The rain splashed noisily on the flagstone patio, played a staccato drum on the windows. Coryn was curled on the living-room sofa, reading. Earlier, her father had called from Silverado Country Club saying they were going to stay a few days longer.
“Your mother’s really enjoying being here, looking tanned and rested. I think it’s done her a world of good.”
Coryn found herself puzzled by her father’s confidence. Was her mother really doing that well? She had her good days and bad days and maybe that’s what he was reporting. Today. It was just as well. To live each day as it came, praying for strength to get through whatever lay ahead. That’s what she was trying to do.
Since Dr. Iverson had confirmed her mother’s diagnosis, Coryn had read everything she could find about Alzheimer’s. The Caregivers group had been immensely helpful. She had tried to persuade her father to come to one of the meetings. So far he hadn’t. Was he still in denial in a way? What she had learned was that Alzheimer’s disease was a treacherous one that affected the entire family. The unknown was the frightening part. It was, she thought, like those antique maps of the world where at the edge of the known world was printed the warning, “Beyond this point lie sea dragons.” Coryn felt the more she learned the better she could anticipate these “dragons” and help her mother.
She had also bought inspirational tapes to listen to on her tape player earphones while out on her long walks. She knew she had to be strong and resourceful. It was necessary for at least one person in a family who had a member suffering from this illness to be as knowledgeable as possible.
Coryn had had to accept the harsh fact that as each day slipped by, more and more of her mother’s world became blurred. Little by little the person Coryn had loved was becoming a stranger.
This acceptance had not come easily. It had come with anguish, weeping bitter tears long into many nights. In spite of her own pain, Coryn knew she had to be strong. She couldn’t fall apart. Her father leaned on her. Most of all, she wanted to be able to see her mother safely home.
After she hung up from her father’s call, she went back to the book she was reading. It was one she had found quite by chance. Or had it been? Coryn was beginning to find out that nothing in life was solely by chance. In this case, it had turned out to be exactly what she needed.
While browsing in a bookstore, she had discovered C. S. Lewis books. In his works she had found a treasure trove of help. She had seen the movie Shadowland and been much moved by Lewis’s love story with Joy Davidson. She hadn’t realized he had written so many books, most of them spiritual. The title A Grief Observed seemed to leap out at her from among the others.
Although the content was profound, the writing style had such clarity it spoke to the very heart. Now she went back to what she was reading when the phone had rung.
In the poignant, poetic words the author warned that to love anything—even an animal—means risking heartbreak and pain. But the alternative, not to love at all, sealing your heart away in a coffin of selfishness, would change a feeling heart into something unbreakable, impenetrable. Even inhuman.
Coryn drew in her breath, put her finger in between the pages to mark her place, closed the book for a moment, letting the truth of those words sink in. That is exactly what she had been doing. Afraid of being hurt, she had withdrawn, closed herself off. Not even let herself feel the exquisite pain of Ranger’s death fully. She had not allowed herself to love Ginny. She had never taken her the dollhouse family. What did it matter if Mark didn’t feel romantically toward her, she still could be a friend to his little girl. And even to Mark. Certainly he had shown himself to be her friend and a friend to her family, when he had come to tell them the rumors about Clare, offer help.
He had surely been a friend the day she buried Ranger. Even before that…maybe. He said he’d been trying to get in touch with her, she had pulled back. Why? Wouldn’t being friends with a person of Mark’s caliber be a good thing? There were other kinds of love. Valuable kinds, enriching kinds. C. S. Lewis and Joy Davidson had started out being friends. Anything was possible if you allowed yourself to be open to it.
Just then the front doorbell sounded above the thundering downpour. She glanced at the mantel clock. It was after nine. Who could be coming by this late in the evening?
She turned on the porch light and looked through the peephole. She saw a man’s figure, shoulders hunched against the wind and rain. She thought she recognized him. She unlocked and opened the door. A gust of rain-driven wind tugged at it, and she had to grip it with her other hand to keep it from blowing back upon her. It was Mark.
She became suddenly conscious of how she looked. She had on one of her dad’s old flannel shirts, stirrup pants, fuzzy bedroom slippers. But she couldn’t let Mark stand outside in the pouring rain.
“Coryn, I hope I’m not disturbing, interrupting anything?”
“No. Come in before you get soaked.”
“Sure it’s not a bad time? I came—on the spur of the moment. I was working late, or trying to, and was on my way home when—I think we need to talk…Is that okay?”
“Of course, come in.” She ran her fingers through her hair self-consciously.
He stepped into the foyer, his raincoat was dripping. “I know I should have called but—actually, I drove around the block several times before stopping.” He halted.
She was thinner than he remembered, looked as though she’d lost weight. Her eyes seemed larger than ever and her mouth, the mouth he had loved kissing, looked more vulnerable.
“Why don’t you take off your coat, it’s soaked.” Coryn tried to sound normal. She felt tense, wondering what Mark had come to talk to her about. Whatever it was, it must be important. “Come into the living room, I’ve got a fire going.”
He shrugged off his coat, handed it to her. She hung it up then he followed her into the living room.
“Are your parents here?” he asked.
“No, they’re still away.” She gestured to the armchair on the other side of the fireplace and Mark sat down.
“How are things going? I mean, how is your mother?”
“At the moment, at least, Dad says she’s doing fine. They’re at the Silverado Country Club. Long, lazy days in the sun. He’s playing a few rounds of golf. She’s resting on the terrace.” Coryn paused. “There nothing’s demanded of her. She doesn’t have to perform even ordinary household tasks. So I think Dad feels she’s improving.” She sighed. “Of course, we know that’s impossible.”
“That’s tough. I know you’re going through some really hard times.”
“I guess no one escapes. Everyone has something in their lives…” She paused, thinking of Mark’s losing his wife just when everything seemed to be going so well for them.
“Yes, but when you’re going through it, you can’t help but ask why? Why me? Why us? But then you realize why not me?”
They were silent for a few moments, then Mark said, “You must be curious as to why I came by tonight. I hardly know where exactly to begin, but I think I owe you an apology.”
Coryn held up one hand to halt him, shaking her head. “No, Mark, of course not—”
“But I think I do, Coryn. At least an explanation. I’ve been wrong about a lot of things and I’m afraid I hurt you. The last thing I ever wanted to do was that. Because, the truth is, I…” He stopped as if not knowing how to go on.
Coryn held her breath. Waiting. The only sound in the room was the slow ticking of the mantel clock, the hiss of the fire as a log broke apart. Her heart, however, had begun to beat loudly.
“The truth is, Coryn, I foolishly wrote you out of my life. Because I was afraid. Afraid it might not be real, but more than that, that it might be too painful. I wasn’t willing to risk getting involved with anyone again. I felt I had all I could handle just bringing up Ginny, holding down my job. A relationship takes time to grow, and I wasn’t willing to take a chance. It seemed too risky somehow.”
“Mark, you don’t have to tell me this. I think I understand. Right now my life is very complicated. My parents need me in a way they’ve never needed me before. I’ve a lot of growing to do myself to try to meet that need.” She paused. “A relationship can be absorbing and demanding and—”
“Yes, but that’s where I was wrong, Coryn. Life doesn’t get any smoother, any simpler. We both have difficulties, that’s true. But this thing between usthe attraction I believe we both feel-if it is real, and I think it is, testing it will prove it. Sharing some of the burdens, as the saying goes, makes them lighter. And there are joys along the way, too. I don’t regret having known the happy times with Shari. Not to have known her would have been far worse. A loss of another sort. Do you see what I mean?”
He reached over and took Coryn’s hand, looked deeply into her eyes as if hoping to find what he was looking for there.
“Ginny misses you, Coryn. She’s asked me several times when the three of us are going to do something together. Don’t you think it would be worth it if we started spending time together again?”
Coryn gently pulled her hand away, stood up and moved over to the window. Rain pelted the windowpanes. She put her hands against the coolness of the glass then on her cheeks. They were flaming hot.
“Coryn.” He spoke her name like a caress.
She felt shaky, her heart thrummed. Slowly she turned around from the window, faced him.
Mark rose, stood looking at her, waiting for her answer. Coryn’s face was pale, there were smudges under her eyes as though she had not been sleeping much. But even without makeup, even in that shapeless baggy top, to him, she had never looked so appealing, so desirable. He said her name again, this time like a question. “Coryn?”
She didn’t remember taking a step toward him or him coming to her. She only knew that when Mark held out his arms she went into them and he was kissing her. There was a sweet tenderness in that kiss, as if time had lost all meaning.
When the kiss ended, Mark held her tight, then before loosening his hold, kissed her again. Slowly they drew apart. A marvelous feeling of warmth, gladness swept over her. She stepped back.
They gazed at each other with a new awareness, a kind of recognition of what had just happened. Mark’s smile was wide, hopeful. Coryn’s was wobbly.
“So, shall we give it another try?” he asked.
Her breath quickened. “Yes, let’s,” she whispered.
Later, sitting side by side on the sofa in front of the flickering fire, Mark’s arm around her, they said all the things their hearts had longed to say to each other. They talked of the past, of Shari, of Ginny, of what they would do next and of the future.
“What it all comes down to is letting go, doesn’t it?” Mark asked. “Letting go of old memories, old expectations, lovingly, without regret or bitterness. Remembering the happy times, hoping there will be others.
“No one has any guarantee of happiness, not for anyone. No matter what they try to gain or what they try to avoid. It’s part of being human. None of us knows what lies ahead. Your parents didn’t. Shari and I certainly didn’t. But that didn’t stop us from adopting Ginny and planning for a future with her.”
Coryn thought of all the time she had wasted looking back. Agonizing over the mistakes she had made with Jason. It all seemed a long time ago now, as if it had happened to somebody else.
She looked at Mark, and was caught up in the directness and honesty of his regard. He wasn’t offering her protection, shelter from whatever storms there might be in this journey they would travel together. The journey to deeper understanding, of genuine friendship, of caring. He was asking her to risk loving him and Ginny.
Whatever “dragons” lay ahead, whatever was before her, with God’s help and Mark beside her, she was ready to begin.