The Power of Love

.                                                                     Excerpt from Chapter 1

Rusty & Rene’s Home

May 13

12:00 a.m.

Rusty climbed out of bed and pulled on a pair of shorts. His wife was watching him. He knew she was watching him. Knew he should assure her everything was alright. Except, he couldn’t. There were too many conflicting thoughts going on inside. Thoughts he didn’t understand. Thoughts he didn’t think he should be having.

He poured a splash of whisky and pressed his forehead against the cold window. The moon was bright, but not quite full. It caused the shadows around the old chestnut tree to appear deeper and longer, giving off a spooky vibe that somehow fit his mood. It gave him the feeling of being watched — observed — yet come up wanting. Which didn’t set well and only added to the guilt that weighed him down. Guilt that returned full-force each May and slowly dissipated by the beginning of August. 

However, this year, there’d been another layer added to what already hung heavy. That was where his confusion stemmed. He didn’t believe it had anything to do with work. Or anything to do with his feelings for his wife and child. But everything to do with the past. Which made it even more difficult to understand what was going on inside.

As had happened before, his unsettled emotions had him opening the drawer and reaching for the photo. It had been taken on a sunny spring morning at a park not far from their home. The day had been a happy one and memories had been made. When he closed his eyes, he could hear the child’s giggle. Could hear the woman’s laughter. He could even smell the fresh flowers. When he opened his eyes, those memories ….

Confusion raced through him. Those weren’t the feelings he should be having … were they? Shouldn’t they be …?

Rusty returned the photo to the drawer and tossed back the remainder of his drink. He’d hoped this year would be different, just not this kind of different. This kind of different he didn’t understand. This kind of different added to his impatience at work. This kind of different had him wondering where he’d gotten off track. This kind of different had him wondering why he’d gotten off track.

He’d never considered having another child — another wife. Except, his life had been guided by a higher power, and he’d been given a second chance. One he wasn’t sure he deserved, but one he never wanted to be without. One which he’d thought was perfect — until the words, I want another baby, had suddenly caused his world to shift. Then he’d been forced to face the possibility of losing again. To face the possibility of his life once more spinning out of control.

But he loved his wife and wanted to make her happy. It was those feelings that had pushed him to have his vasectomy reversed. That had him putting himself out there, willing to take a chance. Afterward, there had been moments of relief — even moments of anticipation. Everything was fine until he’d been given the green light. That was when his fear had taken center stage. It had been joined by his memories of loss and circling around both were feelings he couldn’t label.

In that space, there was a disconnect. There was something broken between his heart, his head, and his body that he didn’t know how to put back together. One minute, it had him rushing to his wife’s side. It had him grabbing hold of her as if she were his lifeline. For it was in her arms that the ghosts were quiet. It never lasted, though. The closer they were, the farther away the ghosts, and the more open his heart. Yet, that was when the questions were no longer silent, but grew louder and louder. When that happened, he’d push his wife away. She was everything good in his life. He didn’t want any of his bad touching her … touching them. That was when he’d catch himself falling back into the same old habits. The same old routines.

Once again, he pulled out the photo and studied the still images. There were things in his life he’d change in a heartbeat. Especially when it came to how long it took to catch Letcher or saving his family. Except, if he changed the past, he wouldn’t have the life he currently lived. One that had allowed them to move clear across the country, from Seattle, Washington to Swan Harbor, Maine. One where they’d been gifted property that had been in his wife’s family for generations. One where he could work in a small sheriff’s department and be home most nights for dinner. One where everything he could ever want was right in front of him. All he needed to do was reach out and grab it with both hands. Yet, every time he tried, there always seemed to be something standing in the way. It created complications he couldn’t control and added burdens to his otherwise burden free life. A situation he didn’t know how to handle.

Are you sure about that?

He thought so. Or was that part of the problem? Was he so worried about what he thought he should be feeling that he’d forgotten about what he was feeling? Did that make any sense?

Rusty shoved the photo back into the drawer and pushed it closed with a click. He should go to bed. Should curl around his wife. Should tell her he loved her. Should assure her everything would be alright. Yet ….

He flopped back on the sofa, rested his arm on his forehead, and stared at the ceiling fan. Frustration raced through him — but from what? His plight with his wife? The feelings he didn’t understand? Their current case at work? Or was it all the above?

His eyes grew heavy until eventually he was lulled into a light sleep. It wasn’t a restful place to be. In there, his walls were lowered. Without them, the memories were allowed to come out in full force, not just the bad, but also the good. They bombarded him from all sides. In one, the heat was overwhelming. In another, the feelings of love took his breath. He tried to focus on the good. Tried to stay away from the bad. Except, the harder he tried, the stronger he was pulled toward the ones that cut the deepest. That was where the words that haunted him were found. Once there, the echo would catch him. Once there, he’d hear, “It’s your fault. Everything is your fault,” whispered in a woman’s voice over and over again.

***

Rusty & Rene’s Home

May 13

3:00 a.m.

Rene smoothed her hand across Rusty’s pillow, not surprised when it was cool to the touch. It had been close to a week since he’d gone to bed with her and stayed all night. He never said what kept him awake, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t guess. There was a part of his life he refused to share with her. Memories he never verbalized. Memories he never invited her into.

While their marriage hadn’t begun in the normal way, that didn’t mean that what they had wasn’t real. Or at least that’s what she’d always told herself. She’d learned that sometime in May, he’d disappear inside of himself and stay there for a couple of months.

In the past, she’d ignored it. Their seven-year-old, Roland, kept her busy. Plus, there was always work. She’d used the time to catch up on whatever she was working on and not feel guilty if she was late. It also gave her the opportunity to spend time with her family in San Bernardino. Mostly, she hadn’t minded it.

Except, this year was different, and pinning down exactly what made it so was difficult. What she could say was that the mischievous glint in Rusty’s green eyes was missing. Yet, there was more behind them than she’d seen before. The sadness was present, but it was accompanied by fear, worry, and even confusion. Which had her wondering where those emotions were coming from.

In the beginning, she’d thought perhaps Rusty’s distractions were because of work, and the case he’d been involved in since February. But something told her there was more. That whatever was going on with her husband was personal.

Had the differences started when she’d told him she’d wanted another child? It hadn’t been something Rene had ever considered until she’d been around friends talking about their pregnancies. During that conversation, there’d been a subtle shift inside, making her rethink past decisions. She’d wanted, and her heart had expanded with anticipation.

The reality, though, hadn’t matched her expectations. Instead of bringing them closer, the push and pull in their relationship had grown more glaring. She’d lost her ability to guess how her husband would react, which, at times, left her floundering.

For the last six summers, Rusty was there, yet he wasn’t there. During the daytime hours, he always seemed ‘normal.’ If they had dinner together, he would talk, just not really with her, but to her. Then once their son was in bed, communication ceased. That was when her husband crawled inside those memories — and didn’t invite her in.

His current behavior, though, was even more confusing. He’d surprised her with a romantic lunch on Friday and given her a kiss full of promises. Yet, when they’d gotten home — the distance had returned. One minute, he was holding her tight and trying to pull her closer. Then, the next, he was pushing her away. Behavior she’d never experienced with him in the eighteen years she’d known him. Was that why she was floundering? Was it because the man she was living with wasn’t the person she’d always thought him to be?

A quick peek at the clock showed it was 3:00 a.m., some would say the witching hour. For Rene, it only meant one thing. If she didn’t satisfy her curiosity about her husband’s whereabouts, there was no way she’d be able to get back to sleep.

She slid out of bed and padded toward the front room. There was an empty highball glass on the table, and the TV was off. The only light was from a small lamp in one corner. It didn’t provide enough light to read, but just enough to cast the room in shadows. In the center of it all, was her husband … asleep on the sofa.