Elizabeth Finn - Unforgiven

“Fine, I’m not faint. But I will be if you are this stupid!” He studied her, refusing to feed her crazy until she started explaining herself. “Her old PO is coming over at three this afternoon, and she’s going to tell him she’s going back to Memphis! And do you know why she’s going back to Memphis?”

His face dropped, and he muttered, “I think I have an idea.”

“Well, is your idea that you’re an idiot? ’Cause guess what? You’re an idiot!” Michelle suddenly harrumphed, turned on her heel, and stormed away from him.

“I think that girl might have been crazy, Dr. Cory. Is she from the mental ward?”

“We don’t have a mental ward, Jerry, but she is most definitely crazy.” He struggled to get through the next thirty minutes with Jerry as his splinter issue turned into concerns that he might have West Nile virus, or Ebola, or hell, anthrax poisoning. And once he’d discharged the man, he escaped to the doctor’s lounge, grabbing his cell phone and flopping down on the couch.

“She’s leaving. She’s leaving because I don’t know how to forgive her. Hell, what does it even mean anyway? I care about her. I love her. I want her to be happy, and safe, and cared for, and not one ounce of who I am now wants her to suffer or feel guilty. Why isn’t that enough?” He was speed talking, and his mother was letting him.

“Oh, Darren.” She sounded sad. Of course she sounded sad. Her son was acting like a child again who couldn’t figure out how to function in the world.

“What do I do? Tell me because I can’t lose her again.” He was pleading for help. He was lost, and he felt as though his life was crumbling from beneath him.

“Darren, what makes you think you haven’t forgiven her already?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know. The fact that I acted like an ass when she asked me if I had. I started stuttering like a fool, and I couldn’t figure out what to say. I’d say that’s a good sign I’m not ready to forgive her.”

“You need to understand something. Forgiveness isn’t an emotion. It’s an action, and it’s a choice. It’s the choice to not let the past affect how you feel about her. If you’re waiting for some emotional epiphany, it’s not going to happen.”

“I love her—as much now as I ever have. That’s how I feel about her.”

“Then what makes you think you haven’t already made the choice to forgive her? You know, your forgiveness of her isn’t linked to your own healing. You’re still healing, and frankly, you’re a bit behind schedule because you weren’t willing to deal with any of it until she came back.” There was a sarcasm to her voice that had his mouth pulling up slightly. She was oh so very right about that. “You’re sad when you think about your sister. I understand that. It doesn’t mean you’re not able to forgive Bailey. It doesn’t have to affect the way you feel about her.”

“It doesn’t—not at all. I believed it did. I thought it was supposed to, but . . . it just doesn’t. I can’t stop loving her even when I try.”

“Sometimes I feel like you’re waiting to stop hurting—like your pain makes you think you’re incapable of forgiving her. You’ve linked these things as though you can’t have forgiveness for her until you’re whole again. The two just aren’t related, Darren.”

“I want to forgive her.” His voice was quiet.

“Then I’ll ask you again, what makes you think you haven’t already? Seems to me you have this forgiveness thing in the bag. I mean, you’ve gone from loathing her to loving her in a matter of months, and while it’s been rocky, you’re still here fighting for her, and she’s still here too. You need to give yourself more credit, and you need to work on your self-awareness skills.” Sarcasm again, and he let himself smile that time.

He chuckled for a moment. His heart was thumping, and the tension was tight in his chest. The one thing he needed in life was being threatened, and he felt as though he might lose his mind if he lost her again. But he just wasn’t sure he could do this. Love her, piece of cake. Forgive her, it was apparently a concept he was still trying to understand.

“Oh, Bailey. It’s good to see you, dear.” He hugged her warmly, and she ushered him into the living room. “One of my favorites, you know that?”

“Is that your professional opinion, Harold?”

“Oh, heck, girl. I’m too close to retirement to worry about the professional part of my job. You’re a good kid. You’ve been a joy.”

“You realize I’m on parole for vehicular homicide, right?”

He chuckled for a moment. “You realize I cheat at golf every time I play, and I have a shit short game. No one’s perfect. We do the best we can.”

“Harold.” He peered at her, and he must have seen the seriousness in her expression because his face suddenly looked concerned. “I think I need to go back to Memphis.”

“You think, do you?”

She nodded. “I know. I think maybe being alone will be good for me for a while. Self-sufficient, independent.”

He smiled, but he shook his head. “People say that about relationships when they break up, not in reference to isolating themselves in a town where they know no one.”

“It’ll be an adventure.” She was trying to sound convincing.

“That it’ll be for sure.” He wasn’t buying it, given the look on his face. “You realize your PO there isn’t your biggest fan. Don’t know what you did to piss him off, but boy, does that man dislikes you.”

“I think I said ‘duh’ at an inopportune time.”

He chuckled. “So, you know I’ve seen your file, right?” She nodded. “And you know it’s my job to look into things like where you’re staying and whose phone number it is you give me to reach you at when you arrive in town. You can’t possibly think I missed whose name is on the mailbox.” Her eyes instantly teared, and he looked guilty. “Is that what you’re running from?” She shook her head. It was a lie. Of course she was running from him.

“Crazy to think we could be friends. Crazier to think we could be more.” She glanced at him, looking for the incredulity, but there was nothing but a sweet smile.

“Not a crazy bone in your body.”

She stared at the couch between them, and she fought the emotion roiling under the surface. She didn’t want to face the world alone. She wasn’t ready to accept that her mother was gone. She wasn’t ready to walk back into their apartment and deal with her memories. But then, she’d never been ready for any of the bullshit that had happened in her life. Instead of fighting the emotion, she gave up, letting the tears sit on the lower rims of her eyelids.

“You’re decided, huh?”

She nodded her head as her nose scrunched up to fight the tears. “Afraid so.” She could barely get the words out, and she looked away as her tears fell.

He took her hand and held it. He said nothing for a long while, and she stared out the window, letting her tears fall with no restraint.

“Like I said, one of my favorites.” He patted her hand, and she turned back, forcing a teary-eyed smile to her face. “So now, what’s with the clothes? Looks like you’re ready to run a marathon?” He was trying, and he usually succeeded, to lighten the mood.

She laughed. “Marathon? No, not me. A good jog can do wonders for the brain, though.”

“So I’ve heard. As I’ve mentioned, I prefer to burn my calories cheating on the golf course.” He had her laughing again as they stood. She walked with him to his car with Macy in tow. He hugged Bailey tightly, and she was left fighting the tears again. Before he pulled away, he tugged the ponytail that was holding her hair back. “For the record, no one’s better off alone.”

She stood back as he climbed into his car—her contradiction-in-terms parole officer who treated her more like a grandchild than a convict. She watched as his car rolled away from her down the long driveway, disappearing into the thick woods.

“Come on, Macy. One last run. Just you and me, girl.” Macy barked, bounced, and bounded into the woods and down the trail.

He slammed on the brakes as he rounded a bend in his lane and came bumper-to-bumper with an economical-looking sedan with an older man behind the wheel. He didn’t need to meet the man to know who he was. He’d left the hospital as early as he could, but it wasn’t early enough, and now here was the man he’d been trying to catch up to. Not him so much as her before she could get to him.

They jockeyed their cars around on the narrow lane to pass one another, and when they were side-by-side, he stopped and rolled his window down. The man had a kind face, and from what Bailey had mentioned to him of her PO, he was good to her—far more so than he’d been.

“She’s leaving?”

“This really isn’t a conversation I should be having with you.”

“Does it really matter at this point?”

The man studied him for a moment, and he finally smiled. “How about you talk her out of it for us both. Hate to lose my favorite parolee.” He winked at Darren and nodded his head before he rolled his window back up without another word. His car ambled down his lane, and Darren watched him in the rearview mirror for a moment before he put his SUV back in gear.

He hollered for her the moment he got inside. He was terrified of having this conversation, but he was more terrified of losing her. His home was empty, and her running shoes were gone. He dressed quickly and took off down the path. It was hard not to think about the day he found her bloody and hurt on the trail, and he focused on his legs, moving forward and getting closer to her. He didn’t know if she was upset or not. He didn’t have a clue what to expect at all.