by Lisa Heaton
“I know I said a lot of horrible things when I was drinking, but I need you to know that I never blamed you. It was never you. I was angry at God.” Reaching for her, he pulled her closer to him, saying, “I will never figure it out, why He took him. Sometimes I feel like maybe it was because of me. If had believed earlier, maybe He wouldn’t have had to get my attention that way.” For years he played the “what if” game. What if he were a godly man? Would it have made a difference?
“This one place is where I stay stuck.” She had tried and tried to get past it. “Things with us, I have found my way out of the darkness, but this, this still envelopes me. It’s the one stitch I can’t seem to unravel.”
He was unsure exactly what she meant, but he understood enough. His son’s death had been the beginning of his undoing, and his only way to reconcile it was to believe God is good, even when He does not show up and save a baby.
“I met with a counselor, and he gave me this one thing, this way of remembering that has helped. He showed me that I was clinging to Michael’s death rather than the love I have for him. So now, I try to remember the good things, the sweet little baby he was. Like, I loved how he would rub my chest while he was nursing. It must have been soothing for him.” She was warmed by the memory of it. Grinning, she asked, “Do you remember how his eyes would roll back in his head and he could barely stay awake long enough to finish?”
Of course he remembered, but for a moment he could hardly find his voice. Sitting close, with no space in between them, Mike draped his arm around her and rested his hand on her leg. There in that moment, he clearly felt the presence of the Lord, knowing He was healing deep and agonizing wounds within them both. This was a moment to be cherished, and in hindsight, would likely be considered holy. Squeezing her slightly, he finally replied, “I remember well. He sure was a good baby.”
“He sure was.”
He kept thinking of her words, of how she had been clinging to Mikey’s death rather than her love for him. Was that what he had done? It was something he would spend time in prayer about. Admittedly, he could rarely think of his son because of the depth of sorrow his memory brought.
They sat for a while longer in this way, together, reminiscing about their son. It was a time of further healing for both of them. At one point, Robin considered the Lord prompting her to make the trip in the first place. He knew it was exactly what she needed to begin to truly live again. Most likely, it was the same with Mike. As mysterious as her future was to her, she had no doubt that God had good planned for her, and Mike too. This would be a crucial step for both of them.
Repeating their earlier good-bye, he stood by her car, wanting desperately to hold her. His arms ached to wrap around her and feel her against him one final time. Holding his hand against the door, preventing her from opening it, he whispered, “Can I have a hug?” He felt silly for asking.
Turning to face him, she said, “That’s easy enough,” and wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. His heart was pounding erratically, most likely because he was holding her so near. She found that to be very sweet. For as long as she could remember, she had had that effect on him. Just as relieved to be held, she found the smell of him familiar and comforting. It triggered memories of who they used to be and how they once held to one another, with no intention of ever letting go. Remembering them caused a stirring deep within her belly, something she could scarcely identify. If she allowed herself to give it a name, she would call it a distant longing for that lost love.
Nestled in his arms, she felt so small. He squeezed her as tightly as he dared; wishing desperately he could pull her inside of himself and never let her go. Then, for a split-second, guilt surfaced. How could he have raised his hand to someone he loved so much, someone who trusted him the way she did? Shoving the guilt away, he refused to spend the very last moment of the very last hug thinking such thoughts. Mike simply wanted to feel her near him. Pressing his lips to the top of her head, he gave her a long secret kiss. How many hundreds of times had he openly done that? Being more than a foot taller than Robin, it was where he could most easily reach, so from the time they were thirteen on, he often kissed her there. She used to find it endearing, but with her heart in such a distant place from him, it would not likely be as well received.
The following morning, dressed early, Mike made the trip to Raleigh. He had spent most of the night awake, thinking of Robin. Finally, by sunrise, he found himself sitting at the kitchen table drafting a letter, actually, many versions of a letter to her. She had said she was staying at the Ramada, and he had to assume it would be the one nearest to the airport. His hope was to drop the letter off at the front desk.
As he anticipated, he found her rental car in the parking lot and went inside the hotel. He was taking the chance that since he was in his deputy uniform, they would be sure to give her the letter. Speaking with the only clerk behind the desk, he said, “I need to drop this off for Robin McGarrett. She should be checking out this morning.”
The clerk began typing. “I do not have a McGarrett registered.” Offering no further help, he went back to what he was doing.
Mike’s heart plummeted. He was sure the car was hers. When she pulled out of the driveway the day before, he had stared at the car long enough.
“What about Jacobs? She may be registered under Jacobs.”
Typing again, the less than courteous man advised, “Yes, we have a Robin Jacobs.”
Sensing the man was not entirely interested in making sure she got the letter, Mike towered over him and warned in his most intimidating voice, “Look, I am leaving this here for her, and I am holding you personally responsible for making sure she gets it. Do you understand me?”
Eyes growing larger by the second, the clerk replied, “Yes, sir. I will hand it to her personally.”
Sitting in his truck, Mike saw her exit the hotel. She had his letter in hand. After she loaded her bags into the trunk, he watched her get into her car and open the letter. She smiled, he was pretty sure. When she pulled out of the parking lot, he sat there a minute longer, realizing, if she found him watching her it might seem kind of creepy. Laughing at himself, he realized, it probably was pretty creepy.
Robin’s flight was delayed, and the drive back to the inn was long. By the time she reached home, she was in no mood to field Emma’s questions. After a brief summary of her trip, she headed down to Chris’s cabin to think – and to read Mike’s letter again.
Being mid-September, the weather was still unseasonably warm. She loved it though. In some parts of the state, there was a touch of fall color arriving, but at the lake, it was still a while away. Holding on to the last traces of summer was what she did each year. Though fall was magnificent, another New England winter was not something she looked forward to with enthusiasm. Once the real cold set in, she would move back up to the main house with Emma, but for as long as she could, she would stay where she felt closest to God.
Sitting on the porch, she inspected the envelope again. It was addressed to Robin McGarrett. Since her arrival in New Hampshire, she had taken her maiden name back. Even prior to having divorce papers drawn up, she signed her name as Robin Jacobs. To see Mike’s name there was another reminder of how much had changed over the years. She was a lifetime away from that campfire and burnt marshmallow.
Sliding the single sheet of paper from the envelope, she scanned his writing. How many letters had she read and re-read when he was overseas? During the two and a half years they were apart, they lived and loved through their letters. From telling the most trivial details of their day to sharing the deepest loneliness each was experiencing, both hung on to every word the other would write. His letters were all that got her through each deployment. She had them still, tucked away in a box at the bottom of the chest in the spare room, untouched for years. Pulling herself from the past, she read his letter again.
Dear Robin,
Words can never express my gratitude. The fact t
hat you forgive me is a reminder to me of God’s grace. The fact that you felt you needed to be forgiven reminds me of your tenderness. After you left I realized, in all the arguing I did that you did not owe me an apology, I never said these words to you – I forgive you. I always did. Just as I needed to hear you say those words, if what you need is to hear them, then I will say them again. I forgive you.
I know our early life together is now a lifetime away, but to sit and talk with you was proof that it actually did exist once. Sometimes, I wonder if things really were as I remember them to be. I ask myself, were the good years really that good? Now I know.
What I have found most difficult is that the one person who was my best friend all those years was just gone one day. Even though we may no longer be friends in the normal sense of the word, while you were here I felt like I had my best friend back. I have missed simply talking to you.
When I got home last night, I realized I left the food out, so there went my leftovers. Nothing about yesterday turned out as I expected, and I can honestly say, for someone who never much liked surprises, yesterday was a good day.
It brings me joy to know you are happy where you are. You deserve all the happiness in the world. It is what I pray for you each and every day without fail. I hope you don’t mind that I am bringing this letter to you. So as much as I feel like a stalker, I will try the airport Ramada and look for your car.
Well, I have an hour drive ahead to find you, so I will close.
Thanks again and again.
Mike
Robin had re-read the letter once on the plane and again this time. Knowing him as well as she did, she knew he agonized over every word. His letters from Afghanistan were frequent, but brief. He wrote something to her nearly every day and would let them build into a few pages before sending them. So for him to sit and write out so much in one sitting, took tenacity on his part.
She smiled and wondered if she should write in return.
13
A week passed after Robin’s visit, and for the life of him, Mike could not get back into the normal groove of things. It was as if he walked around in a daze. Work was a good distraction, but being at home caused him to recount their conversation over and over. For hours on end he would sit on the patio and imagine her sitting there, hearing in his heart the words she spoke. Many nights, long into the night he would sit and look at the empty chair where she had cried, and he prayed for her.
The contents of his letter concerned him, too. Did he say anything that upset her? He had wadded up and thrown away several versions before settling on the one he delivered, all the while hoping he was not out of line for doing so. Still, he wondered and worried.
After spending the morning at his mother’s place, mowing and working on whatever odd jobs she found for him, he was heading home to mow his own yard. He still had not told his mother about Robin’s visit and was not sure if he ever would. Somehow that time together was so personal, it seemed nearly sacred to him. He did not even want to open up the conversation with her. No telling what she would say, nothing encouraging to be sure.
Pulling into the drive, just far enough that his tail-end was out of the road, he stopped and put his truck into park. At the mailbox, he opened the door and stood frozen. There on top of the stack was a letter from Robin. He recognized her handwriting immediately, even though there was no return address. Reaching for the letter, he held it and looked at it for a minute or two, unable to open it. Turning, he went back to the truck and drove on up to the house. He took the letter and sat on the porch. When he flipped it over to open it, he saw that she had written her return address there. Opening it carefully, so as not to tear the address, he slipped the letter out and unfolded it.
Dear Mike,
Thank you for your thank you, but no thanks is necessary.
He smiled at her words. When he was overseas, he could always expect some sort of silly opening. Though not quite so prepared for it this time, it made him tremendously happy that she remembered.
Thank you for so graciously offering your forgiveness. I am sure it is not often that people in our unusual circumstance force apologies on one another. Nothing has ever been usual for us.
Sorry about your burgers. It was the best I have had in some time. If I would have known you cared so little about them, I would have smuggled them out in my pocket.
And I agree – it was nice to talk again as friends.
I wanted to tell you, I really am happy that you were able to get back on at the Sheriff’s Department. For as long as I can recall, you have wanted to be a cop. I remember all the way back to ninth grade, the career fair Mr. Howell had. We all had to make a display of what we wanted to be. Yours was all about police work. I should know; I did most of your poster board. And you are very welcome.
As for receiving your letter, I admit I was surprised, but not in that you-were-a-stalker kinda way. It was a pleasant surprise.
Speaking of surprises, when I came home, Emma told me she will be baptized next Sunday. I don’t think I told you that she has been going to church with me for quite some time. For as many years as I have been here, she has been closed off to the things of God. It wasn’t until last summer that she agreed to go. She was saved in April, but has not felt ready to walk the aisle and join the church yet. She worked up the nerve while I was gone. I wish she would have done it with me there to see, but at least she did it. So rejoice with me. I am so happy, as I love her more deeply than you can imagine.
Well, I should close now. We have weekend guests due soon, and I have some last-minute things to do. Things are slow now during the week, but weekends will still be busy.
Have a good week and stay safe.
Robin
For a moment, he was taken back in time. That was exactly how she wrote when he was overseas, answering paragraph by paragraph. Though he noticed she skipped one. He made mention of their early life together, the one paragraph he agonized the most over. It was the one she did not respond to. What did he expect though? The fact that she replied at all was more than he could have asked.
Scanning through her letter again, he found what he was looking for. One thing he was unable to get off his mind was about that career fair project. He tried to remember what she did her display on but could not recall. After reading the letter through again, he was determined to remember.
Several days later, his mind was still occupied with the things she said. Her words tumbled over and over in his head. She even agreed it was nice to talk as friends. Certainly, he was overanalyzing it. Mostly though, he kept wondering if the fact that she included her address meant she might welcome another letter. Hopeful, he sat down more than once to write one, but then thought better of it, as she was likely just being kind in her response. It was just the way she was.
Finally, at the one week point, the question about the career fair began to bother him more. No matter how hard he tried, he could not remember what she wanted to be. He had racked his brain to try and recollect, and eventually realized he simply may have never known. That disturbed him even more. How could he be with her so many years and not know or care what she dreamed of becoming? Was he really so caught up in his own dreams that he overlooked hers?
Throughout school, he anticipated he would go to college on a football scholarship. Everyone did. His plan was to study criminal justice and go into law enforcement. Once that hope was shot, there was no money for school. His grades were not such that would allow for any possibility of an academic scholarship, so going to school right away was out of the question. After 9/11, all he could think of was joining the Marines. Besides serving his country, he knew it would give him money for his education. Going to school was still his plan when they moved back home from Pendleton, but once there, he was able to get on as a deputy. Things seemed to fall into place for him, and she was right there beside him every step of the way.
Thinking back, she was behind him at each stage of a hope or dream. Whether it was training fo
r football, shipping out to war, or spending nights alone that first year he was on the job, she was always there, rooting for him. But what did she want to do and be, and why did he never even try to find out?
Early Monday morning, just after the sun had risen, Mike sat ready to give a letter another try. Convinced she would not have given him her address if she was not open to another letter, he began.
Hey, Rob –
First, and most importantly, I think I would have noticed you smuggling the burgers out in your pocket. I am a trained professional. I have an eye for that sort of thing. Actually, I have you to thank for my career. Without that poster board at the career fair, I most certainly would never have become the fine officer I am today. So I thank you indeed.
You know, I have been racking my brain this week, trying to figure something out. During the career fair, what did you do your display on? What did you want to be? Taking a slight turn toward the serious, I have to say I cannot for the life of me remember. I am ashamed to admit this, but I think maybe I was so caught up in what I wanted to be that I never asked you. I know it’s a little late, but I would really like to know.
Speaking of surprises again, I am so glad to hear about Emma. And I may be able to top that one. My mom went to church with me Sunday. I have no idea why, she just showed up. You should have seen the looks on the faces in the church that day. You know my mom, she didn’t care. She finished her cigarette on the porch and walked right in like she owned the place. It was weird and funny, but really nice, too. So pray for her.
Glad to hear things are busy. That’s a good thing, right?
Will stay safe, and you do the same.
Mike
Relatively happy with the outcome of the letter, Mike read it again to make sure it made sense. Considering the tone of her letter, he went for the same general, upbeat feel. He hoped he made the mark.
Robin had spent the entire day with Emma but was glad to have few minutes alone. Regretfully, it was Emma who checked the mail that day, and when handing the letter from Mike to her, she wore a deep scowl on her face. Who could blame her really? What Emma witnessed when she arrived was bound to set her at odds with Mike for good. The pieces of her heart were scattered about, and it was Emma who began to pick them up and help her to put her life back together. Emma knew firsthand what Mike was capable of.
