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Jeremy’s enthusiasm grew exponentially the closer we got to the rental house in Sebastopol. I had worried that he would find fault with anything listed for rent, as nothing could compare to the haven we had built for ourselves. But he seemed genuinely thrilled with this house. I wondered, as I lowered the truck window and let in the refreshing early morning air, if he was more excited with the idea of finally severing ties with my mother than with moving.
We had talked late into the night, Jeremy wanting to hear everything Dave Lerner had said and offering theories of his own. He felt the whole idea that my father had enacted such a melodramatic suicide smacked of fantasy. That no reasonable, logical man would devise such a painful and tragic way to die. Men are efficient and practical, he’d told me. Or maybe a man who was a hopeless romantic might possibly think of such madness. But a scientist looking for a way out of his marriage? Jeremy blew it all off, disbelieving the whole idea.
I tried to convince him it made sense, and that Lerner had no reason to make it all up. I conceded that my father may have confused the issue a bit with all that talk about God and forgiveness, but what other conclusion could I come to? It was Occam’s razor—the most logical explanation would be the true one. Certainly, my father didn’t magically give himself leukemia; there had to be an external source. Jeremy opted for coincidence—that my father just happened to get sick. Maybe all the stress compounded his susceptibility, made his system tired and weak. Maybe his flu or anemia had opened the way for leukemia. The coincidence theory didn’t sit well with me. Yet, I knew Jeremy’s argument made sense—that a man like my father might have taken an overdose of pills or jumped off a bridge had he truly been suicidal. But strapping a radioactive fuel cell under your desk so you would die a slow, agonizing death?—that was something out of a Shakespeare tragedy. Which made my mind leap to my uncle’s words—how my father had loved drama and acted in plays throughout his teen years. Maybe my father did have a penchant for the melodramatic. And dying in this manner would have fit the bill.
Jeremy turned off the Bodega highway onto a narrow but recently paved lane, a community-maintained road, Jeremy explained. About a half mile farther down sat houses nestled under some oaks and conifers. Jeremy turned into the last driveway on the right and pulled up to a dark-wood-sided two-story house. I expected to see something old and farmlike, but this place had been recently built, perhaps five or ten years old, more of a modern-style architecture with a large round window over the front door and a small balcony facing the front. Two nicely landscaped flower beds flanked the walkway, and what caught my eye were the numerous rose bushes blooming under what appeared to be the kitchen window, facing the sunny south side of the property. Jeremy caught me looking at the roses and smiled. He knew that would score some points.
The houses on either side were set back about fifty feet but secluded by tall escallonia and Oregon grape shrubs, giving the place an ambience of privacy. Jeremy dialed the combination on the realtor lock, removed the key, then ushered me inside the rental. Tall ceilings, white walls trimmed with pine molding and wainscoting, and beautiful oak floors met my eyes as I stepped down into a large sunken living room.
“And how much does this cost a month?” I asked, knowing my eyes were wide and impressed.
“Turns out the owner is a longtime customer at the store. I recognized him last night when he met me here to show me around. He’s giving us a deal—one-year lease . . . and check this out . . .” Without showing me around the house, he went straight for the sliding door that led to a small deck. The yard appeared small until I followed Jeremy through a latched gate in the wooden fence. “How’s this?”
My breath caught in my throat. “No way . . .”
Jeremy chuckled at my response, standing quietly to take it all in. At least an acre of pasture stretched out before me, enclosed with nice Keystone fencing and housing a small barn and a horse paddock for two. Behind the pasture a thick grove of firs blocked any further view, but I could tell no one lived in back of this property.
“There’s a gate in the far corner of the fence. Do you see it? Leads to a trail that connects to BLM land. Thousands of acres you can ride over.” He smiled at me, his eyes dancing with joy. I think what pleased him most is knowing I could bring some of my animals with me. My heart melted in awe. Even without having seen the rest of the house, I knew it was perfect. I felt as if God were comforting me by providing this peaceful place for Jeremy and me to start over, and to heal from all the recent hurts.
“There’s only one catch,” he said, narrowing his eyes and putting on a serious face. My heart thumped hard. I didn’t want anything to spoil this dream that seemed to be materializing before my eyes. Jeremy opened the gate into the pasture and whistled. “There are a couple of out-of-shape, feisty babies that need some discipline and attention. Think you can handle them?”
“Babies . . .?”
Before I could say more, I heard a horse nicker, and then two flashes of brown and black came bounding across the short fescue grass from behind the barn. The bay was a mare, maybe two or three, with a beautiful conformation and full of energy. The darker one was a gelding, maybe the same age, with a white blaze on his nose. Both horses trotted right up to us and started snuffling our pockets, looking for treats.
“The owner has no other place to keep these two, and when he heard how much you loved animals . . . well, I kinda promised you’d work them. He says they need a lot of training. They’re too young to ride, but might be fun company for you.” Jeremy shrugged, but he knew quite well he’d won me over with these two beauties. “Oh, and he said if we really liked them, he’d sell them to us for a good price. No pressure or anything. You know, just in case you get unduly attached. You did say you wanted us to start riding together—”
“You’d have to wait a couple of years for these two to be able to carry your weight.” I stroked the horses and rubbed behind their ears. They lapped up the attention, then when they were sure I didn’t have any hidden treats, nipped at each other and ran off.
“Well, what’s two years?” Jeremy asked. “The time will fly by.”
I wrapped my arms around him and breathed in the smell of summer. Trees, grass, sage—a mingling aroma with a hint of roses. In the morning light, the air practically glowed. “It’s perfect, really. I can’t believe this is a rental.”
“Reynolds built it for his daughter and son-in-law a few years ago. Then the kids had to move away for work, and he didn’t want to sell it, hoping they’d come back at some point. But he’s assured me we can stay here as long as we like. We can even sign a three-year lease, if you want to.”
Jeremy took me through the rest of the house. It was a bit smaller than ours, but had a big garage and a large bathroom with a walk-in shower. I took it all in as Jeremy showed me around, talking about the hot water heater capacity and the sprinkler system and things I really didn’t need to know about, but he seemed pleased to rattle off all the details. He sounded like a realtor showing a property.
The moment we arrived home, he called Mr. Reynolds and told him we’d take the house. We could move in anytime, he said, which shook me with the realization I would have to pack and take down curtains, peel the pieces of myself off the walls and empty out closets, only to fill another house with all our stuff. The idea seemed daunting. But I could take my animals with me—although I decided to let Shayla go to the interested woman. That would make the most sense, since I knew Shayla would pick on those two horses, wanting to be the boss of the pasture. She needed someone who could devote time and attention to her, which I seemed to lack these days. I felt comforted knowing I could still foster my remaining critters, unless others responded to my ads and wanted to provide homes for them. The less animals I had to take care of, the more time I could focus on our marriage and rebuilding our lives.
It struck me in that moment that I would survive this betrayal of my mother’s—that it might actually be possible. Sadness and hurt instantly welled up, as if someone had switched on a fountain of pain in my heart. How many years would it take to get over my hurt? Would I ever?
But what was I really losing? Criticism, harsh judgment, the constant feeling of failure and guilt? Those were all burdens. What I was really missing was the love, support, and gentleness I had never received from my mother in the first place. I’d only thought I had those things because I was told I did. The emptiness that hollowed out my stomach was not so much from this recent loss but the excavating of an empty place that had been hidden deep inside me my entire life. Maybe now that this cavern had been exposed and uncovered, I could fill it with something else—like self-esteem, confidence, a sense of worthiness and purpose. All things that were never present because the place into which they fit had been sealed off.
“A couple of guys at work said they’d come over and help us move. We’ll just rent a big U-haul and make a couple of trips. Should take a day at most.”
“I guess I need to start packing . . .”
Jeremy gathered me in his arms and studied my face. “Are you okay with this, really? I want you to be happy. I know this is hard, all this work we put into our home, the gardens, the pond, years of work—”
“It’s okay, really. I love the rental; it’s perfect. I’ll be happy anywhere, as long as you’re there with me.”
Jeremy laughed. “Yeah, me and a few goats and ducks and dogs.”
Jeremy walked over to the fridge and got out a decanter of orange juice. “Well, I should get to the store. I can grab a muffin on the way. And you . . . I guess we’ll need to get boxes and start packing.”
“I can do that.” I got out two glasses, and as Jeremy poured, I noticed the red light blinking on the answering machine. Someone must have called while we were out, but it was barely eight o’clock. I wondered who would have called so early.
Raff’s tired and raspy voice came out the small speaker. Even Jeremy stopped in his tracks, halfway to the table. Before I could think through why Raff would be calling me so early, his words, short and pointed, struck me like a knife in my heart.
“Lisa . . . I just wanted to say . . . well, say good-bye.” There was a long pause and Jeremy caught my eye, his expression full of alarm. I thought Raff had ended his message, but then his voice came out, barely a whisper, choked-up words full of pain.
“So, good-bye, Lisa. Know I will always love you. I’m so sorry . . . sorry . . .”
With a click, the line went dead, and the silent, pulsing red light on the machine stopped blinking.