Corinne Michaels - Beloved

“He wrote me a letter while he was sick. Did you know that?”

“No, he never mentioned a letter.” Her gray brow rises. “When he found out he was sick, he changed a lot of things. He didn’t suffer for long. It was very late in the disease when he was diagnosed. He talked a lot more about you and what he gave up toward the end, though.” Mary pats my hand, giving me a warm smile. “You know, when we know our time is running out, we think more about the choices we made. I’m sure his letter was sincere.” She gets up from the table and washes the cups before she returns to sit with me.

“I don’t know what to think anymore. It feels like everything I knew was a lie.” A tear drops as the sadness returns. “I blamed myself all my life. I always felt like I’d done something as a kid to make him leave. Then I get this letter saying it wasn’t me, it was him. My entire life I’ve believed I wasn’t good enough for him to come back for.”

Mary places her hand on my arm. “The heart knows the truth. When times are hard, we have to rely on the voice in our hearts. Trust yourself, Catherine. I do know the Hunter I knew would’ve never left because of you.”

“I wish I’d known him.” I sigh and look away. That’s the bottom line. I know nothing about him. I don’t know how he lived, if he was sad or happy, if he wished things were different—although his letter says he did.

“There’s an office down the hall on the left. He spent a lot of time in there. There are probably some things that might give you some peace.” She wipes the tear from my cheek. “Sometimes the heart and mind don’t work together, but a child is never to blame for the errors of the parent. We all make mistakes, but forgiveness sets the soul free.” Mary rises from her seat and I stand as well. “I’m going to lie down for a bit and give you some time alone, but promise you’ll come back and visit soon.”

“I promise,” I say as she walks out the door, giving me time to absorb everything.

I walk through the rooms, looking around and trying to figure out who he really was when I come across the office she spoke of. There’s a small desk and a bookshelf inside. I gasp and my hands cover my heart when I see the top shelf. It’s lined with photos of me. Every picture is in chronological order, from my infant photo at the hospital all the way through third grade. There are even some where I’m older. My high school graduation picture and my newspaper engagement announcement are framed. He has little bits of my life all around the room.

I make my way to his desk and look around. He was so alone. It has papers and bills, but the photo sitting on top causes a sob to break free. It’s a photo of us on my birthday. He’s standing behind me right as I’m inhaling to blow out the candles on my cake. The love in his eyes shines as bright as the flames.

Overloaded with varying degrees of heartache, I rush out of the room, gasping for air. Nothing makes any sense. The world seems to be shifting, but I’m not shifting with it. I can’t wrap my mind around why he chose to keep that door closed. He could have come to me and talked to me, tried to explain. I might have been mad, but we could’ve had a chance at some kind of relationship. So much wasted time, so many tears that didn’t need to be shed. He was there for parts of my life even though I never knew.

Is this the life I’m heading toward?

I lock up the house and make sure everything is secure. I need to decide what to do with the house, but not today. I feel a sense of peace settle around me. I’ve gained some answers or at least some insight. Getting into my car, I allow the silence to surround me as the sun shines upon on my face.

Tuesday morning rolls along, and I know I have to get up and get it together. I have a job to do, one that ultimately will force me to deal with Jackson again. This was what my fear of getting involved with him was all along. He promised it wouldn’t affect my career, and now it’s time for him to prove it. I stroll into the office in my black slacks and coral top, hoping the bright color will draw attention away from my swollen eyes.

“Good morning,” I say with a forced smile.

Taylor stands and follows me into my office. “Morning, Cat. How are you feeling?”

“Fine. We have a lot of work to do. Can you see where we are on the advertising piece getting released to the press next week?” I say quickly.

I don’t want to talk. I don’t even know what to say. Hi. I had a mental breakdown. My ex and my current boyfriend got in a fight. Oh, and my dad, who I haven’t seen or heard from in over twenty years, wrote me a letter telling me he loved me. But the best part is I threw Jackson out after he told me I was it for him. And I still refuse to call him because I’m a chicken shit. Yup, that about sums it up.

“Okay,” she says slowly while glancing around. “I’ll get the graphics people on the phone.”

Great. I’ve made her uncomfortable. With a smile, I try to ease her tension. “No, I think I’ll just go there and check it out myself. If you can get the schedule for the next month of potential accounts coming up, that would be great.”

Her eyes widen as her head tilts to the side. “For upcoming clients? I thought we had another month or two on the Raven account?”

I know I’m not making sense, but moving forward is all I have. I debated sending Taylor in my place on Wednesday and letting her give over all the finalized plans, but I’d lose my job. I could always hand it over to Elle and simply state the client and I weren’t agreeing on how to proceed, but the idea of Elle’s breasts and her lack of clothing anywhere near Jackson makes me sick. So, I’m stuck. I need to put my big girl panties on and deal with it.

I’m fighting the real problem, which is how much I miss him. The thought of losing him makes it hard to get through the day. I imagine running into him with another woman on his arm, kissing her, touching her, and telling her he loves her. Pain radiates from my heart out through my body. There’s no way I could handle that. Why does he have to be so damn irresistible? And why do I have to be so stubborn?

“Cat?” Taylor breaks me from my thoughts.

I shake my head, drawing air into my lungs before pushing it out loudly. “Sorry, you’re right. I wanted to see what was coming up, but it’s fine.”

“I can grab them, no problem. I just—”

“Seriously, not a big deal.” I smile, trying to ease her confusion. “My head is all over the place.”

Taylor steps forward and sits in the chair. She doesn’t say anything as her eyes assess me. “We’re friends, right?”

“Of course,” I respond.

“Then, no bullshit. What’s wrong?” Her eyes are soft and caring. It’s the same look I got from her when I opened up about Neil’s affair. Taylor sits with her hands in her lap, patiently waiting.

As much as I want to take this moment and lay it all out there, I’m not sure I want to hear a lecture. Every minute that passes, I’m less convinced I did the right thing by throwing Jackson out. Also, I’m realizing my feelings for him run far deeper than I’ve allowed myself to admit. He’s given me strength but never made me feel weak, and along the way he’s embedded himself in my heart.

“Let’s just say that my weekend was less than stellar. The night of the reading of the will was horrific. I’ve got a lot on my mind. I’m sorting it all out.”

She smiles sincerely. “I’m sorry. It’s not like you to call out of work. You’re usually here no matter what.”

“It was a good thing I wasn’t. I needed to take care of some stuff regarding my father. You know me. I’ll be fine.”

“If you want to talk, I’m here.”

Taylor is one of the few people I know I can talk to without fear of judgment. She listens with an open heart. When she moved to New York, she vowed not to let the big city take away her country roots. She’s innocent but not naïve, which allows her to cut through the drama. She has an old soul, one of the purest of anyone I know. And her best asset—even at her young age, she sees and understands things people three and four times her senior wouldn’t. It’s an exceptional gift, but one I have no desire to take advantage of at the moment.

Before she uncovers it all, I cut her off. “I’ll be downstairs with the design team. Page me if you need anything.”

She nods, pressing her lips into a fine line. “Sure thing. I’ll just be out here doing my job, pretending you didn’t just try to deflect.”

“Good. Pretend away.” I smile and head out of the office.

I spend an hour downstairs checking in on the marketing and graphic side of things to get the first press release ready to go out. It gives me the small reprieve I needed from my mind. No Jackson, no Neil, no thoughts of anything else but work.

Once I’m content with everything, I decide to head out for lunch. It’s a beautiful day and I think an hour to myself will help my mood. I grab the subway and head to Central Park. I walk toward an empty bench and kick my heels off. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and embrace the sun and fresh air. The park is tranquil even in its chaos. It’s never empty, but you can always find your own section of heaven.

During the first few minutes, I clear my mind and focus on everything around me. I hear the birds making beautiful music, the leaves rustling in the tree above thanks to the gentle wind blowing through them, and the sound of running feet pounding the pavement, moving forward with each stride.

My mind drifts to Jackson. I imagine him here in the mornings jogging, running through life and finding the courage to keep going. He’s strong in the face of adversity and has found a way to rise above his grief. Every day he cares for the people in not one but two companies. More than that, he cared for me. Jackson’s strength kept me together even when he wasn’t there. I pushed him so hard because I couldn’t take another man leaving. I thought if I shoved him out the door, I’d be protecting myself. As I sit here thinking of the runners and their path through the park, I consider their options: they can stay on the paved road, on solid ground, or they can take a dirt trail and see where it leads. Sure, the road less traveled is bumpy and may be scary, but it could also be amazing.