After I chose something to order, I set the menu aside.
“It’s going to be hard to let go,” Audrey said. “You were together—well, sort of together—for a long time.”
“I hate not knowing what really happened,” I said. “It haunts me sometimes when my imagination takes over.”
Audrey set her menu down as well. “Maybe you should talk to someone about it, like a grief counselor. They can be really helpful. And how about Kaleigh? How’s she dealing with all this?”
I sat back in my chair and stared off toward the bar at the back of the restaurant. “She’s doing surprisingly well,” I replied, “but that’s not necessarily a good thing. I just wish she had gotten to know Seth better. I always thought, maybe someday, he would get tired of climbing and come home to Boston and settle down. Even if we weren’t together as man and wife, I sometimes dreamed that he’d be around to develop a closer relationship with her. But now that will never happen. She’ll never know what it feels like to have a real dad.”
“You don’t know what the future holds,” Audrey reminded me optimistically. “You were always very loyal to Seth, but now that he’s gone, maybe you’ll meet someone.” She quickly covered her mouth with a hand. “Oh God, that was so insensitive. I’m sorry, I have foot-in-mouth disease.”
I rested my elbows on the table. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like I’ve never thought about having a relationship again. Seth and I may have still been legally married, but practically speaking, we’d been separated for a long time.” I glanced down at Audrey’s wedding ring and felt uneasy about asking the question, but I had to know. “How long was it, after Alex died, before you felt ready to be with someone else?”
She took a deep breath and let it out. “Alex was gone for two years when I fell for David.”
I quickly shook my head to clear any thoughts of moving on. It was too soon anyway. There were still so many emotions to deal with.
The waitress came to take our orders, and after she was gone, I leaned back in my chair. “It’s going to take me awhile to get over this. I can’t imagine a life where Seth doesn’t exist. I know we had our problems, but I did love him.”
“I know you did,” Audrey replied, “even when some of us wanted to shake you.”
I raised my water glass to my lips. “I always admired your honesty, even when it was tough to hear.” I set my water glass down again. “Did you know he had a cabin up in Maine? It was close to one of the ski hills.”
“Did he own it?” she asked.
I gave her a look. “Seth…owning property? No. He was renting it, and I hope I don’t have to buy out the lease. Seriously, I don’t even know what’s up there. All his belongings I suppose. We’re going to have to clear it all out when we work through his estate. That’s going to be hard.”
Audrey leaned forward and spoke carefully. “I’m sorry, Carla, but I have to ask. Did he have life insurance?”
I recognized the concern in her eyes, because she knew the situation. The only reason I was able to work part-time at the bank was because Seth sent me money a few times a year, and it was usually a decent sum.
It had always been important to me that I be at home for Kaleigh as much as possible. When she was younger, I didn’t want to put her in full-time daycare. Sure, I needed help sometimes—my neighbor across the hall had always been particularly kind. She was the grandmotherly type who baked cookies and took Kaleigh to the museum.
“Yes, thank goodness,” I replied, reaching for my water again. “We talked about that when I got pregnant and we each got life insurance policies. The amount of his fund should keep me going until she’s at least eighteen.”
The waitress brought our salads.
“That’s a relief,” Audrey said, picking up her fork. “But please, if you ever need help, just let us know. Garry and Jean will be there for you as well. You know that, right?”
I nodded, because Jean was Alex’s mom, and she considered herself Kaleigh’s great aunt, even though they weren’t actually related by blood, as I was only Alex’s half-sister. But that didn’t matter. They were like family to Kaleigh and me. We were blessed to have them in our lives.
I sighed. “We still have the memorial service to plan. Gladys won’t be much help. She’s taking it pretty hard. He was her only child.”
Audrey shook her head. “No parents should ever have to outlive their child.”
“So true.”
We continued to chat about plans for the memorial service—what music we would select, what photographs we’d display. Then Audrey talked about her work for a little while.
I was grateful for the change of subject. Sometimes it helped to talk of other things.
Soon, our main courses arrived and when the waitress set my plate down in front of me, I closed my eyes and breathed in the delectable scent of the moist, juicy, slow-roasted meat.
I took my time picking up my fork, inspecting the presentation.
After one bite, I felt some of the tension drain out of my shoulders, then I leaned back to appreciate the flavors. “Wow. This is amazing. Seriously. I’ve never tasted anything so good in my life.”
“What in the world did you order?” Audrey asked with a penetrating stare.
I closed my eyes and swallowed. “It’s the roasted rabbit.”
Chapter Twenty-two
“I don’t understand,” I said to the man on the phone as I paced around my kitchen. “We’ve had those policies for years. Seth told me exactly how much his was worth.”
“When was the last time you spoke to him about it?” the man asked.
I had to stop and think. Seth and I had rarely communicated over the past couple of years. “I’m not sure. I can’t remember.”
The man paused. “I’m sorry, Ms. Matthews. I wish I had better news for you.”
I felt my blood begin to boil. No, this couldn’t be right…
“You’re telling me he cashed out the entire thing? How is that possible? I never knew that was an option.”
“Well, it’s not an option for you,” he said, “because you purchased what’s called a term life policy. That means if you cancel it and stop paying the premiums, you are no longer covered from that moment on. What Seth purchased was a whole life policy, which is more like an investment with a cash value that you can withdraw at any time. He cancelled the policy before Christmas and received a check from us.”
I sank down onto the chair in my kitchen. “He told me he got a corporate sponsor for his trip to Everest this year. He said they were paying him twenty-five thousand dollars.”
“That’s about the amount of the check we mailed out,” the man explained.
I felt slightly ill as I remembered the extravagant gifts Seth had bought us for Christmas. He got Kaleigh an iPhone (which I was against because I felt she was too young) and bought me a pair of diamond earrings.
‘You shouldn’t have,’ I’d said, having no idea that he had been lying to me about where the money came from.
I couldn’t help but wonder what else he had lied to me about during our marriage.
“I can’t believe this.” I felt betrayed. Foolish.
“Again, I’m sorry Ms. Matthews,” the man on the phone said. “I wish there was something I could do.”
“It’s not your fault. Thank you.” With that, I hung up.
For a long time I stared at the wall and thought about what I made each week working part-time at the bank. It wasn’t much, but with the little extra that Seth had been sending, I was at least able to be at home with Kaleigh after school and on evenings and weekends.
Now, without Seth’s life insurance policy to fall back on, how would we ever get by?
Wilderness
Chapter Twenty-three
After a week on the ridge, I decided it was time to travel. There was no sense just sitting there, venturing down to the valley each day to catch food. That couldn’t be the sole purpose of my existence—to feed myself until I grew hun
gry again.
And I certainly had no desire to stay there forever and die alone. I wanted to go home. So, no matter how long it took—even if I had to walk a thousand miles—I would do it. Time had a habit of marching on regardless. I might as well get somewhere.
Hence, when I woke to a clear blue sky the next morning, I packed up all my belongings and hiked down the mountain.
Which way to go? I wondered as I descended into the valley below. East? West? North? South?
Since I believed, based on the time of the crash, that I was somewhere in Newfoundland, I determined that a straight line to the south would be the best option.
Sliding Seth’s compass out of its leather case, I took a careful look around, then established a field bearing and picked out a series of landmarks along my chosen route.
Just before I slid the compass back into the case, however, I paused. Something in my heart moved me to flip it over. I don’t know what it was. I still can’t explain the feeling, except that I knew with astonishing conviction that there was a message there. It practically called out to me.
So you’ll always find your way home. Love Carla
Yes, I thought with a buoyancy that caught me off guard and sent a flock of butterflies fluttering into my belly.
Yes. This compass will guide me home.
I will make it.
Sliding the precious instrument back into the case, I began to walk south.
o0o
Two days later, I found myself standing on a barren, windswept coastline somewhere on the edge of the North Atlantic. Below me lay a choppy gray sea dotted with slabs of broken ice slowly floating by. It was a haunting landscape of snow-covered granite and sandstone, and the fierce wind nearly knocked me over as I stared hopelessly out at an ocean that seemed to go on forever.
Where in the world was I?
Could this be the Strait of Belle Isle, between Labrador and Newfoundland? Or was this the eastern tip of the Great Northern Peninsula? Or somewhere else?
Perhaps, if I followed this coastline, I might eventually reach a fishing village.
The possibility of that filled me with a sense of purpose and direction. It was a concrete, achievable goal, and I was pleased to have one, for I believed in my heart that I was not yet done with this life. There was still something more for me. Something important.
Though I couldn’t yet define it, I could feel it, and whatever it was, I needed to get home to it.
Carefully, I leaned out over the edge of the cliff to see what lay below. A narrow rocky beach was home to a few pudgy walruses, sunning themselves on flat, wet slabs of rock.
Maybe I could gather some seaweed, I thought, which would provide me with vitamins and minerals for my journey. The way down didn’t look too arduous, for further along the ridge there was a gentle, rocky slope that led to the beach.
I sat down for a moment to rest, turned by back to the biting wind, drank some water, then stood up again and headed down.
Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, of course, but I wish now that I had remained on the top of the cliff.
o0o
A short while later, I was crouching over a shallow pool of crystal-clear seawater in between the rocks, gathering kelp, when all the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I don’t know what alerted me to the danger. Maybe it was something primeval inside me.
Instinct told me to remain still and listen. I heard the gentle lapping of the waves against the rocks. A seagull called out to me from high in the sky. Then I heard a terrible squeal farther down the beach where the walruses were lounging about, and I knew there was trouble.
Swiveling on one knee, I turned to see a polar bear—he must have been at least seven feet long, close to a thousand pounds—attempt to tackle an equally large walrus that was shuffling in a panic toward the water’s edge.
Unable to sink his jaws into the thick blubber, the bear backed off and paced impatiently along the shoreline, searching for a smaller, more realistic meal.
More than a little aware that I was a smaller, more realistic meal, I slowly crawled away from the water’s edge so as not to attract the bear’s attention, picked up my backpack, and hurried in the opposite direction.
As soon as I was a safe distance away, I turned to see the bear dragging a smaller walrus, most certainly dead by now, out of the water and up the beach to feast on.
Overtaken by fear and panic, I began to run. I knew that I was heading in the wrong direction, toward the north, but I’d sort that out later. All that mattered, in those blinding seconds of self-preservation, was escaping the gruesome and bloody devouring that was going on behind me.
I scrambled over some large wet rocks, rounded a bend and found myself in a small cove where the beach ended abruptly with a vertical wall of rock. There was no way around it unless I had a boat—which I didn’t—and as bad luck would have it, the tide was coming in.
I glanced up at the steep stony cliffs and realized the only way to avoid being swept out to sea with the oncoming tide was to turn around and go back. Find another way off the beach.
I wondered if the bear had eaten his fill by that point. Maybe he’d be gone. I prayed it would be so.
Chapter Twenty-four
Rounding the bend slowly, I peered out from behind the rock face to check on the herd of walruses.
Everything appeared calm. They were back, sunning themselves again, and I saw no sign of the huge bear.
Nevertheless, my heart pounded wildly as I maneuvered around some fat boulders and stepped over the slippery terrain.
Soon I was able to walk at a brisk pace toward the gently sloping path where I had descended from the ridge originally.
I noticed a thick pool of blood on the rocks where the bear had gobbled up the young walrus.
With a blast of adrenalin pumping through my veins, I picked up my pace and hurried along the beach. Soon the path was within sight, but I kept my eyes and ears attuned for anything.
I was nearly there when a strange sound from somewhere behind me caused me to stop. It resembled a cow moaning in pain, and my heart sank.
Turning slowly, I found myself trapped in the bear’s ferocious gaze.
He stood on the beach about twenty yards away. The white fur around his mouth and front paws was stained with blood.
Suddenly he roared at me.
Maybe it was the wrong thing to do, but I was so terrified, I bolted. I ran faster than I’d ever run in my life, though I’d never been pursued by a polar bear before.
It was yet another first. One of many to come.
o0o
Scrambling up the path, I didn’t stop to look back until I reached the top of the ridge. Then I turned.
He was still chasing me!
Briefly, I considered dropping my pack so I could run faster, but I couldn’t possibly survive without it and the thought of coming back for it didn’t appeal to me either. So I sprinted like a son of a bitch across the snow covered rocks while the bear growled with exasperation, halfway up the path.
I don’t know what suicidal notion came over me, but I headed straight for the opposite edge of the ridge and took a flying leap over the side. One would think I’d had a parachute strapped to my back.
The next thing I knew, I was sliding down the stony slope on my backside, screaming my head off, tumbling head over heels like a bouncing ball, smacking into a few jagged boulders along the way.
I must have hit my head at some point because I have no memory of reaching the bottom. All I remember is regaining consciousness.
Slowly I sat up and looked around. I was surrounded by low-lying, snow-covered evergreen shrubs shivering in the wind.
The bear?
Apparently he had elected not to pursue me down the slope, which came as a great relief, of course.
Until the excruciating pain began.
When it didn’t let up, I wondered if I might have been better off if he’d followed.
Chapter Twenty-five
As I limped across the snowy ground toward a patch of stunted spruce trees that would offer some cover from the wind, I wondered if my positive thinking and cheerful optimism had been simply a big crock of stupid naiveté.
I felt totally defeated by Mother Nature. Even my spirit felt bruised. As for physical damage, my tooth had gone through my lip and I was spitting out blood. On top of that, my entire head was throbbing. I suspected I’d cracked a cheekbone and might have even fractured my skull.
All I wanted to do was lie down and not move a muscle until the spring thaw.
Before long, I came to a large spruce that must have toppled in a storm, or been struck by lightning. It was resting against another tree which provided a sheltered area beneath.
Dropping to my knees, I crawled under the splayed branches and hid next to the massive trunk.
I knew I couldn’t lie on the snow all night or I’d freeze to death, so I pulled a few items out of the pack—the rolled up tent and the sleep pad—and lay down on top of everything.
I made no fire that night. All I could do was lie still and try to heal—and pray that the bear was not watching me from the darkness like the lynx.
As luck would have it, it began to snow.
At the time I thought I was cursed, but later I came to realize it was a blessing in disguise, because that fresh blanket of snow buried the trail of blood I’d left behind.
Chapter Twenty-six
The night I spent under the tree after running from the bear was one of my worst nights in the wilderness. It came only second to the night after Seth fell into the ravine.
Though perhaps one could argue that my polar bear night—accompanied by a cracked jaw and bloody lip—was a crucial turning point in my life because that’s when the seeds of my future were planted.
It probably sounds crazy, and in my line of work, if I were hearing this story now, I would try and educate the patient by suggesting that sometimes a person can retreat into fantasy in order to seek comfort or escape an unpleasant reality.
The Color of Love Page 6
