Come Back To Me (21 page)

“What’s that? Is that a note? Did she leave a note? Let me see it.”

When he reached for the piece of paper Cara’s mother didn’t resist. Her empty hand flopped onto her thigh.

The note was terse.

Mom, I’ve gone to visit a friend. I’m safe. I have plenty of money. Please try not to worry. I promise to contact you soon. Cara.

The first time he read it through, Will saw only letters of the alphabet. The second time he read the words.
What the hell?

“Who is she talking about?” Will asked. “Do you have any idea who she’s visiting?”

“No, no idea whatsoever. I don’t know anyone she knows other than you and James and some of the people from her work.”

“What about the staff? Do they have a clue where she went?”

“No.” Mrs. Franklin rubbed her eyes. “They just said she checked herself in so she could check herself out.” The woman paused. “You don’t think, oh my god, you don’t think she’ll hurt herself, do you?”

Will shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. This isn’t a suicide note. I don’t think Cara’s the type. I mean— if she was inclined to do something she would have done it months ago.”

Cara’s mother let out a heart-wrenching cry. Will knelt down beside her. He put an arm around her shoulder.

“Look, I’m not quite sure what to do, but I don’t think you can send the police after her. Cara’s an adult. Do you have any reason to believe she might be in danger? Did she say anything to you, anything at all the last time you were here?”

Mrs. Jackson began to hiccup. “No, she seemed . . . She seemed okay. We had lunch together. I brought her a couple of letters from James and she probably stuck them in the box, the shoebox where she keeps them.”

“Did she leave the box? Did she leave anything? You’re her mother. If she left something behind, the nursing staff should give it to you.”

“No, I asked. There’s nothing in her room. All she left was the note. It was at the nurses’ station.”

Will was stumped. “Is there anything else you can remember, anything at all?”

“No. Yes. There was a letter, another letter, from Utah. I don’t know who sent it. There was no name on the return address. She didn’t open it while I was there. She left it on her bed.”

“Did she say anything about it?”

“No, just that she didn’t know anyone in Utah. That’s all she said.”

“Okay. Let’s not jump to any conclusions. She may be in Utah or she may be here in Iowa City, staying with a friend from the Art Department. I don’t know. I’m pretty sure you can take her at her word. She’s safe. She’s not going to hurt herself. Let’s wait for her to call. She said she’ll get in touch with you so let’s assume she’s telling you the truth.”

“But, Will, how do I tell James? How do I explain this to James? He’s still hoping she’ll change her mind about the two of them.”

“I’ll tell him,” said Will. “You don’t have to worry about it.” He took her arm and helped her to her feet. “Let’s get you something to eat. I don’t want you driving home until I know you’re feeling calm.”

“But . . .”

“I’ll take care of it, Mrs. Jackson. I’ll deal with James.”

Cara’s mother laid her hand on Will’s arm. “You’ve been a good friend to her, Will, to both Cara and James. Thank you.”

∗    ∗    ∗

Will called James that night. Within two words, James had things figured out.

“Cara’s gone, isn’t she?” James’ voice sounded tired, defeated.

“Yeah, man, she’s gone.”

“Where’d she go?”

“I don’t know. She took off on Monday morning, I guess. She left her mom a note. She said she was safe, that she had enough money. She said she’d call.”

After a long moment of silence, James spoke up.

“That’s it, then.”

“What do you mean, that’s it? You’re not going to wait to see where she is and go after her?” Will couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“No.”

“But Mack, you love her. She loves you. I mean, you two fit together like . . . like puzzle pieces. You can’t just let her go.”

“What the hell do you expect me to do, Will? What the hell can I do? She doesn’t want me. She’s done with me.”

“No, you know that’s not true. Cara doesn’t know what she wants. Wait until she calls her mother and then go after her. Make her listen to you. Make her come back to you. Don’t let her get away with this.”

“Don’t let her get away with what?” James asked.

“Blaming herself. Do you hear me? Blaming herself,” Will shouted, unable to hold back his frustration.

“I can’t stop her.” James was yelling now. “Goddamn it, Will, I can’t stop her. I can’t make her do a fucking thing. Cara has to want it. She has to want me and right now she doesn’t want anything to do with me. It wouldn’t matter what I said to her. Don’t you get it? Do you think this is easy? You think this is easy for me? It’s killing me, man. It’s fucking killing me!”

“But . . .”

“No. I can’t do this anymore. I won’t do this anymore. I can’t live this way. I’m done. Got it? I’m finished with all of this.”

The phone clicked off. Will stared at the receiver like it had just bitten him.

∗    ∗    ∗

James ripped the phone from the wall and hurled it across the room. It smashed into a lamp, a stained glass lamp Cara had purchased for him at an antique store in the Amana Colonies. They’d spent a weekend there last summer, staying in a homey, old-fashioned inn. They’d bicycled, gone sightseeing, shopped, sampled dandelion wine and homemade cheeses. He stood in his kitchen, reliving their joy in each other, their play, and their wild lovemaking in the big canopied feather bed.

Staring at the shards of colored glass scattered across the floor of his living room, his eyes caught on the deep red pieces. He pictured Cara’s thick braid weaving and bobbing behind her, hanging nearly to her waist, shining like polished mahogany in the sun as she peddled down the hill to the inn. He heard her bubbling laugh.

So this is a broken heart
, James mused.
I’ve never had one before. I don’t ever want to feel like this again.

James turned towards the kitchen to get a broom and a dustpan. He swept the pieces of broken glass into the dustpan, dropping them into a paper bag. Grabbing the metal lamp stand, he carried the bag and the lamp out to the trash bin. He lifted the plastic cover and dropped the broken lamp into the bin. Cara was gone. She wasn’t coming back. She’d left James no choice. He had to let her go.

C
ara drove straight through, stopping only for gasoline and an occasional bathroom break. Considering the fact that Cara had never been any farther west than Omaha, the ease of the trip surprised her. All she had to do was head west on Interstate 80 and then watch for the signs to Park City.

John lived on one of the main streets. When she’d called him, he’d said exactly what she’d expected him to say—
come on down
, offering her his extra bedroom. He claimed he needed help with the rent anyway. It sounded like he could get her a job too since a hostess had quit at the restaurant where he waited tables. He offered to speak to his boss on her behalf. John said if Cara could get there fast enough he was pretty sure the position would be hers.

It seemed as if a great weight lifted off Cara’s chest. During the drive, she’d actually flipped on the radio to listen to some music. She was a little concerned about her lack of warm clothing—her mother had taken most of her things back home—but she had plenty of money and she figured she could purchase some stuff when she got to Park City. She’d need some nice things too, if she was going to work as a hostess. Cara tried to recall what she’d left in her suitcase. She’d never unpacked it in the hospital. Maybe her mother had thrown in a couple of her skirts and blouses.

The suitcase was in the trunk of her car, along with the shoebox containing James’ letters and the cassette tapes he’d made for her. She’d planned to leave the shoebox behind, but at the last minute she was unable to part with it.

What would she do with it? She didn’t even know if she’d ever open it again. All Cara knew was that something had tugged at her when she’d set the box on the bed and walked out the door. She had to go back and get it.

Cara shrugged. It was better not to dwell too much on James, but she decided it didn’t hurt to bring his letters along. The letters and tapes were mere keepsakes, nothing more than mementos of her old life.

Cara drove up Kearns Boulevard, appreciating the gorgeous views while keeping an eye on the road. She’d never seen mountains this close before and here she was, in the middle of a rustic mining town, now an up and coming skiers’ paradise.

Snowfields lingered on the mountains, glistening white in the sun. John had mentioned that if conditions were good, he’d be skiing all week. Cara couldn’t imagine herself skiing. She opened the driver’s window wide so she could taste the breeze. The air felt cool and dry against her cheek. It smelled crisp as a just-picked apple, fresh and light, different from the thick, dark, loamy Iowa smell Cara was accustomed to.

Cara found the house easily enough. The place was pretty much what she’d expected. It was shabby, more like a shack than a house. John had been upfront about the fact that he lived from month to month. He needed someone to share expenses.

Cara parked her car and climbed out, stretching muscles cramped from the long drive. She wondered if John would recognize her. He’d never seen her without long hair. Now she wore it cut very short. It curled tightly around her cheeks and along the back of her neck. She tucked a few loose stands behind her ears. It had just barely grown long enough to do that.

John said he’d leave a key under the mat. After knocking to be on the safe side, Cara turned over the ragged doormat, found the key and unlocked the front door. The interior of the house wasn’t much better than the exterior. The place smelled of dry rot, but as Cara walked from room to room, she noted that John kept things reasonably clean. The sitting room contained a ratty old couch, a vinyl beanbag chair and a faded throw rug. Cara checked out the first rate stereo system. That was typical of John and his misplaced priorities. The kitchen was small, the appliances ancient. The kitchen table was nothing more than a large wooden crate with two mismatched chairs. She could tell the crate doubled as a counter top. Making a mental note of dishware, cleaning supplies and pantry staples she’d need to buy, Cara scanned John’s bedroom and the single bathroom. She wrinkled her nose a little. It was obvious a guy lived here.

Cara found her room in the back of the house. At some point in the distant past, someone had added on a sun porch with a separate door so it could be closed off in the winter. There was no heating duct. The room came furnished with a futon on the floor and a small chest of drawers. John had thought to toss a sleeping bag and an old pillow onto the futon. That would have to do for the time being. Cara hadn’t seen anything resembling a department store on her way into town. If she wanted warm quilts, clean linens and towels, she was going to have to make a trip into Salt Lake City as soon as possible. At least the room had a lot of windows.

As she headed back to her car to unload her few possessions, her chest began to ache. She automatically tried to rub the pain away, but it didn’t work. It never worked. A sudden vision of her cozy bedroom back in Iowa City assailed her.

She remembered James sprawled across her bed on his stomach, sound asleep. The sun from her open window skimmed his naked back and muscular buttocks, dusting his skin with gold.

Tears filled Cara’s eyes and she covered them with her hands.

He was beautiful. James was singularly beautiful inside and out. He would never be a part of her life again, and it was all her fault. She had been so stupid. She was the one who told Ezra Payne she would be alone in her apartment. She’d left the front door unlocked. She’d fallen asleep in the tub. She, of all people, should have known better.

I can’t keep doing this. I can’t think about this anymore. James is gone because I made him go. I didn’t want him to want me.

“Get your things. Forget him. He’s not for you.”

Cara tripped on an uneven patch of gravel as she turned back toward the car. She fell to her knees, scraping them both beneath her jeans.

James, it hurts so much to leave you behind. Oh god, it hurts so damn much
.

∗    ∗    ∗

Three weeks later, Cara had yet to get a job, but the situation in the house was much improved. She’d tidied up the bathroom, installed shelves and hooks and bought new towels. The kitchen now had a real table. The floors had been scrubbed and the cabinets had been cleaned and stocked with staples. She’d organized the pots and pans and kitchen utensils, bought some inexpensive kitchen towels and they now possessed more than one place setting. She’d single handedly wrestled the futon in her bedroom onto a raised platform. She now slept between nice cotton sheets and beneath several warm quilts, because the nights were still quite chilly. Although the shopping in Park City was quite limited, the town did support an excess of sporting goods stores. Cara picked up a windbreaker and a parka, a wool cap and a pair of thick gloves. She also found a sturdy pair of hiking boots and some fleece-lined snow boots.