Meet Cate

by Fiona Barnes

  "I'm sorry we fought, dear," she smirked at him, delighted with the tall, frothy milkshake.

  Mike just grinned.

  Chapter Sixty Seven

  Cate and Mike lucked out, finding a beautiful lakeside cabin to share with Merry at the last minute. Stopping for gas, Cate had inquired, only to find the station owner, Sam, had a vacant place.

  Such small town life appealed to her, Cate thought, as she drove the slim, winding road, following the directions Sam had given her. Merry panted and whined, as if she knew that their destination loomed. Tall pines sat close to the wet, leaf-covered path, along with bare trees in various stages of undress. Only a few sporadic leaves were still covered in red and orange coloring; most littered their way. The sun shone through uneven branches, choosing only to light brief spots then dance on, seemingly unaware.

  Cate inched along, stretching forward and squinting, not used to the forest's quiet light. Spying an opening, she pulled forward into a secluded clearing full of tall pines. Their high branches reached outward majestically, their trunks were knobby and exposed.

  "I think−" Cate bit her lip. "Is this it?"

  Cate had paused the Jeep near a tidy wooden marker. Mike held up the small piece of lined paper Sam had passed him. The number thirteen, scrawled in blue ball point with a shaky, older hand, matched the carving on the wood scrap nailed to a post.

  Cate pulled forward, admiring. Parking out of the way of the trail (although it seemed they could be the only two people for miles), Cate climbed out of the Jeep, stretching each leg with a satisfied groan. She clasped her hands and stretched her arms overhead gracefully, observing a hawk circle lazily, a silhouette in the sun.

  Glancing back at Mike, Cate walked toward the house, shielding her eyes from the glare with the flat of her hand. Layers of leaves crunched underfoot, warm from the sun. The scent of them mingled with pine in the crisp, clean air. She breathed in deeply, appreciative. If the lake had a smell, it would be peace, she decided.

  The cabin, a cozy, close log home built of light beams, showcased tall windows full of afternoon light, overlooking the water. Her eyes focused on the beautiful, gracious stone chimney. Stairs led from the dense woods to a ample deck that crept halfway around the house.

  Before them stretched the lake, reflecting the sun's warmth serenely. The water was still. It only stirred in answer to a single kayak gently bobbing in the distance. The overall feeling was the one of peace, but also: calm.

  Inside the building, the rooms felt airy because of enormous windows that looked out over the spacious, wooden deck to the water and beyond. The log walls shone beautifully, highlighted by a few carefully placed pieces of furniture. Bright throw pillows accented the space, agreeing with a colorful, circular rug that lined the floor. A neat bathroom adjoined the first of two snug bedrooms, both with thick quilts. The second was above them, tucked under cozy eaves at the rear of the house.

  In the kitchen, older white appliances were spotless. The thick butcher block table sat neatly waiting. A matching wooden bowl was placed in the center, full of crisp, red apples and ripening bananas.

  "How did he−?"

  "He told me he comes up here once a week," Mike grinned. Ad libbing, he added, "For peace." He automatically ducked the swat that was coming, smiling wider to himself.

  Mike and Cate unpacked leisurely. Merry inspected every corner of the house, her wet nose agreeably sniffing. Content, she climbed up in a chair and curled up into a tight ball, watching Cate's movements in the kitchen with curious, half-asleep eyes.

  Cate, meanwhile, was happily poking in cabinets. Finding a small counter-top grill and a nearly antique toaster, she smiled. Setting up the drip coffeemaker, finding a classic rock station on her phone, she began to feel very much at home.

  For the next several days, Cate and Mike slept deliciously late, ate immense breakfasts they cooked together, and hiked with Merry. At night, they watched the sun set quietly over the water, all blues and reds and oranges, then sat before a roaring fire.

  The crisp air did wonders for Cate's heart. The views refilled her with a calm she hadn't felt since the summer. Peace filled her heart as she sat quietly, able to be still in her brain for longer periods now.

  Early one morning, she packed her few small bags and set them by the thick oak door. Wearing black track shorts and a layering a few light sweatshirts over her t-shirt; sneakers over low, white sport socks; Cate tied her hair back, out of her way. She adjusted her ear buds then popped her phone into its armband. Stretching against the wooden deck railing, Cate took off for a run with Merry.

  Slowing to a walk as she circled the lake road, Cate rounded out the thoughts that had teased the edges of her brain all week.

  The idea of being pampered appealed to her, she decided. She knew well enough how to indulge herself. Cate didn't usually have a hollow leg for kindness or validation; she only felt vulnerable when Tom pushed her away. It was a cycle, and she felt herself fall for it every time.

  When she was tired, Cate felt exhausted. And yet, she knew instinctively what she needed. Often times, doing something special for herself, something she enjoyed, fueled Cate as much as extra sleep might. She was hit with waves of understanding that became clearer the longer she thought about them. Epiphanies accompanied endorphins, bringing her joy the longer she walked, alone with her thoughts. She wasn't tired anymore, now she felt elated, inspired.

  She had needed care. Cate had longed for pampering. She didn't need Tom for that, in fact, she didn't want Tom for that. She didn't want anyone to be in charge of that role for her. Stopping to watch the gentle ripples a pair of kayakers created, Cate realized the truths that she'd been searching for.

  Chapter Sixty Eight

  Every time Tom pushed Cate away emotionally, it hurt her. It separated her further from her own truth: that she was enough. His behavior wasn't realized on his part, nor, she thought for the hundredth time, was it personal. It was merely a reflection of his own pain and his own beliefs. The ones that flew by as each moment changed.

  One day, he loved her and admired her. And the next? He couldn't move far enough away from what he believed was poisoning him.

  PTSD was an evil mistress. The only beauty Cate could find in the disease was the growth it caused. That growth, however, took time, energy, and spawned pain like no other.

  PTSD was running this show, Cate firmly believed. Her Tom, the man who had once loved her, was its hostage.

  It doesn't have to be my job, Cate repeated to herself as she picked up speed again. It's not. He'll heal with, or without, me. It's okay that I go on.

  The age-old questions she wrestled with taunted her brain. Cate lifted her face to the sun, squeezing her eyes shut. She felt the warmth embrace her skin, softly, like a lover's gentle touch.

  She needed peace. She deserved peace.

  His pain wasn't caused by her, she knew that deep in her soul. She didn't even have to contemplate that further. His healing, then, had to come from him, she decided. Not for the first time.

  He expected no more than that from her. Cate pressured herself to be more to him, she realized now. She wanted to be that answer, his answer.

  Years ago, as his wife, she'd felt clearly supportive. Even as other friends left his side, she'd stayed. She'd called his patient therapist, she'd endeavored to ease the full schedule Tom created for himself. She held onto him on the bad days (when he let her) and quietly celebrated every good one. Through it all, she felt his incredulous gratitude (and often times disbelief). Perhaps it was the words he rarely, but sincerely, stated. Perhaps it was the way he looked at her. Mostly, it was a feeling. When he was sad, lost, lonely or confused, Tom came to her. And when he'd survived the moment, he laid his heart at her feet for her to take.

  She sighed, a deep sound that came from the depths of her toes. To be loved that thoroughly again.

  Shaking her head, Cate picked up speed, wanting to sprint. If she couldn't be the answer, she wanted to be hi
s friend and aid him in that way. After all, it wasn't as if they were married any longer or even in a relationship. Cate struggled with the words, he didn't want her. Not in his marriage or even his life perhaps−and certainly not in his healing, it seemed. She knew the words to be untruths, even as each flew past her brain, registering, resolute. They were Tom's truths, though, most days. And she wasn't going to fight them any longer. Cate wanted Tom to concentrate on himself, freed from the shell their marriage had become.

  Her only leftover worry, then, was what would happen when he healed. True to his course, he'd feel better one day, learn to manage his symptoms and then−she sighed again, her head and heart a mess, and then: his beautiful eyes would look for her. Tom would want to share his newfound happiness with someone he trusted. Someone who knew the road he'd traveled down, someone he felt comfortable sharing his personal stories with.

  And what if she had moved on?

  No one could blame her.

  She wasn't talking about anyone else though.

  She was talking about Tom's view.

  And her own.

  It might take a little bit longer to make peace with that idea but Cate felt herself moving slowly toward it. Whatever happened for Tom, she would support her children's father. He deserved that much. He was her greatest friend, he'd been her lover, and he'd given so much of himself to her in the half lifetime she'd known him. Cate's gratitude ran deep.

  She stopped in the middle of the path to catch her breath. Merry obediently halted, her leash offering no choice. Adapting easily, the lean, muscular dog sniffed the sandy path below her paws. From the trees, a bird called out and another answered. Above them, a shiny plane flew slowly across the deep blue sky, its distant engines a comforting drone. And somewhere, a piece of Cate's heart broke off, to be claimed forever by young love.

  Cate knew what she had to do then. She took a few minutes and a deep, deep breath, to begin the process of clearing her heart.

  It would take so much strength to move back to where she'd been weeks ago, when she'd seen him shuffling along the sidewalk. Cate wanted to move beyond even that moment, to be able to see Tom, wish him well and feel nothing but affection. Not the deep, deep love, the yearning, that caused Cate to want to throw herself at his feet. The familiarity, the comfort that came from so many years of knowing someone, sharing fears that ran as deep as the stormy ocean and the love that had survived that storm.

  "It's not that easy. It's just the start of it," Al had told her once. Cate held onto those words and the understanding of her family, even as she felt the first familiar stirrings of the anger that sometimes returned when she thought of Tom leaving her. It wasn't the divorce, she'd dealt with that. It wasn't the fact that he felt he'd fallen out of love with her.

  He didn't leave her, he left them. Her children had lost the father they knew that day. And for that, she thought, her hands automatically fisting, she still had a long way to go toward forgiveness.

  One day, he was at home, his feet up in the living room, grinning at her. The very next day, he'd walked out. Her heart had broken in two that day. If she'd known then how he'd begin to only visit the children once a week, never calling, maybe she might've fought harder for their family.

  Cate had expected Tom to come home. Every other time he thought his answer was to get away from her, Tom had returned within days. He seemed to have trouble understanding that the disease was what followed him wherever he went, tormenting him. If Cate was halfway around the world, PTSD still curled up to him in his bed. It still snuggled late at night on the couch, whispering in his ear in the firelight.

  This time he didn't return. He called her and asked her to leave a duffel bag full of his clothing on the porch. She'd filled luggage with his belongings, even as a part of her screamed not to, and set it outside. Against the steps they'd painted together. Against a huge pot of passionate, intoxicating, red geraniums.

  Then she'd left the house, refusing to see him come for his things. Cate had driven into the nearest city, past the train station, without the first thought of how the building might become familiar in her future. Cate drove on, over short straight streets, one block at a time. She played music, the sharp depth of the classic piano pounding into her brain. Cate rolled her window down, needing to feel the cool breeze. She was hot. She felt ill. She wanted to pull layers off, climb out of her very skin.

  Cate had parked in a compact corner lot, deep in the city. Leaving her Jeep finally, she breezed past bike stands on foot, ignoring lines of people while at the same time, drawing comfort from them. She entered a clean storefront, the sign offering fresh coffee. At the busy counter, she ordered a double espresso to go, and turning, scanned the room. People filled it, their voices bouncing and reverberating against the tall open ceilings. She glanced around, needing the crowd.

  Cate couldn't meet anyone's eyes. Her marriage was over. Didn't anyone understand what had happened? Why didn't life stop?

  Taking her coffee with a brief smile that didn't even reach her cheekbones, much less her eyes, she left a crumpled dollar in the tip jar and strode out. Leaving her Jeep in the lot, she pounded the sidewalk, walking as far and as fast as she could until she couldn't walk any farther.

  She'd given the hot drink to a homeless person. The smell of it was too strong for this moment. He'd been surprised but grateful. She idly hoped the buzz didn't kill the dirty, kind-looking man.

  Cate had left the busy city behind her, walking miles off her comfortable low clogs. When she reached the beach finally, Cate had climbed the low rock wall and alone, crumpled into the sand. Great sobs racked her, so deep they rattled her chest. Tearing at her throat with claw-like fingers, they stole her voice. When she almost couldn't breath, Cate collapsed onto the sand and rocked, helpless.

  The thought of that time strengthened Cate now. She'd come so far in only a few short years. This was the rollercoaster ride she so wanted to get off of. Not just off; she wanted to crumple her ticket, shred it to pieces and toss it into an empty rusty barrel where it might burn. People would warm themselves by the fire of her ticket, hands extended, glancing at her curiously, she thought, smiling briefly. And she would stride by, uncaring.

  Cate would allow herself to grieve Tom properly over the next little while. Maybe she'd change her mind, but in her heart she now knew concretely that she had to come first. Cate would always wish him well. Maybe her decision to indulge in a great deal of self care would inspire Tom to begin taking care of himself.

  Shaking off the memory, Cate looked around. She had almost looped the entire lake. The day had grown warmer as the sun shone brightly. Merry was panting happily, in need of fresh, clean, cold water.

  The scent of the tall pines refreshed her. Their smooth trunks were sheared of limbs up past Cate's head, leaving only knobby bumps. Cate imagined a squirrel perching, chattering endlessly, another nibbling a nut he'd hold with two paws, his fluffy tail full behind him. A woodpecker's distinctive song rang out above her. Cate searched the tree line for the little red-headed bird as she listened to the almost musical, steady rat-a-tat-tat. The hollowness of the drumming appealed to her, it was a satisfying sound. She wondered if he was looking for insects to eat, a warm place for his family or if he was trying to create one.

  Pine needles littered the ground. Cate knew them to be soft, a bed she could fall safely to if she only needed it. The smell from the velvety piles intoxicated Cate.

  Gentle waves dotted the water as a paddle boat glided by. Cate smiled at the image of a little boy pushing his short legs, paddling studiously. She imagined his face screwed up in concentration. The boy's father leaned comically into the far middle of the seat cushion to balance their weights. On the other seat sat a short beagle with big, droopy eyes, his long, floppy ears pooling on the seat on either side of him. The spotted dog matched the color of soft caramel and fluffy marshmallow. Cate couldn't tell if the sedate pup was amused or bothered by the ride.

  Her good mood revived, feeling l
ighter than she had in a long time, Cate fluffed Merry's fur.

  The big dog looked at her, we're still going, right?

  Cate adjusted her music, picking a Boston playlist that included Aerosmith, Foreigner and .38 Special.

  Resolute, refreshed, Cate sprinted one last time. She had only two more things to do. She had to speak to Melissa. And then Mike.

  Chapter Sixty Nine

  "I'm taking you up on your offer," Cate told Melissa, after dialing the phone she slid out of her tightly-fitted armband. The Velcro groaned as Cate breathed loudly, in and out.

  "You're alright? Are you kidnapped?" Melissa asked.

  "I was running," Cate smirked.

  "What offer then?"

  "Mary."

  "For Monday?"

  "But only because she deserves a vacation," Cate smiled through the words, tears drying on her cheeks in the sun.

  "Cate, that's wonderful. You sound great."

  "I feel great."

  "Tom?"

  "I'm with Mike."

  "I can keep up," Cate couldn't see Melissa's wolfish smile. "So, Mike?"

  "No, me."

  The women signed off and Cate slid the phone back onto her upper arm, glistening with sweat. She continued the last of the lake loop, wanting cold water, hearty food and a single conversation.

  Chapter Seventy

  Back at the cabin, Cate stood before Mike, freshly showered. Her long hair was still wet, combed down her back in a neat line. She wore a white tank top with thin spaghetti straps that bit into her muscled shoulders as she moved. Her comfy old jeans were so faded they were almost bright, ending at bare feet. Around her shoulders lay a thin, hooded sweatshirt in a soft blue, the zipper loosely pulled up past the double pockets. The sleeves were long, Cate's hands hooked in them as if searching for comfort.

  She had gobbled a plate of fresh strawberries covered in yogurt and granola, a few cookies and a glass of milk. Before the shower, she'd downed a few glasses of cool water. After Cate washed the dishes, she began drying them, replacing each neatly on an open shelf as she worked. She took a deep breath.