He went inside the closet and pulled the box out from underneath a pile of blankets and a shirt that had fallen off its hanger. It was time.
* * *
JD carried the box from the closet and set in on the bed. He ran his hand over the tape on the seam before ripping it open. Carefully, he emptied the contents onto the satin comforter. The papers that tumbled out were invitations to charity events and fundraising dinners, a calendar, empty envelopes... The contents of Darla’s desk.
After he’d sold their house in Red Valley, he’d dumped the drawers of her desk into the box without even going through it first. He hadn’t been ready to look what was inside.
JD looked at the pile of papers and sighed. When he’d boxed up his wife’s home office, the scraps of papers meant the world to him. They were his last connection to the woman he’d lost. Now they were just a pathetic reminder of the life he wouldn’t have. But was that such a bad thing? He could make a new life for himself. Until now, that thought hadn’t crossed his mind.
Mel sniffed at the papers. Could he smell Darla’s scent? It was probably long gone by now. The dog settled down by the foot of the bed, remaining in the room for moral support.
A piece of paper with the words MOVE ON caught JD’s eye and he pulled it out of the pile.
“Move on,” JD said out loud and Mel whined in response.
It was a sheet of Darla’s stationery. She had written: “Get boxes and bubble wrap for the MOVE ON 12/1.”
JD remembered this. It was from when the women’s shelter moved to a bigger building. It was just a simple note scribbled in haste, yet it meant everything.
Move on.
“Promise me you’ll play hockey again when I’m gone.” Darla’s voice broke through the evening silence and JD squeezed his eyes shut.
The memory was vivid and her voice was strong and unwavering. They were sitting by the fireplace in the living room of their house in Red Valley. The wine glass in her hand was full, but she didn’t drink the crimson liquid; she just ran her finger slowly around the rim of the glass.
In the past, when JD didn’t have a game the next day or when he wasn’t on the road, he and Darla would have been out on the town on a Saturday night. But Darla was too weak to go out anymore. Her social calendar had been replaced with doctor appointments and treatment schedules. Now that she’d forgone another round of chemo, their calendar was empty and ominous.
But JD didn’t mind staying in. He’d rather have Darla all to himself anyway.
“JD? Are you listening to me? I asked you to promise me you’ll play hockey again when I’m gone.
“Darla, I wish you’d stop talking like that.” How was he supposed to treasure his last moments with her when all she talked about was his life after her death? Not only did he not want to talk about it, he just couldn’t fathom life without her.
“Why?” she asked.
“Honey, I don’t want to think about that right now.”
His tone was gentle yet firm but she pressed on anyway. “You need to,” she insisted. “You should be playing right now…”
“You know I couldn’t concentrate on hockey right now.”
“I know, but… Just promise me you’ll go back to it, okay?”
Was that a promise he could make? Would he be able to play again? Did he even want to? Without Darla…
Finally, he relented and promised her and she sighed with relief. “I’ve made my peace with the cancer, JD. It’s okay.”
No, it wasn’t okay, he screamed inside his head. She couldn’t just give up.
“I’m not giving up,” she said as if she could read his thoughts. “I’m being realistic. This is going to happen and we can either accept it or spend needless, precious time trying to fight the inevitable.”
They sat in silence for a while but JD knew she had more to say on the subject.
“I want you to know that after I’m gone, it’s okay for you to be with someone else,” she said softly.
“No, Darla,” he smacked the thought away. “I don’t want to be with anyone else.” He set his wine glass down next to hers on the table and turned to face her.
“You’re not eighty years old, JD,” she said, facing him with equal determination. “You’re young and I don’t want you to die old and alone and miserable all because of me. Promise me you’ll be open to loving someone else.” She cupped his face in her hands. “Promise me.”
Blinking rapidly, he pulled back. “Why would you tell me something like that?” His chest tightened and his throat ached. They weren’t supposed to be talking about this. They were supposed to be planning what to eat for brunch on Sunday or where to go on vacation this summer or what color to paint the nursery. But there would be no future plans. There would be no baby. “Why?”
“Because you have so much love to give.” He shook his head and she continued. “What if there’s someone else out there who could benefit from your love? I can’t die knowing you’ll stay alone forever because of me.”
He balled his hands into fists. “You’re not going to die, Darla. Stop talking like that.”
He didn’t want to even think about loving another woman besides Darla. She and only she was the love of his life. They’d built a life together. They’d recited vows to each other and made plans for the future. It wasn’t over. There was still a chance…
“I have to talk like this, honey. We have to face reality. This last round of chemo—”
“I know!” he cut her off, not wanting to be reminded of the failed treatment. “So we’ll try another one.”
“This was already the third round, honey,” she said gently. “My body can’t handle anymore.”
He swallowed and blinked back the tears burning his eyes. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
“I’m telling you that it’s okay to move on. This is important to me. Years from now when you meet someone, and you will meet someone, I don’t want you to turn your back because you’re worried about honoring my memory. I’ll have to come down and bop you on the head with my halo.” She laughed weakly at her own joke.
He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in her smell. He made a mental note to remember how she fit in his arms, how her head rested against his chest, how soft her skin was. He wouldn’t remember her how she was now, with a bald head and translucent skin and hollowed face. He would remember her like she was last year, with long golden hair and a smile that lit up the room.
“Promise me you’ll be open to loving someone else,” Darla pleaded. “Please.”
JD would have promised her the moon if it would get rid of the tumors.
“I promise,” he said.
The voices from the past—her voice—quieted in his head. She’d already told him what he needed to hear. There was nothing left to say.
JD opened his eyes and he was alone in his room again with Mel snoring softly at his feet. He went through the rest of the paperwork to make sure he wasn’t throwing away anything important, and at the bottom of the pile, he found an envelope with his name written on it.
His chest tightened and he sat on the edge of the bed before his knees buckled out from under him. He knew exactly what this was.
Before she died, Darla had written letters to all of her friends and family. Everyone except him. He told himself he didn’t need a letter from her to validate their love for each other. The years they spent together were more important than words on paper.
JD pulled the letter from the envelope and recognized Darla’s monogrammed stationery. She had written him a letter after all.
Dear JD,
I have saved your letter for last because I knew it would be the hardest to write. You’ve been by my side every step of the way and I couldn’t possibly thank you enough for that. My life was enriched as a result of knowing you and being loved by you. We had a good run, sweetheart. I like to think I made a difference in people’s lives and you certainly made a difference in mine.
I was lucky enough to fin
d you and experience firsthand what most women do not. You showed me what it was like to feel like the only one in the room even when it was full of other people. You taught me what it feels like to be loved, unconditionally, and the meaning of tenderness, patience and trust.
But this is not the end, JD. Please, live the kind of life I would have wanted for myself. Cherish every minute of it and take nothing for granted. Leave the past behind you where it belongs.
You have more talent in your little finger than most of the players out on the ice today. Don’t squander that talent. Don’t let your grief be for nothing just because of me. Let yourself be open to love. You have so much to give and you deserve to receive it in return. I believe there is someone else out there who needs you like I did. Don’t let my death put a lock around your heart. If there wasn’t such a thing as loss, then the moments when we gained wouldn’t be so sweet.
Hold on to our memories, but not so tight that your hands aren’t open to hold someone else’s.
I love you.
Always yours,
Darla
JD looked down at the wedding ring on his left hand and wished it could have offered him comfort this past year. It slid from his finger a lot easier than he thought it would. The ring felt heavier on his palm than it had on his finger and he ran his finger over it and sighed. There it was. A band of gold. Representing their love and commitment to each other. During their five years of marriage, they’d been faithful to each other. Then why did he feel like he was being unfaithful to her now?
JD slid the letter back into the envelope and tucked the ring inside with it. He went to the window on the other side of the bed and pushed open the drapes. Sunlight washed the room in golden warmth. A bird landed on a tree branch outside and JD froze, studying it. It was pinkish gray-brown with black spots on its wing and it had a black dot near its eye like a beauty mark. He should have known what species it was, but he didn’t. Lauren would know in a heartbeat.
Then it hit him like a slapshot to the chest. It was the dove, the one from the photo she’d shown him. The one who made that dreadful sound that made his heart ache when he heard it. It sat so still, like a statue, and then flew off just as quickly as it had come.
JD turned back to the bed and shoved the papers back into the box. He didn’t have to keep a box full of crinkled papers and broken souvenirs to remind him of his time with Darla. He kept the memories of her inside his heart and that was enough.
Chapter Eighteen
Chicken and Waffles
The next day and the one after that, JD left the curtains open. It was refreshing to let the sun shine in, but at the same time he felt exposed to the world. Why was that? It wasn’t like there was anything out there. Just grass and clusters of trees along the creek in the distance. It wasn’t like there was anyone out there looking in at him. It was just him and Mel and all the nature they could handle.
But instead of being outside surrounded by nature, JD chose to spend the morning exercising. What could he say? Some old habits die hard.
He ran full speed ahead on the treadmill and his lungs burned, but it just didn’t feel the same. Running on the treadmill used to be enough. A lot of what used to be enough wasn’t enough these days. When had that changed? He knew good and well when things started to not be enough. After he saw Lauren in the field, he’d begun to second guess himself and the choices he’d made this past year.
After the second mile, the fact that he was running and getting nowhere hit him full force. He climbed off the treadmill and punched in the stop command. The belt came to a halt and he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
It was a beautiful day outside, just like every other day, so JD brought his weights and jump rope outside. It wasn’t because he hoped to see Lauren. Or so he told himself.
Things were different between them now. Not in a bad way. Far from it. Ever since they’d bared their souls and secrets they were closer than ever.
Mel was delighted by JD’s sudden interest in the outside world, but the fun soon wore off when he realized JD wasn’t going passed the patio.
Instead, JD assumed the push-up position and started counting.
Mel whined and looked in the direction of the cottage.
“No,” JD warned the eager dog. “Stay.”
JD continued his workout with mountain climbers, jumping jacks and jump rope. Sweat dripped into his eyes and rolled down his back.
All of a sudden, Mel let out an excited yip.
JD looked up and saw the giant floppy hat bobbing above the tall grass. The corners of his mouth curved into a smile. “Okay,” he murmured.
Mel shot forward like a bullet. He was a blur of blonde fur until he disappeared into the grass. The hat stilled and then disappeared when Lauren bent down to pet him. After a few minutes, they both emerged from the grass.
Lauren was fresh-faced and beautiful in the afternoon sun. The giant hat shadowed her face, but he could still see the freckles that dusted her nose.
JD took a swig of water and swiped a towel over his face. Suddenly, he felt self-conscious. He desperately needed a shower and a change of clothes. Sweat seeped through his tee shirt and he probably didn’t smell that great either. Why had he decided to emerge from the safe confines of his house again?
Right. The answer was standing right in front of him.
* * *
Lauren came back from her walk along the creek and saw JD on his back patio. He was leaning against the pillar almost like he’d been waiting for her. She smiled and made her way toward him through the grass. It was nice to see him outside for a change. Really nice. She knew that being cooped up inside of that dark and gloomy mansion couldn’t be good for a person.
He returned her smile and asked, “How’s the bird activity today?”
“Great,” she said, coming to a stop in front of him. “I saw a green heron a ways down the creek and a Northern harrier up in an alder tree. I took some pictures. I can show them to you later if any of them turned out.”
“Okay.” Sweat trickled down on his forehead and he wiped at it with a towel. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”
The question was asked hesitantly like he was afraid to hear the answer.
A look of surprise flashed across her face and then it was gone.
“Sure, I’d love to,” she answered. “All that walking works up an appetite.”
After they agreed on a time, Lauren went to the cottage to change and JD went inside to take a shower.
* * *
JD stumbled frantically around the kitchen. He’d taken a shower, ran into town for groceries and now he was trying to whip up an edible meal. The hours he’d had to prepare dinner was ticking away ominously on the grandfather clock.
It had taken forever just to find a pan and utensils. A lot of good it did for his housekeeper, Veronica, to keep everything clean and organized when he didn’t know where anything was. He’d lived in this house for over a year and didn’t even know his way around his own kitchen. But that wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t like he ever cooked in it or anything.
Out of nowhere, an open cabinet door jumped out and slammed into JD’s leg. He swore under his breath and rubbed the pain from his knee. He felt clumsy and bewildered like some kid on the first day of school with no idea where his classes were. Which was absolutely ridiculous because he was a grown man and he knew exactly where he was. A warzone.
He surveyed the kitchen and cringed. It was a mess and Lauren was due any minute. He cursed himself for inviting Lauren over in the first place. He would have been much better off keeping his big yap shut and eating his normal dinner of boxed macaroni and cheese by himself. Yeah. Good times.
No, he wouldn’t fall into that trap. He was glad he invited her over. How was he supposed to get on with his life like everyone had told him to do when he never made an effort? Well, he was making an effort now and just like he’d feared it was all turning to—
“Shit!” The sauce boiled
over on the stove and he burned his hand on the pot handle. “Pot holder. Where are the potholders?” He looked to Mel for help and the big dog returned the helpless look.
Mel could sense something was out of the ordinary this evening and the more frantic JD became, the higher the pitch of Mel’s whine.
Sauce sputtered from the pan and splattered onto JD’s shirt. “Well, this is just great.”
JD used to have everything together. The perfect, organized life where his only decisions involved which tie went with his designer suit. The Calvin Klein or the Michael Kors? Or which steak to order when he was out to dinner with his teammates. The New York strip or the porterhouse?
This was all Lauren’s fault for agreeing to come over for dinner in the first place. How was he to know she’d actually say yes and send his quiet boring life into a tailspin of chicken and red sauce and twelve kinds of salad dressing?
“Shit! I forgot to buy salad dressing!” He used a towel to cover the pot handle and removed the red sauce from the flame.
Great. Just great. He bought the fixings for a salad but forgot the damn salad dressing. What good were Texas Toast croutons, cucumbers, and baby tomatoes without the dressing?
Maybe Lauren didn’t even like salad. He had to admit he really didn’t know all that much about her. Wasn’t that the entire point of inviting her over for dinner?
JD dabbed at his shirt with the towel and cursed again. He’d forgotten to buy beverages, too. Wine? Was he supposed to serve wine? Would that be too forward? What kind of wine went with chicken parmesan anyway? He didn’t know about that kind of stuff. Darla was the one who cared about the right type of wine being paired with specific foods. Just like he didn’t know the difference between a mallard and a coot, he didn’t know the difference between Chardonnay and Cabernet. His specialties were things a D-man did like blocking shooting lanes, keeping opposing forwards from moving in front of the net, clearing rebounds away from the goal, reading another team’s defensive strategy, keeping the puck in the offensive zone, cutting off breakaways—or at least they used to be. Now, he couldn’t even cook a simple dinner for two.
Wild Ice Page 16
