by DW Davis
The next day she insisted I stay home and get some work done around the house. As there really wasn’t anything for me to do, I spent the time working on Geddaway instead. I planned on us taking her over to Morehead City for the weekend. On that trip we discussed several things.
Maeve and I decided to postpone our open-water crossing to Bermuda, planned for that summer, until fall. Second, we decided that Maeve was going to take a year off from teaching so we could concentrate on baby making. In conjunction with that, I would take a sabbatical from the university and my master’s degree work.
We would spend the summer at River Dream sailing and practicing for the trip to Bermuda. Also, Maeve would get to spend lots of time riding Raven. There was one other important thing we decided. Instead of chartering a boat for the crossing to Bermuda, we decided to buy a bigger boat. Geddaway might have been enough of a boat, but I wasn’t one to turn down the chance to buy bigger boat!
We returned to Wilmington after our cruise to Morehead City so Maeve could finish out the school year and break the news that she was taking at least a year off. Her principal was sorry to see her go but very understanding about the reasons. As the school year drew to an end, we closed up the Nadeau house and prepared for our longest stay yet at River Dream.
“It’s funny, isn’t it, Mike? This will be the longest we’ve ever lived at home,” Maeve quipped.
“It is a little ironic, isn’t it?” I replied.
Maeve and I settled into life at River Dream. During the week we alternated time between the stables and the boats. Weekends Maeve would go trail riding with her horse friends while I volunteered at camp. Somewhere in between we selected our new boat, a Beneteau 331. It was seven feet longer and broader in the beam than Geddaway. It was also roomier below decks. We had chartered an older version of the same boat years earlier on a trip to Greece and liked it very much. It was supposed to arrive in mid-August, and we were anxiously awaiting our first sail on her.
Eighteen
August 5, 1989
It was a warm and hazy Saturday morning that promised to turn into a hot and humid day. Maeve left at sunup to meet her riding club at the stables before they loaded up the horses and headed for the Minnesott ferry landing. They were going on a trail ride over in the Croatan National Forest. An early start was planned so they could be back on the ferry and on their way home before the real heat of the day settled in. I spent the morning doing some of the eternal maintenance that seems to accompany sail boat ownership.
The phone call came just as I sat down to have some lunch. It was my cousin Denise.
“Mike, there’s been an accident. Maeve’s hurt. She’s here at Craven Medical, but the Life Lift chopper is on its way to take her to Pitt.”
I staggered against the counter and nearly dropped the phone. Taking a firm grip on the handset, I demanded, “What!?! What happened?”
“Her horse spooked and threw her. She landed wrong. It took rescue crews a while to get to her. We’ve done everything we can here. We’re sending her on to Pitt.”
“Is she going to be all right?” I begged, a sick, sinking feeling grasping my heart.
She took several agonizing seconds to answer. “Michael, right now, we just don’t know.”
Denise was an Emergency Room resident at Craven Medical Center. She’d seen a lot of things on the job. If she was as worried as she sounded, I knew it must be bad.
“Michael, you need to get to Pitt as quickly as you can,” Denise insisted. “I’ll call your mom and dad. You need to get going now.”
One of the things I learned in the Navy was how to compartmentalize my feelings. Right then I had to do just that. I headed out to the airstrip to get the Cessna into the air, stopping only to check that I had the right chart on board for the airport in Greenville. Never once did I stop to think about how I was going to get from the airport to the medical center.
Most of the flight was a blur, but, somehow, I managed to fly the plane to Pitt County Municipal Airfield. Once there, I called a cab to get me to the hospital. The people at the hospital were very helpful and guided me up to the ICU/Trauma unit where they were doing everything they could for Maeve.
The doctor did not have encouraging news. “The type of injury your wife has, Mr. Lanier, I’m not sure how she held on this long.”
Feeling a flicker of possibility, I asked anxiously, “Does that mean she has a chance?”
“I can’t give you any false hope, Mr. Lanier,” the doctor said softly, as if he wished he could say differently. “Your wife is probably going to die.”
I swallowed hard and tried to accept what he told me, but I couldn’t.
“Can I see her?” I asked.
The doctor looked down at the chart in his hands before raising his head and meeting my eyes again. “She’s been drifting in and out of consciousness. I don’t know if she’ll even know you’re there but, yes, you can see her.”
“Thank you,” I said.
The doctor had the floor nurse show me the room where Maeve was. She was barely recognizable with all the medical wires and tubes attached. I walked to the side of the bed and took her hand. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at me.
Fighting back tears and determined to will her to live, I could hardly find my voice. Finally, I managed to say, “Hi, baby.”
“Mike,” she said.
“I’m here, Maeve,” I said.
“I’ll be gone soon,” Maeve said in a voice so soft I barely heard her.
“No,” I said, the thought of losing her cutting at my heart like a knife, “you’re going to be fine.”
“I’m so sorry, Mike,” Maeve said, her voice breaking.
“Don’t be sorry, baby, it’ll be all right,” I said, still fighting back the tears welling in my eyes.
“When I’m gone, Mike, promise me,” Maeve said.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I insisted. My vision started to blur.
“Promise me you’ll love again,” Maeve said.
“I can’t promise that, Maeve,” I said through the tears I could no longer hold back.
“Promise me, Mike,” Maeve begged.
“Maeve, please, don’t go, I love you!” I cried.
“Mike, promise me,” Maeve pleaded.
It seemed so important to her, how could I not? “I promise.”
“I love you, Mike.” Maeve said.
“I love you, too, Maeve,” I replied, but she was gone.
I stood there holding her hand, stroking her hair, tears falling down my face, waiting for her to open her eyes again. I kept telling her I loved her, that she couldn’t leave me, and that I needed her so much.
Gradually it sank in. My Maeve was really gone. I stroked her hair one more time, gently kissed her lips, laid her hand on her chest, turned, and walked out of the room.
All conversation ceased as I walked into the small waiting room. Someone walked in through the other door. She stopped, looked at me, and began walking toward me. I knew my imagination had to be playing tricks on me.
Nineteen
“Michael, my Michael, I am so, so sorry,” Rhiannon said, with tears in her eyes.
I knew I was imagining her. She couldn’t really be there.
“How…what…you…” I stammered through my emotional haze.
Rhiannon took a deep breath to steady herself. “I promised you a long time ago, Michael, that if you ever needed me again I would be here. I promised I would not fail you again.”
I broke down. “She’s gone, Rhiannon. Maeve is gone.”
Rhiannon put her arm around me and guided me to a quiet corner where she stayed with me and held me as I was wracked with sobs and grief.
“It’s okay to cry, Mike. It’s okay,” Rhiannon whispered to me. “I know how much you must be hurting. I’m hurting for you. I’m here for as long as you need me.”
Finally, after I don’t know how long, I pulled myself together. The pain was still intense inside me. I felt like I was g
oing to be sick. I called on all my training and self-discipline to force myself into some semblance of normal behavior.
From somewhere, Rhiannon produced a box of tissue, and I did my best to clean myself up. I still couldn’t believe she was there.
“How are you here? I mean, I don’t understand,” I said.
“Beth called me,” Rhiannon said as she wiped her eyes. “When your folks called Hans, he called Beth, and she called me.”
“But how did you get…here?” I asked, still confused.
“I live here now, in Greenville,” Rhiannon explained. “I’d just gotten home from the supermarket when the phone rang. I let my answering machine get it since I had my arms full of grocery bags. I dropped everything when I heard Beth say it was about you and it was an emergency.”
Rhiannon looked at me, and in her eyes I could see remnants of the panic she must have felt.
“So I grabbed the phone and asked Beth what happened. She told me that Maeve was in an accident and was being airlifted to Pitt.”
Rhiannon’s voice caught. She turned her head and dried her eyes. After a deep, shaky breath, she turned back to me.
“Beth said your folks were on their way. Beth and Hans, too. But since I was right here in Greenville, would I please come.”
Her lips quivered, and this time Rhiannon couldn’t hold back the tears. “I told her of course I’d come.”
She squeezed my hands, took another deep breath, and said, “I prayed all the way over that Maeve would be all right, Michael. I prayed to God that she would be all right.”
I took a moment to try to digest the fact that somehow Maeve was gone and Rhiannon was there. Suddenly I was angry. I pulled my hands away and leapt to my feet.
“What spooked that damn horse?” I asked furiously. Rhiannon looked at me, startled.
“Is that what happened?” she asked.
“That’s what I was told. She went on a trail ride this morning with her friends from the club. Something spooked her horse, she fell, and now she’s gone,” I said with rising anger. “I’m going to shoot that horse.”
“Michael,” Rhiannon said sharply, “is that what Maeve would want?”
“Maeve is dead,” I said coldly. “I want that horse dead, too.”
But Maeve had loved that horse. She was a good horse. She would follow Maeve around the paddock like a puppy. I could never hurt that horse.
“Listen to me. Maeve would be ashamed of me.” I thought I was going to start crying again. “I can’t do this.”
“You can’t do what, Mike?” Rhiannon asked, concern in her voice. She was gently rubbing my back like I was an upset child she was trying to comfort.
I shook my head in confusion. “I don’t even know. I don’t know what to do now. What am I supposed to do now?”
“You take it one second at a time. Then the seconds become minutes and eventually the minutes become hours. After a while you go almost whole days without thinking about what you’ve lost,” Rhiannon said.
I stopped and looked at Rhiannon, really looked at her. There were tears in her eyes, and pain.
“You’ve been through this, haven’t you?” I asked gently. I didn’t realize then that she was talking about losing me.
“No, not this I haven’t. Not what you’re going through here. But yes, I know what it’s like to feel the pain of losing someone and living with that every day,” Rhiannon said, remembering the day she watched my wedding from that fourth floor window. “But right now you have to face some people. Your parents are here.”
She took me by the arm and helped me to my feet as mom and dad walked over.
“Oh, Michael, I am so sorry. I just cannot believe this. I am so sorry.” My mother sobbed as she took me in her arms.
My dad stood behind her and put his hand on my shoulder. I saw Rhiannon quietly make her way to the door. She looked back at me, mouthed “I’ll be back” and slipped out.
I told my mom and dad what I knew of what happened. I filled them in on what took place when I arrived at the hospital in Greenville; how I had been with Maeve when she died.
While we were talking, Hans and April came in. When they found out Maeve was gone, Hans took me in a bear hug while April wept quietly beside him.
The floor nurse came out to tell me that if I was up to it she had some things they needed to discuss with me. My dad stepped up and told me he’d take care of it.
I squared my shoulders and said, “I need to do it, Dad. It’s my responsibility.”
He held my arm. “You’re right, it is. But that doesn’t mean you have to do it alone. I’m coming with you.”
“Okay, Dad,” I said, feeling some of the weight come off my chest. “Thank you.”
We took care of the paperwork and I made the necessary decisions. Maeve would be taken home to River Dream and laid to rest in a corner of the property we’d set aside for our children to build homes on some day. It wouldn’t be needed for that now.
Twenty
Maeve’s mother and father arrived at the hospital shortly after my father and I finished making the arrangements for Maeve to be taken home to River Dream. Cynthia followed closely behind them. They sat with my parents and me in the waiting room as my father explained what had happened. Maeve’s mom and dad clung to each other while Cynthia sobbed quietly in a chair next to them.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at them. They’d trusted me to take care of their little girl, Cynthia’s baby sister, and I’d failed. Shame added itself to the list of painful emotions tearing me apart.
Finally steeling myself to meet Ted’s eyes, instead of the shared grief I expected to see, I saw only anger. I lowered my eyes. Ted and Phyllis left without speaking to me.
Cynthia was kinder. “Michael, they’re upset, angry, and in pain. Mom and Dad know this wasn’t your fault. Give them time.”
Her words were spoken kindly, but there was ice in her eyes. She would need some time before she stopped blaming me, too.
When I got back to River Dream the day after Maeve’s accident, I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in the house, so I slept aboard Geddaway instead. I slept there each night until the funeral. Mom, Dad, and Malori came to River Dream late on the day I returned and stayed in the house.
That first night back, Malori sat out on the dock with me until the wee hours sharing stories about Maeve. We probably would have stayed up all night if Mom hadn’t insisted Malori go inside and get some sleep.
Maeve’s funeral was held two days after the accident in an historic little church on the property at River Dream. Then I laid her to rest on a rise of land with a view of the river. I knew she’d like that spot.
Our friends and family gathered at the house afterward. Most stayed for only a brief time before offering one last condolence, taking their leave, and going on their way. I did my best to be patient with them. I knew they all meant well. I just wished they’d go. I wanted to be alone, or at least I thought I did.
When the funeral was over and most of the mourners were gone, only my closest family and friends remained. Derrick and his family had a long drive back to the Outer Banks and were the first of this last group to leave. Chase and his wife followed them soon after. Beth left with Hans and April. They had all come down from Raleigh together.
The hardest parting for me had been Maeve’s folks. They managed to be civil with me but were obviously still blaming me for Maeve’s death. It hurt that they shut me out so, not grieving with me. When they left, it felt so final, like I’d never see them again.
Mom, Dad, and Malori left - they’d be staying in Oriental for a couple of days - after assuring themselves that I would be okay by myself for the night.
“Michael,” my mom said, “if you want us to stay, or your dad to stay, we will stay.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, after thinking about it. “I’ll be all right. I have to get used to it eventually. I might as well start tonight.”
My dad looked worried at the idea of leaving me
there alone. “You don’t have to rush it, son.”
I was tempted to ask him to stay. I took a deep breath to give myself a moment to collect my thoughts.
“It’ll be okay, Dad,” I said. “Thanks.”
Rhiannon remained behind. After Mom and Dad left, I found Rhiannon standing on the front porch looking over the river. The sun was setting off to the southwest, and the sky was a blaze of color. She didn’t turn as she heard me walk up.
“I’d forgotten how beautiful it is here, Michael.”
At that moment I couldn't see the beauty anymore.
“Somehow I don’t think I’ll ever look at it like I used to,” I said. “I’ve lost everything that made this place home to me.”
For a time we didn’t say anything. We just watched the light leave the sky.
As the river became dark, Rhiannon turned to ask me, “What will you do now, Mike?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead. I’m still taking it one second at a time.”
Taking hold of my arm and turning me so that I faced her, Rhiannon assured me, “You may not believe it now, Michael, but you will be okay.”
Taking a deep breath, I replied, “I know. I just wish I knew when.”
“I don’t have to leave tonight, Michael, if you want some company,” Rhiannon offered.
“Thanks,” I said, “but I’ll be all right.”
She nodded slowly and released my arm. “Then I guess I’ll go. If you need anything, or just want to talk, you’ll call me, right?”
I turned back to look out over the dark, empty river, as dark and empty as my heart. Then I turned back to Rhiannon. “If I do, I will, I promise.”
“I mean it, Mike. Tonight, tomorrow, a year from now, you call me if you need me,” Rhiannon said, lowering her chin and raising her eyebrows in emphasis. Suddenly she was that best friend I knew from days gone by, knowing what was good for me better than I did myself, and not shy about reminding me.
