by Lindy Zart
“Fourth husband owned this Godforsaken motel,” she said with a grimace.
Sara gave her a surprised look. “You don’t like it? You take such good care of it. The housekeepers do an excellent job. The outside is clean and well-maintained and the flowerbeds are so pretty. It’s a nice place, Dana. Truly.”
Dana sat up straighter at the praise. “Of course it is. As you said, I take good care of it.”
“Where is the fourth husband?” Sara asked, hiding a smile behind her coffee cup.
She snorted. “Don’t know, don’t care. He split, leaving me with this place.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He was a liar and a cheater and I’m glad to be rid of him. Plus, I love this place.”
Sara didn’t point out that Dana had just contradicted herself. It wouldn’t do any good. She was crabby and also refreshing at the same time. Sara thought her placement here, in this town, in this motel, near Dana, was perfect. The ache for Lincoln was there, always, but she was doing okay.
“You’re my date for the fireworks,” Dana announced, finishing off her cinnamon roll.
“Your date?”
“I sit out on the deck and watch them. You can keep me company. Not like you have anything better to do anyway, here without your man like you are.”
Sara stiffened, lowering her coffee cup. “What?”
Dana got to her feet, her knees cracking, and rolled her eyes. “Oh, you. It’s obvious you’re hurting. I know all there is to know, Sara. A look like that in your eyes; it’s from a man. I’ve had it in my eyes many times. You love him,” she stated bluntly.
She looked at the partially eaten cinnamon roll, fingers tightly clenched around the coffee mug. “I do.”
“You love him, yet you’re here. Why?”
“My husband—“
“Is dead,” Dana interrupted, moving to the door. “I’ve kept tabs on you, dear, especially after your parents passed. You always intrigued me. Such a somber young child; not talking much, always observing. You were special, even as a child. And obviously there’s a man out there that feels the same. Some people aren’t lucky enough to find love once, and you’ve found it twice. Remember that.”
***
Who are you? Sara stared at her lightly tanned reflection, waiting for a response that only she could provide. Her brown eyes were brighter than they’d been in recent months, but a hint of sadness could still be deciphered, if one really looked. Sara swiped hair behind her ears and leaned toward the mirror, searching for a glimpse of the woman she’d been two years ago, before the wreck that had splintered her life apart into tiny pieces had occurred.
Sara couldn’t find her. She couldn’t remember who she used to be. That woman was lost, gone, never to be found again. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to be found. Maybe finding herself wasn’t about going back to who she used to be, but instead was about accepting everything and learning to live, not in spite of, but because of, all she’d gone through. Maybe this woman, looking back at her, was the Sara she was meant to be. Scarred in all ways, slightly ruined, imperfect, but alive.
The girl who’d lost her parents and found hope in a man when she’d worried it was all but gone; that wasn’t her. The young woman broken by the loss of a child and repaired in the eyes of her love wasn’t her either. And the woman weak and full of self-hate and regrets; grieving for all she could not change and was unable to live without; that was no longer Sara as well. This was her, whoever she was; this woman staring back at her. Remade, reborn, reconstructed into a woman able to hope and love not in spite of what she’d been through, but because of it.
She turned the light off and left the bathroom, the pull too strong to ignore. Sara scrolled through the saved names on the cell phone, pausing on Cole. Her thumb caressed the name and number, the pang in her heart bittersweet, but not overwhelming as it used to be. She hit Send just to hear his rough voice drawl on the voicemail: “I ain’t here so call Sara. Don’t leave a message. You know I won’t listen to it.”
A smile stretched her lips and Sara let her head fall forward, her hair blanketing the sides of her face. She closed her eyes and memories and scents and touches enveloped her, peace coming with them for the first time. She hadn’t had the heart to disconnect the service to Cole’s phone, but it was something she would do when she returned to Boscobel.
The phone rang, startling her. Sara fumbled not to drop it and stared at the screen. It was Lincoln. She shouldn’t be surprised, since he hadn’t missed a day in the past five weeks since she’d been gone, but she always feared one day there wouldn’t be a phone call from him. Sara was frightened that one day he’d realize it was too much trouble; loving her.
“Hello?” When Lincoln didn’t speak, and she’d been fairly positive he wouldn’t, Sara began, “It’s so beautiful here, Lincoln. The scenery is green, lush, peaceful. You’re probably wondering where here is, aren’t you? About that…I didn’t tell you not because I didn’t want you to follow and I was afraid you would. That wasn’t it at all. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid if I did, I’d be the one to leave before I should; I’d be the one to run back to you before I’d found myself. Not that that has happened anyway. The finding me part. I don’t know if I can. Or if that’s what I’m supposed to be doing.
“I mean, I got part of what I wanted. I do feel better. I do feel a peace I didn’t before I left. The rest…I’m finding it as I go. I’m finding…me. I think. I still don’t know who I am or who I’m supposed to be. Maybe I’m not supposed to figure that out and that’s what I had to figure out.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I had to travel all the way to where I did to figure myself or not figure myself out. I don’t know. To get away from everything that reminded me of him, to heal. And I don’t mean you when I say things I needed to get away from. You know what I mean. Or maybe you don’t.
“I want to ask you to wait for me, to keep loving me, to not decide I’m a waste of time, but I don’t feel like I have the place to tell you that. Do I, Lincoln? I can tell what you’re thinking. I mean, even now, when you’re not talking, I can feel your anger. You’re bristling with it, aren’t you? So stubborn. Why have you loved me for so long?” Sara whispered. “I don’t think I’m worthy of it. But I guess it’s not for me to decide who loves me or doesn’t.”
Sara walked to the sliding glass doors and looked out at the pink and orange sunset, placing a hand on the cool glass, touching the sky. “I guess I should admit the obvious: I didn’t find me. I failed in that quest. I came here to find me and found there wasn’t anything to find. The person I used to be; the old Sara, she’s gone. I can’t find what no longer exists. But that’s okay. It has to be.
“It doesn’t hurt as much. I don’t know if it’s because I’m away from it all or if it’s because I’m simply healing. But I can think of him without feeling like my heart is being ripped out. I can think his name. I can say his name. Slowly, painfully, my wounds are closing. I know it won’t take weeks or months to be completely healed. I don’t know if I ever will be. But at least I can breathe without feeling like my insides are being crushed.
“I…” Sara swallowed and turned away from the window. “You don’t remind me of him, Lincoln; you obliterate him. That makes me sad and relieved all at once.” Sara’s throat tightened. “I’m losing him, the part of me that loves him; it’s leaving, fading. I hate that, but I know it has to happen. He’s gone. I finally accept that Cole’s gone. It hurts. I know it will always hurt. But you…you make it stop hurting. I miss you, Lincoln. At first I told myself it was because I was lonely. I told myself a lot of things at first, but I do…I really do. I know…I know you can never replace him. I don’t want that. I see you now, Lincoln. I think I always did, but I wouldn’t let myself. I see you and I—“ She bit her lip to keep the declaration in. The silence from Lincoln was thick and full of longing. She could feel it; hers mirrored his. “I see you. I know that,
if nothing else,” Sara said lamely. “I’m not making sense. Good night. Take care, Lincoln.”
***
The rain pelted against the glass, blurring the darkened world outside the room. Sara stared at the rivulets as they slid down the pane, each one a piece of her past washing away. She looked at her reflection, sucking in a sharp breath at the face looking back at her. It wasn’t her own. A sad smile partially lifted his lips and his eyes stared all the love he had for her, would always have for her, back at her.
“Cole,” she whispered, her tears mocking the raindrops on the window as they trailed down her cheeks. “I miss you, Cole.” Sara’s throat was tight and her chest ached. That part of her heart that would always belong to Cole mourned him. “It scares me that he’s taking over your place in my heart.”
“He’s not taking it over, Sara. You’re just making room for him. You do have the capability to love more than one person.” She heard the grin in his voice, closed her eyes to better hear him.
“But I think of him instead of you. I want him like I used to want you.”
“You should. He’s alive. I’m not. I get it, Sara. I’m okay with it. You’re the one who isn’t and has to be.” A pause. “Take care, Sara.”
Sara lifted a palm to his face and it shifted away like sand in the wind, one tiny particle at a time until only her image could be seen. She couldn’t see him, but his words stayed with her, whether actually heard or imagined. Take care, Sara.
***
“You’re ready to go.”
Sara played with a dandelion in the grass, staining her fingers with yellow. She brushed her fingertips over the soft petals, thinking of Lincoln’s lips. Sara shivered in spite of the humid, hot day; her clothes unpleasantly sticking to her.
“How can you tell?” she asked Dana, glancing to where she sat cross-legged on the blanket, surprisingly sprite for one so old. She wore a purple and hot pink zigzagged shirt and silver capris. Sara wore a more muted down outfit; a white tee shirt and black cotton shorts.
The tree they sat under afforded shade, but little respite from the heat. It had been close to eight weeks since Sara had made the trip to Waupun, lost and confused. She wasn’t either of those things anymore, though she also wasn’t exactly whole.
She and Dana had gotten closer over the weeks, spending more than their habitual morning coffee and doughnut time together; going for walks, Dana playing the local tour guide to Sara, watching movies at night, sitting on Dana’s deck that was connected to the motel. Sara absolutely thought the world of Dana. In her she’d found a friend. They looked like grandmother and granddaughter, but that had little bearing on their kinship.
Dana drank from her glass of vegetable juice, the ice clinking against her teeth as she tipped her head back. “Your eyes. They aren’t so sad. Your back is straighter. You don’t hesitate with every action or word you say. You’re ready.”
It was all true. The oozing hole of agony was shrinking, deteriorating in size and power over her. She could finally breathe again, on her own. And that was what she’d needed before she could begin to absolve herself of responsibility over circumstances out of her control.
Sara pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and gave Dana her full attention. “How did you meet my parents?”
A smile stretched Dana’s red lips. “Darcy and Jim. My second husband was distantly related to them. Very distantly. I met them at a family reunion many, many years ago, before your time. There was something about your mother that drew me to her, much like I was drawn to you; an inner spark, a flame that wouldn’t be snuffed out; a quiet strength that seemed frail, but was stronger than steel. People like that get underestimated a lot, I’ve found. Sometimes they even underestimate themselves.”
“You’ll get no denial from me,” Sara replied, inhaling slowly, deeply of the fragranced air of newly mowed grass, so thankful she’d found the strength she hadn’t been aware she had.
Dana turned her brown eyes to Sara. They were warm and bright. “You look like her, but you also have your father’s chin and eyes and his quiet manner. I’ve always found the ones that are the quietest make the most of their words when they do talk.”
Sara smiled, touching the cross necklace she wore around her neck, thinking of her parents and her husband. “Cole was like that. He didn’t have to say much to get his point across.”
“I met him.”
She blinked, surprised. “You did?”
“At your wedding. I’m not surprised you don’t remember. You only had eyes for him. But his brother, I remember, only had eyes for you. Cole was the embodiment of happiness and his brother was a perfect imitation of brooding. Except when you looked at him. Then he lit up.”
Sara shifted, suddenly hotter than she’d been a moment before. She hated knowing Lincoln had been loving her and hurting because of it, for so long. It made her feel guilty, though she’d had no idea of his feelings for her at the time. But Cole had known. That must have twisted him up inside. Sara hung her head and rubbed her forehead, weary of the past.
“Don’t feel remorseful. We don’t choose who we love. Love chooses us. You love him now. That’s all that matters.”
Sara reached over and took Dana’s leathery hand, squeezing it. “I’m not ready to go, not yet. I want to spend a little more time with you, if that’s okay?”
Dana’s eyes watered and she hastily swiped a hand across them, scowling. “If you really think you need to. What’s an old lady got that a young strapping man doesn’t?”
A smile teased Sara’s lips. “Well, for the moment…me. If you’ll let me stay.”
“Of course I’ll let you stay,” Dana replied gruffly. “I expect you to bring your man friend around sometime too so I drool over him. I don’t get much action these days.”
“Deal.” Laughing, Sara got to her feet and helped Dana up, then reached down to fold up the blanket. She tucked it under her arm, saying, “Much action?”
“Never you mind. Come on. You can help me oversee the cleaning ladies. I think one of them has been snitching soap and I aim to catch the thief.” Her eyes sparkled in anticipation and Sara laughed again, wrapping her arm around Dana’s thin shoulders as they walked back to the red and brown brick rambling structure called Newman Motel.
18
“I expect you to visit within the next few months. I’ve gotten used to you being around. I also need my eye candy fix and your Lincoln will do.”
Sara put the last of her bags in the trunk of the Pontiac and closed it, turning to lean her hips against it. She crossed her arms, squinting under the glare of the August sun. A smile on her lips, she met the fluorescent pink and orange clothed Dana head on. Her hair was teased exceptionally high today in honor of Sara’s departure.
“My Lincoln?”
“Well, he isn’t mine and I know he isn’t anyone else’s. Boy calls every day and says nothing. Crazy lovesick fool.” Dana shook her head, but a smile curved her lips. “He’s yours,” she said definitively.
Warmth trickled through her at the thought. She hoped he was. The phone calls hadn’t ceased as the time had drawn out, giving her encouragement that Lincoln loved her still, that maybe, even though it wasn’t right of her to expect or want him to, he was waiting for her. She felt like she’d been waiting for him for so long as well.
“I promise I will be here within one month, not two. I’ll miss seeing you too much if I go any longer than that. Maybe you could come visit me in Boscobel as well.”
Dana dabbed at her eyes with a wadded up tissue, smearing her makeup. “Well. If you insist.”
Sara reached over to wrap her in a tight hug. Dana’s flowery scent amplified with her nearness and caused a small twinge of homesickness for her in Sara’s chest even though she hadn’t left yet. Sara vowed, “I do.”
The wind blew, scattering fallen leaves and waving tree limbs as though Waupun was saying its own farewell to Sara. She smiled, feeling a closure she hadn’t known was possible. This tim
e away had healed her; not completely, but enough.
“I’m old, Sara. I’ve known a lot of people. I’ve loved a lot. Hell, I’ve married a lot. But you,” Dana patted her cheek, “you’re my girl. I’m glad you picked up the phone and decided to call me. I think I got as much out of our time together as you did, if not more. I always wanted a daughter. You’ll do.”
“Only I’m more like a granddaughter,” Sara teased around the tears burning her eyes.
“Hush,” Dana said, reaching up to kiss Sara’s cheek, her lips papery thin and cool. “I didn’t say how old I was.”
“I’ll call you,” Sara promised, unable to resist the pull to hug her friend once more. She kissed her tight cheek, already missing her.
“You better.” Dana gave her back a pat as Sara turned to get into the car.
Hands on the steering wheel, Sara’s gaze went to the second floor room that had been her home the past few months. Dana walked past the front of the car on her way to the office, waving as she went. Sara smiled and waved back, inhaling slowly around the churning sensation in her stomach. Her nerves were jittery with excitement and fear. It was time to say goodbye to another piece of her life and began a new one. Beginnings and endings; that’s what life was made of. Sara turned the key in the ignition and turned the car in the direction of Boscobel.
***
Sara saw with clarity she hadn’t been able to find before the time spent in Waupun. She knew she could love Lincoln without betraying Cole. Some things, like the blame she’d placed on herself for the loss of her husband’s life, weren’t so easily accepted. But she was trying and that was all she could do. Forgiveness, even for oneself, was earned. Sara was earning it with each thought of Cole that was happy instead of sad; with each smile she allowed herself, with every sunrise and sunset she gazed at with thankfulness; with every breath she felt worthy of instead of unworthy.
She’d been gone a little under three months and she’d been back over a week. It was unusually hot for September in Wisconsin; making her think even the weather could be confused at times. There had been no calls from Lincoln since her return and she wondered why that was. Had he known the exact day she’d come back to Boscobel or was it a coincidence that that was the day he’d decided she wasn’t worth waiting for? The thought made her heart painfully squeeze. Or maybe he was simply waiting for her. He’d waited so long already; too long. Knowing Lincoln had loved her for so years was dizzying, unbelievable.
