My Way Home (St.Gabriel Series Book 1) (St. Gabriel Series) (16 page)

favorite gardening tools (dirt scoop, gloves, Felco pruners, Janie’s childhood rake and shovel)

Viking sewing machine, serger, sewing box, Mundial fabric scissors

watercolor box

recipe box

three favorite kitchen knives

Grandma Gitta’s oversized cast iron frying pan (heavy but essential)

two sets of bath and bed linens

camera

Einstein

the Schwinn

And I made a list of what I would leave for Paul and Janie.

family photos and scrapbooks

Coleman family heirlooms

Things Race has given me

Cleaning out a lifetime of treasures and memories was a painful task. I knew selling most of what I owned would be difficult but the process was so painful, it was almost debilitating. I forced myself to go through one more closet, one more cupboard, one more shelf and I was making progress.

But it was easy to be slowed down by old birthday cards, photographs, Captain’s dog collar (the little mutt Paul brought home that Race told him he couldn’t keep). Captain lived to be fourteen years old and he was the best dog ever. Race and he were inseparable.

I sorted everything into boxes—Paul and Janie, donate, keep, sell, trash, and then there was the box that had no designation. It was where I put things I knew I was not planning on keeping, but I hadn’t been able to put into any of the other boxes.

In that box was my wedding ring placed back in the red velvet case it came in, all the cards and letters Race had written to me over the years, and the copy of
All for Love
by Tasha Tudor he had given me as a Valentine’s Day present. Inside the front cover was written,
Forever, Race
and that’s where I kept the letter and the white rose he gave me the day of my college graduation. Also in the box was what had been my favorite gardening shirt, one of Race’s old dress shirts, the shirt he wore at our wedding.

I was emptying the cupboards in the kitchen using my,
it’s going to get worse before it gets better method
. Race would have me empty one cupboard, no, one shelf and deal with everything I pulled out, clean the shelf, and then move on to the next. I had the entire contents of one bank of cabinets on the floor. It was easier to sort and take inventory that way.

Einstein lay open on the counter so that I could add to and check off my lists. It kept me focused on what I had accomplished, what I needed to accomplish, what I wanted to do when I got back to St. Gabriel, and all the ideas I had for the lodge.

The phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Cammy.”

“Race? Hi.”

“I heard you’re moving.”

“Yes.”

“To an island?”

“Yes.”

“You really are?”

“You heard it and now I’m confirming it. Yes, Race, I’m moving to an island.”

“What island, exactly?”

“St. Gabriel Island, exactly.”

“That’s the island you’ve wanted to see, the one you went to with Loretta?”

“Yes, and I’ve seen it and now I’m moving there.”

“Cammy, an island, thousands of miles away, are you sure about this?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“It’s a rash decision don’t you think?”

Rash decision? You should know about rash decisions, Race Coleman.

Maybe he was right. I’d read that it wasn’t good to make any major life changes for a year after a divorce or the death of a spouse. Rash maybe, but I didn’t care.

“Look, Race, I’m trying very hard not to be hateful to you. But right now, I’ve got to tell you that this really is not any of your business. The house has been sold and the mortgage will be paid off. I would think you’d be pleased.”

“I don’t care about that, Cammy.”

“You don’t, suddenly you’re a wealthy man?”

Yes, of course, your girlfriend’s a banker. She’s probably pretty well off.

“Race, I really don’t want to talk to you about any of this. In fact, I really don’t want to talk to you at all right now. I hope someday I won’t feel this way but right now I do. Is there anything else? I’m kind of busy.”

“No.”

“I’ll see you next Thursday, then.”

“Thursday?”

“To sign the divorce papers.”

“Oh, yeah, Thursday.”

“Goodbye then, Race.” I hung up and didn’t wait for him to say goodbye back. And then I got really mad. Why did he care what I was doing? Since the day he left, he hadn’t once asked me what I was going to do.

Why now?

My whole body hurt and I wanted to crawl out of my skin. I hadn’t felt like that since before I set foot on St. Gabriel, and I didn’t want to feel it again. I slid down the side of the kitchen island, leaned my head back, and closed my eyes.

I imagined I was sitting on the second floor porch of the lodge, in a white Adirondack chair with my feet up on a matching footstool, looking out across the water, and the phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Cammy.”

“Yes, Race.”

“Can I come over?”

“When?”

“Now.”

“Why?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Then talk.”

“In person.”

“Honestly, Race, I’m not just saying this. I really am busy. I’m sorting all of the cupboards in the kitchen, going through everything. The place is a mess. I have so much to do. Can’t we talk on Thursday?”

“No, I need to talk to you now, tonight.”

“Race, are you okay?”

What am I saying? Who cares if he’s okay? I care, I still care.

I was getting angry again, and then I had a flash of panic. “Nothing’s happened to Paul or Janie has it?”

“No and no.”

“No and no?”

“No, I’m not okay. And no, nothing’s happened to Paul or Janie. Cammy, I just need to talk, please.”

“Are you sick?”

“No.”

“Injured?”

“No.”

“What is it, Race?”

“Cammy, I’m just asking to talk, for God’s sake.”

If Race was anything he was calm, it would be the first and last word I would use to describe him, unflappable, collected, any translation of the word.

“Don’t raise your voice at me, Race.”

“I’m sorry, Cammy. I’m sorry. I just need to talk to you, please.”

He had been in control for the last six months, in control of my life. He had destroyed my life, ripped it to shreds, stepped on it, threw it in the trash and turned it upside down and inside out. That was the first opportunity I had to be in control. It was childish, but I wanted that little bit of control. I could have let him come over but I didn’t want to. I wasn’t going to.

“Not tonight Race, tomorrow. I have some errands to do in the morning. I’ll be home by noon. You can come by after lunch, about one-thirty.” I knew he had a class at that time.

Why am I being so mean? Back to the Anger Stage, Oh, how I want to be mean.

“I’ll be there.”

“You will?”

“Yes, one-thirty. Thank you, Cammy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodbye.” Again, I didn’t wait to hear him say goodbye and hung up.

My mind was racing.
What does he want to talk about? He’s getting remarried
, big ache.
He’s going to be a father again
, bigger ache. Race had wanted more children.
One of his folks is sick—I hope not.
He’s dying, no, he said he wasn’t sick.
He changed his mind about me keeping all of the equity in the house.
I was counting on that money to restore the lodge.
Why couldn’t he have told me on the phone?

I hated not knowing. He was still in control.

Why did I say he could come over?

I didn’t want him there. I wasn’t planning on having to see him again in that house, ever again. I closed my eyes and tried to transport myself back to the island, but it was useless. I just kept wondering what he wanted to talk to me about, so I unloaded two more cupboards and added it to the pile.

It was after three in the morning when I finally went to bed. All that had been on the floor in the kitchen was on the counters, cleaned and priced, ready for the sale. It wasn’t Race’s way but it was my way, and it worked.

Why does every thought have to start and end with Race as a reference point? It won’t be that way anymore. I am done with Race Coleman. He is my past. I can get past him. I will get past him.

I trudged up the stairs.

I should shower.

I had spent the morning going through the garage, and a layer of dust coated my skin. There were probably cobwebs in my hair. But when I reached the edge of the bed, I let my clothes fall to the floor and slipped under the covers. I’d wash the sheets in the morning.

After five hours of sleep, I showered, dressed and left the house. I checked on the plants at the animal shelter, stopped by the bank and the post office, took boxes of baby clothes to the community pregnancy center, and picked up boxes for Paul and Janie’s things that Race’s parents would be storing in their garage.

Race could get his own boxes. He had moved out a few of his things when I was on St. Gabriel, but I had planned to leave everything else in his study, and he could pack when I was gone from the house. Or, I thought, I could make a pile in the front yard and he could shovel it into his jeep when he came by to tell me whatever it was he had to tell me.

Yuk, he’s coming by
.

I took my time running errands and did everything I could possibly imagine needing to do, and I did a few things that I didn’t need to do, hoping I might be late to meet Race at the house and he’d give up and have to leave.

But it was only twelve fifteen when I pulled into the driveway. I had to force myself to keep moving instead of just sitting down and waiting for him. I told myself every minute was precious and was important to my future.

When I answered the door, Race just stood there looking at me, and then his eyes wandered around the entryway, boxes, bare walls. I looked at him, wondering if it would be the last time I might ever see him.

No, there will be weddings, grandchildren. We will always have the tie of Paul and Janie. But years could go by in between. Will it get easier, seeing him?

Race’s hair was longer like when he was younger. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt that was snug but not too snug. He had such nice arms and a great chest, and I imagined her touching him, and it hurt. It physically hurt.

“Hi, Cam, thanks for letting me come over.”

I pulled the door open wider and stepped aside, but I couldn’t think of one civil or snide thing I wanted to say to that man. He stepped in. I shut the door and we both stood in the entryway, staring silently at each other until Race walked into the living room and sat on the sofa.

I followed and stood on the other side of the room and said, “So?”

“Sit down, okay?” He scooted over to make room on the sofa, but I sat in one of the chairs on the other side of the coffee table, on the edge of the cushion, my hands on the arms as though I was ready to run if I had to.

“Look, Race, I don’t want to be doing this, and I don’t want to be mad or mean. I just want to be done, okay. Just tell me, what is it?”

“Cammy, I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

“What did you do?”

“Leaving you, it was all wrong. I was wrong, so wrong.”

My breath caught in my chest and held there. I tried to replay what I thought I had just heard, but couldn’t. “What?”

“I made a mistake, Cammy, the worst mistake of my life, a horrible mistake. I should never have left. You’re my wife. I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you, Cam.”

I couldn’t speak. I just stared at him with my mouth open.

“Cam, say something.”

I still couldn’t speak.

“Cammy, are you hearing what I’m telling you?”

“I’m hearing, Race, but I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you back. I want to know if I can have you back.”

“What about Sarah Burns?”

“I’m not with her anymore.”

Of course, his little fling went south and now he doesn’t want to be alone.

“When did she leave you?”

“She didn’t leave me. I left, over a month ago. Cam, I thought our life wasn’t right and that there was something missing. But everything you and I had was missing when I left. I’ve told her I’m still in love with you, always have been, always will be. I told her I was going to ask you to come back to me.”

“Come back to you, you left me, remember?”