by Marci Bolden
His eyes grew sad as he watched her, as if he were having second thoughts about what they’d agreed to do.
“Are you okay?” she asked, closing the distance between them.
“I was thinking about the first time I saw you at that coffee shop.” His lips kicked up into a lopsided grin. “I swear to God, my heart almost jumped out of my chest. You were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. I knew you were out of my league just looking at you.”
She laughed as she sat next to him. “Wish I’d known that.” She nudged him with her elbow. “That was a joke.”
He acted as if he hadn’t heard her. “We were good together back then. I’ve spent a lot of time over the years trying to figure out where we went wrong. My drinking, I know,” he said before she could point out the obvious. “But we went off track before my drinking got out of hand. I think we started a downward spiral when you gave up med school.”
Shaking her head, she disagreed. “We were on a downward spiral from day one, John. You spent our wedding night out drinking with your friends.”
The depression in his eyes deepened. “I remember. Bert kept telling me I was an ass, and I kept telling him you didn’t mind. Boy, was I wrong. Hell of a fight the next day, wasn’t it?”
“We spent the first full day of marriage alternating between screaming and giving each other the cold shoulder. Should have known then. Actually, I guess I did.”
He looked at his hands. “We were kids. That’s all. We were too young.”
“You were twenty-six,” she pointed out.
“And still a kid,” he insisted.
She didn’t counter his opinion. She wasn’t going to be baited into a fight at the heliport while they waited to spread their daughter’s ashes. Drumming her fingers on the tabletop between them, she turned her focus to the framed posters on the wall.
John covered her hand with his, likely to stop her rhythmic tapping. She glanced up to apologize. Tobias had hated when she did that, too, but it was nervous habit she didn’t always have control over.
However, the look in John’s eyes wasn’t one of irritation. He looked sad, almost as if he could cry. “I loved you,” he said with such tenderness her heart ached. “More than anything. I never regretted marrying you. Not once. I regretted not being a better husband. Not being more mature. I regretted not taking better care of you. But I never regretted marrying you.”
Holding his gaze, she tried to think of the right response. She couldn’t say the same. Maybe they were working through some issues during this trip, but she’d regretted marrying him far more times than she hadn’t. She wasn’t going to lie and tell him otherwise, which left her sitting there not quite sure what to say.
“Mrs. Denman,” someone called, demanding her attention.
She stood as a man approached the table. His walk was confident, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Carol supposed that should be a good trait in a pilot, but she would have felt better if he seemed a bit nervous. Her heart had started pounding with anxiety the moment she’d parked outside.
He introduced himself and asked to clarify the instructions on releasing Katie’s ashes. Once she and John verbalized their wishes for their daughter, they followed him to the helicopter. He gave them instructions, showed them where the first-aid kit was and how to use the flotation devices, and then had them buckle in.
“I’ll let you know when I’m going to release the remains,” he said through the headset.
Carol swallowed hard as the helicopter whirred to life. Within a few minutes, they were lifting off. She was nervous, but not terrified like she’d been when they were walking into the water at the beach in San Francisco. However, when she looked over at John, he was clinging to the edge of his seat with his eyes closed tight.
She pried at his fingers until he eased up and gripped her hand in his. When he turned to her wide-eyed, she offered him a comforting smile. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to alert the pilot to John’s panic. Instead, she held his gaze and motioned for him to breathe in and out. He did and by the time they neared the volcano, he was occasionally glancing out the window to look at whatever view the pilot was telling them about.
Carol watched out her window as well, imagining Katie’s excitement if she’d been there with them.
Lookit those trees, Mommy.
Did you hear that, Mommy?
Do you see that, Mommy?
Lookit over there, Mommy.
“I see, baby,” she whispered.
“I’m going to release the ashes now,” the pilot said.
Her heart flipped, knowing another bit of Katie was slipping away. Carol wanted to close her eyes, but she didn’t. She stared down as they flew over the crater created by the 1980 eruption.
The hole seemed symbolic somehow. The earth had been ripped open much like she had been at the loss of her child. The jagged scar on the ground would never fade. Nothing could ever fill the void left behind. The hollow shell of what once was whole would never fully recover.
But life went on. The summit had new growth, wildlife, adventurers. It would never be the same, but it survived. In one way that was an amazing testament to the strength of the mountain, but in another, it was a horrific reminder how very fragile the world could be.
How fragile everything she loved and held close to her heart could be. She knew better than most that life could change in an instant. What was perfect one moment could erupt into a disaster, destroying everything, without warning.
John’s hold on her hand tightened and she returned the gesture, silently sharing a moment for their child. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She was broken enough without seeing his pain.
A full minute passed before the pilot resumed his role of tour guide, giving them facts that might have bored most, but which Katie would have loved to learn.
The flight was short, a little over twenty minutes. Still, she held John’s hand until the landing skids were safely on the ground again. When he released her, she had to flex her fingers several times to get the blood flowing right. They unbuckled as someone slid the door open. She was the first to put her feet on the ground, steadying herself before moving aside so John could climb down.
When he did, he swayed and laughed it off, but when he put his arm around her shoulder, trying to be casual, he leaned on her far more than he had in recent days. The man leading them back to the building reached out, clearly concerned, but she waved him off.
She supported his weight all the way back to the RV, where he dropped into a seat at the table. “You want to lie down?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Water?”
“Please.”
She got a cold bottle from the fridge, cracking the top for him.
His hand trembled, but he was able to take a drink, only spilling a little down his chin. He lifted his eyes to hers as he wiped it away. “I’m sorry.”
Patting his hand, she dismissed his apology. “You handled that ride way better than I did the ocean.”
“I mean for our wedding night. I was a shithead. I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“It matters to me. I screwed up a lot back then.” He scoffed. “That’s putting it mildly, right?”
“I wasn’t perfect either.” Sitting across from him, she played with the lid from his bottle. “I was sad, John. My parents had all but disowned me. I was alone and scared. Even though I was as much at fault, I put most of the blame on you. I didn’t give you a chance. Not really. I wasn’t ready to be a mother or a wife. I don’t think I was that great at either one.”
“That’s not true,” he said. “You were great. You were always great. You put up with too much. You couldn’t have been a better mother to Katie. She was lucky to have you.”
Leaning back, she shook her head. “I shouldn’t have been so strict. I should have… I should have been more fun. Like you. You always made her laugh. Her eyes lit up when you walked in the room, Joh
n.”
“One of us had to be the grown-up. It sure as hell wasn’t me. And you made her light up, too. Maybe you didn’t see it, but I did. She adored you, Caroline. She really did.”
She thought she’d cried herself out on the helicopter until tears filled her eyes and dripped over the lids before she could catch them. “I hope so.”
“Do you think I can make it up to you? Or at least try?”
She swiped her cheeks, then ran her hands over her shorts. “Make what up to me?”
“Our wedding night.”
Cocking her brow, she dared him to say what she immediately thought he was suggesting.
He laughed. “I was thinking a fancy dinner that doesn’t end with me stumbling in drunk would be a nice memory to replace the shitty one.”
“Oh.” She relaxed her death glare. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it? Let’s do that.”
“I’m going to rest while you get us to the RV park. Then we’ll figure out dinner.”
“Sounds good.” She watched him gradually maneuver his way to the bed and practically collapse onto the mattress. Every day seemed to take more of a toll on him than he was willing to acknowledge. Fatigue closed in on him from the moment he woke until he gave in and napped for an hour or two. Sometimes longer. She could no longer ignore that he faded a little more each day. Unlike Katie or Tobias or their lost children, she knew what was coming with John, and the knowledge was starting to weigh down on her in ways she hadn’t expected when she’d started this journey with him.
Climbing into the driver’s seat, she sank down and pressed her hands to her face to muffle the sounds of choking sobs from drifting to the back of the RV.
Instead of waking John, once she had the RV hooked up at the park outside of Seattle, Carol opened her laptop and checked e-mails, responding to a few and leaving more to deal with later. While she was online, she found a few options for restaurants, wondering how fancy fancy was in John’s mind. In her life, fancy was probably more than he would be comfortable with, so she downscaled her usual expectations for a fancy dinner out. She narrowed their options down to an Italian restaurant and a steakhouse. She’d let him make the final decision.
“Hey,” she called. “We should start making plans for dinner.” Moving to the back, she nudged his leg. “You awake?”
Rolling over, he moaned and ran his hand over his face. “What time is it?”
“Almost four. I need to make reservations for dinner, or we’ll never get a table. Italian or a steakhouse?”
He cleared his throat. “Uh, Italian.”
“Good choice.” She left him to wake up as she called the restaurant and reserved a table for six thirty. She was hanging up as the bathroom door clicked closed. Her instinct was to call out to remind him they were at the RV park and he could walk to the public restroom, but she bit back her words. In the grand scheme of things, having to empty dirty water from the tank didn’t really matter.
He’d done a good job of respecting her request to use the bathroom as little as possible. She wouldn’t complain now. While he was in the bathroom, she opened the closet they were sharing and sorted through what she’d brought. She hadn’t considered dinners out when she’d packed, but she did have a sundress that should be nice enough for where they were going.
Planning her dinner outfit came to an immediate stop at the sound of banging behind her. Tossing her dress back on the hanging bar, she closed the closet and turned around in the small space. “John?” The only sound was the continuing thump, thump, thump. “I’m coming in.” She turned the knob and pushed, but the door only moved about three inches before bumping into something solid. When she peered through the crack, her heart sank.
Only his feet were visible. His muscles were stiff and trembling, kicking the wall, as his body seized uncontrollably in the confined space.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Putting both palms against the door, she pushed again. It was no use. Even if she were strong enough to shove his weight aside, there wasn’t enough room for him to sit on the floor and the door to fully open. Sinking to her knees, Carol stuck her arm through the crack and put her hand to his leg.
“It’s okay,” she said as soothingly as she could. “You’re okay.” Knowing he was on the other side of the door suffering broke through what remained of her years of anger and the cool, calm façade she’d developed as a nurse long ago. She rested her head against the door as her heart crumbled and tears filled her eyes. “I’m right here, John. I’m right here.”
Forever seemed to pass before his spasms eased and he gripped her hand. Wiping her cheeks, she sniffed and took a deep breath. “Can you move away from the door, so I can come in? John? Move back a little. I can’t get to you.”
He managed to curl into a ball and she was able to open the door enough to see him. His eyes were dazed, seemingly unable to focus. Drool soaked his chin and shirt. He opened his mouth, but only a moaning sound came out.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. She still couldn’t get to him, but at least she could monitor him with more than a hand on his leg. “That was a bad one, huh?” His response was another inaudible moan. “Just breathe. It’ll pass. Give your body a few minutes to recover.”
She sat, comforting him through the door until she could see his eyes begin to clear as his brain started functioning properly again. His posture straightened somewhat, and his breathing evened out. After a few minutes, he dragged his hand over his chin and blinked a few times before meeting her gaze.
She offered him a weak smile that he didn’t return. “Can you get up?”
With a sense of uselessness, she watched from the door, unable to help until he struggled to his feet and she could open the door all the way. Putting her hands to his face, as he’d done to her in the past, she stroked her fingers over his cheeks, waiting for him to look at her. Their eyes locked, but he clearly wasn’t fully connected to his body yet. Snagging the hand towel, she wiped his chin dry and eased his shirt over his head. He helped as much as he could, which wasn’t much at all. Then she guided him from the bathroom toward the bed.
Instead of scooting back on the bed, he fell with his legs dangling off the edge. She sat next to him and put her fingers to his wrist, checking his pulse. Not that she could do anything, no matter what the count was, but it made her feel as if she were doing something assertive in the moment rather than simply waiting for him to recover. Checking her watch, she noticed how much time had passed and started to stand. John grabbed her wrist, weakly clinging to her.
“Don’t leave me,” he mumbled.
“I need to cancel our reservation.”
“Don’t leave me.”
She stared at her phone sitting on the table, a few feet away. It would take seconds to grab it and return to his side, but walking away from him felt heartless.
Screw proper etiquette. The restaurant would figure out soon enough they weren’t coming. Resting her hand on his chest, she saw a three-inch scar down the front of his left shoulder. That hadn’t been there twenty-four years ago.
Running her finger along the discolored skin, she asked, “What happened?”
“Druggie with a knife.”
“Ouch.”
He moaned his agreement. “I think I can move now.” He struggled, but was able to scoot back on the bed and put his head on the pillow.
“Water?” she asked.
“No.” He held his hand out.
She hesitated in taking it. When she did, he pulled her toward him. Instead of resisting, like her initial instinct told her to, she crawled up onto the bed next to him. Propping her head on the palm of one hand, she let him hold the other.
“Don’t leave me,” he said again.
“I’m right here.”
He lightly squeezed her hand and almost instantly drifted off. Dropping her head down beside his, she watched him sleep. Brushing her hand over his, she stopped when she felt his wedding band. Tracing it lightly, she sighed. The ring she’d p
ut on his finger was a drastic contrast to the one she wore—the one Tobias had put there.
Her ring was gold, too, but the band shone like it was brand new. On their tenth wedding anniversary, Tobias had upgraded the diamond to two carats. He’d said on their twentieth, he’d bump it up to three. She’d laughed and told him he might want to save his money for retirement.
Their twentieth was coming up in a matter of weeks. She’d never know if he meant it. If he really intended to add an even bigger diamond to her ring. She would have told him not to. She would have told him to spend the money on a trip. Someplace they hadn’t been before. Someplace where they could make memories that were just for them.
Rolling onto her back, she stared at the ceiling, thinking of the many memories they’d made in the very bed where her ex-husband now slept next to her. How the hell had her life come back to this? Back to nursing John? Back to seeing him through yet another rough night? How had she ended up reliving the very life she’d run away from years ago?
She’d laugh if it weren’t so damn sad.
Next to her, John heaved a sigh and murmured her name. She put her hand to his chest to soothe him, as she’d done a thousand times during their marriage. He put his hand to hers, closed his fingers around hers, and eased back into his slumber. As he’d done a thousand times.
And like all those times before, the sense of desperation and loneliness that filled her as he slept was enough to consume her and bring tears to her eyes.
Nine
As on many other nights since starting the trip, Carol hadn’t gotten nearly enough rest. On the rare occasions when she did drift off, she’d dreamed of starry nights and staring at the mountains with Tobias by her side. She’d woken with a warm body pressed against her back and a heavy arm holding her down. She would have been content to stay there all day, but her mind started to clear, and she remembered Tobias was dead. The warm body behind her was John’s.
