Against The Odds

It had taken her almost dying to realize that with all the waiting, she hadn’t yet lived.

Well, that ended today. Jesse was right. No more waiting. If she wanted a different life, it was up to her to find it.

Now she just had to decide what that was. She stood and walked to the kitchen, pulled a steno pad and pen from the drawer, then sat at the tiny round table she used as a dining table. At the top of a blank page, she wrote “New Life” in tidy cursive. Then she sat, staring at the wall for five minutes.

How can you not know?

Well, maybe a place to start would be to consider what she admired in other people. Who would she be if she didn’t have to consider anyone, or anything else?

“Who would you be, if you weren’t afraid?”

Something about the question broke the logjam in her head and she wrote fast, trying to catch the thoughts before they floated downstream.

Adventurous Independent

Pioneering Brave

A fizz of thrill, like bubbles of champagne, coursed into her blood. Oh, yes, she’d admire someone like that. She wanted to be someone like that. But how?

What would a person like that do in their leisure time? She jotted:

Surf Skydive

Outdoorsman Jog, ride a bike, sports

Who knew you could plot out your life? So, what career would a person like that have? She wrote what came to her, without filters.

StewardessWilderness guide

Park rangerPilot

ParamedicBusiness owner

Tennis proTruck driver

HitchhikerMountaineer

Okay, so the last two weren’t careers, and some may not be practical, but dang it, the cage door had been blown off its hinges, and she was going to open herself to all possibilities.

So there, Mom.

Smiling, she added to her list.

* * *

THE NEXT DAY, Hope walked into the empty basement classroom of the hospital, nervous, but determined. So far, her new life was just pages of lists. Today it would exist, because she’d say it out loud. Once it was out, and people heard it, she couldn’t back out. After that, she’d get started living it. She tugged to straighten the collar of her best business blouse, walked to the circle of orange plastic chairs and sat in the same one as last time.

Then she got up, and sat in one across the circle. She was going to have to watch herself. Habits, held long enough, became cages. And she was done with those. She unbuttoned her blazer and retrieved the newsprint from the pocket:

WANTED: Full-time Retail Specialist. Room for advancement. Apply to:

The Adventure Outfitter in Widow’s Grove—Your gateway to adventure!

* * *

“WELL, GOOD MORNING, early bird.”

Bina sat across the circle. Hope hadn’t even heard her come in, but there she sat, two chairs to Hope’s left. “Hello, Ms. Rani.”

“Please, I’m Bina.”

“Okay. Bina.” Hope smiled.

The rest of the group must have shared an elevator, because they all filed into the room and sat. Hope tried to recall their names. A minute later, Bear walked in and took the last open chair, beside her.

She had no problem remembering his name, because it fit him so well. He was well over six feet tall, and built like a bear—thick, and muscular, with hair the red-brown color of a grizzly, pulled back into a ponytail, a bushy beard. His plain white T-shirt pulled tight across his upper arms and chest, displaying the fact that though he may be big, he was lean.

It wasn’t just his body that took up room, either. She could feel attitude rolling off him. With a furtive twitch of her hips, she scooted her chair an inch farther away.

The chair tips made a loud screech across the tile.

His big head swiveled her way. Under heavy brows, his eyes were a dusky shade of chocolate brown. And not angry at all. In fact, she saw more curiosity than animosity. And pain. Those eyes had seen more than they wanted to. She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew it sure as her mother’s rules of deportment.

She continued her study. His big forearms rested on his thighs. On the back of one was a tattoo. She recognized the eagle and anchor, but in the center, where the globe should be, were the crosshairs of a rifle scope. A shiver shimmered through her.

“Well, let’s get started, shall we?” Bina’s voice broke into her thoughts.

Realizing she was staring, Hope looked away fast, her face hot enough to be glowing. She scrubbed her palms over her dress slacks, crossed her feet and tucked them under her chair.

“The last time we talked a bit about why each of you is here,” Bina began. “Today, I’d like some of you to share your stories in more detail. I know it will be hard, speaking about such emotional events with strangers, but this is a safe place, and talking about it will help your mind process the traumas you’ve suffered. It will help ease the horror and begin the healing.” She glanced around the circle of faces. “Who would like to start?”

The left side of Hope’s face tingled as Bear’s regard slid across her skin.

The redheaded boy raised his hand. “How do you heal from something that could happen again at any time?”

Bina nodded. “Traumatic incidents tend to make us aware of how dangerous the world is, and how fragile we are, Bryan. Will you tell us what happened that night?”

He looked down at his hands, twisting together in his lap. “Curtis is an IT guy. He works crazy-long hours. Weekends, too. So we don’t get to go out much.” His face relaxed into a small, intimate smile as he stared, unfocused at the empty center of the circle. “That night we went to Aurelio’s, our favorite trattoria. I chose it the first time we went out, because it was like Curtis—Aurelio means golden in Italian, you know.”

Beside her, Bear made a strangled sound.

Bryan’s face flushed blotchy pink, the way only a redhead’s can. “Are you some kind of homophobe?” He put a fist on his hip. “Because I really don’t need that kind of judgment right now.”

Bear held up a hand. “Peace out, dude. I just swallowed wrong.”

“Go ahead, Bryan,” Bina urged.

“We sat in our usual secluded corner. The candlelight loves Curtis. His eyes, that blond scruff...” Bryan sighed. “He looks like a god.” His body seemed to shrink into itself. “Curtis paid, and we were leaving. It was late, and the room was almost empty. We stopped at the bathroom on the way out. It’s down a brick corridor, next to the back door.” He dropped his head, and watched his hands gripping each other, knuckles white. “Three men came in and blocked the way out. Thugs. Said they watched us through dinner, and since Curtis was obviously infatuated with me, they wanted to know the reason.” His breath came faster. “Ugly, filthy men. They leered at me. Curtis put me behind him and told them to go away. That we didn’t want any trouble.” His mouth twisted. “They laughed. One grabbed Curtis. I started forward, but he put a knife to Curtis’s throat.” His shoulders rose to earlobe level. “I had no choice. They were going to hurt Curtis if I didn’t!”