A Life Without Regrets

by Marci Bolden

  She was distracted when the bedroom door opened. Her aunt Ellen poked her head in and offered Carol a big smile.

  “Morning,” Ellen said.

  Carol set the picture aside. “Morning.”

  Ellen shuffled in and wrapped an arm around Carol’s shoulder as she sat. After kissing her cheek, Ellen said, “You feel whatever you need to feel today. I’ll keep your mom distracted if you need me to.”

  Carol sighed. “Thanks. I’m going to try really hard to get through. Today is important to Mom.”

  “It’s important to all of us. I can’t remember the last time we were all together for a holiday, but that doesn’t discount how difficult today is for you.”

  Carol patted her aunt’s knee. “I appreciate that. You know what will make the day better?”

  “Coffee?”

  “Coffee.”

  “It’s ready, sweetheart,” Ellen said and then kissed Carol’s cheek. “I’ll pour you a cup as soon as you pull me up off this couch.”

  Carol laughed as she stood, pulling Ellen with her. “I don’t know why you keep this thing. It’s so uncomfortable.”

  “It’s red.”

  Apparently that was all the reason her aunt needed. For now, Carol was willing to let that be enough. If having an uncomfortable red sofa made her aunt happy, that was enough.

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” Carol said as she crossed the hall to the bathroom. She needed to brush her teeth and finish waking up before she started this day.

  When she finally made her way to the kitchen, her aunt had already poured her a mug and her mom was putting pancakes and two slices of bacon onto a plate. Once again, Carol focused on pushing away the looming depression and kissed her mom’s cheek.

  “Eat up,” Judith said. “Then we’ll open presents.”

  “Thanks,” Carol said, sitting at the table.

  She waited for the other two women to join her before she started eating. Despite her attempts at being present, the past pulled her in a thousand different directions. Childhood Christmases filled with fear and disappointment. Katie laughing and chatting excitedly. Tobias spoiling Carol with gifts and promises of a future that was ripped away.

  She didn’t even realize the thoughts had consumed her until her aunt rubbed her back. She took the plate of half-eaten food from Carol.

  Blinking, Carol offered her mom a weak smile. “Sorry. I guess I faded.”

  “It’s okay,” Judith assured her.

  Carol sipped her coffee, surprised to find her drink had cooled to a few degrees above room temperature. Damn it. She’d separated her mind from her body so she didn’t have to feel again. The temptation to confess she’d been diagnosed with PTSD was almost overwhelming, but then her mom let out a breath and sadness touched her eyes.

  Rather than add to the disappointment on her mom’s face, Carol grabbed Judith’s hand and forced a smile. “Are you ready to open presents?”

  Her mom nodded, and they carried what was left of their breakfast dishes to the sink. Shuffling into the living room, Carol went right to the tree to get gifts for her mom and aunt that she’d bought while on the road. They’d made an agreement prior to the holiday that they were giving one gift per person because none of them needed anything and Carol didn’t have storage in the RV for anything nonessential.

  Sitting on the floor in front of them, she snapped a few pictures as they opened the gift bags.

  Ellen gasped when she held up the handmade coffee mug stamped with a recreation of petroglyphs at a site in New Mexico. “This is beautiful, Carol. Thank you.”

  “As soon as I saw that, I knew you had to have it.”

  “Is that what you thought about me when you found this?” Judith asked, holding up her gift.

  Carol and Ellen laughed as Judith scowled at the bottle of margarita mix. Not too long ago, Carol had learned her mother’s aversion to the mixed drink wasn’t the taste as much as her reaction to the alcohol. Apparently her mom got a little unhinged when drinking tequila.

  “It’s a joke, Mom,” Carol said when Judith continued to look displeased. “There’s more in the bag.”

  Judith shoved the bottle at Ellen, who happily accepted the mix so she could look over the label.

  “Oh,” Ellen said. “This is exotic.”

  “Not really. It’s from Arizona.”

  “Which makes it exotic,” Ellen insisted.

  Judith pulled a small jewelry box from the gift bag and lifted the top off. Her scowl softened as her lip trembled.

  “Do you like it?” Carol ask when her mom simply stared.

  Judith nodded. “It’s lovely, Carol.” She pulled the necklace out and held the sterling silver up to show Ellen the two rings forever entwined and the card that spoke of how the love of a mother and daughter would never be broken.

  Carol had bought the necklace shortly after her last visit to Florida, when she and Judith had made amends after years of barely tolerating each other. Pushing herself up off the floor, she helped her mom put the necklace on and then kissed her cheek.

  “Love you, Mom.”

  Judith put her hand on Carol’s cheek. “I love you. I’m so happy you’re here.”

  “Me too.”

  “Your turn, Carol,” Ellen announced. “Get the tall box from behind the tree.”

  Carol crossed the room and snagged the box with her name on it. Though the box was tall and thin, she was quite certain of what was inside. Her aunt always sent art of some kind. That was her thing. Carol suspected she would find a painting. Tearing the paper back, she lifted the top off the box and found a ten-by-twenty-inch frame inside. Carefully sliding the canvas painting out, she gasped.

  Her aunt was an amazing artist who usually stuck with abstracts to express herself. However, the image she’d made with acrylics looked like a photograph. Not just any photo—the painting was an exact replica of the backyard garden Tobias had so lovingly cared for. The garden that Carol had such a hard time letting go of when she’d sold their house.

  So much for not crying on Christmas. The tears welled and fell before she could stop them. “Aunt Ellen,” she choked out, “this is beautiful. Thank you so much. I love it.”

  “I hope the frame is small enough for you to find a place in the RV. If not, you can hang it here.”

  “I know exactly where to put it,” Carol said and then sniffed as she accepted a tissue from her mom. After wiping her eyes, she tucked the painting back into the box to protect the acrylic until she could hang it in the RV.

  “Well, I’m glad I gave you my gift the other day,” Judith said, blinking her eyes dry, “or we’d all be a mess.”

  “Yeah,” Carol agreed. “That would have pushed me over the edge.”

  Judith squeezed Carol’s hand. “Even with the parts of us that are missing, this has already been the best Christmas I’ve had in over twenty years.”

  Carol smiled as she hugged her mom. “I’m glad. It’s better than I expected.” Her mom’s smile slipped, and Carol quickly added, “Because I thought I’d be miserable. I’m sad but not miserable. Thank you both for that. I have one more gift. It’s for all of us.”

  Grabbing a box that she’d tucked discreetly behind a chair, she held it up and showed her mom and aunt. “A five-thousand-piece puzzle of the Salt Lake City skyline. This thing is going to take us years to finish.”

  Ellen clapped her hands excitedly, but Judith let out one of her dramatic sighs. She didn’t care for puzzles nearly as much as her sister and daughter.

  Twelve

  Carol was refilling her wineglass when the phone in her pocket rang. She’d already talked to all her in-laws, so the caller was either Alyssa or Simon. She bet on Simon before she even dug for the device. Seeing his name on the screen made her smile.

  “Merry Christmas,” she said as she pushed the wine stopper into the neck of the bottle. She didn’t know why she bothered since she was pretty sure she’d finish the cabernet before the end of the night. Though her day ha
d been better than anticipated, she was still doing whatever she needed to keep the depression lurking in the back of her mind at bay. Right now, that involved finishing the bottle that had been opened for dinner.

  “Merry Christmas,” Simon answered. “How was your day?”

  She leaned against the counter. “Oh. You know.”

  “Another tough one?”

  “Yeah,” she said softly and then took a sip of her drink. “It was all right. But…well…you know.”

  “I know,” he said with an underlying sympathetic tone.

  Grabbing the bottle, she headed toward the room that she’d claimed for the duration of her visit with her mom and aunt. “How was yours?” she asked.

  “Quiet. The girls were here for about an hour and then rushed off to do whatever college-aged kids do.”

  “Hanging out with friends, no doubt,” Carol offered as she closed the door to the guest room. “Did you go anywhere? See some friends or anything?”

  “No. I did binge-watch some TV shows that have been on my DVR for too long, though.”

  Carol sank down onto the big red sofa. “Sounds like a nice, quiet day.”

  “It was boring.”

  Something in his voice made Carol sit a bit taller. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard something akin to loneliness reverberate around their talks. “Now that your kids are older, maybe you should reach out to friends to celebrate the holidays. You can’t be the only one doing this empty-nest thing.”

  “I’m not. I have friends going through the same thing.”

  “So, plan a Christmas dinner at your place next year. Tobias and I had a holiday dinner every year for friends who didn’t have family in Houston. Spending time with friends gave the day more meaning.”

  Simon was quiet for a few moments. “I’m not going to be here next Christmas.”

  She smirked. “Going to finally turn in that letter of resignation?”

  Again, he was too hesitant in answering. Something was wrong.

  “Simon?” she pressed. “Is everything okay?”

  “Can I be honest with you about something?”

  Her heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach. “Sure.”

  “I think I’m having a midlife crisis,” he said.

  The beginnings of a chuckle slipped from Carol’s lips before she could stop herself. She abruptly pressed her fingertips to her mouth so she didn’t outright laugh. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was expecting you to say something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted, “but not…that.” Guilt tugged at her gut when he didn’t respond. “What’s going on?”

  He exhaled loudly. “Well, I have everything I could possibly want, yet I had a miserable Christmas. I feel a like a secondhand shoe with my kids. I have a great career, a beautiful home, an amazing vacation house in the mountains, but I’ve spent so much of my time working for those things, I don’t have anyone to share them with. What’s the point in having things when you’re the only one who’s ever around to see them?”

  Carol leaned back on the sofa and rubbed her forehead. “Holidays really exacerbate the loneliness, don’t they?”

  “Yeah,” he said so quietly, she barely heard the word. “The last thing you need is to listen to my problems. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “You listen to my problems all the time.”

  “Your problems are a little bit bigger than mine.”

  Even though he couldn’t see her, Carol shook her head hard to show her disagreement. “No. They’re different but no more valid than yours. Depression spikes around the holidays for a reason. Your kids are grown now. I imagine Christmas is vastly different than you’re used to. That’s hard, Simon. I’m sure you miss the way things used to be.”

  “I miss you,” he blurted out.

  The silence between them was heavy.

  Carol licked her lips before saying, “I know.”

  “I don’t think you do,” he countered.

  “Simon,” she stated before he said too much. Her heart pounded in her chest as she lowered her defenses. “I know. I miss you too.”

  “Probably not the same way.”

  Carol had known this conversation was inevitable from the day his occasional check-ins had turned into almost daily calls. She’d seen this coming a mile away. She’d even warned Simon she wasn’t ready for where this was headed. Yet, she hadn’t stopped them from going in this direction, and she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t know why. Twenty-four years may have gone by, but being with Simon was as easy for her now as it had been back then. He had the kind of calm she’d lost when Tobias had died. The kind of calm she needed more than anything right now.

  She ground her teeth, trying to stop herself from saying what she was thinking, but the words won. They slipped out for him to hear. “This thing…it’s the same as it’s always been. I’m falling apart, and you’re here trying to put me back together. Just like all those years ago, there’s a part of me begging me to run to you.”

  “I like that part of you,” he said. “You should listen to that part.”

  A smile pulled at her lips. “I’ve been tempted, but I have to be careful. For both our sakes. Running to you would be so easy. Being with you has been easy from the day we met.”

  “Because we’re good together, Caroline.”

  She closed her eyes. “Being good together didn’t make our relationship right twenty-four years ago, and it doesn’t make a relationship right today. I have too much to work through before I can even think about starting something new. I’m a big steaming pile of emotional mess right now. You deserve better than that.”

  He chuckled. “You’re my favorite big steaming pile of emotional mess.”

  Carol laughed softly. “But you deserve better. I couldn’t give all of myself to you then, and I certainly can’t right now. That’s not fair.”

  He was quiet for a few seconds. “I’m sorry. I’m pushing again.”

  “You don’t have to push, Simon. You never did. I could show up at your door like I did before. You’d take me in and make me feel better. I think we’d be happy together.”

  “I know we would.”

  “No. Until I get my head on straight, part of me would be looking back instead of looking forward with you. Part of me would be holding back, too scared to let you in. I don’t want to do that to you. I need time. I’m not asking you to wait—”

  “But I would. I am. As soon as I saw you in Ohio a few months ago, I knew that if you were willing to try again, I was willing to wait until you were ready. One smile and I was smitten, just like back then.”

  Carol grinned slightly. “Well, I have a pretty great smile.”

  “You do. I think it’s that little dimple in your right cheek that gets me.”

  “Okay,” she stated. “Leave my dimple out of this.” Carol finished the wine in her glass and looked at the bottle she’d carried with her. Rather than pour another drink, she set the glass aside. Her thoughts were swirling enough already. She had a million things she wanted to say to him. “I just got a formal diagnosis, Simon. I have to figure out how to tackle this thing. I need to do that before I insert myself into your life.”

  “You’re already in my life.”

  Closing her eyes, she frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know what you meant.”

  “If we do this, we have to do it right this time,” she said softly. “I can’t go into another relationship with you knowing I’m not ready to give you my all.”

  “I understand,” he said, but he sounded disappointed.

  The urge to bend to please him was strong, but she resisted. She had to squeeze her eyes shut and grind her teeth, but she managed to not give in. “If you need to move on—”

  “No,” he said. “I’m still not going anywhere. Even if this never grows into more than a few phone calls a week to check in, I’m okay with that. I just don’t want to lose you again.”


  “Simon,” she whispered, “I don’t want to give you the short end this time.”

  “You never gave me the short end. You gave what you could. I got greedy. And I’m going to again as soon as you give me permission.”

  Sinking down into the couch, Carol looked at the painting of the carefree woman that had connected with something inside her. Inhaling slowly, working up the courage, she finally said, “I’ll give you permission. When I’m ready.”

  “First things first,” Simon said after a few moments. “I’m going to turn in my letter of resignation and help the board find a suitable replacement while you work toward healing,” he said in that take-charge tone she was so familiar with. “After that, I’ll sell my house and move to Missouri. When you’re ready, I hope you’ll join me. In the meantime, I’m going to be in Missouri through the New Year. I would like to see you there.”

  She chuckled. “You’re still persistent.”

  “You love that about me.”

  She loved a lot of things about him but opted to not voice them. Instead, she said, “Okay. First things first.”

  The idea of having something to work toward, a goal to reach, felt right. Knowing that goal was a future, possibly with Simon, was better.

  “So, um,” she started. “Did the girls like their presents?”

  Though she’d instigated the topic change, she only half listened as he told her how his daughters had loved the clothes Carol had helped him pick out online one evening. The rest of her mind was processing the reality that she’d taken the first real steps to moving on from her life with Tobias.

  There were times when Carol was tempted to pinch herself. Sitting with Tobias at a little café in Paris was definitely one of those times. This was their third trip to Europe, and she still couldn’t believe this was her life. All the things she’d ever dreamed of for herself had come to pass. Almost all. She hadn’t had the family she’d wanted, but she had nieces, and over time, that had become enough.

  More than anything, she had an amazing husband who had helped her live the most fulfilling life she could have ever imagined having after losing Katie.