My Way Home (St.Gabriel Series Book 1) (St. Gabriel Series)

by Cynthia Lee Cartier

  Einstein lay open on the counter so that I could add to and check off my lists. It kept me focused on what I had accomplished, what I needed to accomplish, what I wanted to do when I got back to St. Gabriel, and all the ideas I had for the lodge.

  The phone rang.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, Cammy.”

  “Race? Hi.”

  “I heard you’re moving.”

  “Yes.”

  “To an island?”

  “Yes.”

  “You really are?”

  “You heard it and now I’m confirming it. Yes, Race, I’m moving to an island.”

  “What island, exactly?”

  “St. Gabriel Island, exactly.”

  “That’s the island you’ve wanted to see, the one you went to with Loretta?”

  “Yes, and I’ve seen it and now I’m moving there.”

  “Cammy, an island, thousands of miles away, are you sure about this?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “It’s a rash decision don’t you think?”

  Rash decision? You should know about rash decisions, Race Coleman.

  Maybe he was right. I’d read that it wasn’t good to make any major life changes for a year after a divorce or the death of a spouse. Rash maybe, but I didn’t care.

  “Look, Race, I’m trying very hard not to be hateful to you. But right now, I’ve got to tell you that this really is not any of your business. The house has been sold and the mortgage will be paid off. I would think you’d be pleased.”

  “I don’t care about that, Cammy.”

  “You don’t, suddenly you’re a wealthy man?”

  Yes, of course, your girlfriend’s a banker. She’s probably pretty well off.

  “Race, I really don’t want to talk to you about any of this. In fact, I really don’t want to talk to you at all right now. I hope someday I won’t feel this way but right now I do. Is there anything else? I’m kind of busy.”

  “No.”

  “I’ll see you next Thursday, then.”

  “Thursday?”

  “To sign the divorce papers.”

  “Oh, yeah, Thursday.”

  “Goodbye then, Race.” I hung up and didn’t wait for him to say goodbye back. And then I got really mad. Why did he care what I was doing? Since the day he left, he hadn’t once asked me what I was going to do.

  Why now?

  My whole body hurt and I wanted to crawl out of my skin. I hadn’t felt like that since before I set foot on St. Gabriel, and I didn’t want to feel it again. I slid down the side of the kitchen island, leaned my head back, and closed my eyes.

  I imagined I was sitting on the second floor porch of the lodge, in a white Adirondack chair with my feet up on a matching footstool, looking out across the water, and the phone rang.

  “Hello.”

  “Cammy.”

  “Yes, Race.”

  “Can I come over?”

  “When?”

  “Now.”

  “Why?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “Then talk.”

  “In person.”

  “Honestly, Race, I’m not just saying this. I really am busy. I’m sorting all of the cupboards in the kitchen, going through everything. The place is a mess. I have so much to do. Can’t we talk on Thursday?”

  “No, I need to talk to you now, tonight.”

  “Race, are you okay?”

  What am I saying? Who cares if he’s okay? I care, I still care.

  I was getting angry again, and then I had a flash of panic. “Nothing’s happened to Paul or Janie has it?”

  “No and no.”

  “No and no?”

  “No, I’m not okay. And no, nothing’s happened to Paul or Janie. Cammy, I just need to talk, please.”

  “Are you sick?”

  “No.”

  “Injured?”

  “No.”

  “What is it, Race?”

  “Cammy, I’m just asking to talk, for God’s sake.”

  If Race was anything he was calm, it would be the first and last word I would use to describe him, unflappable, collected, any translation of the word.

  “Don’t raise your voice at me, Race.”

  “I’m sorry, Cammy. I’m sorry. I just need to talk to you, please.”

  He had been in control for the last six months, in control of my life. He had destroyed my life, ripped it to shreds, stepped on it, threw it in the trash and turned it upside down and inside out. That was the first opportunity I had to be in control. It was childish, but I wanted that little bit of control. I could have let him come over but I didn’t want to. I wasn’t going to.

  “Not tonight Race, tomorrow. I have some errands to do in the morning. I’ll be home by noon. You can come by after lunch, about one-thirty.” I knew he had a class at that time.

  Why am I being so mean? Back to the Anger Stage, Oh, how I want to be mean.

  “I’ll be there.”

  “You will?”

  “Yes, one-thirty. Thank you, Cammy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Goodbye.” Again, I didn’t wait to hear him say goodbye and hung up.

  My mind was racing. What does he want to talk about? He’s getting remarried, big ache. He’s going to be a father again, bigger ache. Race had wanted more children. One of his folks is sick—I hope not. He’s dying, no, he said he wasn’t sick. He changed his mind about me keeping all of the equity in the house. I was counting on that money to restore the lodge. Why couldn’t he have told me on the phone?

  I hated not knowing. He was still in control.

  Why did I say he could come over?

  I didn’t want him there. I wasn’t planning on having to see him again in that house, ever again. I closed my eyes and tried to transport myself back to the island, but it was useless. I just kept wondering what he wanted to talk to me about, so I unloaded two more cupboards and added it to the pile.

  It was after three in the morning when I finally went to bed. All that had been on the floor in the kitchen was on the counters, cleaned and priced, ready for the sale. It wasn’t Race’s way but it was my way, and it worked.

  Why does every thought have to start and end with Race as a reference point? It won’t be that way anymore. I am done with Race Coleman. He is my past. I can get past him. I will get past him.

  I trudged up the stairs.

  I should shower.

  I had spent the morning going through the garage, and a layer of dust coated my skin. There were probably cobwebs in my hair. But when I reached the edge of the bed, I let my clothes fall to the floor and slipped under the covers. I’d wash the sheets in the morning.

  After five hours of sleep, I showered, dressed and left the house. I checked on the plants at the animal shelter, stopped by the bank and the post office, took boxes of baby clothes to the community pregnancy center, and picked up boxes for Paul and Janie’s things that Race’s parents would be storing in their garage.

  Race could get his own boxes. He had moved out a few of his things when I was on St. Gabriel, but I had planned to leave everything else in his study, and he could pack when I was gone from the house. Or, I thought, I could make a pile in the front yard and he could shovel it into his jeep when he came by to tell me whatever it was he had to tell me.

  Yuk, he’s coming by.

  I took my time running errands and did everything I could possibly imagine needing to do, and I did a few things that I didn’t need to do, hoping I might be late to meet Race at the house and he’d give up and have to leave.

  But it was only twelve fifteen when I pulled into the driveway. I had to force myself to keep moving instead of just sitting down and waiting for him. I told myself every minute was precious and was important to my future.

  When I answered the door, Race just stood there looking at me, and then his eyes wandered around the entryway, boxes, bare walls. I looked at him, wondering if it would be the last time I might ever see him.


  No, there will be weddings, grandchildren. We will always have the tie of Paul and Janie. But years could go by in between. Will it get easier, seeing him?

  Race’s hair was longer like when he was younger. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt that was snug but not too snug. He had such nice arms and a great chest, and I imagined her touching him, and it hurt. It physically hurt.

  “Hi, Cam, thanks for letting me come over.”

  I pulled the door open wider and stepped aside, but I couldn’t think of one civil or snide thing I wanted to say to that man. He stepped in. I shut the door and we both stood in the entryway, staring silently at each other until Race walked into the living room and sat on the sofa.

  I followed and stood on the other side of the room and said, “So?”

  “Sit down, okay?” He scooted over to make room on the sofa, but I sat in one of the chairs on the other side of the coffee table, on the edge of the cushion, my hands on the arms as though I was ready to run if I had to.

  “Look, Race, I don’t want to be doing this, and I don’t want to be mad or mean. I just want to be done, okay. Just tell me, what is it?”

  “Cammy, I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Leaving you, it was all wrong. I was wrong, so wrong.”

  My breath caught in my chest and held there. I tried to replay what I thought I had just heard, but couldn’t. “What?”

  “I made a mistake, Cammy, the worst mistake of my life, a horrible mistake. I should never have left. You’re my wife. I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you, Cam.”

  I couldn’t speak. I just stared at him with my mouth open.

  “Cam, say something.”

  I still couldn’t speak.

  “Cammy, are you hearing what I’m telling you?”

  “I’m hearing, Race, but I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  “I want you back. I want to know if I can have you back.”

  “What about Sarah Burns?”

  “I’m not with her anymore.”

  Of course, his little fling went south and now he doesn’t want to be alone.

  “When did she leave you?”

  “She didn’t leave me. I left, over a month ago. Cam, I thought our life wasn’t right and that there was something missing. But everything you and I had was missing when I left. I’ve told her I’m still in love with you, always have been, always will be. I told her I was going to ask you to come back to me.”

  “Come back to you, you left me, remember?”

  “Well, I want to come back to you.”

  “Are you in love with her, Race?”

  “No, Cammy, I love you. I did not love her. It was not love.”

  “What was it, then?”

  “I don’t know, but not love, nothing that would have ever lasted. You, what I feel for you is forever.” Race dropped his face toward the floor and laced his fingers through his hair, and I saw that he was wearing his wedding ring. He looked up. “It doesn’t matter what it was, Cam. It was wrong of me to leave. Whatever it was, I should not have done what I’ve done. I should not have let any of it happen. We were forever, Cammy. I meant it when I said it on our wedding day. I made a commitment. A commitment that was important to me. I don’t know why, how I could do what I’ve done. I am so sorry, Cammy.”

  For a brief moment I felt a sense of relief and joy, and then I got angry. He couldn’t come in there, flip a switch, and wipe out everything he had done to me, our life, and our family. Oh, I was really angry.

  “Once again, Race, your timing is not great. I’ve sold the house and I’m moving.”

  “We can get another house. We talked about downsizing when Paul and Janie were on their own.”

  “No, you talked about downsizing.”

  “Okay, we won’t downsize. We can buy a bigger house. Anything you want.”

  “I did buy a bigger house, Race. I bought four houses to be exact, three cottages and a lodge.”

  “You bought a lodge?”

  “And three cottages, and a barn, and a tool shed.”

  “On St. Gabriel?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t have to move there. You can sell and we can look for a house here.”

  “I didn’t have to move there before. I wanted to move there, and I still want to move there. And what right do you have to come in here and think I’m going to change all of my plans because you’ve changed yours? What makes you think I want you back, that I would take you back?”

  “Nothing makes me think it. I was just hoping, praying.”

  “You’ve hurt me, Race. More than you’ll ever know.”

  “I do know, Cammy. I am so sorry, so, very, very sorry. If I could take it back, I would. If I could do it all over… I hate what I’ve done to you, to our family, but mostly I hate what I’ve done to you. I love you so much, Cammy. I’ve missed you so much. I don’t know how I could have done what I’ve done to you, to us. I hate it.” He got up and was moving toward me.

  I held my hand up. “Stay there, Race.”

  He sat back down and rubbed his hands over his face, something he does when he’s overwhelmed, and when he looked up his eyes were filled with tears. “Cam, can you forgive me? Please forgive me. Please try to forgive me. I know it would take time for us to get back to where we were?”

  “Back to where we were? No, Race, there is no getting back to where we were. It’s all different. I’m different. You made sure of that.” I got up and stood in the doorway. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. I’m moving, Race. Do you hear me? I am moving.”

  “Even if it means we won’t be together again?”

  “I won’t let you come in here and drop this on me and make me feel I have to give you a yes or no. You can’t do this to me.” I ran up the stairs, threw myself on the bed, and sobbed the deepest most gut-wrenching sobs I have ever cried.

  An hour later, my eyes swollen to slits, I came down the stairs. Race was still sitting on the sofa.

  “Race, I’m moving to St. Gabriel.”

  “You don’t even want to try?”

  “I didn’t say that, maybe I do. But I’m moving. And honestly, Race, I don’t know if I could ever get past what’s happened, what you’ve done. You were with someone else. You were with her.”

  “I know, Cammy. I am so sorry.”

  “I don’t trust you anymore.”

  His face fell. I didn’t trust him. I had trusted Race so implicitly and I would never trust him that way again. That made me sad. I never again trusted anyone like I used to.

  I think marriage can be tough as rubber, bouncing back from illnesses, deaths, and financial hardships, tough in circumstances. But when it comes to the heart, it’s fragile, which makes any marriage vulnerable. At one time I believed some people were capable of cheating and others simply were not. I believed that. Now I know anyone is capable. Relationships are fragile. Marriage is fragile, a fragile vessel that two people climb into and if they’re not careful the vessel cracks, and if they’re careless, it breaks.

  “Race, I’ve spent the last six months trying to imagine a new life, a life without you, and finally on St. Gabriel I was able to do it. I’m moving, whatever happens with us, I’m moving.”

  I was seeing desperation on Race’s face, and I’d never seen it on him before.

  “Cammy, are you asking me to give up teaching, to leave our family and friends?”

  “Your family and friends, you mean, and I’m not asking you to give up anything. I’m just telling you what I’m doing.”

  “That’s it, then?”

  “If you mean that I’m not staying here and that I’m moving to St. Gabriel, yes, that’s it.”

  He got up from the sofa and walked into the entry, opened the door and looked back. His face was wet with tears. “Do you love me, Cammy?”

  It hurt, thinking it hurt, saying it would hurt more.

  I wish I didn’t, but…

  “Yes.”r />
  When he walked out and shut the door, I walked over to it and pressed my body against it and cried, “What am I doing? What do I know, what do I know?”

  It was like losing Race all over again. I felt myself sinking back into the dark hole. It took effort to carry my own body up the stairs and across the room. I wanted to leave Texas and forget all about Race Coleman.

  Why do I still love him after all he’s done to me? If I didn’t, I could just leave and forget about him. I’m moving, moving to an island to restore a lodge, to live in a cottage. Sara is there, the good Sara, and James, what about James?

  I continued to prepare for my move. I had already set the date for the sale and advertised. In less than three weeks, people would be wandering through my home, buying the last twenty-five years of my life.

  I was in the garage stacking boxes of Paul and Janie’s things that Race’s dad was coming over to pick up, and I saw Race, walking up the driveway.

  He stopped in front of me and stood close. “Cammy, you are the only woman I have ever loved, and I will always love you. I’ll go anywhere to be with you. If you’ll let me, I’ll come with you to St. Gabriel. Please, try to forgive me, Cam.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Questions

  Race and I sat on boxes in the garage and we talked. I wanted to know everything. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was so there wasn’t a part of Race’s life I didn’t know about. Or maybe it was because I thought it might help me understand why it had all happened, why he had done what he did. Maybe it was because I needed to know Race would do anything to save our marriage, and I needed to be assured of where his loyalty was.

  Had he ever had an affair before? That was a question I had thought of many times while he was gone. He promised me he hadn’t. Naïve maybe, but I believed him. I needed him to tell me why he loved me, why he wanted to be with me.

  And then there were the really tough questions. How did it all start with her, and when? Why? What did they do together and say to each other? What was it like with her? He didn’t want to talk about it, but he did. He talked about everything.

  It was all difficult to hear, but the answer to why he did what he did caused a pain that filled me with regret. Race made choices that I don’t blame myself for, but I had done things that caused him to feel the desire to make those choices, things I wouldn’t have done if I had known I was pushing Race away.