Forgiveness Creek: The Creek Series Read online

  “Yes, that is an unfamiliar sound down here; that is for sure.” I paused after my giggles because I snorted, and it reminded me of the wall. “I feel like a zombie, Mom. When does it end?”

  “It’s a circle, baby. But, there is a life for you. You’ve suffered more than you deserve at an early age, but you will find happiness, I promise.”

  I wasn’t sure how she could be so certain. I felt the rip and tear of my flesh, even though I had no new wounds. My heart was exposed, even though I couldn’t see it. The burden had me buried, even though I wasn’t covered. The energy to overcome the grief was nowhere in sight.

  The next week spun by in a blur at school and work. Everyone was very understanding and treated me with extra care, even though I told them to be business as usual.

  On Friday, Karina was a doll and came home with me as soon as our shifts were over. I was grateful for the company on the road that late, as well as the emotional brace she provided. She was a country girl too and loved to ride horses, so she was looking forward to getting to do some of that.

  In keeping with my customary habits, I’d made a list of things I wanted to do and things I would have to make decisions about later. The first thing was the cabin. I couldn’t picture keeping it, nor selling it, so it was tabled. All of Stephan’s things were going to be sorted and boxed and placed in the attic. His writing in the closet was going to be left as it was. It was his final message to me.

  “I don’t know what to do with his truck. I thought about leaving it at my house, but no one will drive it, and it’s just going to sit there.”

  “You won’t drive it?”

  “I can barely get in it, it’s so tall. No, I’m not comfortable driving it. Too many memories.”

  “Then sell it or maybe Ben or Justin might know someone?”

  “Good idea, I’ll ask them.”

  “Would you ever stay at the cabin when you come in to town?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Then what about turning it into a B&B?”

  “In our tiny town, who would rent it?”

  “You won’t know until you try.”

  “Hmm, I don’t know. It would be strange for other people to be there. He built it with his bare hands. It was a part of him and a part of us.”

  We spent the first couple of days sorting Stephan’s things and packing up the cabin. I went in to town and picked up all the mail then called and had the utilities forwarded to me in Denton.

  The mail had a letter to me from the insurance company. Since he’d been hit by lightning while technically working out on the lake, it was as if he’d been hurt on the job to no fault of his own. It was considered accidental and his accidental policy paid double, but no amount of money would bring him back.

  As the beneficiary of his life insurance policy, I was being notified that I would be receiving a check for over three hundred thousand dollars. They needed me to contact them for processing, and the check would be sent by certified mail within ten days.

  There was more. Letters from the bank and from an attorney out of Hot Springs indicated that the contents of his checking and savings accounts were left to me as well. Stephan had saved his money, owned his home out right, and with the life insurance, there was over $600,000 in cash, before the house and truck.

  None of it mattered. I only wanted him.

  I sat in the middle of the cabin living room floor with the papers in a pile in front of me, Karina across from me, and the same bottle of Jack beside me.

  That night I finished the Jack and once again vowed to protect my heart and never look back.

  School and work brought routine—the only thing that kept me sane. I tried to come home every third or fourth weekend to see Mom, but I didn’t go to the cabin, and I avoided talking about Stephan with anyone.

  Justin was keeping our place up well. He’d helped do quite a few repairs to the outside siding, and the whole house had a new coat of paint. He was getting excited for his own little house to be finished by the end of summer. Even though he was a little more than a stone’s throw away, I knew Mom was going to miss having him right there to talk to.

  I scheduled classes for the summer, so I could get ahead in my program, and Karina did the same. We decided to get an apartment, and when we looked, nothing decent was available, but we found a house for not much more money and moved at the end of June. I found it hard to believe four months had passed since Stephan’s accident, and I had very little accounting for most of it.

  “You puzzle me sometimes,” Karina said one night over pizza.

  “Oh yeah, how so?”

  “You always make quick decisions, and yet, when it comes to anything about Stephan’s place or the money he left you, you pretend it doesn’t exist.” She hated olives, and she was picking them off the pizza, tossing them onto the lid of the box.

  “That’s not true. I did use a little of it, but for the most part, I can’t deal with it.”

  She grabbed my arm. “You won’t start healing until you deal with it and put closure to that part of your life.”

  She was right, I supposed. Funny how we were currently taking a psychology class together, and suddenly she was an expert, but there was some truth to her observance.

  On the outside, I was a functioning robot, going through the motions. But, I’d lost a good bit of weight, my skin was gross, and I didn’t even want to talk about how yucky my hair was. “My life lost its sparkle.”

  “Only you have the power to change that, honey.”

  Later that night in bed, I thought about what Karina had said and mentally listed the power I had. Some of the answers finally came to me.

  Stephan had been about helping people. Stopping to help someone change a tire, or paying for someone’s gas when they were down on their luck and because he was that kind of person, I went to him for help when I’d needed it for Mom—and me. He was there without asking for anything in return, even though he’d teased me that I would owe him. Little did I know…

  With the new resources I had, it was possible I could set up a fund to help people and give back, the Stephan Hart way.

  I put it on the list.

  The following day I made the decision to start therapy and asked Becky for a reference when I got to work. She told me to call Darlie Harris, the grief counselor who worked in our cancer center. When I called Darlie and explained my situation and requested a recommendation of a therapist and support group, she asked me to come down and visit with her. We ended up talking for several hours, and I finally just let it all out.

  Guilt had been holding me back, and when she finally got me to admit it, I felt a world of relief.

  I was consumed with the angst over leaving Arkansas to pursue my own goals, instead of spending the precious time I had left with the ones I loved. Darlie helped me realize nothing I did would’ve changed the outcome.

  While her job dealt mostly with cancer patients, loss of life and grief was mostly the same, she said. She provided me with the contact for a support group, and I decided to start right away.

  But over the course of the next few days, she also started texting me and checking up on me, and we quickly developed a close bond. While I would visit her in her office, I got the chance to interact with the cancer patients and their families and began to feel that oncology might be my calling.

  I went home the last weekend in July to spend my birthday with Mom. She had gone part-time at the diner just to have something to do, and the rest of the time she spent quilting. I was so excited when I saw her quilting. She had worked so much over the last few years that, while it was a passion, she hadn’t had the time or energy to quilt. She even had some of the local ladies coming out to the house a day or so a week for quilting sessions.

  Justin had moved into his house and gave me the formal tour.

  “How’s school going?” he asked, showing me the kitchen.

  “Full speed ahead. Hard to believe I have only two semesters left. Wait,”
I turned and pointed, “You have two ovens? What on earth for?”

  “Whose idea do you think that was?” He gave a small chuckle. “Then what’s next, job or more school?”

  “I start the next phase for my Nurse Practitioner license, while I work weekends or part-time. It won’t be easy, but another eighteen months and I’m done.”

  “Your momma will be happy to have you home. There isn’t a sentence that comes outta her mouth that doesn’t have your name in it.”

  “Oh boy, that bad, huh?”

  He nodded.

  I followed him out to the new barn and saw our old tractor inside.

  “How did you get this old thing up here?”

  “It’s running now. A few parts was all.”

  “Wow, that’s awesome. A mechanic, I am not.”

  Justin was beaming with pride. He wasn’t much for words, but he was a hard worker, and I took him for being very loyal.

  “Do you know anyone who would be interested in buying Stephan’s truck?”

  “Sure. Me.”

  “You? Then it’s yours. It’s my gift. I’ll get you the keys and sign the title over to you.”

  “Wrenn, are you sure? What brought this on?”

  “Closure and he would be honored to know you have it.”

  Justin hugged me. It was an awkward hug, but he was happy all the same. “I’ll take good care of it.”

  “I know you will.”

  Soon after I’d received the checks from the insurance company, I’d paid off the loan on our place, but for the most part, the rest—other than what Mom needed—had been sitting in the bank, growing interest. She fought me on quitting work at first, but she realized Stephan would’ve wanted that and finally gave in.

  I hadn’t been back to the cabin since Karina and I packed it up, but Justin had been checking on it for me. I was beginning to feel it was time to do something with it.

  “Whatcha thinking about, kiddo?” Mom asked from her reclined position.

  I realized I’d been staring off into space through our living room window. “What to do with the cabin. I gave Justin the truck today. He was thrilled.”

  “That was a good move. You giving him the cabin too?” She wrinkled her forehead in a puzzled look.

  “No, but I’ve been thinking about doing something with it, like a home for someone in need or something. I don’t know yet.”

  “Don’t rush, it will come to you. It’s not going anywhere.”

  She was right, but I was suddenly consumed with an overwhelming need for closure. I walked to the door. “I’ll be back in a bit. I’ve got this gnawing feeling.”

  Weirdness was an understatement for having to use a key to open the cabin, and I laughed when I read the key fob again. Once inside, I plopped down in the oversized recliner, and my body sank deep into it, as if his arms were around me.

  I looked around the small living room and read the hand-painted wood sign over the door, “Hunter’s Paradise”, and laughed. Stephan loved to hunt, but that man could not kill a deer. I swear he missed on purpose. He always had stories about the big buck that got away, and I often wondered why. Now fishing, that was a completely different story. He was talented in that department, and I think he simply let me beat him to make me feel better.

  The cabin was stale and no longer smelled like him, but rather was overcome with the scent of old cedar wood. I walked around the rooms and eventually found myself in the master closet again. With all the clothes and belongings removed, I sat against the far wall and read his scribbling aloud. I thought about keeping a photo of it and remembered my cell phone was in the car.

  I went outside and grabbed my purse. With phone in hand, I took several pictures of the list and decided the time had come to cover it. The easiest way would be a new piece of drywall and a few screws, so it wasn’t damaged, just not visible to anyone else. I was curious if Justin had any left over from his new house, so I gave him a call.

  “Hey, do you happen to have any plasterboard left over?”

  “What are you building?”

  “Just repairing. I’m at the cabin. Do you have a four by eight piece and some white paint?”

  “Yes, I’ll bring it to you.”

  He arrived about thirty minutes later, driving the ranch truck, and brought in all sorts of supplies like caulk, hammer, nails, etc. I told him about the writings and how I was just going to put a piece of drywall over it and paint it, nothing fancy.

  “Don’t read it,” I warned.

  “Okay,” he agreed with a laugh.

  Within an hour, we had it covered up and started a fresh coat of paint for the whole closet. No one but us and maybe Analina would know it was ever there. She hadn’t mentioned it, but I was pretty certain she’d seen it.

  “He was crazy about you. Talked about you constantly.” Justin was standing on the stool to paint the ceiling, and I was beneath him, painting around the bottom.

  “Yeah, that’s what everyone tells me.”

  “This place would make a great hunting lodge.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that. Good idea.”

  It was a light bulb moment. I could rent it out as a hunting lodge. Hunter’s Paradise. Five acres wasn’t anything to hunt on really, but other land around was leased out for hunting, that much I knew. “I’ll give that some serious consideration.”

  While we waited for the paint to dry, we sat out on the deck. I began to get the closure I needed and the final step toward healing. I no longer slept in his flannel shirt, which took me weeks to wash, and I’d stopped listening to his voice mail messages and reading his text because the counselor said those things were holding me hostage. I was grateful for the people in my life who had given me enormous support and solid advice at every turn.

  Karina was right, I held the power to move on. History could not be repaired, but I needed the lesson to live the rest of my life.

  Toward the end of October, Darlie told me there was going to be a position posted in her department she thought I’d love, working as a patient care assistant. Basically, it was a jack-of-all trades, anything and everything asked, kind of job. I wouldn’t work for her, but it would get my foot in the door for a nursing position in oncology when I graduated, if one became available.

  I took the proper steps and spoke with Becky about it, and she agreed it was a great move for me, and while she would be sad to lose me from her team, she thought the change would be great and would definitely set me up for what I wanted to accomplish after graduation.

  “I’m bummed our schedules won’t be the same, but it will be good for you,” Karina said around her toothbrush.

  I sat down on the end of her bed while she washed her face. “It’s less hours and no weekends, but Becky said I could pick up weekend shifts, if I wanted to, from her crew, and since my grades have come back up, there shouldn’t be a problem with my advisor.”

  “Graduation will be here before we know it. You are such a genuine, caring person. I know you’d make a great oncology nurse.”

  I applied for the position and was transferred without a waiting period the second week of November. The following Monday after class, I reported to my new assignment and was giddy with excitement as I waited to meet with my new boss, Edgar Walls, Director of Oncology.

  “We’re thrilled to have you on the team, Wrenn. Our mission here is simple; it’s always the small things that move the most mountains. Always keep that in mind and you’ll do well. I know you’re friends with Darlie already, but I’ll give you the nickel tour and introduce you to everyone else.”

  After a brief jaunt around the department, we arrived to the area that would be my work station and introduced me to Margaret, who was going to be my trainer and immediate supervisor. At first, Margaret seemed kind of grouchy, and I wondered what I’d gotten myself into, but I hoped for a turnaround.

  As it turned out, Margaret was a patient herself, having recently finished her treatments for lung cancer and had decided it was be
st to retire. Her position was the one I was taking. Her attitude was a blend of emotions; after all, her life had been drastically altered.

  It took about a week to get into a new rhythm, but once I had, I was very happy with my decision. I had more free time, but I used that to study and also sign up for an online class that would apply to my graduate program.

  I sent Dr. Palmer an email about my decision, and his response to me confirmed that we both understood I wouldn’t be working for him after graduating, as I’d originally planned to do.

  I’m extremely pleased with your choice, Wrenn. You are a very congenial caregiver, and that type of personality is desperately needed in the healing arts of cancer. It is an emotional journey with each patient and one I think you would excel at. Since we don’t have a cancer center close, I’m certain that the area you are in will provide adequately for employment post-graduation, but I’ll miss not having you working by my side. I know your mother is very, very proud of your accomplishments and the strides you are taking, just as I am. I’m proud to think I nudged you enough that you finally took this step in your life. I look forward to seeing you the next time you are home, and as always, Sara Beth and I send you our love.

  Dr. P

  In a way, the note was sad, but in another, it was more closure to my painful past and a positive take on my future.

  I’d been in the cancer center over two months when I met Mr. Asher Lawrence, a sweet elderly man who had come to us for treatments and would be undergoing both chemotherapy and radiation treatment. Walking was difficult for him, so I meet his assistant out at the car with a wheelchair. He was quite the flirt, and I enjoyed him. While his body was failing him, his mind still appeared very sharp.

  “Your mother must love birds,” he said one day as I pushed his chair inside.

  “She does and has quite the sense of humor,” I joked in regards to the correlation of nature to my name, printed on the badge hanging around my neck.