Something has now.
I feel sick.
Terror building.
As I appear at the end of our path, just before the driveway, she gasps and touches her heart.
“You can't do this, Abby. It feels really bad. I don't know why I know, but you shouldn't do this.”
Shaken, she argues, volume raised like mine, “That's just the remnants of your human existence talking,” and rushes past me.
“No!” I spin around, shout, “It's more than that!”
Determined, “I have to!” she races to our car.
I flash in front of her, appearing right next to the driver’s side door. “Abigail!”
She gasps, stricken a moment, but quickly gathers herself and calmly opens the door.
“Don't get in that fucking car — I mean it!
Her eyes sadden. “Make me.”
Our eyes lock as she shuts the door and ignites the engine.
I’m helpless to stop this car, standing alone in the cloud of dust and gravel in its wake. Desperate, crazed, spinning, pacing, I search for a way to stop her. Something. Anything. I throw up hands and shout, “Help me! Dear God, help me! I know this isn't right! What do I do?”
Against my will I vanish.
Chapter 36
Abby
When I was eating that apple, alone in our kitchen, I remembered where he proposed, how beautiful it was. How high up, too.
I drove out to the spot right then and there, wearing shorts, a tank top and my green sneakers, pretty much what I had on that beautiful sunny day eleven years ago.
Reliving the past and considering what I could do to alter my future, I tucked my hands into the front pockets, and strolled over split rail wood slats so sturdy they don’t creak.
The structure isn’t like other bridges in the area, its majestic iron reaching high, forged with care by men no longer living. It’s gorgeous, a draw for locals and tourists alike, in the daytime. But I bet at night it’s probably a bit spooky, as many antiques can be, as if the past can’t be let them go.
I watched a flock of geese fly overhead while my mind visited the faces who impacted my life the most. Not just Max, but everyone who changed me. My parents were first — Mom’s happy smile and Dad’s huge laugh. My teachers flashed by, those who inspired me enough to pay more attention. I saw my first kiss. The boss who, when I was just eighteen, told me he believed I’d make it to the top. I saw my sister, and felt a strong pull at my heart. Maybe being with Barry will make her less selfish, and we’ll become closer now. It was possible. One thing I knew is she would be devastated if I did this.
Alice and Henry, they’ve become my parents, too. To lose both of us in the span of a year, how could I do that to them? They’d only ever shown me love. How could I hurt them? I’d pulled away from Jen, had rarely replied to Arthur’s calls. How would they feel if I jumped? They’d always believed they should have tried harder.
I heard once, suicide is a selfish act. You’re gone, leaving your pain to other people.
So I walked back to where I parked, and drove home.
On the way back, a peculiar thing happened. I saw this image — a vision? — of me planting in a large field. It made me smile, though it was clearly a fantasy.
But as the night waned on and Max was still unwilling to show himself, the idea to end my life returned and became louder. It nagged at me like it had its own voice.
I made myself a meal, ate it alone, and the voice inside my head stared shouting — do it. Lorna has Barry now. Alice and Henry are resilient. Jennifer and Tom haven’t driven out here, what do they care? Arthur wouldn’t want to see me after he learned Lorna was taken.
Be real.
Chapter 37
Max
Snatched from our driveway, catapulted through the ethers, I land in a house I don’t recognize, spinning to reach for some sign of familiarity.
Where the fuck am I?
What am I looking at?
Quaint cupboards painted army green. A modest kitchen with a sink and stove made for one. Fridge not much bigger. Place is tidy, nothing out of place. Country-style curtains, couple pieces of fruit on the counter. Homey, but incredibly basic as in zero knickknacks.
At first I think I’m alone, it’s so quiet.
But turn around, and who do I see reading a war-fiction novel on his couch, huge boot up on a coffee table as he reads? The Scottish asshole.
I snort, “Oh great!” rolling my eyes, catching a glimpse of scotch whiskey on a slender, red shelf.
“Guy's got taste,” I grumble because I’ve enjoyed Laphroaig on the rocks back in my day. Good stuff. Powerful. But not Irish.
I sent up a prayer?
End up here?!
I hate realizing the probability of why this is the second unwelcome occasion where I’m dragged to Jack McCaffrey.
Only this time Abby is in danger.
And time is something I’ve run out of.
I begin with an uncertain, “Hey! You need to get off your ass and go to the bridge and you need to go now.”
But I barely said it, didn’t even believe my own ghost ears that I meant the words. The only person I’ve communicated with is my wife. And this Redwood tree on legs ain’t her.
Why was I brought here? Why him? Rage fuels my next attempt, “Listen you fuck, you need to get your ass off the couch,” I point at the door, pacing to it, furious, desperate, “and go save my wife!”
I swallow defeat, scanning his house and my heart for something I can do, anything, that will draw his attention.
But under the bill of his baseball cap, Jack’s eyes are off the page, staring ahead.
He’s frowning.
I gasp, “You heard me,” bending to be at his eye-level so I can watch his reactions. “You can hear me, can't you? Somewhere inside there, you can hear what I'm saying to you!”
But he blinks down, turns the page and goes back to reading like it’s any other boring old night in his solitary existence.
“Look, we're losing time here!” I jab my ghost finger toward the door. “You have to get up, get your keys and go to the bridge!!”
Nothing.
No reaction.
She’s probably there now.
The way she was driving.
My wife is about to do something we can’t take back.
I completely lose it, “Jack, I'm beggin' you. Go to the bridge. Go to the fucking bridge.”
A deep crease appears, and he pauses, staring ahead again.
It wasn’t a fluke. He can hear me, feel my fear for her, something, I don’t know. But Abby has a chance.
With all the love I have for her, I shout, “GO TO THE FUCKING BRIDGE, JACK! GO! GO NOW!”
He blinks a few times, definitely heard that. Like this is crazy he cautiously gets up, drops the book onto his coffee table, doubt in his eyes. Suddenly he turns his back on them, snatches his keys from the small shelf by his door, rips it open, and sprints for his white truck that’s waiting in the darkness.
I whisper, “That's it, run,” and knowing that won’t get through the veil, shout as loud as I can to save my wife’s life, “RUN YOU BASTARD, RUN!!”
Jack lunges and leaps inside his truck. The lights pierce and illuminate the acres of farmland his small cottage rests on. I can see it all as if I’m outside, yet I’m not. The truck skids backward, dust billows like smoke, particles floating in the beam of his headlights as he turns the wheel, skids in gravel, and races for the bridge.
Abby’s voice is everywhere, “Max!” and I blink to Jack’s ceiling, stunned that I hear so clearly her sudden cry for help.
Chapter 38
Max
Vulnerable and looking frail, bare feet on wooden planks that must hide slivers, Abby is staring over the railing. The bridge looks different at night, only the moon to light it. Bugs everywhere. And shadows.
The certainty she had is gone from her voice, pain in the whispered, “Max?”
Is that the same p
lea?
Did I just beat time?
“Abby! I’m right here!”
She exhales and grabs onto the railing. Now that I’ve arrived to keep her company for this final moment, she pulls herself up and over, climbs to the other side to balance on a narrow iron ledge built for maintenance and repair.
I urge her, “Abby, just wait a few minutes!” unable to say that Jack is on the way.
It should be me.
She’s mine.
Forever.
I promised.
Her hair whips in the wind as she grips the railing from behind, elbows bent, shoulder blades together, readying herself for the fall.
“Come on, look at me. Please climb down.” Stubborn, Abs takes a few deep breaths to prepare for this. “Dammit, Abigail, climb down now!
She peers into the depths, swallows hard, shakes her head with fear behind her eyes.
I beg her, “Come on, look at me!”
“Max,” she whispers, “where are you?”
“Abby, I'm here.” No reaction. “Can't you hear me?”
Still nothing.
I’ve been blocked out?
Is that possible?
Stunned, I shout to the sky, “What? What are you doing? Is this her decision to make or something?!”
“Okay,” whispers my wife as she tries to psyche herself up for what she means to do.
I suddenly realize she believes she’s alone out here. I can’t imagine that kind of pain, fear, loss of trust. It’s so untrue. I’m next to her, always have been even when she couldn’t see me.
I look to the road, where the bridge begins, having no clue how far away Jack’s property is from us.
Struggling, I beg her, “Oh God baby just...don't! Don’t!” Feeling helpless, impotent once again, I croak, “Oh God, baby don't jump. I am begging you,” and throw my plea to the stars above, “Let me talk to her!
Abby’s knuckles go white.
She grips the railing, bends forward, and whispers, “I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.”
“Abby, just wait! Please wait!”
Headlights flash across her skin, her nightgown catching in the light as Jack’s truck races up the road and onto the bridge. He shouts, “Abby!” leaping out and racing toward my wife, “ABBY!!!”
Like something has her in its grips, she doesn’t hear him, bends forward, about to let go.
Jack lunges to grab her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight. He lifts her up, like she weighs nothing, and sets her down where it’s safe.
Numb and confused, not understanding why he is there and I am not, Abby crumbles as he envelopes her in his arms.
“I got you,” he whispers, “I got you,” just as confused as she is.
As the love of my life sobs into his chest, I back away knowing neither living soul can see me.
Chapter 39
Abby
I couldn’t do it.
I love Max more than words can express, and it wasn’t because of him I didn’t jump. He was the only reason I was going to.
He was so angry at the car.
And I just drove off.
Is that why he abandoned me?
I’ve never felt more alone than when I was balancing on that ledge. It felt like a test. He wanted to see if I’d do it, and then we’d be together? Where is he? I don’t understand.
Strangely, at the last moment, I felt a pull tugging at me to loosen my grip, allow gravity to make the decision final. My heart raced so hard it was painful. I’d just said I didn’t want to die, and yet I was about to, almost didn’t have a choice anymore. Like something wanted me to drop. It felt dark and seductive.
And then Jack appeared, happened to drive by and see me out there, my light colored clothes easy to spot so out of place. What must he think of me?
I don’t say a word as we drive, me tucked against the passenger door like a child, tears refusing to stop no matter how hard I try to be dignified. I’m in my damn nightgown, a slip, actually.
Cold.
No shoes.
Hanging off the bridge.
About to end my life.
The picture that must have painted for this poor man, I am so embarrassed and grateful to him. Confused. Terrified that Max is that angry that he shut me out. Again.
Why would he do that?
This wasn’t a normal day.
I wasn’t hanging out at the cabin.
I was hanging on a life or death rope.
I needed him.
Why wasn’t he there for me?
“Abby, I’m driving you back to my home,” Jack’s voice is quiet, cautious, “so I can watch over you tonight, okay?” He pauses for me to say something and I feel him glance my way, but all I can do is stare out the windshield, my voice failing me. He adds, “I don’t want you to be alone tonight. You’re safe with me, okay?”
Fresh tears come because even though he’s virtually a stranger, I trust him. I do. Instinct tells me I am safe with this man. I slump more in the seat, and silently beg my tears to stop.
Max…where are you?
Jack turns left into a farm, up a road of gravel and dirt where his truck’s tires have made a path over time. I blink at a little red cottage, and glance around the land, moonlit and vast. There’s a chicken coop to the right. He has chickens?
Parking beside his cottage, headlights illuminate curious eyes and I start, then relax at the sight of a goat behind a split-rail fence, black with white spots and horns that said she was female, not male.
Jack opens his door. “Wait there.” He walks around the front and by the time he gets here, I’m already climbing out, but I take his hand and step down, pulling my robe tighter around my slip with the other hand. Jack’s eyes remain respectful and on the ground. “Hey Sheba,” he calls to the goat while leading the way. “It’s not much, but it’s home,” he self-consciously mutters as the key is drawn. “Oh, didn’t lock it. Forgot.” He swings open the door, and walks in first since I clearly didn’t want his truck door open for me. Jack’s trying to show he understands this isn’t a date. Of course it isn’t, but I’m in next to nothing at a man’s house I’ve never been to, so the boundaries need to be clear. I appreciate his manners. His respect. The man is much bigger than I am.
I brush off my feet on his welcome mat, taking an extra second to scrape embedded gravel out, and blink into a small living and kitchen area, sparsely decorated. Charming.
“Can I use the bathroom?”
“Of course, it’s right over there.”
I nod and he steps aside, making room for my passage. The bathroom is really cute, small as well but a good use of space with the sink and shower built into corners opposite each other, no bathtub. No room for one. There are pale green curtains that fall one-third of the way, the rest of the window frosted for privacy. It’s open a little so I peak outside and see acres of grass and the silhouettes of horses. Pretty.
I avoid the mirror, because who cares right now. I’m a mess and I can’t look at myself. Too sad, too fucking embarrassed, too tired.
When I come out, Jack asks, “How are you doing?”
“Can I lie down?”
“Of course. I just changed the sheets for you.”
“You did?”
He frowns, “Yeah,” and gestures to the room. Each wall is exposed wood, darker slats at the bed’s headrest. There’s a sliding-door closet, his clothing visible with the doors not completely shut. A simple wood chair with a red cushion sit beside his bed, two nightstands flanking it. On the one nearest me rests a fresh glass of ice water.
I bury myself under the covers, pull them up as Jack awkwardly stands at the door, eyes averted, ready to leave but feeling the need to first reassure me, “I’m going to sleep on the sofa. If you need anything, at all, I will be there. And I left you some water. It's right over there, so…”
I start to sob, covering my face — a show of kindness such as that ice water for some reason undid me.
Jack steps inside, “No no, hey hey hey,” and lowers himself onto the chair like a friend. “No, don't do that! I don't blame you for what you were trying to do.” He pauses as if unsure of what to say, and his voice becomes more gentle. “There was a time I thought of stepping out, too. I've been there. Hell, I think we've all been there at some point or another, depending on how much heartbreak we've had.”
These words are so true, they suspend my tears and I look over at him as he struggles with his own. “I lost my wife three years ago to Leukemia.”
I whisper, “Oh...Jack,” surprised, heart aching because I understand what it’s like to lose the one I love most. “I’m so sorry!”
He nods, “Yeah, me too. Me too.” Inhaling deeply, emotion barely contained in his voice, “It hurt, it hurt really bad for a long time.” Jack looks at me, compassion in his smile, “But you have to believe me when I say that I understand. Because I do. I do. But with a little bit of time Abby, it won't hurt as bad. You learn to see the beauty in life again. I'm rambling.” He chuckles, dropping his gaze and embarrassed, “I’m rambling. Get some sleep.”
Chapter 40
Max
Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, hands tucked, I’m watching Jack get through to both of us. Because I finally get it now.
“Get some sleep,” he tells her, and rises from the chair, and passes by where I stand, unseen.
Abby stares off with tears on her cheeks, the lamp warmly lighting her face. Is she realizing what I now know, what I feel in my soul?
He lost his wife.
Abby lost me.
I was meant to bring them together. To help each other do what he said, see the beauty in life again.
Ruefully I whisper, “Abs,” to see if she can hear me yet.
Just One More Kiss: Based on the Motion Picture Page 13
