Heart hammering, Nick pulled his pickup over to the side of the road. Think, he told himself. Just take a breath and think.
After taking that recommended deep breath, he let his gaze roam the farmland on both sides of the country highway. Nothing looked familiar. Where had he been headed? A job. He knew that much. He’d driven into Caldwell on this Monday morning to get some documents from the office, but after leaving there, things had grown fuzzy. The longer he’d driven, the more lost he’d felt.
Early in his recovery, he’d become lost frequently. Panic had overwhelmed him when that happened. But he hadn’t gotten lost since moving to Idaho. Despite doctors’ warnings to the contrary, he’d begun to believe those episodes were a thing of the past. That he’d been cured of them. Apparently he was wrong and the doctors were right.
He took another deep breath and closed his eyes. “God, I don’t know where I am, and I don’t remember where I was going. Help me. Please.”
With the brief prayer lingering in the air, the panic left him, replaced by a quiet that seemed to enfold him like a warm blanket on a chilly night. It would be okay, he told himself. It would be okay. He could figure this out. He wasn’t in the wilderness. He was in the midst of farmland. Even if he couldn’t remember his destination, he wasn’t alone. He could ask someone for help, if worst came to worst.
He opened his eyes and looked around a second time. That barn up ahead on the left. He’d driven past it before. He was sure of it. Not today but recently. Yesterday? Last week? He couldn’t be sure of when, but he recognized it. He wasn’t lost. Merely confused. Another deep breath, and he felt brave enough to continue driving west.
“Keep your eyes open. You’ll remember where you were headed. You aren’t lost. Just forgetful. Keep looking.”
He pulled back onto the roadway, waiting, watching. When he came to a fork, he followed it to the right for no reason that he understood—until row upon row of grapevines came into view. And just like that, he knew the vineyard had been his destination all along. The fog lifted from his brain. He released a sigh of relief. Before long, Nick had joined his crew and was giving them new instructions for their installation.
But that evening, when he sat down at the table in his kitchen to eat dinner, his thoughts returned to that morning’s episode. It was a stark reminder of how his accident had changed him from the man he used to be. Would he ever be one hundred percent reliable? For himself? For anybody else?
The last silent question caused his imagination to go one step further. What if he was one day responsible for someone else? A little girl, perhaps. A little girl with green eyes and pretty red hair. What if he was supposed to pick that little girl up from school but forgot her? What if the day was cold and snowy and this imaginary child was all alone because he didn’t remember her or because he was lost on the side of the road somewhere?
He leaned back in his chair, his meal forgotten.
“I can’t put someone else at risk,” he whispered, his gaze lowering to Boomer who lay on the floor nearby. “I don’t have the right.”
Nick had a particular “someone else” in mind, of course. Samantha, with her green eyes and pretty red hair, so like that little girl of his imagination. But he couldn’t put Samantha—or her future happiness—at risk.
Almost from the moment he’d seen her in her grandmother’s hospital room, hope had taken root in his heart, although he’d done a good job of disguising it, even from himself. But when he’d watched Rudy and Chelsea at their wedding, when he’d seen the love they shared, he couldn’t deny he had a longing for more. A longing for more . . . with Samantha. And for a couple of days, he’d let that hope burn bright.
This morning reality had reared its ugly head.
“I was fooling myself, Boomer.”
The dog rose to all fours.
“You and me, fella. We do all right the way we are. Right?”
Boomer wagged his tail.
“Yeah. We do all right.”
The words tasted like sawdust in his mouth.
The grandfather clock in Gran’s entry hall ticked off the seconds, a soft but audible sound that was beginning to drive Samantha crazy. She moved the laptop aside and picked up her phone. The screen brightened. No missed calls. No missed texts.
She’d been so sure Nick would call her today. She’d expected it. She’d waited for it. Whether or not she should want him to call was a separate matter.
They had both enjoyed the other’s company on Friday and Saturday, and his warm greeting at church yesterday morning had seemed to confirm it. He’d even told her how much his mom and dad liked her—which pleased her a great deal. Perhaps more than it should, given her fears and uncertainty.
She looked at the phone’s screen a second time, then tapped through to the messages. Just in case. Nothing. She set down the phone and drew the laptop back to her lap, but she found little there to hold her attention. She liked a few updates in her Facebook feed, but there wasn’t anything interesting enough to click through to. Not even one of those silly tests that would tell her the one word that described her—always, she’d noticed, a positive word, like loyal or peaceful or trustworthy.
Once again she set aside the laptop, this time closing the top to put it into sleep mode. Then she got up and strolled into the kitchen. She wasn’t hungry, so instead of looking for a snack, she filled a glass with ice and water.
It felt strange to be in the house alone. Gran had gone out to dinner with friends. They had invited Samantha to join them, but she’d declined. Gran didn’t need her to tag along everywhere. Now she realized her real reason was the expectation of that call that hadn’t come.
She looked out the kitchen window toward the town park, one finger tapping the glass in her hand.
He doesn’t owe me a phone call.
They’d been two old friends, dancing at a wedding. That was all. She was making too much of it. But some of the songs replayed in her head, and she could imagine Nick’s arms around her as he turned her about the floor. She breathed in, and it was as if she caught the faint scent of the cologne he’d worn.
Her phone sang out her ringtone, jerking her from the memory. She set down the water glass and dashed to the living room. Instead of Nick’s face on the screen, however, she saw Daniel Greyson’s image. Disappointment washed over her.
Reluctantly, she answered the call. “Hello?”
“Hey, Samantha. Glad I caught you.”
“Hi, Daniel.”
“Listen, sorry to bother you again. I know I’ve been texting a lot. But I’m wondering, is there any chance you could shorten your leave?”
How typically Daniel. No “How is your grandmother?” No “Hope everything is all right.”
“Because that gal who’s filling in for you is an idiot. She can’t do anything the way you do.”
Something snapped inside Samantha. Her patience was all dried up. “No, I can’t cut it short. And Marti is not an idiot. That’s her name, by the way. Marti. If she isn’t doing something the way you like, it’s because you aren’t explaining what you need.” Gracious! That might be the most honest thing she’d said to Daniel in years. She’d grown much too adept at swallowing her opinions rather than speaking them aloud.
Perhaps her reply caught him by surprise, too, because he didn’t continue right away.
“Was there something else you needed, Daniel?”
“Then you aren’t coming back soon?”
She drew a quick breath. “No. I’m not coming back soon.”
Another silence, then, “This isn’t like you, Samantha.”
“You’re right about that. It isn’t like me. But I’m trying to change that.” And I’m learning not to be afraid, starting with you. “Try to be nicer to Marti, and I’m sure she’ll do a good job for you. Take care, Daniel. I’ll see you later this summer. Bye.”
She ended the call without waiting for his response and stared at the blank screen while drawing several more breaths.
With a shout, she executed a brief hand-pumping dance, circling around in something akin to a victory lap. Then she released a laugh. Silly, perhaps, but it sure felt good to stop Daniel from pushing her around. And she hadn’t been unkind. Simply firm. It seemed a healthy first step. She could hardly wait to tell Gran about it.
After the men’s group study was over, Nick tried to slip away without being noticed. He failed.
“Care to tell me about it?” Derek asked, stopping his departure. “You seemed troubled tonight. Am I wrong?”
Nick wanted to shrug off the question, but honesty demanded an answer. “No, you’re not wrong.”
Derek watched and waited.
How much did Nick want to tell him? About the accident. About the past. About the future that seemed much more unsure than it had a few days ago. Finally he said, “It’s a bigger topic than a few minutes and one cup of coffee.” He motioned with his head toward the other men who stood in small clusters near the coffeemaker and dessert table.
“Come to my house for lunch tomorrow. Brooklyn has a seminar to go to in the afternoon, and Alycia’s in school. We’ll have the place to ourselves. We can take as long as you need and your job allows.”
“All right.” He almost added, If I can find your house. But that would invite more questions. “See you then.” With that, he walked out of the church.
One of the things Nick loved about this area of Idaho, situated on the western-most side of the time zone, was how late the sun set. Noticeably later than where he’d grown up or where he’d lived much of his adult life. In mid-May the sun didn’t go down until after nine p.m., and it would remain light enough to see until nearly half past the hour. Now, as he walked to his pickup, where Boomer faithfully waited for him in the truck bed, the first stars were beginning to appear in the twilight sky.
He remembered the spectacular brightness of the stars when he’d been in a boat at sea or in a camp in the Rocky Mountains, far from civilization. The vastness of the heavens had filled his heart with awe, but he hadn’t thought about the Creator back then, only the creation. He would like to experience some of his old adventures with his new perspective. Would he get to do that? His physicians warned against it.
He’d lost so much when his head slammed into that rock beneath the surface of the river, but it wasn’t old adventures that thought recalled. It was Samantha and the future he didn’t believe he could have.
“Hey, boy,” he greeted Boomer, giving the dog the anticipated pat. “Want to join me in the cab?”
As if understanding the words, the border collie sailed over the tailgate and raced to join his master. Nick gave him another pat on the head, then opened the truck’s door, and with a hand motion gave the dog permission to hop inside. Nick got in next, but he didn’t start the engine right away. He sat there, in the silence of the gathering night, and waited for that unfruitful sense of despair to pass.