someone else. He’s just too dangerous and unpredictable. It’s heartbreaking, and a last resort. I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty or to make you feel like you need to do anything. I just thought you would want to know.