Necessary Heartbreak (16 page)

“Daddy, let's turn around.”

“No, no, just a little further.”

A fury of freezing air knocked them backward and propelled the lady's green-and-black scarf over their heads into the air. It dropped behind them on the ground. Elizabeth reached down instinctively and picked it up.

“The lady lost her scarf,” she said, handing it to him.

Michael recognized it immediately. He brought it up to his face and took a deep breath.
It smells like home.

He became energized as he took those final few steps toward her. He touched her shoulder gently, enchanted when she slowly turned to him.

It was Vicki. He loved the way the wind moved through her brown hair, swirling its curls back inside her hood. His eyes fell upon her soft cheeks. He had forgotten how rosy they would look during a winter walk. Her lips were parted slightly, as if she wanted to tell him something. He desperately wanted to lean over and kiss her.

He looked up into her eyes, now misty with tears. “You always had the most beautiful eyes, Vick.”

With her scarf gone, he could see the gold chain around her neck.
In this cold, it had left red marks on her skin. She reached up, placing her delicate hands over the pendant hanging from it.

Michael was surprised to see how small her fingers were and how the frigid weather was making her hands raw. He reached over to touch them, but a jolt of air punched his face, causing him to wobble back against Elizabeth.

“Dad, please . . .”

He looked down at the scarf in his hand. He couldn't let go.

“I can't do this anymore.” Michael looked up one last time at Vicki.

“I'm sorry. I can't help you,” she whispered regretfully.

“Elizabeth . . .
Elizabeth?
” Michael called out, staggering to his feet. His senses were foggy from the dream and he had lost all sense of time. He wasn't sure whether it was dusk or dawn. His stomach ached from hunger, and his feet were stinging. He looked down and saw his bloodstained right sandal. He flexed his legs a few times to generate some circulation.

As he fumbled his way outside, he could see the sun was climbing over the horizon, a new day—was he right to think it could be Monday?

I hope Elizabeth's okay. I have to get back . . . I gotta get back now.

Michael looked back at the vacant building. He noticed that the right side of the structure was entirely collapsed. Remnants of what he theorized were household items lay beneath the rubble; none of it was anything he would ever use back home. The feeling of complete displacement and isolation beleaguered him as he scratched at his dusty scalp. He knew he had to move forward, and finally his legs complied.

As he started down the street, still nothing seemed familiar. He could hear the ruckus of a marketplace ahead with people already noisily negotiating prices. As he drew closer, the smell of fruit surrounded him, instantly making him feel hungry and thirsty.

He reached into his pocket. “What am I thinking?” he muttered to himself. “I don't have any money.”

The aroma of smoked meat soon floated in the air, making it even more difficult for Michael to maintain focus. He headed east, certain that Leah's house was in that direction. He measured his steps, moving much more slowly than on the previous day. He noted with growing impatience how long it seemed to take him to get anywhere.

Each stand of fruits and vegetables he passed seemed to multiply his hunger. He stopped in front of a stand selling bread and watched. Michael wondered if he could muster up the nerve to steal a loaf. He knew that if he got caught, he would probably face severe punishment. His sense of history gave Michael an idea of the kind of justice he would be served; if he really was in Jerusalem, it wouldn't be the kind found in Northport.

He froze again, watching an old lady grapple with her change, exchanging some of it for an enticing loaf. The storekeeper turned his back to put away the coins.

Michael inched closer to the stand. One flatbread up front was small enough to carry but big enough to appease his hunger. He drew nearer, his hand outstretched in front of him.

He stepped back in disgust.
My Lord, what am I doing?

The storekeeper turned around and sneered. “You need something?”

“I think he does,” said a bearded man behind him, slapping Michael on the shoulder. The man pulled a couple of coins from a bag and handed them to the storekeeper. “Give him whatever he needs.”

“Um, thank you,” Michael said, catching a glimpse of friendly brown eyes.

The man smiled. “You look like you could use a good meal.”

Michael pointed to the bread in front. The storekeeper, still suspicious, cautiously handed it to him. As he did so, Michael noticed the man had departed.

“Thank you, sir!” he called out over his shoulder.

Without turning, the man put his hand up in acknowledgment.

“You can leave now,” the storekeeper said in a menacing tone.

Michael nodded and started to walk south, anxious to get back to
Elizabeth. He still felt like a failure: he was no closer to getting home than he was yesterday.

Tearing at the bread, Michael looked upward and became captivated by the bright, clear blue sky dazzling above as the sun reached for its peak for the day. A small child raced past him, chasing a leaf dancing in the light breeze that seemed to glow in the morning light.

“Beautiful,” Michael said under his breath as he looked over the dining room. He had chicken roasting in the oven, two candles flickering on the table, champagne poured into their wedding flutes, and Frank Sinatra's “Summer Wind” spinning in the CD player. He was ready to romance his beautiful bride.

Okay, so we're not honeymooners anymore, but we can still live like them.

Where is she?
Becoming edgy, he looked over again at the clock. She took the same two trains in and out of the city each day, yet her hour-and-a-half commute never seemed to be as perfectly timed as he would like.

Michael was fretful. He had something special to share with Vicki tonight, and he wanted to talk to her right away. He thought he had set the perfect mood for the discussion, but now she was late. Sulking, he walked back and forth in front of the picture window in the living room. Just when he was ready to sit down again, he heard the sound of the key clicking in the front door.

“Vicki!” Michael shouted, a huge grin on his face.

“Hi,” she said rather weakly. “Boy, I'm beat. Can we just go up to bed early and maybe watch some TV?”

Then Vicki saw the dining room. “Oops,” she said with a laugh. “You've got something special planned tonight, don't you?”

Michael's smile cracked through a showy grimace. “Wow, where did you get that idea?”

“I'm sorry. I was late . . .”

“Why are you late? Why didn't you call?”

“A car got stuck on the railroad crossing in Northport. They wouldn't open the doors until we pulled completely into the station.”

Michael paused slightly, crossed his arms, and dramatically rolled his eyes.

“You don't believe me? You think I have a man I keep by the crossroads? Jealous?”

She giggled, before jumping into his arms. Her lips brushed his earlobe as she looked behind him at the table. “Thank you for setting this up so beautifully.”

“I hope it's not ruined.”

“It's not,” she said as she gave him a peck on the cheek. “Relax.”

She sat down while Michael placed a piece of chicken on her plate. “Looks great,” she said. “Somehow I have a feeling we are going to talk about something serious.”

Michael smiled.
She knows me.
Whenever he cooked an extravagant dinner, he had something on his mind to discuss.

“Do you need more money to invest? Oh, no, are you starting another business?” By now, Vicki was used to Michael approaching her with new, big ideas. Usually, she just held her breath.

“Nope.”

“We're not going to move again, are we? We've moved four times in the last seven years.”

“No.”

“Well, can you blame me?”

“We . . . are . . . not . . . moving,”
Michael said, underscoring each word.

“Good.” Vicki smiled. “Now, I'm ready for anything.”

Michael was quiet, fumbling with his champagne flute. He felt the bubbles popping up to his nose as he leaned over to gain the courage to speak.

“I think I'm ready to start a family.”

Vicki coughed out her champagne. “Oh, you are?”

“Yeah!”

“You do realize I'm the one who has to carry the baby for nine months, don't you?”

“Yeah.”

She cut anxiously at her piece of chicken. “Honey, can you imagine how our lives would change? You know I have to keep working so that we have health care.”

“So?”

“So, you would have to be the one caring for the baby while I work.”

“Yes,” he said sternly, “I know my role here.”

After they finished the rest of the dinner in pained silence, Vicki turned to him and said, “Let's go upstairs and talk, okay? I'm really tired.”

When they reached their bedroom, she motioned for him to lie down on his stomach so she could rub his back.

“Sweetie, I want a family, too. But, to be honest, I'm scared. I know you will be good at it, I just don't know if I'll be.”

Michael's head shot up from the bed. “What?”

“I'm afraid.”

Turning under her, Michael put his hand up to her cheek. “You will be a great mother. I know that because you are a great wife.”

“That's different,” she said, looking away.

“There's one thing that is the same in both situations.” He placed his right hand in the middle of her chest. “This heart thumps with so much love,” he whispered, reaching up and kissing her. “Believe me.”

Vicki leaned over and turned out the lights, as Michael shifted back onto his stomach. He felt her soft hands massaging his shoulders again before she placed her whole body on top of his.

“I do want to have a child,” she whispered to him.

“I'll be with you every step of the way.”

“I know.”

She rolled off him and left the room.

“Where are you going?”

“Hold on.”

She walked back into the bedroom, holding two flickering candles. “These are needed up here,” she said, placing them on the nightstand.

Vicki climbed into Michael's outstretched arms, resting her head on his chest. “You're really not scared?”

“No.”

Lifting her head to look into his eyes, she smiled. “Thanks for giving me a push in life. I guess I needed one.”

“Thanks for allowing me to push you,” he replied with a short laugh.

“I know you're going to be a great dad.”

“And I know you are going to be a great mommy.”

“Hmmm, I like the way that sounds, ‘Mommy.'” She brushed his lips with hers, in short, gentle kisses. “What should we name the baby if it's a boy?”