by Marci Bolden
“Hey,” she said as she rested her palm against the granite. She blinked away the tears gathering in her eyes. “I wish I could talk to you one more time. I need to see you one more time. Then maybe…” She bit her lip as her emotions swelled. “Who am I kidding? One more time wouldn’t be enough.”
Closing her eyes, she pictured the garden he’d grown at their house in Houston. She imagined his voice and the scents and did her best to transport herself back in time to when she used to sit at the little table and watch him baby-talk his plants. She imagined the Salvia dorisiana that had been his favorite. The fruit-scented sage was like a magnet for him. He’d rub the leaves, touch the vibrant buds, and tell the plants how lovely they were.
One memory more than all the others came to surface. She recalled Tobias cutting back a few leaves of a hosta to give a stray bunch of daffodils the sunlight to grow. The flowers had spread beyond the area where Tobias had planted them, but instead of digging them up and relocating them, he had decided to leave them be.
“Sometimes you have to let go of your plans and see where life takes you,” he’d said, justifying leaving the flowers in the wrong place. He’d turned and smiled at Carol as he gave her a wink. He did that when he dropped some subtle bit of wisdom. “Sometimes the universe has bigger plans for us than we have for ourselves.”
Carol had shaken her head and let out a dismissive chuckle as he went back to encouraging the plants to keep growing, even if they weren’t thriving where he’d wanted them to.
Returning her attention to his grave, Carol stared at the markings in the smooth stone. “This was not part of some bigger plan. I refuse to believe this was supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to die.” She sniffed deeply, trying to keep her feelings in check. “Neither you nor Katie were supposed to die.”
The gray clouds above Carol parted enough to let a beam of light shine through. As in Arizona, Tobias was shining down on her, breaking through the clouds in her mind to show her the way out. That made her think of Harold, which made her think of the quartz she’d taken to carrying with her everywhere.
Pulling the stone from her pocket, she brushed her finger over the message.
No Regrets.
Those might not be the exact words Tobias would have used if they could have that one final talk she’d wished for, but that would have been his message to her. If she kept holding on, refusing to let go of the plans they’d made, she was going to wither in the shadows like those daffodils would have. She had to make her way back to into the light, or she would think back on her life with regret.
Carol scoffed quietly. Squeezing the quartz in her hand, she stared up at the beam. “Yeah. Okay. I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.” She kissed her fingertips and then pressed them to his name before heading for the car she’d driven to the cemetery—the car that used to be Tobias’s. Mary and Elijah had flown to Houston when Carol was packing up the house and had taken the car and several boxes back to St. Louis with them. Boxes that Carol still hadn’t finished unpacking.
The drive back to Mary’s went faster than usual, like time was speeding up around Carol. Or like her mind was only half-aware—which was much more likely. That was the tool she’d used to cope. The very mechanism she’d been fighting to unlearn.
She couldn’t slip back into that way of life, where every blurry day was the same as the last because that was easier. She couldn’t keep taking the easy way.
Instead of going inside Mary’s house, Carol sat on the porch, sinking into the same chair she’d occupied earlier in the day when Elijah had shown up. She’d sat on this porch with Tobias so many times over the years, sitting in silence, talking about nothing, talking about everything… The conversation, or lack thereof, never mattered. They’d found harmony simply being in each other’s company. For over twenty years, he was the calm to her storm, and now she had to find a way to soothe herself.
She’d failed miserably up to this point, but she was starting to sort out the reasons why. As Dr. Baxter had told her several times, acknowledging the problem was the first step to solving the problem. And the problem was, Carol had simply been too terrified to let Tobias go. She was too afraid to leave the safe harbor he’d always been for her.
“Where’s your mind, baby?” Mary asked, coming out of the house.
Offering a weak smile and a shrug, Carol said, “The usual.”
Easing into the chair next to Carol, Mary was quiet for a few beats. “Want to talk about it?”
Carol didn’t. However, given her new goal of no longer bottling up her feelings, she said, “I feel like I’m trapped on a sinking ship in a hurricane. I have to jump into the raging waters, and when I do, I know I’ll be able to swim to shore, but…” She smirked. “Well, you know how I feel about water.”
“Jumping means leaving a part of yourself behind that’s made you feel safe for so long,” Mary offered. “The unknown is scary. But hanging on to your grief isn’t a life.”
Carol grasped Mary’s hand. “He’s not there to catch me now. He’s always been there to catch me.”
“You’re not jumping alone, Carol. We’re here with you. It’s not the same, but we’re not going to let you get lost.”
After taking a few deep breaths, Carol nodded and said, “I’m going to head out tomorrow afternoon. Mom’s pretty eager for me to get there. This will be the first Christmas we’ve spent together since Katie passed.”
“And then what?”
“My friend wants me to go back to Houston. She’s going through some tough times right now. I might stay there for a while and see how I feel about things in the spring. Being on the road isn’t helping in the way I thought it would. I think I’d do better if I had a schedule. I’ve had a difficult time sticking to a routine living in an RV.” She scoffed. “If you ever tell my mother she was right about that, I’ll never forgive you.”
Mary crossed her heart as she laughed. “She won’t hear that from me.” Patting Carol’s hand, she said, “I wish you wanted to stay here, but you come back and see me as much as you can.”
Leaning over, Carol kissed Mary’s cheek, thankful for the support her mother-in-law had given her for so long. “You know I will.”
Eight
Carol could have made the drive between St. Louis and her mother’s home outside Orlando in one day, but she’d decided to break the journey into two. She stopped at an RV park north of Atlanta and planned to stay for two days—one to decompress from the time with Tobias’s family and one to prepare to stay with her mother. She loved them all, but she wanted a little quiet time to clear her head in between.
She sat at the table with a plate of leftovers Mary had packed into the RV before Carol left. Turning her laptop to face her, she glanced at the screen and smirked at the slight pout on Simon’s lips. Their call this evening was a video chat, mostly because he got a new laptop and wanted to try out the webcam. He’d been rambling about his new computer while she’d reheated her leftovers.
“Bring those closer to the camera,” he instructed.
“My mother-in-law spoils me,” Carol informed him as she held the plate for him to see. “Mary makes the best ribs. Literally, she’s won awards. Several of them.”
“I want a mother-in-law like that.”
Carol returned the plate to the tabletop and picked up a barbecue-slathered rib. “There’s no way I can eat this without making a mess, so when I get sauce on my face and lick my fingers, you keep your comments to yourself.”
“I make no promises,” he said lightly.
“Did you turn in your letter of resignation?” she asked before sinking her teeth into an incredibly tender chunk of pork.
Simon sank back on his couch and frowned. “Not yet. I know.” He lifted his hands. “We spent hours writing and rewriting, but I don’t feel like it’s ready.” Hours was an exaggeration, but they’d exchanged multiple e-mails and had several phone calls before settling on a final version.
“The resignation
letter is ready,” Carol countered after swallowing. “You’re not ready.”
“I am.”
She shook her head. “If you were, you would have written the letter and turned it in without my input. You’re smart enough to write your own letter of retirement.”
“Your input was valuable.”
She chewed and swallowed another bite. “But not needed. You’re not ready to retire, and that’s okay. Nobody is forcing you to. This is your choice, Simon. Hang on to the letter, and add your signature and the date when you’re ready.”
“I’m ready,” he insisted. “I am, but I also have no idea what to do once I leave.”
Carol creased her brow. “What are you talking about? Just last week, you told me how you couldn’t wait to get to your property in Missouri. All the hiking, the wildlife, the quiet… Remember?”
“I remember,” he mumbled. “I’m too young to retire.”
She laughed at his excuse. “I retired at fifty-one. How old are you?”
He frowned. “Older than that.”
“You love your job,” she pointed out. “There are burdens and challenges, but you love the work. It’s okay if you aren’t ready to give that up.”
Simon was quiet for a few seconds before raking his hand through his hair. “The thing is…”
She waited, but he didn’t continue. “What?”
“I do love the job, but I think someone else could do this better.” He looked at her through the laptop screen like he’d shared some great secret he wasn’t supposed to utter.
She didn’t respond. She needed more information before she could counter his ridiculous notion. Though they hadn’t worked together for over twenty years, she didn’t doubt for a moment that Simon was a perfect fit for the position. He was brilliant, considerate, and kind.
Finally, he continued. “I haven’t accomplished half of what I set out to do when I accepted this position. I keep hitting roadblocks on the budget. The staff complaints are nonstop. The bickering on the board gets in the way of just about everything. Someone else could be more successful. At this point, I have to question if my ego is standing in the way of what’s best for the hospital.”
Carol weighed his words before announcing, “That’s classic impostor syndrome.”
“No—”
“Yes, it is,” she insisted.
He laughed. “Look, you’ve been in therapy for like five minutes. You can’t start tossing out diagnoses yet. You don’t have nearly enough experience overanalyzing psychoses.”
“Please. I’ve been overanalyzing everything since I was six.” She wiped her hands on a napkin and tossed the paper aside. “Also, you don’t have to be a psychotherapist to understand the basic idea of feeling too insecure for the role you’re in. You have a demanding job, Simon. One that is never going to be easy for anyone. That doesn’t make you a failure.”
“I didn’t say I was a failure,” he clarified.
Carol grinned. “Okay, that doesn’t mean someone else can do your job better. That means you’re feeling overwhelmed, which is normal. Maybe you need a vacation instead of retirement.”
“I got home from St. Louis last week.”
“That wasn’t a vacation,” she reminded him. “That was four days of cramming in family time and overeating. Have you considered that maybe an extended break—an actual vacation—would clear your head and make some of these problems seem less insurmountable?”
He pressed his lips together for a few seconds. “I wouldn’t mind hiking around the property a few times before winter sets in. That area is beautiful this time of year. I could probably put in for some time off and fly down next week.” He eyed her, and she knew he was going to ask before he even said, “Would you come see me?”
“I’m halfway to Florida.”
“Not today,” he said. “After I get there. After Christmas.”
Carol shook her head. “No. I’m staying with my mom through the holidays, and then I’m planning to head back to Houston. I miss the city and my friends. One of them is having some marital problems and could use the support. I told her I’d come after the holidays.”
She saw a flash of disappointment in his eyes before he nodded.
“You could still come see me in Missouri,” he told her. “Unless your friend is expecting you by a certain time. I can take vacation later. That would probably be easier anyway. We could—”
“Simon.” The nerves in her stomach tensed and the warmth of a nervous blush bloomed in her chest. The rest of her thoughts jumbled into a tangled web she couldn’t even begin to figure out. She needed to say more, but damned if she could find the right words.
“I’m not asking for—” he started, but she cut him off again.
“I know you’re not.” She sat back. “But let’s be honest. If we’re tucked away in the woods, just the two of us, having a good time… Things happen in situations like that, and I’m not…” Heat filled her cheeks. No doubt she was turning a similar shade to Mary’s barbecue sauce. “I’m not ready for that.”
“So, we don’t let that happen. We’re adults, Caroline.”
“Yeah,” she said pointedly. “We were adults last time too.”
He didn’t argue. He couldn’t. They’d both been perfectly aware that she was married, that having an affair was irresponsible, and they’d done so anyway. Carol had put an end to things before they got too out of hand, but ending the affair didn’t take away from the fact that she’d knowingly, and quite willingly, betrayed her marriage vows to John.
Carol gnawed at her lip as she tried to find the right words. “I would feel like I was committing adultery again. Not to justify what I did, but John was an irresponsible drunk. He made me miserable day after day. Tobias was nothing like that. He was wonderful. He was amazing, and in my heart, I’m still his wife. I would hate myself if I felt like I’d cheated on him. And then I think I’d turn that around until I hated you. I’m not doing that to you or to me or to my husband’s memory. So… No. As nice as meeting you in Missouri sounds, and as tempting as spending that time with you is, I can’t. Because right now, I am incredibly sad and lonely, and I don’t trust myself to make the right choices.”
He nodded. “Okay. I understand. I won’t ask again. However, the invitation is open-ended. I had a good time at dinner last week. I’d like more of that. When you’re ready.”
She knew he would never pressure her to do something, but she was suddenly embarrassed about her need to explain herself. “Me too. When I’m ready.”
“It’s important to me that you know I’m here for you,” Simon said. “I’m willing to help you with whatever you need.”
“I understand where you’re coming from, but I have to figure this one out on my own. Like you have to figure out why you’re having such a hard time retiring.”
She swallowed, waiting, hoping he’d follow her lead and move on from the uncomfortable topic of what may or may not transpire between them sometime in the future.
“It’s the word,” he said. “I’m rejecting the word. Retirement makes me feel old.”
Her smile returned as she teased, “You are old.”
Caroline stood outside apartment number 336. Simon’s apartment. He’d given her the address a few hours prior, after they’d shared a passionate kiss and agreed they could no longer deny the attraction between them. Staring at the number, she wondered what the hell she was doing. She was married—not that her relationship with John had ever been a marriage. He’d spent their wedding night drinking in a pub with his friends. Things had gone downhill from there.
The only reason she’d stayed was because she didn’t have the heart to tear her daughter’s world apart. Katie loved John, and when he could stay sober long enough, he was a wonderful father. That was the problem, though. He didn’t seem to ever be sober these days. His drinking was out of control. So was Caroline’s life.
The only thing that made sense to her these days was the way Simon Miller made her feel.
Calm. Centered. Worthy.
She’d felt the pull between them the day he’d started working at the children’s hospital where she was a pediatric nurse. If she believed in something like love at first sight, she’d have thought that’s what she was feeling. Then again, she had probably watched one too many of those ridiculous romantic comedies.
Even so, she was married. She had no business standing outside this man’s apartment, knowing full well what would happen if she walked inside. Adultery wasn’t something Caroline had ever considered, no matter how far apart she and John had grown. But she also hadn’t considered that John was going to break her down every chance he got.
She couldn’t think of a time when she’d been this low. Before Simon had swooped in earlier, she’d hidden in a hospital room crying after another threat of being fired for tardiness. She wasn’t only upset over the fight with her boss but the fights she had to have every day. Fights with Katie to get dressed, fights with John to do anything, fights with her parents about her life choices, fights with herself about how stupid she’d been to get into this disaster of a marriage in the first place.
But then there was Simon, with his kind eyes and disposition. Everything about him spoke to her, to the woman she’d planned to be before she’d met John Bowman and her life had so quickly spiraled into something she couldn’t recognize.
Was that enough to justify cheating on her husband? Even if he was a lousy drunk?
“The suspense is killing me.”
Jolting, Caroline turned and noticed Simon standing several feet down the hall with a drink carrier and a bag from the doughnut shop on the corner.
“Are you going to knock or not?” he asked with a hint of a grin on his lips.
The heat of embarrassment warmed her cheeks. She put her hand to her chest to cover the telltale signs of her stress. Whenever she got embarrassed, her chest turned bright red and the bloom would spread up her neck until it enveloped her entire face.
Simon tilted his head. “You know I have no expectations of you, right?”
