SOMETIME IN THE middle of the night, Carrie woke to sounds of intense anguish. Except for a small night-light, the cabin was dark. Her eyes popped open in alarm. She jerked upright and raised up on her elbow to listen. The groans came from the bedroom, and they were sorrowful and tortured and caused the skin on her arms to tingle in a shared terror. What was wrong? Had someone broken into the cabin? What would she do? She couldn’t run.
One goal, to get to Keegan if he was suffering, guided her actions. She rose from the sofa, grabbed her crutches and went as quickly as the awkward sticks allowed to the bedroom door.
“Keegan?” She kept her voice low and soothing as she peered through a crack in the door. The moonlight coming in an open window was bright, and she quickly determined there was no one else in the room.
Keegan didn’t answer and instead released another long painful sound from his throat and what seemed the depths of his soul.
She went inside and approached the bed. He was asleep, yet his body responded to some personal suffering that she could only imagine. Under the covers his legs moved frantically as if he were trying to run. He spoke in guttural sounds she couldn’t make out. His hands clawed at the covers, tried to push them away as if they were restraints.
Carrie gently laid her hand on his bare arm. “Keegan, shhh now. It’s all right.”
He turned toward her. His eyes opened to give her a glassy stare. He wrapped his hand around hers and jerked with a sudden pull that sent her sprawling onto the bed. He yanked her to him, engulfing her in powerful arms that had once felt protective and comforting, but now frightened her with extraordinary desperation.
Her own insecurities flooded her mind. “Keegan, wake up. You’re still asleep. What’s wrong?”
He only increased his hold over her, bringing her close to his chest, burying his face in her hair. When she felt his hot breath on her neck, she panicked, gulping air, trying to ease the pain in her chest. “I can’t breathe,” she ground out. She pushed against him. He released her and groaned once more as he fully awakened.
“Carrie…” His voice, trembling and uncertain, seemed to come from a faraway place. “What are you…? How did you…?” His eyes glittered gold in the darkness as he struggled to find his way back from wherever his dreams had taken him.
Carrie scrambled out of the bed, balanced against the side of the mattress on her one good leg. “Keegan? You were dreaming,” she said between insufficient draws of air.
He crawled out of bed on the other side. “Where is your inhaler?”
“In my purse, on the floor next to the sofa.”
He rushed from the room and returned seconds later, the device in his hand. “Here, use it.”
She sat back down on the bed and pulled in two complete soothing breaths. “I’m okay now. I don’t think I need it. You startled me, that’s all.”
“I scared the wits out of you is more like it,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Carrie. I have these dreams…”
“It’s all right,” she said, and patted the mattress next to where she sat. “You’re winded yourself. Here, sit.”
He gave her an intense stare. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to fear me.”
“I don’t.” She smiled. “Not now anyway. When I heard you in your sleep I only wanted to help.”
After a pause, he sat next to her, sweat glistening on his face and staining his T-shirt. “You can’t help me, Carrie. Why do you think people choose to live as I do? It’s not always because they have a problem with society. Often they make the decision to be alone because they know they can’t be helped, and they’ve elected not to inflict their pain on others.”
“I don’t believe that,” she said. “I don’t know what your dream was about, but I believe that no one is beyond help.” She wanted to touch the smooth, muscled skin of his thigh at the hem of his boxer shorts. She wanted to show him a sample of human kindness that might break down his wall of hopelessness. But instead she clasped her hands in her lap. “I’m a good listener, Keegan. Tell me about the dreams.”
“They’re not for you to hear, Carrie, but thanks. Someone like you…you can’t imagine.”
“Try me,” she said. “How do you know I can’t relate?”
He stared at a spot on the wall, refusing to look into her eyes. “Go back to sleep. This won’t happen again tonight. It’s over.”
“I’m not leaving you alone.”
He looked at her now, a gentle smile curving his lips. “I doubt either one of us will sleep any more tonight,” he said. “You’re really not leaving the room?”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“Then, would you lie next to me for a few minutes? It would be nice to feel someone I can trust. I promise I won’t…”
“I know. Yes, I will.”
He settled into the bed and raised the covers to accommodate her. She crawled into their warmth, and he pulled the comforter to her shoulders. His arm rested across hers, and he gently tugged her back to his chest. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Your leg?”
“It’s fine.” She expected to feel the first skitter of panic up her spine, the one she’d tried to overcome all her adult life.
“Are you cold?” he asked. “I can close the window.”
“No, it’s okay.” And then, quite by accident, she relaxed in his arms, almost snuggling next to him in a familiar, comforting way. Keegan’s breathing was normal, deep and rhythmic. Yet she knew he wasn’t sleeping. His fingers flexed against her rib cage, and she instinctively nestled closer. This must be what security feels like, she thought. Encompassing and warm. Keegan had no ulterior motive to hold her except to make them both feel safe. Images of the last few minutes vanished as she gave into the sweet abandonment of fear and reluctance.
She knew she couldn’t stay like this the rest of the night. When she sensed Keegan was asleep, she would go back to the sofa. Lying next to him, though amazingly nice, was a level of intimacy she wasn’t ready for, and she didn’t know when or even if she ever would be ready. But not tonight. Definitely not tonight. Until she heard the steady breaths of a man in deep sleep, though, she would stay with him and recall her own haunting dream.
Five years earlier…
“I love you, Carrie. I want to be close to you. I want to make love to you.”
Jeff was a good man. Carrie had met him in college. She’d flirted with him until he’d practically fallen into her lap, and they’d dated for three years. He talked marriage and children and a home. She’d thought he might be the one to change the timid qualities she hated about herself. She allowed him to touch her, kiss her, always drawing away when the intimacy became too much. But this night was different, and she had agreed to it.
“I’ve booked a room for us at the university inn,” he said. “It will be perfect, like a mini vacation. We’ll be alone and together. No pressure from phones or people showing up unexpectedly. The time seems right, Carrie.”
“Sure, Jeff,” she’d said. How could she argue with him? All of her friends talked about their sexual adventures, and at the age of twenty-five, Carrie had nothing to add to the conversation. “You’ll take care of everything… You know, birth control…”
“Absolutely. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
He’d taken her to dinner and for a short walk afterwards. He’d been a gentleman, and yet there had been a continuing undercurrent of expectation. She could feel it in his urgent touches, his whispers of what was to come. Other women must delight in such attention, she thought. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she abandon the fear, the thought that she was taking a risk far greater than she could handle? Committing to a forever she wasn’t sure she wanted? What if she allowed Jeff to make love to her and she didn’t like it? What about all their plans then?
They’d gone to the inn. The room was warm and cozy. A fire had been lit on the hearth. Champagne rested in a silver bucket next to a vase of roses. He’d thought of everything. Jeff was the perfect man. He could be the perfect lover.
He fumbled with the buttons on her sweater, unzipped her jeans. “I…I have to use the bathroom,” she’d said.
After a few minutes he’d called to her. “What are you doing, Carrie? Is everything okay in there?”
“Yes. Fine.” She’d come out wearing a nightie that she had just purchased that day. Jeff was lying on top of the bed, naked from the waist up. Smiling, he pulled her down next to him. She was suddenly trembling.
“Listen, honey,” he’d said. “This is the next step for us.” His kisses, wet and slightly slick, covered her face. His hands seemed almost frantic, as if he needed to feel every part of her at once. He seemed invasive, insisting, not like her Jeff.
Every instinct screamed that this was not what she wanted. “I can’t do this,” she’d said at last. “I’m sorry, but I’m just not ready.”
He flopped back on the mattress, and muttered a few words she’d never heard him use before.
His voice was harsh. “When will you be ready, Carrie? When my hair is gray and I’m still waiting for our first child? What is wrong with you? Are you frigid? Do you hate the thought of making love with anyone? Or is it just me?”
She struggled with her clothes while he asked the questions.
“You need to take me home,” she said. “I’m sorry. What else can I say?”
“I can’t do this any longer, Carrie. I can’t be the Prince Charming to the Ice Queen.”
“I can get back to my apartment on my own.” She put on her coat.
“I feel sorry for you, Carrie. I really believe that you’ll never know…” He slid off the bed, dressed quickly and walked her to his car. Without speaking another word, he dropped her at her sidewalk and sped away. He moved soon after, and she never saw him again. But for years she remembered what he’d said. “I really believe that you’ll never know…”
Once the memory faded, Carrie continued convincing herself that she wouldn’t stay the night with Keegan. She would go back to the sofa. It’s where she felt safest. She wasn’t ready to be with a man this way… Those were her last thoughts as she drifted into a sound sleep next to the most unlikely man who was now keeping her feet warm.