Without meaning to, I peer over my shoulder at the dark window and sadness lingers. “You haven’t rented it yet? Trent’s been gone for months.” Saying his name makes my mouth dry up and a hollowness blossom inside me.
“Yeah, I know. But he paid for six months. Plus I was hopin’ he might show up again.” He picks at his fingernails in silence for a moment. “I heard the whole story. Livie told me. Tough thing for both of you.”
I nod slowly.
Tanner stretches his legs out. “Did I ever tell you about my brother?”
“Uh … no …?”
“Name was Bob. He went out one night with his girlfriend. Had one beer too many. Thought he was fine to drive. Hey, it happens. No excuse, but it happens. Wrapped his car around a tree. Killed his girlfriend.” I wait quietly for Tanner to continue, watching his hands fumble and his one leg jitter. “He was never the same after that. I found him hanging in Dad’s barn six months later.”
“I …” I swallow as I reach forward tentatively and pat Tanner on the shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Tanner.” That’s all I can say.
He nods, accepting my condolences. “It’s a terrible accident on all fronts. The wrong doer. The victims. They all suffer somethin’ fierce, don’t you think?”
“Yes, you’re right,” I answer hoarsely, concentrating on the tiny Christmas lights, wondering if Tanner needed two months of intense therapy to come to that realization.
“Well, anyway,” Tanner stands up. “I hope Bob’s at peace now. I like to think he met up with Kimmy in Heaven. Maybe she forgave him for what he did to her.” Tanner walks away with his hands in his pockets, leaving me to stare at the dark window in 1D.
And suddenly I know what I need to do.
I can barely dial Dr. Stayner’s number, my hands trembling. He gave it to me in case of emergencies. This is an emergency.
“Hello?” the smooth voice answers and I picture him sitting in a wing chair by a fire with his glasses sitting on his nose, reading a Shrinks Today magazine.
“Dr. Stayner?”
“Yes, Kacey? Are you alright?”
“Yes, I am. Dr. Stayner, I have a favor to ask of you. I know it’s probably an abuse of our relationship and confidentiality but—”
“What is it, Kacey?” I can hear the patient smile in his voice.
“Tell him that I forgive him. For everything.” There’s a long pause. “Dr. Stayner? Can you do that? Please?”
“I certainly can, Kacey.”
Stage Nine – Forgiveness
Chapter Twenty-Two
Waves lap at my feet as I walk along the shore line toward home, watching the sun dive below the horizon for the night. When Storm said “the beach,” I didn’t know she meant a property that backs right onto Miami Beach. And when she said “a big house” I didn’t know she meant a sprawling three story mansion with wrap-around balconies and a separate wing for Livie and I. Apparently, Grandma Ryder had her wrinkly fingers in the oil fields and her only grandchild, Officer Dan, made out like a fox in a henhouse.
We’ve been here almost five months and I still haven’t quite settled. I don’t know if it’s because it’s too beautiful to be real, or if it’s missing something.
Or someone.
Every night, I walk along the beach, listening to the calm waves lap up onto the shore, appreciating the fact that I can walk, and run, and breathe. And love. And I wonder where Trent is. And how he’s doing. If he’s found a good coping mechanism to help him heal. Dr. Stayner never updated me after that phone call. I trust that he passed on the message. I have no doubt about that. I can only hope that it has brought Trent some level of peace.
But I haven’t pushed further. I have no right. I’ve asked Livie a few times if she’s heard about Trent from Carter. Carter makes a point of calling Livie every other Sunday to check in on us and ask her how school is going. I think Livie really likes that. It’s like she has a father figure in her life to help fill the vast hole left after the accident. Maybe, in time, I’ll be able to talk to him too. I don't know …
Every time I ask about Trent though, she all but pleads with me not to hurt him or myself by reopening those wounds. Of course Livie’s right. Livie always knows what’s best.
I try not to think about Trent moving on with his life, even though he probably has. Thinking of him with his arms around anyone else only feeds the deep ache in my chest. I need more time before I can face that reality. And my love for him, well, I don’t know that it will ever fade. I’ll just move on with my life, a part of me always wishing he were in it. Moving on … Something I haven’t done since my parents died.
My feet slow as I gaze out at the sun dropping below the horizon, its last light dancing over thousands of ripples, and I thank God for giving me a second chance.
“I think I like this meeting place better than the laundromat.”
The sound of that deep voice stops my heart dead. I gasp and spin around to find blue eyes and a mess of golden brown hair.
Trent is standing in front of me with his hands in his pockets. Here, in person.
I struggle to kick start my breathing as my heart starts up again, only now it’s pounding slow and rhythmic against my chest cavity. A jumble of emotions slam into me and I stand frozen, trying to separate and understand each one so I can deal with them. Not suppress them. No more bottling.
I feel happiness. Happiness that Trent is here.
Longing. Longing to feel him against my skin again, his arms protecting me, his mouth on mine.
Love. Whatever happened between us, it was real. I know it was real. And I love him for letting me experience that.
Hope. Hope that something beautiful may come from this tragic story.
Fear. Fear that it won’t.
Forgiveness … forgiveness.
“Why are you here?” I blurt out without thinking, my body trembling.
“Livie asked me to come.”
Livie. Always the surprise. Trent’s voice is so low and smooth. I could close my eyes and listen to it vibrate in my ear drums all night long, but I don’t because I’m terrified he’ll disappear. So I stare at him, at his parted lips, at his blue on blue irises as they roam my face.
“I guess she’s convinced you don’t stuff kittens into ATMs anymore.” I finally manage to say.
He chuckles, his eyes twinkling. “No, I suppose that’s one less worry for her.”
He’s a mere five feet away, three steps from my arms, and I can’t close the distance. I want to, so badly. But it’s not my right. That lean strong body, that face, that smile, that heart—none of it belongs to me anymore, outside of my dreams. Someone else will enjoy that blessing. Maybe they already are. “Does Dr. Stayner know you’re here?”
I watch Trent’s chest rise and fall with a deep inhale. “Yeah, I told him. I don’t hide anything from him anymore.”
“Oh.” I hug myself tightly. “So how are you doing?”
He gazes at me for a long moment before he smiles. “I’m good, Kacey.” There’s a pause. “But not great.”
I feel my brow furrow with concern. “Why? What’s wrong? Is therapy not working?”
“What’s wrong?” Trent’s brow arches as he takes two steps forward, closing the distance, his hands firmly gripping the sides of my waist. I suck in a gasp of air, his proximity to my body both alarming and intoxicating. “What’s wrong is that every morning and every night, I lie in bed wondering why you’re not beside me.”
My legs start to wobble. “You know why,” I answer in a low, defeated voice. Inside I’m screaming, cursing reality.
“No, I knew why before. But you set me free, Kacey, remember?”
I forgive you. I nod and swallow. His hand lifts to stroke my cheek with the pad of this thumb.
“And there’s nowhere I’d rather be than with you.” His thumb grazes my bottom lip.