Uncharted Passage

by Julie Cannon

  “Michelle,” Emily said angrily. “It’s over. We are not going to make dinner, make amends, make up, or make love. We are done. I don’t love you, I’m not in love with you, and I’m not going to fall back in love with you. Now please stop trying.”

  They’d had this conversation many times and she was sick of it.

  “Come on, Em, I love you. I’m not willing to throw everything away just because we’re having a rough patch. Be reasonable. I have the name of a good couples counselor, or you could just go by yourself. Obviously you need—”

  “No!” Emily didn’t let her finish. “I do not need a counselor to tell me I have suffered a trauma. And for the record, I did not end our relationship because I am nuts. Okay? It’s the sanest thing I’ve done in a long while.”

  “All I’m trying to say is that I love you.”

  “And why didn’t you love me enough to make this kind of effort before I went to Thailand? Why did it take me almost dying for you to realize it?” Before Michelle could reply, Emily said, “Don’t answer. We are done. Through. Finished. How much clearer do I have to make it?”

  “All right, all right, I get it.” Michelle started to walk away but turned around, flashing Emily a look she’d never seen before. It was almost as if she were gloating. “Just remember. We had eight good years, not just a vacation fling. I know more about you than any other woman does. I know what you like, what pushes your buttons, and what makes you cry out with pleasure. Remember that when you think there’s something better out there.”

  And with that parting shot, she left.

  Emily marched into Julia’s kitchen, took a beer out of the refrigerator, pushed the Play button on the answering machine, and dropped into the La-Z-Boy chair, exhausted. A reporter had left his number, wanting to talk to her about the protest. Emily couldn’t imagine what was left to say about an event that was old news. Ten days had passed, and all she wanted to do was put the whole thing out of her mind.

  She had not been sleeping well, and being ambushed by Michelle again was the crowning touch to an already stressful day. She sipped the cool liquid until she felt her muscles begin to relax. Michelle’s persistence was one of the qualities that had originally drawn Emily to her, but now it was a just a royal pain in the ass.

  Something Michelle said nagged at her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Michelle had a knack for word games and subtleties, and Emily was often in the dark about what she was hinting at. It was as if there was some underlying message in her words and their definition was just out of her reach. More than once she’d asked Michelle to be direct with her, but she had a feeling Michelle preferred to wield power by getting under her skin.

  Emily went into the kitchen to make dinner. She felt restless and frustrated. As she chopped tomatoes for a salad, she sliced one of her fingers open and cursed loudly. Blood ran all over her wet hands and the white plastic chopping board spilled with pink fluid. Infuriated, she hurled the knife into the sink and ran water over the cut.

  She was sobbing when Julia walked in. The white-faced panic on her friend’s face made her fall abruptly silent.

  Julia’s eyes fell instantly to the hand she was clutching. Her dread was palpable. “What did you do?”

  “Christ,” Emily shouted. “I’m not trying to cut my wrists. Jeez. What are you thinking?”

  Julia was silent. They stared at each other.

  “I’ll get a Band-Aid,” Julia said.

  Emily laughed. She couldn’t help herself. A Band-Aid. The idea was hilarious. Aware of Julia looking at her strangely, she pulled herself together and said quietly, “Yes, that’ll fix everything.”

  *

  Hayden woke to the chiming of the grandfather clock and tried to sit up. A sharp pain shot down the left side of her neck, reminding her that she had fallen asleep in the chair and not her king-size bed. She turned off the TV mounted in the middle of the wall above the fireplace. The screen was as dark as her mood and as blank as her state of mind. She had no idea how she’d managed to work for the past three days. Her mind was a fog. Emily had a partner, and a long-term partner at that. Eight years.

  A myriad of emotions flared once more, with anger and hurt leading the way. It didn’t take a math genius to figure out that Emily was in a relationship when she was in Thailand. Hayden wasn’t proud that she’d set aside her suspicions and allowed her instincts to rule. Never before had she been an accomplice to infidelity, at least not knowingly, and she felt soiled by the knowledge. She’d always refused to be the other woman in any relationship, and she’d had to make that choice plenty of times over the years.

  It had taken courage to go to Emily’s house and walk up those few front steps. She hadn’t known what she was going to say or how Emily might react, but she certainly hadn’t expected to be put in her place by a jealous girlfriend. The woman who answered the door knew, Hayden could see that right away. She doubted Emily had told her the details, but partners weren’t stupid. Michelle could very easily have tossed her on her ass, and rightly so for messing with her woman. Hayden was grateful that their terse interaction hadn’t come to that, but she was left with no doubt that Emily was off-limits.

  She pushed the light on her watch and checked the time. It was one thirty in the morning and she had to be up in about five hours. She stumbled down the hall into her bed knowing a repeat of her nightly dream awaited her. The dream always started out the same. The beach, the sun, and the sand. Then came the water. Millions of gallons carrying her away like a twig. She fought the current, coughing and choking on the salt water until she grabbed on to the tree that had saved her life. Only in her dream, she was not able to save Emily or the children. She tried. She reached as far as she could. But her fingertips barely grazed their outstretched hands.

  Every night they floated by, screaming at her to help them, knowing they were going to die. Every night she woke up panting, drenched in sweat. It took her a long time to fall back asleep. Some nights she never did.

  *

  Emily didn’t want to open her eyes. She dozed, dwelling on the dream she was barely awakening from. Two tall, strong women vied for her attention. One was demanding, manipulative, and forceful, the other considerate and strong, but also gentle. Sparks consumed both pairs of eyes but one glinted with rage, the other with desire. Hands reached out to touch her. One pair grasped her firmly, taking what they wanted. The other softly caressed her, asking her to give. Both women wanted her, but only one desired her. Neither had a face.

  When the chiming of the alarm clock dragged her out of bed, she stumbled into the kitchen and made coffee. She could never remember to make it the night before and cursed as she spilled coffee grounds on the counter. Her bandaged finger was tender, which didn’t help her dexterity or her mood. She was in a foul temper and hoped the coffee would soften her before she had to be patient with a room full of children.

  She thought of her students as she soaped herself in the shower. They were a motley crew. Some with unkempt hair, others with worn-out clothes and always hungry. They were all wonderful, bright, inquisitive kids with big smiles and the innocent eternal hope only children can have. She loved them, every single ragtag one of them, and she believed she made a difference in their lives every day. They would still have a school, teachers, and a hot breakfast without her, but she wasn’t sure if every teacher would care about them as she did. Not everyone would give each child a hug every morning when they stepped into the room or a nod of encouragement when they struggled to pronounce a new word and a high five when they succeeded. These children needed so little but gave so much back in return.

  She’d been thankful to get back to work. In her two weeks off after she returned from Thailand, her days were unspeakably empty. Since then she’d made sure the children filled them completely, often working late and planning extra activities to keep herself busy. Driving the twenty-eight miles from her house, she tried to focus on some new ideas for a class project, but her mind strayed to
the dream. The meaning seemed fairly obvious. One of the women was Michelle and the other Hayden. What troubled her was that she couldn’t connect the names to the faceless women in the dream.

  Her relationship with Michelle had been filled with kindness in the beginning. They shared a kiss first thing in the morning and last thing before sleep. They were together in every sense of the word. They had the same hopes and dreams and would often talk late into the night about what their future together would bring. Emily wasn’t sure when everything changed. The process had been so gradual she couldn’t pinpoint a key event or issue. But long before she left for Thailand in December, they were practically strangers living under the same roof. They rarely talked, shared even less, and were more interested in the morning news than a morning quickie. Emily didn’t know if the cold, manipulative woman she’d seen over the past few months was simply the Michelle she could not see while she was in love, or if her ex had changed. The other day, when Michelle accosted her on the doorstep, Emily was a little afraid of her.

  She wished they could make some progress on selling the house, but Michelle was taking her time, claiming that none of the realtors she’d spoken with so far were the right kind of people, whatever that meant. Emily tried not to show her impatience. She didn’t want Michelle to know how aggravated she felt about not being in her own home, now of all times.

  Then there was Hayden. She too had been strong yet soft. She tended to Emily and the children with a strong dedication to their safety that defined her character. At least it did to Emily. She was tough when she needed to be and instinctively knew when a kind word would do more than a command. But there was another side to Hayden that Emily didn’t know about until the day of the protest; that was the cold, hard eyes of power and control. The Hayden who was used to giving orders and having them obeyed without question. Everything about her screamed that she was in charge.

  Emily pulled into the lot and parked her car in the first row. It was early and the hustle and bustle of downtown was just beginning. Businesswomen and men scurried down the sidewalk balancing their lattes in one hand, their briefcases in the other, and the morning paper somewhere in the middle. She used to be one of them, a nameless hopeful on her way to the top in a burgeoning workforce where her qualifications were stellar.

  She had the usual dreams. Youngest Nobel Prize winner. A woman after whom science buildings were named. Her destination had seemed clear. She was blessed with good genes, was doing revolutionary work in the top think tank in the world, and had parents with influence in the technical community. There was nowhere to go but up. Her research work had been the center of her universe until Julia introduced her to the children who changed her life, inspiring her to become a teacher.

  Her destination today was quite different. Barcelona Elementary School was on the third floor of a building so old it was a blight in the city skyline filled with ornate glass and chrome towers. The floors creaked, the plumbing groaned, the heat worked sporadically, the paint was peeling off the walls, and staff rode the elevator at their own risk. The building was a wreck. Emily had traded in her state-of-the-art laboratory, high-priced equipment, alligator briefcase, and Bruno Magli shoes for recycled paper, rickety desks, and sneakers. She couldn’t imagine doing anything other than this.

  Her footsteps echoed on the staircase worn from years of shoes clacking up and down from one classroom to the next. Her cadence up the steps almost sounded like a children’s rhyme; Michelle, Hayden, Michelle, Hayden. When she reached her floor, Emily was no closer to certainty than she was when she woke up. The hard, rough hands and cold eyes could belong to either woman. And Emily would not be ruled over. First it had been her parents, then Michelle, and then Hayden as they struggled to survive.

  She stopped on the third-floor landing. Hayden had not ruled over her, she had let her take charge because she was obviously well trained to do so. What troubled her now was that Hayden was probably used to giving orders and having them obeyed without question. Emily was no longer a pushover, and they were no longer in a life-or-death crisis.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hayden stood quickly when General Foreman entered her office unannounced. He had a habit of dropping in as though trying to catch her doing something she shouldn’t be. She had an uneasy feeling about the general, one that had nagged at her ever since she arrived on post fifteen months ago. He was old school in his mannerisms, his leadership, and the opinions he seldom kept to himself. He didn’t know what was happening on his base, or with the men and women under his command, and he rarely added any value to the meetings he elected to attend. He believed that respect was due to rank and he used the single star on his shoulders as an angry man would use a choke collar on a puppy. If you didn’t jump at his command, your life was his.

  In Hayden’s opinion, he should have retired years ago. But then again, General Foreman would never ask her opinion. If he did, he always let her know first what he expected to hear.

  “Good morning, General.” Ever since Foreman had showed what an ass he was, Hayden always referred to his rank rather than using the customary “sir” befitting a superior officer. This wasn’t her usual practice, but the three-letter word got stuck in her throat every time she struggled to offer it.

  “Caldwell,” Foremost said as a return greeting. “Got any coffee around here?” He plopped into the chair adjacent to her desk.

  Hayden hid her annoyance. Regardless of her rank, Foreman believed that she, and women in general, had a place, and that place was not in the military and certainly not wearing bronze clusters on their collar. She noticed that he never addressed her by her rank. He simply used her last name.

  “I believe so, General.” She bit her cheek and walked around her desk and into the anteroom where Corporal Alex Stone was waiting.

  Stone was her right-hand man, the Johnny-on-the-spot who could make her look good or make her fail miserably, and she knew it. He had his nose just far enough in everything to keep her informed, not far enough that he was a snitch and nowhere near enough to her butt to be considered a brownnose. She liked the young enlistee and his soft Southern drawl was calming.

  “Coffee?”

  Even though he never said as much, Hayden knew Corporal Stone was aware of her dislike of their commanding officer. As a matter of fact, it was difficult to find anyone on the base who admired the general. Hayden thanked him, appreciating that he put her in a position where she didn’t have to wait on Foreman. She returned to her office and sat stiffly behind her desk.

  “Corporal Stone will bring your coffee right in. What can I do for you this morning, General?”

  The old man blatantly eyed the various medals, awards, and commendations Hayden had scattered around the room. He repeated this perusal every time he came into her office, looking for something that might have arrived without his knowing. His face betrayed his thoughts, and he scowled at the display of Hayden’s accomplishments.

  “What’s up with those protesters from the other day?”

  “General?” Hayden took small pleasure in making him be more specific.

  “The namby-pamby protestors that were at the south gate last week. What’s happening with them? Are they in jail or what?” He practically snatched the coffee when Stone brought it in.

  Hayden immediately thought of Emily. Actually, no matter how hard she tried not to, after the not-so-subtle message from the girlfriend, she had done nothing but think of Emily.

  “I doubt it, General. Only one of them was arrested, and I’m sure her bail was probably posted pretty quick.” And if you had any idea it was posted by me, my ass would be in a station in Greenland watching the ice caps melt.

  “Only one. That’s ridiculous,” he bellowed. “Those damn hippies were determined to come onto my base and disrupt operations and God only knows what else, and they only charge one of them. Go down and talk to the chief of police. I want the book thrown at her. Make an example of the bitch or we’ll be dealing with plenty more lik
e her, mark my words.” Foreman was practically salivating.

  “I’ll speak to him, General.” Hayden made her voice calm and not condescending. “But I think it’s the district attorney who determines the charges.”

  “I don’t care who does what. I want that woman put away for a long time.” Foreman stood and Hayden quickly followed suit. “No one fucks with my base and gets away with it.”

  Her training kicked in and she automatically snapped to attention as Foreman left the room. She had grown tired of this aspect of military life, the respect compelled for rank even when none was earned.

  Corporal Stone stuck his head in the door and she sat back down in her leather chair and motioned him in. “While you were at lunch a reporter called wanting to talk to you, ma’am. I have his number if you want to call him back.”

  Hayden sighed. Just what she needed, another reporter asking questions. She took the pink message slip and tossed it on her desk.

  “Is there anything you need me to do, ma’am?”

  Hayden only hesitated for a few seconds, weighing the situation. “Yes. Get the district attorney on the phone regarding the protestor that was arrested last week. Emily Bradshaw. I need to know what charges will be filed against her.”

  *

  It was an hour before Hayden was able to talk with the DA, and Foreman was not going to be happy with what the civil authorities planned to do about the incident. As she suspected, the only charge against Emily was simple trespassing. She’d been given a court date and the DA expected her to pay the fine and walk away. Case closed. If she didn’t, and wanted to be a hero for her cause, then a trial date would be set. He had no plans to waste the court’s time by filing additional charges that would only be thrown out. Hayden was relieved but apprehensive. She was going to have to manage the general carefully.