Destiny Interrupted

by Ruth Davidson

  Trevor’s jaw hardened with a look of bitter disgust. “Why? I’ll tell you why you didn’t hear from me again. One night your father dragged me by the collar out here, right over there by that tree,” he said, pointing in that direction. “He was furious. He told me that I had taken his daughter away from him and that you would most likely be a vegetable because of what I’d done. He wanted me out of your life permanently. He warned me not to come near you again or even try to see you. He said there would be legal ramifications if I did. It didn’t matter what I said or the arguments I made, he wouldn’t listen. He even asked the hospital personnel to stop giving me updates on your condition. Then he cut me off from you completely. When I tried calling your home, he intercepted those calls. He never let me get through to you. I never had the chance to speak to you again; I was never given that chance. That’s why you never heard from me or saw me again. That’s the only reason you didn’t.”

  Whitney sat frozen in dismay, feeling utterly miserable as she stared unseeingly at the darkness outside. She felt her throat tightening further and further as she fought the emotions that had arisen inside her. Why had her father done that? Why had he stepped in like he had? Why had he stopped the one thing that had given her life more happiness and meaning than anything she’d ever had before? Trevor had meant everything to her—everything—and he had never intended to leave her. He had stayed with her after the accident. He had come to the hospital to be with her and would have stayed with her no matter what. And her father had stopped it—all in the name of protecting her?

  Is that why her father hadn’t wanted her to return to camp? Whitney wondered in continuing dismay. Is that why he fought her hard about coming back to this place? He hadn’t wanted her to discover the truth about his involvement in the whole affair? He hadn’t wanted her to discover his interference? Did her father still, in some insane way, mean to protect her from the past, something he had no right to protect her from?

  Both Trevor and Whitney sat in the quiet stillness for a long time, not saying a word to each other as they absorbed the ramifications of the situation. At the risk of Trevor noticing the slight, uncontrollable tremor in her voice, Whitney finally spoke. “How do you go about fixing something like this, I wonder? I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say to make it any better.” She glanced at him helplessly. “You must have thought it amazingly presumptuous of me to come tromping back to camp like I did. What did you think I was doing, throwing the past in your face? Taunting you with the fact that I was whole again and that I wasn’t damaged—as if I was saying, ‘Look at what you missed out on? Look at me. I’m fine. Too bad for you for not sticking by me when you should have?’”

  “I didn’t know,” Trevor responded, his voice cold and distant. “I couldn’t quite figure out what your intent was.”

  The lateness of the night, her fatigue, the volcanic emotions the conversation had erupted inside her—Whitney clenched her hands in her lap, feeling at a complete loss. “I came to this place to try to piece my life back together,” Whitney finally stated. “I thought I had prepared myself to face whatever there was to face but I don’t think I was ready to face something like this. I didn’t know something like this was a part of my past. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to handle it.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” Trevor confirmed, his voice resigned.

  Whitney turned her face from his. “You must have wondered why I never called you after the accident.”

  “I did wonder, more than once.”

  Whitney lifted her hands in helpless frustration. “I thought you wanted nothing more to do with me. That’s what I had been told. That’s what I believed. I know it seems shallow for me to believe you capable of walking away from me like that but how could I have known your true intentions? When you were effectively kept away from me, it fit exactly into what my father told me about you. I didn’t think you ever wanted to see me again. But there’s really no excuse—no apology—that can make this any better, is there.”

  “There isn’t,” Trevor agreed.

  “I’m sorry,” Whitney said sullenly, feeling exhausted and empty. “I’m truly sorry about the past and I’m sorry about what happened between us. I’m sorry about everything.”

  “I am, too,” Trevor replied.

  The finality in Trevor’s voice made Whitney’s heart sink in weighted despair. It told her that he had finished with the conversation, that to him their sordid past was over and done and that there was nothing left to say or do to resolve it. She could sense it and feel it from his words and from his stern expression. It made her feel even more empty and lost, not offering any of the hope or comfort that she’d always wanted—and somehow hoped to find—by coming back go this place. “We ought to get going,” Whitney announced quietly, almost inaudibly. “It’s late and I know we’re both tired. We need a break from all this stuff.”

  “You’re right,” Trevor said. “It’s time we got back.” He stiffly turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine, the rumbling motor breaking the heavy, leaden stillness that had settled about them. Trevor put the vehicle into reverse and slowly pulled out of the parking lot. Neither of them said another word to each other on the long, darkened road back to camp as they each sat, quietly absorbed in their own unnerving contemplations.

  Chapter Five

  Whitney forced herself through the rigors of the following day, trying to keep up with her energetic group as they went to the various stations throughout the camp, but her heart wasn’t in her work. Her mind felt too troubled and distracted after the previous night with Trevor. She had not been able to get their conversation out of her mind. It had plagued her as she pondered it over and over again throughout course of the day, hardly able to come to terms with what she had learned. Her father had lied to her. He had been the one to remove Trevor from her life but then he had shifted the blame back to Trevor, claiming that Trevor had been the one to walk away from her without once looking back.

  Why had her father done that? Whitney wondered. To supposedly protect her from further hurt? How could he have interfered in her life in the name of protecting her, keeping her away from the one man she had given her heart to, the one man she had learned to love completely?

  If her father hadn’t stepped into their lives when he had, Whitney believed she and Trevor would be in an entirely different situation today. They certainly wouldn’t be in the position they were in—living separate lives, hardly able to speak comfortably to each other, maintaining an impartial, superficial association, one that didn’t mean a thing to either of them. Her father had taken everything she valued away from her all in the name of protecting her. Why did he feel like he had the right to do that? Why had he believed he could determine what was best for her future by stepping in as he did without even talking to her about it or telling her what he’d done?

  After the seemingly endless rotations of the day, Whitney escaped to her cabin as the others in her group went to the dining hall for supper. She had been extremely relieved that she had not seen or run into Trevor throughout the day; she wasn’t quite sure what she would have done or said to him if she had. Her heart felt too unsettled and raw to face him.

  When Whitney found herself alone in the quiet cabin, she took out her phone and went into the back room as she began pacing across the worn wooden floorboards. She knew she needed to call her father and release some of the anxiety that had arisen from her agonized emotions. Before she had even completed the call, she could hardly see through the frustrated tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes. She stubbornly brushed them away, wiping her damp cheeks with the back of her hand.

  Her father answered after only two rings. “Whitney. I’ve been waiting to hear from you. How are you doing?” her father greeted her.

  There was a long pause as Whitney tried to regain control of her emotions. She sniffled lightly as she took in a shaky breath.

  “What’s wrong?” her father immediately a
sked. “Are you hurt? What’s going on?”

  “I’m so angry with you, Dad,” Whitney finally blurted out, her voice tremulous as she spoke. “How could you do that to me?”

  There was a short, uncertain silence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” her father finally replied, his tone dismissive. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you. Do you need someone to come up to get you? Are you ready to come home?”

  “I’m fine,” Whitney insisted through clenched teeth, growing even more upset. “I’m healthy and I’m functioning fine. I’m doing better than I have for a long time. I feel angry and upset at you because of what you did to me.”

  Her father’s voice hardly wavered. “What did I do?”

  “You lied to Trevor. You lied to me,” Whitney accused him. “You told me Trevor left when he thought I wouldn’t be okay. You told me he walked away and washed his hands of me. Trevor didn’t. He stayed. He stayed until you pushed him away. He would have waited for me. I know he would have waited. How could you have done that to me? How could you believe it was in my best to interest to lie to him like you did? How can you say that you loved me when you tried to interfere with my life in the way that you have?”

  “I do love you,” her father claimed adamantly.

  “Does loving me mean lying to me?” Whitney asked.

  “Loving you means doing what’s best for you and what’s best for your healing,” her father said. “That’s what I believe I did.”

  By now, there were two steady streams of tears slipping down Whitney’s face. Whitney didn’t even attempt to brush them away. “You kept me locked in a life where I could scarcely breathe,” she said. “You kept me so close under your arm and protection that I almost became incapable of living independently. I worked in a dive just so you could be within a few minutes of me. I saw doctors and specialists and health care advisors just so they could assure you that I was going to be okay. At what point did it become your life to live instead of mine? At what point?”

  “Whitney,” her father answered calmly. “I told you I didn’t think it was a good idea for you to return to that place. I advised you against doing it. You’re suffering further heartache and pain, like I told you would happen. You didn’t listen to me and now look at you.”

  “Yeah, look at me,” Whitney replied bitterly, growing even more upset. “Your little girl has found out the truth and she’s angry so she can’t be doing well. She’s crying and upset and that means she’s not doing okay. I’m fine, Dad. I have every right to feel upset that you lied to me. I have every right to feel angry that you tried to take my life away from me. I’m free to feel betrayed by the one person I should have felt the safest with, the one I should have trusted the most in the world to secure my happiness. You were wrong to do what you did.”

  “Wrong or not, it was best,” her father said.

  “Why are you the one who gets to decide what’s best?” Whitney confronted him.

  “I’m your father,” he said. “I will continue to do all I can to safeguard your welfare. Part of that is doing everything in my power to help you in the best way I know how.”

  “Part of helping me,” Whitney countered with firm determination, “will be for you to come to terms with the mistakes you made in my life. Your first mistake was to interfere in a relationship that you had no right to stop—no matter my condition, no matter what you felt were Trevor’s motives. It was unfair of you to do what you did to supposedly keep me safe. I hold you accountable for breaking off the relationship that meant more to me than any I’ve ever had.”

  “You weren’t capable of making that sort of determination in your condition, were you,” her father stated. “I had to make it for you and I chose what I thought would be best.”

  “You chose wrongly,” Whitney announced indignantly. “You should have never done what you did.”

  “I’d most likely do it again under the same circumstances,” her father replied, his voice unmoved. “I don’t think I would do anything differently.”

  “Then let’s pray there will never be similar circumstances that will allow you to mess up my life like you have.”

  “Are you sure it’s not time for you to come back home?” her father questioned again, sounding somewhat miffed. “You don’t sound as if you’re coping with your circumstances very well.”

  “I’m not coming home,” Whitney said firmly. “I’m right where I should be. I’m right where I want to be.”

  “We’ll have to speak about this later,” her father said. “I need to get back to work.”

  “Fine. We’ll speak about it later,” Whitney curtly replied.

  “Goodbye, Whitney.”

  Whitney didn’t echo his goodbye, still inwardly quaking after she turned off her phone. As she left the back room to walk out, Whitney felt surprised to see Jenny standing silently near the entryway, staring at her soberly. “Did you hear me speaking to my father?” Whitney questioned, still sniffling as she faced her friend.

  “I did,” Jenny reluctantly admitted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I came to ask you to join me for dinner and happened to overhear you talking on your phone.” Jenny lifted her thin brows in concern. “Are you okay?”

  “Not yet,” Whitney admitted, certain her eyes were tear-stained. “I’m going to go out for awhile to get control of my emotions and clear my head. I’ll have to excuse myself from eating dinner right now.”

  “I’ll bring a plate to our room if you want to eat later,” Jenny said. “Would that help?”

  “Thank you,” Whitney said. “It would help a great deal.” Whitney walked past her roommate, lightly touching her arm as she walked outside, needing some place to go where she could be alone to think over all that had transpired.

  Much, much later that night, Whitney sat on the dock near the lake, the light warm breeze gently lifting her thick hair from her solemn features. She had calmed down somewhat after her earlier conversation with her father but not quite enough to face Jenny’s probing questions as yet. Whitney wrapped her arms tightly about her legs and then pulled them up against her, resting her chin on one knee as she gazed out at the darkened expanse. All remained quiet except the light splashing of the tiny waves against the wooden pillars that sustained the dock.

  It was late now, probably past ten. Whitney had done a lot of thinking during the past few hours only to come up with even more to trouble her already-burdened heart. For the first time since the accident, she thought of the past in terms of not solely her own experience but Trevor’s, what he must have gone through and what he must have felt. Always before she had believed her father’s version of the events. Last night with Trevor had changed all that. To have heard Trevor’s confessions, to still see the intensity and depth of emotion he carried because of his experiences—all had deeply affected her.

  Whitney believed Trevor had gone through every ounce of pain she had. The remorse he must have felt—the guilt he must have carried knowing he had been the cause of all the upheaval in her life—had to have been awful. He had spent those long, anguished days of waiting in the hospital to hear about her condition, not knowing how she would fare, only to be pushed away as an outsider unworthy of staying near the one he had hurt horribly. He had probably suffered the trauma of their separation as much or more than she had. And he’d had to leave without knowing what had happened to her. It’s true he had ultimately moved on with his life, but that didn’t diminish at all the depth of the pain he had once suffered because of the past.

  Whitney felt a deep, yearning sorrow for that pain. She couldn’t fathom how she would have fared if the roles had been reversed. She couldn’t have borne hurting him and then having his family reject and spurn her for doing so. Yet that’s what had happened to him. That had been his lot to face. It seemed a wonder that he had even been civil to her when she’d come back to the camp, that he had accepted her presence—if not happily, at least without complaint. She still felt awed that he’d allowed h
er to stay. To think how she must have appeared to him. To think of what he must have thought of her. She must have appeared as anxious to rid him from her life as her father had. She’d never called; she’d never taken the initiative to contact him and let him know about her well-being. And then she’d come back to the place he worked without even telling him of her plans. How odd and disrespectful that must have seemed.

  Whitney shook her head, still troubled. She’d been blind to Trevor’s experiences because she’d been completely wrapped up in her own. But how could she have known? How could she have reacted any differently? Her father had lied to her. If she had not come back to this place, she would have never known the full truth. Coming back had been the only thing that had allowed her to learn it.

  Whitney spent another lonely half hour beside the calm lake before sighing heavily and pressing her hands against the dock to lift herself from her sitting position. She needed to get back to the cabin. Jenny would probably be missing her by now and Whitney didn’t want Jenny worrying further, especially after the way she’d left. Besides, Whitney needed a good night’s sleep because of the disrupted night she’d had previously. She felt emotionally and physically drained from all that had transpired.

  After Whitney traversed the curving trail toward her cabin, she became surprised to see Jenny waiting outside on the porch, pacing impatiently back and forth near the doorway. She had a two-way radio and was speaking into it when she abruptly sighed in relief. “Wait a minute, Kyle. Hold on. She’s back. She’s here with me now. She just walked up. She’s fine. You can let Trevor know that she’s back. Everything’s fine.”

  Whitney became surprised at Jenny’s breathless tones. “You were worried about me?” Whitney asked in consternation.

  “I’m sorry,” Jenny quickly apologized, looking almost sheepish about her reaction. “You were gone for such a long time and I got scared. You weren’t answering your phone.”