Like something has her in its grips, she doesn’t hear him, bends forward, about to let go.
Jack lunges to grab her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight. He lifts her up, like she weighs nothing, and sets her down where it’s safe.
Numb and confused, not understanding why he is there and I am not, Abby crumbles as he envelopes her in his arms.
“I got you,” he whispers, “I got you,” just as confused as she is.
As the love of my life sobs into his chest, I back away knowing neither living soul can see me.
Chapter 39
Abby
I couldn’t do it.
I love Max more than words can express, and it wasn’t because of him I didn’t jump. He was the only reason I was going to.
He was so angry at the car.
And I just drove off.
Is that why he abandoned me?
I’ve never felt more alone than when I was balancing on that ledge. It felt like a test. He wanted to see if I’d do it, and then we’d be together? Where is he? I don’t understand.
Strangely, at the last moment, I felt a pull tugging at me to loosen my grip, allow gravity to make the decision final. My heart raced so hard it was painful. I’d just said I didn’t want to die, and yet I was about to, almost didn’t have a choice anymore. Like something wanted me to drop. It felt dark and seductive.
And then Jack appeared, happened to drive by and see me out there, my light colored clothes easy to spot so out of place. What must he think of me?
I don’t say a word as we drive, me tucked against the passenger door like a child, tears refusing to stop no matter how hard I try to be dignified. I’m in my damn nightgown, a slip, actually.
Cold.
No shoes.
Hanging off the bridge.
About to end my life.
The picture that must have painted for this poor man, I am so embarrassed and grateful to him. Confused. Terrified that Max is that angry that he shut me out. Again.
Why would he do that?
This wasn’t a normal day.
I wasn’t hanging out at the cabin.
I was hanging on a life or death rope.
I needed him.
Why wasn’t he there for me?
“Abby, I’m driving you back to my home,” Jack’s voice is quiet, cautious, “so I can watch over you tonight, okay?” He pauses for me to say something and I feel him glance my way, but all I can do is stare out the windshield, my voice failing me. He adds, “I don’t want you to be alone tonight. You’re safe with me, okay?”
Fresh tears come because even though he’s virtually a stranger, I trust him. I do. Instinct tells me I am safe with this man. I slump more in the seat, and silently beg my tears to stop.
Max…where are you?
Jack turns left into a farm, up a road of gravel and dirt where his truck’s tires have made a path over time. I blink at a little red cottage, and glance around the land, moonlit and vast. There’s a chicken coop to the right. He has chickens?
Parking beside his cottage, headlights illuminate curious eyes and I start, then relax at the sight of a goat behind a split-rail fence, black with white spots and horns that said she was female, not male.
Jack opens his door. “Wait there.” He walks around the front and by the time he gets here, I’m already climbing out, but I take his hand and step down, pulling my robe tighter around my slip with the other hand. Jack’s eyes remain respectful and on the ground. “Hey Sheba,” he calls to the goat while leading the way. “It’s not much, but it’s home,” he self-consciously mutters as the key is drawn. “Oh, didn’t lock it. Forgot.” He swings open the door, and walks in first since I clearly didn’t want his truck door open for me. Jack’s trying to show he understands this isn’t a date. Of course it isn’t, but I’m in next to nothing at a man’s house I’ve never been to, so the boundaries need to be clear. I appreciate his manners. His respect. The man is much bigger than I am.
I brush off my feet on his welcome mat, taking an extra second to scrape embedded gravel out, and blink into a small living and kitchen area, sparsely decorated. Charming.
“Can I use the bathroom?”
“Of course, it’s right over there.”
I nod and he steps aside, making room for my passage. The bathroom is really cute, small as well but a good use of space with the sink and shower built into corners opposite each other, no bathtub. No room for one. There are pale green curtains that fall one-third of the way, the rest of the window frosted for privacy. It’s open a little so I peak outside and see acres of grass and the silhouettes of horses. Pretty.
I avoid the mirror, because who cares right now. I’m a mess and I can’t look at myself. Too sad, too fucking embarrassed, too tired.
When I come out, Jack asks, “How are you doing?”
“Can I lie down?”
“Of course. I just changed the sheets for you.”
“You did?”
He frowns, “Yeah,” and gestures to the room. Each wall is exposed wood, darker slats at the bed’s headrest. There’s a sliding-door closet, his clothing visible with the doors not completely shut. A simple wood chair with a red cushion sit beside his bed, two nightstands flanking it. On the one nearest me rests a fresh glass of ice water.
I bury myself under the covers, pull them up as Jack awkwardly stands at the door, eyes averted, ready to leave but feeling the need to first reassure me, “I’m going to sleep on the sofa. If you need anything, at all, I will be there. And I left you some water. It's right over there, so…”
I start to sob, covering my face — a show of kindness such as that ice water for some reason undid me.
Jack steps inside, “No no, hey hey hey,” and lowers himself onto the chair like a friend. “No, don't do that! I don't blame you for what you were trying to do.” He pauses as if unsure of what to say, and his voice becomes more gentle. “There was a time I thought of stepping out, too. I've been there. Hell, I think we've all been there at some point or another, depending on how much heartbreak we've had.”
These words are so true, they suspend my tears and I look over at him as he struggles with his own. “I lost my wife three years ago to Leukemia.”
I whisper, “Oh...Jack,” surprised, heart aching because I understand what it’s like to lose the one I love most. “I’m so sorry!”
He nods, “Yeah, me too. Me too.” Inhaling deeply, emotion barely contained in his voice, “It hurt, it hurt really bad for a long time.” Jack looks at me, compassion in his smile, “But you have to believe me when I say that I understand. Because I do. I do. But with a little bit of time Abby, it won't hurt as bad. You learn to see the beauty in life again. I'm rambling.” He chuckles, dropping his gaze and embarrassed, “I’m rambling. Get some sleep.”
Chapter 40
Max
Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, hands tucked, I’m watching Jack get through to both of us. Because I finally get it now.
“Get some sleep,” he tells her, and rises from the chair, and passes by where I stand, unseen.