The next day brought with it more of the relentless heat that came down from a blazing blue sky and offered not one cloud or possibility of rain. Joshua rose early, as was his habit, and sat on the weather-beaten deck surrounding his house and drank his coffee. The hot steam mixed with the impossible humidity irritated him like a fly that eluded a flyswatter. He waited for one of the stirring breezes that normally passed through his soul and got him moving, but this morning, it didn’t come. Instead, the stagnant air surrounded him like the heat surrounds a flame, and he sat there for longer than he should have.
He thought about Edgar’s proposal and how he should be grateful for such an offer. It would certainly allow him to give Isabelle the kind of life she deserved. But that was something he wanted to do on his own.
Isabelle.
He hadn’t called her the night before as he normally did. He’d been too upset about Edith’s regression and the fallout with Edgar.
Joshua sat there looking into the glass-green ocean and watched the surf inch closer and closer to the edge that was his life until he heard the mail slot creak open and the soft thud of envelopes landing on the hard wooden floor.
Propelled by an unseen wind, he eased out of the sun bleached wooden chair and moved toward the front door where the bundle of letters had landed. Stooping to pick them up, he noticed the lavender edge sticking out among the meaningless white of the others. Isabelle, he thought, feeling at once a happy anticipation and guilt-driven fear.
He took the mail outside and resumed his position in the wooden chair. When he loosened the string that bound the letters, the lavender one with the ornate script seemed to separate itself from the others, as if it were demanding to be read. He noticed the lack of a return address, stuck his thumb under the flap and tore it open.
“Joshua. Joshua, didn’t you hear me knocking?”
Isabelle. Joshua put aside the lavender mystery and looked up at her. He knew instantly that she was leaving him. The plump dimple at the corner of her mouth was flat, and the shine in her eyes had dimmed. Even the light colored tips of her red mane had hardened, and now sat stiff, as if forced to curl unnaturally.
“We have to talk,” she said, sitting down next to him.
He closed his eyes and felt the depths of his stomach begin to stir. He shifted, as if to change what was about to occur, and looked at her, his eyes desperately trying to convey what his words could not.
“Isabelle.”
She sat silent for a moment, waiting. When he didn’t speak, didn’t urge her to stay, she stood and brushed down the sides of her long green cotton skirt. Her shoulders fell and her back curved inward, toward herself, away from him. She walked to the far corner of the porch where he kept his telescope. She peered through the lens for so long he began to wonder if he’d been wrong. Maybe she wasn’t leaving.
“I don’t see it either,” she finally said, straightening up and looking at him with eyes that reminded him of his beloved ocean. “I don’t think it’s out there.”
Confused, he stood and walked to her. “What’s not out there?”
She shrugged and moved away. When she turned to face him again, a stray tear hung on her eyelash. “Whatever piece of you your mother took with her when she died. I’ve been waiting a year for you to figure out that what we have is special and true and worth the risk, and I believed when you did, you’d be whole again and make room in your life for me.”
Again, he wordlessly moved toward her, and again, she moved farther away from him.
“But you can’t do it, can you? You can’t take the risk, not even for us?” She looked toward the telescope, angry now, and moved towards the gate on the porch.
“I’ve tried to tell you for months that I can’t continue like this.” She stopped and wiped away a tear. “I’ve tried to make you understand that I can’t just hang on hoping you’ll eventually realize how special we are… what we could have together.” She hesitated and then became focused, determined. “But you can’t do it. You won’t commit to a future with me.”
He moved toward her, reached for her.
“And now it’s too late. I’m leaving Bell Island, Joshua. I’m going to get on with my life and I can’t do that living in the same town as you.” Her face softened for a moment. “I’m sorry, but staying here would hurt too much.”
Joshua felt the force of despair lodge in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, to beg her to stay, but his words failed him, as they had so many times before.
It was only after the gate closed shut and he heard the sound of Isabelle’s car engine start up that the words swam up and came bursting out into the air.
“Please stay.”
Inspirational Women's Fiction Sampler Page 18
