“Top five percent of his class.”
It was Kevin’s turn to acknowledge with a nod, and we peeked in the last bedroom—mine. After not having been there for months, a couple of details jumped out at me. One was the wheelchair in the corner that I still hadn’t gotten rid of. I had no need for it anymore and, yet, there it remained. The cardboard boxes I’d packed last fall of my husband’s old clothes still sat there, painful reminders of a past I’d struggled to move away from.
It was then that I admitted to myself that we never really move on from our past. Even when we don’t feel it as deeply, even when we can manage to let things go and continue with our lives, those memories will always be a part of us, having shaped us and changed us, for better or worse.
Kevin must have known I was dealing with some heavy shit, because he didn’t say a word. He just moved on when I did.
And the reality of it all set in. If he spent the night with me this night (something I wasn’t quite sure of yet), would we sleep in my bed? In the room I shared with my husband for all those years?
Would that be okay?
I showed him the bathroom and then I took him to the family room, the largest room in the house. It was also the room where my family had gathered the most—around movies, video and board games, and a fireplace we hadn’t used in so long, I couldn’t remember when.
When we finally sat down, he talked to me about the pictures on the wall—a couple of my kids at various ages and then one of the four of us at the last family reunion we’d had, the last one before Darren couldn’t walk anymore. Tanner had just started high school and Kyleigh still had braces, but we looked so happy, smiling under the sun, and I choked back tears looking at that picture. I hadn’t known it then, but I had been happy…to some degree. There was no denying it. That smile was in my eyes, and I remembered that day like it was yesterday.
As this day grew darker, we talked about how strange it was to be back home and our speculations about the future. We did not talk about our own futures. We didn’t talk about his home.
We ate our odd little meal as my house grew dark.
And it was almost strange when Kevin kissed me and I took him by the hand, leading him to my bedroom. I was glad it was dark, because then my memories couldn’t overwhelm me—at least not the ones in that room. Other memories, though, ones of the times Kevin and I had spent together, made it hard for me to get lost in the moment, because something in the back of my mind told me this was it. This was our last time together.
But instead of then enjoying it, appreciating it, I mourned it.
At least I was home again where I could maybe figure out once more how to grow numb.
Chapter Twenty-two
“He can hear you. He knows what you’re saying.”
I was alone, sitting on the edge of the bed. Darren had been asleep for more than a day and his face looked unlined, peaceful.
Painless. For the first time in years.
I did what the worker told me to do.
“Honey, you’ve lived a long, brave life. You’ve fought the good fight…but it’s all right. We love you and we miss you, but it’s okay to go. It’s okay to just let go and…I’ll see you on the other side.”
And then I cried harder than I had in my entire life.
* * *
I awoke the next morning, wondering if I’d been dreaming about Darren or simply remembering those last days in my sleep. I should have been happy upon awaking, if not ecstatic, having slept in my own bed, opening my eyes to the sun streaming through the part in the drapes, feeling warmth in my bones. I’d survived a long fucking winter and I was stronger for it.
The reason I wasn’t feeling happy, though, was the very reason why I should have been. Kevin lay beside me, facing the wall away from me, and I had been resting my face against the smooth skin of his back. I’d been thinking, though, and pondering and wondering. Deep in my bones, I knew.
He was leaving.
I didn’t care that he was leaving Winchester. This town was just a place, and I knew a lot of kids who grew up here couldn’t wait to shake the dust off their feet and never look back. I understood how growing up in the same place all your life made you hate that home, and I wouldn’t hold that against him. He’d built a life away from here, and this was no longer his home. Now that his mother had passed, it held even less for him than before.
I understood that and had no problems accepting it—except he wasn’t just leaving Winchester.
He was leaving me.
And as much as it hurt, I understood that, too. On the mountain, we were ports in a storm, common allies whose bodies just so happened to fit together nicely. Sexual attraction had just been a bonus…but now we were free in this scary new world, and his life didn’t fit well with mine.
I got that.
I’d just always had a hard time letting go.
I knew that was why I’d awakened with my husband’s death heavy on my mind. It wasn’t only being surrounded by persistent memories of him here and it wasn’t a feeling of guilt at having another man in our bed, either. He and I had talked about various what ifs long before he’d died, and he had said more than once that my life after him had his blessings, no matter the path I would choose.
Those conversations had wrenched my gut, and I’d often begged him not to talk about that. I hadn’t wanted to think of life without him, beyond him, after him…because, when it came down to it, I’d have to deal with it eventually. I didn’t want to have to deal with it before it had even happened. I had too much of life that demanded my focus in the here and now—living paycheck to paycheck, working jobs that required more short-term attention than long-term planning, striving to cherish the moments with my kids before they inevitably left my nest. Looking to the future had always been daunting, especially because mine had always looked just as bleak as my present.
Today was no different.
I sat up and draped my legs over the side of the bed, stretching my arms. His leaving was inevitable, that I knew, but there was no sense rushing it. I’d let him sleep until he awoke himself, and I knew it wouldn’t be long anyway. We’d grown accustomed to waking with the sun.
Then again, he’d had a restless night. I thought he’d had a hard time falling asleep, because his tossing and turning had continued to awaken me. Maybe his unspoken decision was gnawing at him, making sleep difficult throughout the night.
I stood finally and tried to find joy in the fact that, for the first time in months, I could wear my own damn clothes again, no offense to Aunt Lou. I walked across the room to the dresser and opened one of the middle drawers that held my t-shirts. I grabbed one of the black ones and slipped it on, grateful that the weather was pleasant and I wouldn’t have to bundle up again for quite a while. Then I opened the drawer underneath it and pulled out a pair of my jeans. I slid them on and realized right away that they didn’t fit anymore. They were too big. A year ago, that would have been great news. Now, I wondered what I could do, because it wasn’t like I could just go shopping anymore.
Maybe Susana had solutions for clothing as well. It wouldn’t have surprised me one bit.
In the meantime, though, I’d look for a belt. Or, better yet, I knew I’d saved a couple of pairs for that elusive someday when I’d lose the extra pounds I’d gained when I’d quit smoking. I never would have guessed the kind of events that would have led to the moment where I could put them on again. I dug to the bottom of the drawer and first grabbed the pair that I’d always believed in the back of my mind I’d probably never wear again but that I kept just in case.
They fit with a little room to spare.
I walked into the hallway, experiencing such an odd sensation. It was almost like déjà vu but not quite. Everything felt surreal, and I thought if I could just go back to my old routines, I might find some comfort. But I couldn’t make coffee because there was no electricity, and I wasn’t going to shower in cold water.
There was one thing I could do th
at hadn’t been altered by this new environment.
I could sit on my damn porch.
So I did. I picked up my plastic chair out of the dirt, returning it to the spot where I used to sit, dusting it off with my hands before taking a seat. My house faced south, and I was able to watch the brilliant reds streak the clouds just above the horizon as the sun made its way up the sky, and the robins sang a beautiful song of spring while it happened. And I told myself, At least I have this. Fucking life could take away my husband, my kids, and even everything I’d known. It was going to take away a man who’d become my companion, my rock, and I had to deal with it, but by God, I had this. Nothing and no one could take away the sunrise and the birds and the cool stillness of the air this late March morning.
Nothing.
Not even Kevin Savage.
I heard him call my name as he walked through the house, but before I could even call back, he saw the open front door and opened the screen just as I said, “Out here.”
He came outside and looked to the east. “Wow.”
“Yeah. Pretty spectacular.” I looked up at him. “Did you want to sit down?”
“No. I’m fine.” He leaned against the wall next to my chair, and we watched the fading colors together, not saying another word until the sun was fully above the horizon and the sky was blue, the clouds white, no hint of the vivid display of color visible anymore.
We went inside, both thirsty, and poured water from the tap. Boy, I could get used to that again really fast.
I couldn’t ask the question I wanted to, needed to, but I could ask something else, something that I knew would get me close to the truth. “Do you want to go to the college later for breakfast—or brunch or whatever they call it nowadays?”
Yep. There it was. I saw it cross his face plain as day—regret, possibly apprehension, maybe even a little sadness, but it was there, and it was something he wanted to say even less than I wanted to hear it.
That was a little comfort, at least.
He swallowed, staring at that glass of water for a few seconds before forcing his eyes to make contact with mine. “Nina…about that. I—I’ve got to head north to find my family.”
His family. His mother was gone and she’d been here. To the best of my knowledge, the only other family he had was his wife (ex or not) and his daughter. If he’d meant his daughter, he would have said that. By saying his family, I knew exactly what he meant.
It hurt, but I wasn’t completely surprised. I was able to put it all together. When he’d stepped inside Larry’s truck last fall, he’d had every intention of trying to work things out with his wife when he got home. Circumstances had waylaid those plans, though, and I’d been a convenient companion to cling to. Ah, I couldn’t be bitter about it. He too had been what I’d needed while we were there…but that realization didn’t help it hurt less.
I nodded, blinking back those goddamn tears that threatened to overrun me. That was how I knew the old numbness had faded—over the past week, I’d cried more than I had in years; the past month, double that. Was it being pulled out of everything I knew that had shaken it out of me?
No. It had been serving time with this man. Somehow, he’d helped me find myself again, for better or worse.
I tried to be stoic, tried to sound as neutral as possible. “Do what you have to do.”
I could see he had more to say but couldn’t find the words. This was hard on him, too, harder than I would have expected. He nodded. “I’m gonna wash up.”
I helped with that. I found him a washcloth and dug through my linen closet, locating a toothbrush. I asked him if he wanted a fresh change of clothes and showed him the boxes. I found the ones more likely to fit him, things my husband had worn long ago, before his illness had all but defeated him.
Then I left the room and sat at the kitchen table, trying to figure out what I’d do next.
I too was going to have to head north, but my direction would be a little farther west than Savage’s. Once we hit south of Denver, all bets were off. I didn’t even know if I’d be able to access Golden and Boulder the way I used to or if I’d have to find an alternate path. And what the hell would I have to do to get there? Would I have to work in exchange for fuel? This new world was going to be harder to navigate, and I knew I’d need to figure out the rules first.
Savage, though, already had plans in place. I could feel it. It was probably what he’d been doing instead of sleeping last night—going through his immediate future in his head, plotting each point and solving problems before they came along.
But instead of focusing on my own future, I came back to one of my life’s themes—that of not letting go and, with Savage in particular, of not letting him know what I was thinking, what I was feeling.
So when he came to the kitchen, seemingly to say goodbye, I asked him to sit down. “Just for a couple minutes. I know you have to get on the road.” Where to start? What to say? I closed my eyes for a second so I could let my heart take over. “Do you remember that night my senior year? When we were up in the hills, just before Halloween. Some of the kids were drinking, and we were goofing around, telling ghost stories and crap like that? But when we were walking back to the clearing, you slipped your arm around my waist.” Oh, shit. There it was. Recognition. Admission. Knowledge. I could see it all in his eyes…but I wasn’t going to force him to say anything. Seeing it in his expression was more than enough.
But I couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore, because I could feel the tears wanting to make yet another appearance. I swallowed and focused on my hands that were folded and resting on the table. Otherwise, there was no way I would be able to finish saying what had to be said. “You…put your arm around my back and I—I just froze. You have no idea how giddy I was inside, how excited, because I was sure that was it. The deal was sealed. But I was an awkward kid—never been kissed, never had a real boyfriend, and I had no idea what to do, how to act, and…” I drifted off.
I had to force myself to look him in the eye for this part. I couldn’t chicken out. I’d hesitated with this man far too many times in my life, kept my feelings secret, failed to say or do the right thing—and now, I was going to do what I had to, right or wrong. I was going to tell him what I should have all those years ago.
Saliva was pooling in my mouth as my nerves grew more taut, but I swallowed and looked up. He’d been looking at my hands too, but his eyes drifted up to meet mine when he noticed my motion, and I let a slow breath out of my lungs. “I love you, Kevin Savage. I loved you back then, and I love you now, and I understand that you have to go”—and here came the fucking tears—“but I can’t let you walk away again without saying something.” I swallowed again and swiped a tear off my cheek. “This… I don’t know what tomorrow’s going to bring. I don’t know who is in my life anymore, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again, so…” But that was it. I had no more words I could say.
But no longer could I have any regrets for things unsaid, for things undone.
He held me then, bringing his chair close, and let me cry it all out…this man who’d claimed to be clueless when it came to tears.
But he left a little while later just the same, and, as I watched him drive his bike down the street until it was out of sight and I could no longer hear the roar of the engine, I wondered if it would again be another thirty years before I saw Kevin Savage again.
Chapter Twenty-three
As I’d been doing over the past couple of months, I allowed myself to cry it out until there were no tears left. When I was done, I made my way to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, but it didn’t help. My cheeks were still red and splotchy, my eyes bloodshot and puffy. Fortunately, I had an hour or so before the meal at the community college, and that would give my face some time to return to normal.
Oh, but how was I going to get there? Kevin and his bike had been my only source of transportation since leaving my aunt’s. I sighed. There was my car out front…but it was
still blocked by the truck that had the infected guy in it. But maybe that was all okay now. Maybe I could move his truck, or…
I walked into the living room toward the front door. Whatever the case, nothing would happen while I debated with myself. I needed to actually do something, and I’d be able to work my way through it. Hell, the college was three miles away, but after all the hiking we’d done in the high country over the past several months, three miles on a mostly flat surface and smooth concrete at a lower elevation would be nothing.
It wasn’t the effort, though. It was the heaviness of my heart that made me want to retreat.
But I couldn’t. Something inside me told me my kids needed me. I had to get to them if it was literally the last thing I’d do.
I knew there was a bicycle buried in our garden shed somewhere—but it was Kyleigh’s and it was built for a kid. I’d do it if I had to, but that would be a last resort. I still had a little food around, so if I could only make it to the evening meal, that would be the plan. If it came down to that and I couldn’t get my car out of the driveway, then I’d also need help from those folks to get out of town in the first place.
I was beginning to feel trapped again.
At least winter was over. I knew we could get one or two more snowstorms, but the spring snows, although heavy, melted quickly; by April, the weather would be mild enough that I could walk anywhere. The idea of hiking north for that long was daunting, though, and potentially dangerous, especially because I didn’t know this new world. Driving in a car by myself would be risky enough.
I took a deep breath and walked out the door to the driveway. Yes, there was my old beater car, ready to go more miles, hanging in there for me like she had for years. I’m sure, if machines could, that she had appreciated the respite, especially over this harsh winter. She and I had been through a lot, and she’d been the best vehicle I’d ever owned. Sure, I’d had to take the car in for occasional repairs, but two hundred thousand miles later, and she was still burning rubber. I couldn’t complain.
Wilder (Savage #2) Page 17
