The Missing Year

by Belinda Frisch

  “What kind of car?”

  “A Volkswagon,” he said, knowing she’d never believe him.

  “A Volkswagon? You can’t safari in that.”

  He showed her the hideous green car he had found online. “No, you can. Right here. And after, we’re going to ride elephants.”

  “Bareback?”

  “Nope, there’s this teak chair, see?” He showed her more pictures as they researched their excursion for the day, the elephants enormous against the far bedroom wall. “And it’s going to be hot, so make sure you bring a sun hat.”

  “Any chance of rain?”

  Ross kissed her head. “Never. Every day’s sunny with my girl.”

  Sarah had wanted to travel the world, to experience different cultures, and Ross had done his best to recreate foreign destinations through pictures, creating lavish itineraries for trips he knew they’d never take—Bali, Singapore, The Aogashima Volcano in Japan, and the pink sea in Jordan. Each place had its own mystique and Sarah couldn’t wait to hear what came next. The stories were an escape for her, a preview of a life missed and Ross’s way of stretching their time together, keeping her engaged and awake when she’d otherwise focus on her exhaustion and pain.

  In the end, the pain became so bad she couldn’t stay awake more than a few minutes at a time.

  Ross had tried to fit in everything he wanted to say to her, but somehow he was sure there were things he had forgotten.

  Over time he wondered less and less, realizing there were no second chances.

  Ross turned onto the county route leading to St. Paul’s cemetery where Sarah was buried, half-hoping that when he got there the iron gates separating the three-acre parcel from the road would be locked.

  At least then he’d have an excuse for not going in.

  He rolled his window the rest of the way down and turned off the radio as he pulled onto the narrow dirt road entrance. The air smelled of fresh cut grass, the lawn between the headstones flawlessly manicured and leaf-free even in the throes of fall. Ross’s headlights settled on the white marble Jesus at the center of the cemetery, bringing back memories that forced him to slam on his brakes.

  Five years earlier, a bulldozer had been parked in the distance, a fresh hole dug and a pile of dirt under a green tarp, as if that somehow made the impending burial less grim. Sarah’s casket hung over the hole, waiting to be lowered. Seeing that place again paralyzed him. The cemetery gates were open, but Ross couldn’t bring himself to pull through them. Sarah was buried less than fifty feet away, hers one of hundreds of headstones simplifying life to a single, cliché description. Ross had gone with “Loving wife and daughter,” the funeral director’s suggestion, at a time when he had been too stunned to form a single original thought. He was functioning on autopilot; in hindsight a means of self-preservation. He remembered sitting in a cramped back office at a Chicago funeral parlor, arranging for Sarah’s body to be flown home. The thought of her being crated and treated like luggage had been unbearable, but burying her in the family plot where her parents and the friends she most loved could visit seemed the right thing to do for her.

  Sitting in the car, on the brink of tears, Ross wondered if the distance might not have been the right thing for him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Few things helped Ross cope better than a distraction. Sitting behind his desk at Lakeside, he focused on helping Lila rather than feeling sorry for himself. According to Mark, Lila had eaten some of her lunch the previous day, most of her dinner, and all of her breakfast that morning. He also confirmed that Lila had, for as long as she’d been there, preferred a window seat.

  Ross proposed taking her for a walk, but Mark was skeptical in authorizing one. Lakeside’s rules were considerably more lax than the hospital Ross had come from, but there were boundaries. Mark recommended Ross check with Guy first.

  Guy had been impossible to find.

  Between meetings with Lakeside’s board, placating Ruth Wheeler, and scrambling to save the center, it was hard to know where and when he’d turn up. Deciding no harm could come from an afternoon walk, Ross headed toward Lila’s room.

  “Good afternoon,” he called to her from the hallway.

  Lila breathed deeply, sitting in her chair, staring out the window, wearing dark blue cotton pants and a loose pink shirt that hung from her shoulders as if from a hanger, the sides falling straight over her torso. Her hair was pulled back in a neater version of the braid she’d been wearing the previous day.

  “Would you like to take a walk with me?” he said.

  Lila turned to him—a light in her eyes that, up until that point, had been absent—and nodded.

  “It’s windy. You should bring a jacket.”

  Ross wore a pair of pleated khakis, a light blue collared shirt, and a navy sweater that was heavy enough for him not to worry about freezing.

  Lila pulled a white loose knit sweater over her head and went out in the hall to meet him.

  “Thank you,” he said, “for eating something. You really helped me out with Dr. Oliver.”

  Lila kept her head down, but Ross could still see the faint hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

  “Have you ever walked the trail by the greenhouse?”

  Lila shook her head.

  “Then this will be a first for both of us.”

  Chelsea looked up from her work as Ross and Lila approached the main entrance. “Dr. Reeves, wait,” she called out. “Dr. Reeves, I—um—I’m not sure the patients—”

  Ross waved his hand, reassuring her everything was fine.

  “Dr. Reeves, I’m not sure Dr. Oliver—”

  “It’s okay,” Ross said, opening the door for Lila. “We’ll be right back.”

  Lila lit up the minute she hit fresh air. A smile spread across her face as she kicked through the layer of recently fallen leaves. She held her arms out to either side, moving out from under an enormous oak tree, and tilted her face toward the sun. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The yellow-orange glow of the sun reflecting off the leaves gave life to her pale cheeks.

  Ross watched her for a long minute, not saying a word until she opened her eyes. Guy’s note had said, “Listen to the tree,” which is what he planned on doing.

  “You ready?” he asked, starting down the path.

  Lila lowered her arms and fell in beside him. An uncomfortable silence settled between them, the pressure of someone needing to say something.

  Ross knew it had to be him. “I’m not going to ask you to talk,” he said, needing the edge off. “I want you to feel comfortable with me because I’m here to help you. If you want to tell me something, anything at all, I’d love to hear what you have to say.”

  Lila grinned, turning an upward gaze toward the trees.

  He didn’t need a degree in reading emotions to see that she was at peace.

  The breeze rustled the leaves, sending reds, oranges, and yellows raining down on them as they made their way along the worn footpath.

  Lila caught a red one in mid-air and tucked it into her braid.

  She shuffled along the path, the toe of her slip-on blue shoes catching the uneven edge of a stone, tripping her. Ross held out his hand to catch her. She took it, holding onto him briefly before letting go.

  “Be careful,” he said.

  A year without any exercise other than moving between her suite and the community room, coupled with the loss of muscle mass and her diminishing weight had her unsteady, like a toddler finding their footing.

  “Hang on a minute.” Ross untangled a weathered but sturdy tree branch from the thicket. “Here, try this.”

  The wood made a perfect walking stick, the rounded top fitting into Lila’s palm.

  Lila nodded in thanks and continued walking, steadier with the bit of help.

  “We can turn back any time you feel tired,” Ross said.

  But as a quarter mile passed, he wanted to give up first. His stiff, brown loafers weren’t mad
e for nature hikes and the leather bit into his heels. He hobbled along, doing his best to mask the start of a limp.

  Lila stopped and held her arm out in front of him.

  A quarrel of brown sparrows tossed dirt on their backs in the loose sand on the path ahead of them, bathing themselves in dirt.

  Lila stooped slowly to their level for a closer look. The birds held still for a moment before resuming their preening.

  Ross hiked up his socks, taking advantage of the brief respite. “Are you ready to go back?”

  Lila pressed on, all but one of the birds flying away.

  “Guess not.” Ross hurried to catch up with her, the hitch in his step worse as his sock pulled back into his shoe. “Maybe we should quit while we’re ahead? We can walk again tomorrow.” There was no sign she intended to stop. Lila looked around with the wonder of a child, closing her eyes when the sun through the trees landed on her face. “We’re going to have to walk as far back, you know?” He doubted she needed the reminder, but had hoped to drive the point home. His left heel was on fire. “Lila? Can we turn around?” He understood what he was asking her to go back to: a crowd of patients that were nothing like her and a sense of confinement. If their roles were reversed, he wasn’t sure he’d want to go back, either. He sighed with relief when the end of the trail came into view. “Looks like the end of the line, anyway.”

  The rocky path narrowed at Mirror Lake’s jagged shore, the water as still and reflective as the lake’s name implied. Bird calls filled the air, the landscape serenely colorful.

  Ross stopped to absorb the breathtaking view.

  Lila kept going.

  “Lila?” Ross called to her as she closed in on the lake. “Lila, be careful.” Lila continued walking, as if she didn’t hear him. “That’s close enough.” Lila dropped the walking stick and held her arms out to the side as she navigated the steep decline to the water’s edge. “Lila, this isn’t funny. Come on. We have to go back.” He limped after her, shouting. “Lila, please. Stop!” He picked up speed as she stepped into the water, her oversized sweater swirling around her. “Lila!”

  She was chest deep and still wading, nothing about her indicating she intended to stop.

  For all of Ross’s pleadings, she didn’t so much as look at him.

  “Lila, please don’t do this!”

  He was at the water’s edge when his loafer skidded across a mossy rock. His feet went out from under him. The fall happened so fast he hadn’t been able to break his fall. He landed flat on his back, the rock hitting him hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He tried to draw breath, his chest tight and the air swirling around him. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, but all he could think of was Lila. Wet and muddy, he rolled onto his side to find her gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Ross tore off his sweater, so fueled on adrenaline he didn’t even notice his pain.

  “Lila!” He rushed headlong into the lake, the cold water soaking through his clothes and making it harder to move with each step. His pants and shoes filled, his feet sinking as if rooted in cement. “Lila!” He dove clumsily beneath the water, unable to make out anything through the mud and murk. He broke the surface, his vision blurred and his eyes burning. He felt around blindly, making broad strokes through the water, shouting for Lila to answer him. He swam, covering as much ground as he could, repeatedly calling her name. He wiped the water from his face and gasped when he saw the white knit sweater less than four feet away. Lila was face down, floating. Ross forced his way through the waist-deep water and pulled her to him by the sleeve. He scooped her up, cradling her like a child.

  “Lila, can you hear me?”

  She draped over his arms; her head back, her left arm dangling, and her wet clothes suctioned to her skeletal body. She felt even frailer than she looked, weightless, like one of the sparrows they’d seen bathing in the dust.

  “Lila, say something. Please.”

  She spat out a mouthful of water and whispered, “Marco.”

  Ross pulled her to his chest and said, “Polo.”

  He was so relieved he could have cried.

  Lila wrapped her arms around Ross’s neck, barely hanging on as he carried her to shore, shivering from the cold. The pains of his blistered foot and aching back returned, his labored breathing replacing the serene silence. Ross lowered Lila to the ground and the reality of the situation set in. She could have drowned and it would have been his fault. He had taken too big a risk, removing her from the center with no idea of what was going on in her head.

  It was a mistake he wouldn’t make again.

  “What were you thinking?” he said.

  Lila crossed her arms, her teeth chattering and her lips turning a dusky blue. A few stray hairs clung to the side of her face and her clothes sealed to her frail body.

  The wind cut through Ross’s clothes. His skin erupted in gooseflesh. “Lila, what were you doing in the lake?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.” Tears spilled from her eyes, mud streaking her face as she wiped at them.

  Ross held out his sweater, the only dry thing between them. “Put this on,” he said. “You need to get warm.”

  “What about you?”

  Ross tried not to let on that he was freezing. “I’ll be fine.”

  Lila pulled the sweater over her head, the knit fabric swallowing her. She rolled on to her knees and struggled to get to her feet. Ross offered her his hand.

  “Thank you,” she said, wringing out her braided hair.

  The sweater hung so far past her fingertips she had to cuff the sleeves several times. The waistband settled halfway to her knees.

  Ross sat on a nearby rock and removed his socks and shoes, convinced barefoot was better than wet socks and shoes against the now ruptured blisters on his heels.

  “Are you all right?” The gravel pierced his tender feet, each step magnifying the pain of the embedding rock.

  “I’m fine.” Lila moved out ahead of him, leaving a gap large enough to quell the need for conversation. It was clear she had said all she intended to, though Ross didn’t nearly consider the matter closed.

  He navigated the path, seeking the comfort of smooth stepping stones and finding them few and far between. He stopped twice to remove shards of shale from his now bleeding forefoot behind his big toe.

  Lakeside came into view and the panic of having to answer for what had happened gripped him.

  “Lila, wait.” Ross wanted to get their stories straight, or at least formulate a story that might cast reasonable doubt.

  Lila kept walking.

  “Lila, please. I need to know what you plan on saying to Dr. Oliver. He’s going to ask what happened. What do I tell him about why you’re drenched?”

  Lila pulled the front door open and was inside before he could stop her.

  Ross followed and caught the immediate look of horror on Chelsea’s face.

  “Oh gosh, what happened? What should I do? Should I get a towel? Should I call Dr. Oliver?” She rushed from behind the reception desk to where Lila and Ross were standing.

  “You don’t need to do anything,” Ross said. “Lila slipped. She’s fine. We’re both fine.”

  “Slipped? Slipped where?” Chelsea reached for Lila’s arm.

  Lila pulled away, her canvas sneakers squeaking against the white tile floor.

  “The lake,” Ross said, the words coming before he thought to stop them.

  “What were you doing all the way at the lake?” Dr. Guy Oliver peeled off his glasses and put them in the breast pocket of his white dress shirt.

  Lila glanced at him, then at Ross, and headed upstairs.

  “Lila, wait.” Ross went after her.

  Guy followed them. “Ross, we need to talk.”

  “Lila, please. Wait,” Ross said.

  “Ross, I’m serious.”

  “Guy, give me a minute here.” Ross followed Lila into her room and her bathroom door slammed shut.

  “Lila, open up.” Ro
ss knocked, but Lila refused to answer.

  “What happened?” Guy asked. “Why are you soaking wet? And why aren’t you wearing any shoes?”

  “Blisters.” Ross knocked again. “Lila, open up.”

  “You had no business taking Lila out of here without permission.”

  “I tried to find you to ask first. You were nowhere to be found. You need to trust me.”

  “Trust you? I have trusted you, Ross. You know things no one else does, but what do you think is going to happen to the center if someone gets hurt, or worse?”

  Ross didn’t need Guy to spell out what he was implying. “It won’t happen again. It was an accident. We were too close to the water and I slipped on rock.”

  “And Lila? Did she slip, too?”

  Lila opened the bathroom door stared Guy down. “No, she didn’t slip. She wanted to go swimming.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “Thanks for not throwing me under the bus,” Mark said, extending a pair of green scrubs to Ross who had holed himself up in his office.

  “For what?” Ross changed behind a supply cabinet door. “You told me to ask for permission and I didn’t get it.” He set his wet shoes next to the heater vent and hung his dripping clothes from the coat rack. Underwear would have been nice, but he’d settle for being dry. He sat in the chair behind his desk and examined the ruptured blisters on the backs of his water-logged heels. “I take full responsibility for what happened. There’s no point in bringing anyone down with me, especially when they’re not at fault.”

  “I feel like I should have stopped you. I didn’t know Lila would go into the lake, but I should’ve known something could happen. If Dr. Oliver knew you mentioned taking her outside to me, I’d have been fired.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to you, Mark. Besides, Lila’s okay. Guy’s upset, but I think he’s happier that she said something to him than he is angry that she went in the lake.”

  “What did she say?”

  “That she wanted to go swimming.”