by Lisa Heaton
“I told her I was not in love with her.”
“And are you?”
“No, not at all.” Sitting there in the candlelight with her, and though he knew it was rotten to make such a comparison, he considered them both. Vanessa was as shallow as a puddle when compared to Robin, who had the unsearchable depth of the lake she was so drawn to. Early on while dating her, he sensed it, and should have at that point called it off. A verse came to mind, something about beauty being fleeting. In Vanessa’s case, once the beauty faded, there would not be so much to brag about. To her discredit, she was never even that kind. Men can be entirely stupid where a pretty woman is concerned.
“Don’t get me wrong, she’s a fine person, and we have had a good time together, but when…” Suddenly, he found he was unable to go on. He had been prepared to tell her he was sick, but the words hung in his throat. It was as if saying them out loud would make it all the more real. So far, it was still like a bad dream, one he knew would be over soon.
Noticing how abruptly he stopped, she decided not to question him further. “You know, for two pals having dinner, we have gone way too deep. Let’s go back to the surface.” Her hope was to change the direction of their conversation.
“You’re right. What’s your sign?”
She chuckled. “Okay, a little deeper than that.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“March third, I just turned thirty. Yours?”
“July twenty third. I will be thirty eight.” That number seemed awfully young to be his last.
“Hey, you will be here for your birthday. We will celebrate with you. Emma loves any reason to throw a party.” Happily, she considered how Emma would react when she heard what an enjoyable time she was having. If the night continued on as it was, she might even owe her fifty dollars.
He noticed how she suddenly seemed present and in the moment. It was one of the rare occasions when he caught a glimpse of real emotion in her eyes. So often, she seemed detached from what was going on around her, but tonight, he really felt as if she were right there with him.
“Most nights, we all usually meet out in the gazebo. I mean, Emma, Tommy and Becky. You are welcome to join us there anytime.” It was a time to decompress from the demands of the day. There was something about that time together, like the coming together of a family under the stars. It was those times she most felt relaxed and at home. Leaning in closer, she whispered pitifully, “I hate to think of you sitting there in that lonesome ol’ cabin all by yourself.”
“I’ll take you up on that.”
Having begun on such rocky footing, the evening had turned out to be the most enjoyable he had had in a very long time. Without a doubt, he preferred her company to Vanessa’s. Occasionally, she would giggle, and when she did, he was certain the entire room grew livelier. Even the candle on the table seemed to flicker brighter because of it. In rare moments, when he could pull his mind away from how pretty she looked or how her eyes caused his stomach to flutter, he acknowledged the injustice of it all. There was no time to get to know her fully or to become known.
Having monopolized the table for longer than was appropriate, he finally paid the check and stood. “I really hate to see the evening end.”
“Yeah, me too.” Meaning it sincerely, she walked just ahead of him as they left the restaurant. He placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her through the maze of people waiting to be seated. The gesture felt overly familiar.
Once outside, he hoped to extend his time with her. “Would you like to take a walk or something? We could take a look around the marina.”
“That sounds nice.” Even alone, she did not feel as uncomfortable with him as she anticipated she might. Moving through the marina, they looked at the boats and marveled over the size of some of them. He showed her a boat similar to what his father had. Again, the word comfortable popped into her mind. He was kind and funny, a man any woman would be grateful to have. But if she were totally honest with herself, she knew there could never be anything between them. It was more than not being ready to be involved with someone at that moment. She was really quite certain she would not be ready for an exceptionally long period of time. By the time she was healthy enough emotionally, she would be way too late for a summer romance with Chris. At that admission, she determined her bet with Emma had been a safe one.
Finally, having covered every corner of the marina, they stopped at the end of the last pier. She leaned against a wooden post, sensing it was the moment to try to explain to him that it was simply poor timing.
To Chris, the night seemed almost magical. The setting could not have been any more perfect as he watched the wind lightly lift her hair from her shoulders. For a moment, he was reminded of the night he watched her standing on the small dock at the inn. How the wind blew against her, her gown creating a soft silhouette against her body. Without thinking, he reached out to move a stray hair from her face.
Instinctively, she threw an arm up over her face and tried to move away from his approaching hand. For an instant, she anticipated a strike to her cheek, but quickly recognized what a foolish move she made, as her sudden movement nearly caused her to fall into the water.
Reacting quickly, he grabbed her arms to prevent her from going over the edge. “Robin, I was just…” He trailed off and stood there frozen. Did she think he was going to hit her? It became suddenly clear, she had been abused, and at that realization, his heart felt twice as heavy as normal. It quite literally felt as if it were sagging and weighed down.
Unable to look at him, she instead fixed her eyes on the worn wood of the dock. “I’m sorry.” Embarrassed, she pushed past him, saying, “Maybe we should go.”
He stood for just a moment watching her walk away. It was then the pieces fell more securely into place. She had run from an abusive husband. That was what brought her to the lake. And the distant pain he was sure he saw was both emotional and physical in nature. Definitely, she was even more wounded than he realized.
Jogging to catch up, he matched his pace with hers and quietly walked along beside her to the car. Once inside, he started the car and backed from the parking place. After putting the car into drive, he casually moved his hand to touch hers. Gently covering it, he held it as they drove home.
When Robin reached the bottom step of her cabin, he touched her shoulder. “Robin?”
Without turning to look at him, she whispered, “I’m sorry about what happened back there.” Tears burned her eyes. She hated to cry in front of him, so she blinked rapidly, trying to ward them off.
“Don’t be sorry. You know I would never…”
“I know, Chris.” Even in the moment, she didn’t actually believe he would hit her, so why had she flinched as she did? She supposed it was because Mike had been so constantly on her mind. No matter how she tried to push his memory away, he dominated her thoughts and dreams. Her fear of him, even after all those years apart, was as fresh still as it was during their final year together. The constant uneasiness of doing or saying something that might set him off, even the thought of it at that very moment set her hands to trembling.
For several seconds, he simply stood there with his hand on her shoulder. Desperately, he wanted to spin her around and pull her to him, but he knew he could do no such thing. Finally, she continued up the stairs, causing his hand to drop to his side.
Turning only slightly, she forced a smile. “Thank you for dinner. I had a lovely time.”
He felt his heart beating up into his throat. He wanted to say something but was at a loss. “Thank you for going with me.” Sadly, he noted, her lifeless eyes had returned. Whatever brief time he caught a glimmer of some semblance of liveliness in them, it was over.
She stepped through the doorway and closed the door quickly. Once inside, she leaned against it. Filled with a sense of embarrassment and guilt, she fought off the urge to cry. She hated to cry. Enough time had been spent on tears; and what had it produced? Nothing.
&nb
sp; Going into the spare bedroom, she shifted boxes around until she came to the one she was looking for. Opening the box her favorite hiking boots came in, she sorted through her most important papers until she came to the ones she was looking for, her divorce papers. Sitting on the bed, she unfolded them and stared at the names at the top of the page. Robin McGarrett vs. Michael McGarrett. Stomach aching with regret, she flipped to the last page and looked at his signature. It was precise and legible, not his usual scratching signature. She always wondered why he signed them so easily. It was totally out of character for him. Still, he did. Why did that surprise her after all that happened that night?
At the moment, she felt differently about seeing his signature than when she first received them from her attorney. All those years before, she felt something akin to hatred for him, though she knew she could never hate him in the truest sense of the word. She hated what he had become. She hated that he had destroyed their lives. She hated the memory of his blood all over her and the way he looked to her for comfort. How could he expect it of her? And where did the ability to give it come from?
Chris was sitting under the gazebo with Emma, Tommy, and Becky. He went there with the hope that Robin would show up, but she never did. Disappointed, he was anxious to see her again, to see if she was all right. By about ten, he was ready to give up and go back to his cabin. Standing, he said, “Well, I guess I’ll see you guys in the morning.”
“Chris, why don’t you stay a minute?” Emma nodded at the young people. “I’ll see you two in the morning.”
He sat back on the wicker swing. Once alone, she moved to sit next to him and patted his leg. “Am I to assume the date did not go so well?”
Smiling weakly, he shrugged his shoulders, feeling tired and frustrated. “I had a wonderful time. But it was not a date.”
“Humph. Seemed like a date to me.”
“She said we couldn’t call it that.”
Grinning at how well she knew Robin, and how she could easily see her saying such a thing, Emma wondered what went wrong. “You are obviously here looking for her.”
Leaning his head against the metal chain, he sighed. “I’m not exactly sure what happened. I mean, I know, but maybe you can tell me how I might make it better.” He blinked, and for a split second, he could see her flinching. It was an upsetting sight, obviously an instinctive reaction on her part. “He hurt her didn’t he, her husband?”
Unable to find her voice, and knowing if she spoke she would probably cry, she simply nodded.
“I reached out, just to move her hair from her face. She flinched as if I might hit her.” Pausing for a moment, trying to figure out such a thing, he asked, “How could he hurt someone so sweet?”
“I don’t know. He was not always like that, but there at the end, he became a monster. It was the drinking. He terrorized her and....” She could not continue. What happened to her that night was like something out of a horror movie. Although she had not been given the specifics, as Robin was never willing to discuss it, the proof of his brutality was pounded into her bruises and broken bones.
“Where is he now?”
She did not know how much she should tell him. After all, this was Robin’s story, and Chris was not someone she knew all that well. “He is still in North Carolina.”
He could hardly understand how a man could raise his hand to a woman. Her face was so delicate, she was so small, how could he hurt her that way? Standing, he assured her, “I would never hurt her. I mean, if she were mine, I would protect her, and…” And what, he wondered to himself, love her? Everything was getting muddled. He hardly knew her, yet he felt drawn into her story. He was in no place in life to get involved with someone so fragile. How would she deal with what was ahead of him? He had nothing to offer her, no future.
Emma had moved to stand beside him. “Just be easy with her. She has a very delicate spirit right now. Not as if she won’t eventually heal; she will. She is a strong woman. Stronger than I could ever be.” She began to cry quietly.
Out of sheer frustration, he shook his head. He could not allow himself to get involved in this; it was just too much. Immediately, he thought of Vanessa. Those were exactly the words she used – it was too much for her. He needed to think and pray through it all. “I’m going on to my cabin, but thank you for talking to me.”
“Chris?”
“Yeah?”
She smiled softly. “I’m glad you had a good time.”
“Thanks.”
He walked slowly to his cabin. Reaching the front porch, he never even went inside. Instead, he sat on the top step, kicked off his shoes, and just looked out at the water. To his left was Robin’s cabin, less than two hundred yards away. To his right were the stone steps leading to the level clearing just before the lake. On one side, she lay sleeping, and on the other was the image of her sitting there at daylight, watching as the sun rose from behind the trees. And straight ahead was the small dock where she had stood, facing the wind, just before diving into the chilly water. Feeling surrounded by her, he had to believe it was more than a coincidence he was there.
In truth, it was not too much for him, and he knew it. He wanted to help her heal. God had given him a particular insight into her, which in past experience usually meant he was being invited in. As he prayed and pondered, he began to sense he had been brought there for a reason other than his own. Clearly, he was encountering God’s hand at work.
Having drifted off into a fitful sleep, Robin immediately began to dream. Running barefoot, she was dressed only in her nightgown. Though the pouring rain had moved out, there was still a light, chilly drizzle, causing her to shiver as she raced down the driveway. Hearing him call her name, she knew without question he would find her. It was only a matter of time. He had always warned her not to run, and before she never considered it, but this night she was more frightened of him than ever. Somehow she knew that running was her only hope. Already, he had pushed her into the bathtub, and with the force with which she landed, she feared her ribs were broken. With each step she took, her chest cried out in pain. After yanking her out of the tub, he had hit her several times. The first backhand was by far the worst. Her teeth ached still, and her cheek felt as if it were on fire. When he threw her on the bed and began loosening his belt, she believed him to be unsteady enough to topple. That was when she made the decision to run. With both feet she shoved him as hard as she could, scrambled off the bed, and took off running.
Bolting upright, Robin was covered in sweat. Violently, she was kicking at the covers tangled about her feet. For a moment she wasn’t sure where she was. The sights and sounds around her seemed foreign. Then suddenly it dawned on her, she was home, at Emma’s, and she could run. There, she paid the price for running, but here, she could run.
Chris had been sitting in the silence for over an hour, so when that silence was shattered, it took a few seconds for his brain to respond to what his eyes were witnessing. Robin passed by his cabin at full speed, barefoot and wearing only her nightgown. Immediately, he knew where she was going. Jumping from the porch, he resisted calling out to her; instead, he followed her to the dock, where she stopped at the very end. Gasping for air, as she was breathless from her sprint to the lake, she lifted her arms, preparing to dive. As he stepped onto the dock, he pleaded, “Don’t do it, Robin.”
She froze but did not turn to face him. “I have to.” Springing from the edge, she dove in and began to swim.
Walking to the end of the dock, he sat, determined to wait for her. This time he was close enough to hear her as she stroked through the water, until she swam so far out the sound faded. He had no way of knowing how much time passed, but it felt like an eternity. It was different from before. Then, she was a stranger. This time, she was someone whose story had captivated him and drawn him in. He feared for her safety. Disoriented and out of breath already, she was far out in deep dark waters. If she did not return, he had no means of rescuing her.
When she did
make it back, he held his hand out to her, offering to lift her out of the water. She took his hand.
Sitting on the dock, she draped her hair over one shoulder and began to wring the water out. He had not spoken, and she was too out of breath to even try to explain. Conscious of the fact she was wearing a wet nightgown, she was thankful the moon was no brighter. It was bright enough only to allow them to make out the outline of one another, no more.
Genuinely concerned for her safety, he warned, “Some night, something tragic could happen. You may not make it back.”
Allowing his words to sink in, she replied honestly, “I don’t know if that would be such a bad thing.”
“Robin…” Unsure of what to say, only partially understanding what was driving her, he finally asked, “What makes you do this?”
Wrapping her arms around her knees, she gazed out at the water. “Some nights, I relive the end.” Her breathing had finally steadied, but still, her heart was pounding so hard in her chest, she could hear its echo all the way up into her ears.
He realized she was shivering from the cool night air and began to unbutton his shirt. Sliding it around her shoulders, he admitted, “You know, I saw you here on the dock when I first got here.”
She looked at him, feeling something beyond embarrassment, something more akin to shame.
“You were standing there, and suddenly you dove in. I guess I thought you were… I don’t know, trying to hurt yourself or maybe you were crazy.” Hesitantly, he asked, “Are you trying to hurt yourself?”
“No. It seems to be the only thing that makes it better though. After I swim, when I come back, I feel stronger. I may not be able to run away, but I can swim away.”
“From what?”
“My husband.” Standing abruptly, she turned to leave. “I will see you tomorrow.”
She had closed the door on further questions, so he dared not ask any more. “It is tomorrow.” He smiled and added, “Can I at least walk back with you?”
“Sure.” Walking with him, she remained quiet. As far as she knew, no one but Emma had ever seen her do this. Emma often watched her; she knew that. Having Chris witness something so outlandish though, and trying to see things from his perspective, she realized he really must believe her to be disturbed. When they reached his cabin, she was not altogether surprised when he continued walking on with her. Approaching hers, she slipped the shirt from around her shoulders and handed it to him. “I will be okay. Thanks, though.”
