From This Day Forward

When the line went dead at last, Cara knelt and began to pick up the remnants of her favorite mug. As she collected the pieces, sudden tears stung her eyes and she swiped at them angrily. She wasn’t going to cry about a stupid mug. She wasn’t! She’d never been a weepy person. Even during the final difficult months with Sam, she’d never cried. Yet for the past four weeks, the smallest thing could trigger a flood of tears—further evidence of her unsettled emotional state. And she was tired of it! Tired of jumping at the slightest noise. Tired of feeling out of control.

But she didn’t know how to break the cycle of fear. Even prayer, once such a steadying influence, hadn’t been able to calm her. Still, she clung to the belief that things would return to normal. That, at some point, she’d be able to deal with the aftereffects of the trauma, go back to work, move on with her life. She had to believe that. Because she couldn’t continue like this.

As she deposited the broken mug in the trash, the phone rang again. Once more Sam’s voice echoed in the silent, empty room, leaving the same message.

Though her curiosity was piqued by his persistence, Cara steeled herself to his words. Eventually he’d tire of the game and leave a message. She could wait.

An hour later, after turning up the radio while she took a long, hot shower and blow-dried her hair, Cara returned to the kitchen to find the message light on her answering machine blinking, the number eight illuminated on the digital display. Meaning he’d called six times in the past sixty minutes. She replayed the messages, but they were all the same. None contained a clue about the purpose of his call.

After hitting the delete button, Cara was starting to turn away when the phone rang again. She was prepared to ignore it until Liz spoke.

“Hi, Cara. Sorry to call this early, but I figured you’d be up and—”

Lunging for the phone, Cara snatched it out of the cradle. “Liz? Sorry. I thought you were…someone else.”

There was a momentary hesitation, and when Liz responded her tone was cautious. “Who?”

“You’re not going to believe this.” Cara perched on a stool by the counter. “Sam’s been calling. Every ten minutes, starting about an hour and a half ago.” When silence greeted her news, a puzzled frown creased Cara’s brow. “Liz? Are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Have you talked to him?”

“Of course not!”

“Did he leave a message?”

“Just that he needs to talk to me. And that he’ll keep calling until I answer.”

Silence again.

A tingle of suspicion began to niggle at the edges of Cara’s consciousness, and her grip on the phone tightened. “Liz? Do you know something about this?”

The heavy sigh that came over the line gave Cara her answer even before Liz spoke. “Look, Cara, I’m sorry. I’ve been so worried about you…I didn’t know who else to call, since your family was off-limits.”

It took a few seconds for Liz’s meaning to register. But only a heartbeat more for Cara’s disbelief to morph into anger—and accusation. “You called Sam?”

“I thought he could help. You need to get away from here, Cara. Sam lives in a small town in the heartland. He has an extra room in his house. You’d be safe there.”

“I can’t believe this! What did you tell him?” Cara’s voice rose, shrill and bordering on hysteria, as she vaulted to her feet.

“Just the basics of what happened. Cara, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.”

There was a trace of tears in Liz’s words, but Cara ignored her friend’s distress, clamping her lips shut.

“You can’t go back to work, you don’t sleep, you have nightmares, you won’t go out at night.” Liz laid out her case in the stony silence that hung on the line. “I have to drag you out of the apartment even in the daylight. That’s not normal.”

The truth of Liz’s words did nothing to ease Cara’s anger. How could Liz do this to her? Of all people, Liz knew how Cara felt about her husband. Her friend had witnessed the incident that had delivered the fatal blow to their marriage. As far as Cara was concerned, the only difference between the two betrayals was that Liz’s intentions had been good. But as conventional wisdom was fond of pointing out, the road to a certain undesirable location was paved with those.

“I saw a murder.” Cara choked on the word, and her fingers clenched around the phone. “It takes time to recover from trauma like that.”

“Sometimes it also takes professional help. But you won’t consider that.”

That was true, Cara conceded. She’d always been a strong person, and she’d been convinced she could work through the aftermath of the attack on her own. But the depth and power of her trauma had overwhelmed her. Despite her best efforts, she wasn’t making any progress.

“Since you won’t get professional help, a change of scene might be a good thing,” Liz pressed, when Cara didn’t reply. “What better place than small-town America, where people don’t even feel a need to lock their doors? Sam has a spare bedroom in his house that he’s willing to let you use. I think you should consider it.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Yes, I am.”

“You want me to live under the same roof with the man who…” Cara stopped, too shocked by the absurdity of the suggestion to complete the thought.

“I know it’s kind of awkward, but…”

“Awkward? That doesn’t even come close to describing the scenario you’re proposing!” Once more, a touch of hysteria sharpened Cara’s voice.

“Okay, maybe this is weird. No, scratch that. It is weird,” Liz admitted. “But as far as I’m concerned, the situation is desperate. The thing is, Cara, Sam can offer you a safe place to stay until you feel stronger. Think of it this way. He owes you after all he put you through. No matter how you feel about him, at least he’ll be a warm body in the house at night so you can feel safe enough to sleep. And during the day, when he’s at work, you’ll have the place to yourself. It’s a good plan. And Sam is willing.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is he willing?”

“Who knows? Guilt, maybe?” In truth, Liz thought it was more than that. But she wasn’t about to share that intuition with Cara. Her friend would turn tail and run in the opposite direction if she suspected Sam had other—more personal—reasons for extending the invitation. “What does it matter? Just consider it a safe place to stay for a few weeks.”

Safe, Cara reflected. That depended on your definition of the word. In a physical sense, Liz might be right. But given her precarious emotional state, and the too-prominent role Sam had played in her wayward musings this past month, Cara wasn’t at all sure about the security of her heart. She’d have to constantly remind herself that she and Sam could never recapture the closeness they’d once shared. That there had been too many hurts, too much betrayal. If she went, she couldn’t harbor any illusions. Sam’s home would be a place to recuperate. Nothing more.

If she went.

A shock wave rippled through Cara. When had she started to even consider the trip an option? She groped for the counter and eased back onto the stool, suddenly shaky.

“Cara?” An uncertain note crept into Liz’s voice. “Hey, I had your best interest at heart. I’m sorry if I made a mistake. You know how much our friendship means to me, and I was aware of the risk when I called Sam. But I couldn’t figure out any other way to help you. Please don’t hate me, okay?”

For fifteen years—since the day they’d met at a contemporary art exhibit both had been dragged to by their respective dates, only to find themselves laughing together in the ladies’ room at the abstract, over-the-top junk that was being passed off as fine art—Liz had been like a second sister to Cara. Their friendship had been cemented long before either had married. How could she hold Liz’s actions against her when she knew that her friend had been motivated by love?

“It’s okay, Liz.” Cara closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath as she struggled to sort through her emotions. “This whole thing is just bizarre. Kind of like my life of late. I have to admit that I’m starting to feel a little like Job. But I’ve lost so much…I don’t want to lose you, too. You saved my life this past month.”

“Then you’ll at least think about my idea?”

Propping her elbow on the counter, Cara pushed her hair back from her face and cupped her chin in her palm. She blinked, her eyes gritty with fatigue, as a shaft of bright morning light slanted through the window. Maybe a good night’s sleep was reason enough to visit Sam.

“I’ll pray about it, Liz.”

“Sounds like a plan. And the sooner the better. I’ll do the same.”

As they hung up, Cara hoped Liz would honor her parting promise. Because this decision wouldn’t be easy. And she was going to need all the guidance she could get.

Sam hit redial and checked his watch. He’d been at this phone game for three hours now, and Cara still wasn’t answering. According to Liz, she rarely left her apartment, so he figured she was there—unless she’d gone to church. A good possibility, he realized, since regular worship was part of her routine. He could count on one hand the number of Sunday services she’d missed during their marriage.