Oh baby, I'm back! I'm sorry if there are mistakes in this chapter but it's been a really tough couple of weeks for me (sigh).
But hey, at least you do have a new chappie to read.
Ch. 8: Family Outing
Sam hopped out of his newly acquired Ford automobile and held his arms open in wonder. "Isn't this great?"
Melanie stepped out of the right side of the car and came to stand next to her husband. "Well, there are trees, and flowers, and more trees…" she said dully. Melanie was not very excited about this day trip ― she did not adore the great outdoors as much as Sam did. He knew that Melanie would rather be at home, perhaps enjoying a warm, afternoon tea with her neighbors. She was a city-gal, through and through.
"Oh come on, the good parts are farther in," Sam said. He had been here once before on a hunting trip last spring. Although the game had not been much, the natural beauty had left a deep imprint on his soul. Sam turned towards the familiar trail but stopped when he felt an insistent tug on his leg. Polly, his personal cherub, peered up at him with baleful eyes.
"Daddy, I'm tired."
"But weren't you just napping in the car, sweetie?"
Melanie shot Sam an I told you so glare. "Sam, Polly's just a baby! I think she's too young to really appreciate a nature hike. It's been a long day," Then her eyes lit up. "Maybe we should take them home now."
Davy puffed himself up indignantly. "Mom, I'm not tired at all. It'll take more than that to bring me down." He was growing up, already nearly thirteen years old, turning into a man.
"That's good, son," said Sam gratefully. "Darling, we drove more than an hour out of the way to get here! We can't just leave now. Let's go!"
His wife pouted but followed him anyway, frowning in distaste as leafy foliage mussed her fine, blond hair. Underneath the canopy of ancient trees, barely any of the weak, afternoon sunlight filtered in, and it was dusky and quiet. Peacefully so. Sam looked over towards Melanie and saw that she looked happy, despite her obvious attempt of hiding it. She could be so stubborn at times, but that was part of why he loved her. He breathed in the earthy, pine needle fragrance gladly. Life in the city was chaotic, and he was thankful for this serene retreat.
They had not been walking long when the dark forest thinned and opened up to a wide stream. Multi-hued stones, smoothed and polished by the constant running water, lined the stream, like colorful eggs. At one side, copper colored rocks rose up sharply, with jagged edges. Scraggly baby trees clung to the sides, the vibrant green contrasting marvelously with the bronze rock. On the other side, the dark woods they had come out of stood tall and dark ― an emerald barrier.
"We're almost there. We just need to follow the water upstream," Sam said excitedly. He couldn't wait to show his family the magnificent copper falls. Sam closed his eyes for a moment, imagining the shimmering mists and the furious, churning water that lay at the end of the trail. There had been a spectacular feeling of power there, he remembered. He recalled the awe he'd felt that day. Sam was simply one person among a million, a tiny, insignificant being compared to the glorious cascading bronze.
"Good Lord…" Melanie gasped.
Sam shook himself out of his daydream at the sound of his wife's shaken voice. Melanie was gaping at something ahead of them, something pale and white in the afternoon shadows. What was it? He approached the pale thing cautiously. Ten feet away, Sam froze, as cold recognition crashed into him, the icy waves soaking through to his bones.
It was a young woman.
He tried to speak, but found that he had no air in his lungs to do so. Sam took a deep, shuddering breath and tried again. "Mel-Melanie, d-don't come any closer."
He moved toward the woman now, and his breath caught in his throat as he saw the full extent of the damage. She was partly in, partly out of the water, like a beached whale. Her slender limbs sprawled out in unnatural postures. A ragged tip of bone jutted out of her right knee. Sam winced. Black bruises and pink cuts covered most of her pale, exposed skin. She was soaking wet, and her light brown hair was plastered to her face, concealing her features. There wasn't too much blood ― the water must have washed most of it away ― but she looked horribly lifeless. Was she…dead?
"Hey!"
Sam tore his gaze away from the painful sight at his feet, and looked up. A somewhat rotund figure was running towards them from upstream, waving its arms wildly. As the figure came closer, he could see that it was a bearded man. He stopped beside Sam and rested with both hands on his knees, wheezing from the exertion.
"I just found her here, like this ― " The newcomer waved off Sam's words impatiently.
"Don't bother with an explanation," he puffed, "I saw what happened… How is she?" The man raised his thick eyebrows at Sam expectantly, still breathing unevenly.
"I-I don't know, I just got here…"
"Well check her pulse!"
Sam knelt down next to the woman and took her wrist gently. He gasped.
"What?"
Sam shook his head slightly. "Her skin's icy…but…I think I can feel a pulse," he looked up uncertainly, "A weak one."
The bearded man sighed deeply, and knelt as well. "We need to hurry. The nearest town is an hour away." He eased his arms beneath the woman's crooked legs and her upper back slowly, trying not to jar the broken bones.
"What happened to her?" Sam asked quietly.
The man grimaced. "I hiked to the end of this trail ― the waterfall," Sam nodded. "I was resting, just sitting and listening to the birds, the water…And then I saw her. She was standing at the edge of the opposite cliff above me…" his face took on a gloomy air, "I shouted, as loud as my natural voice would allow, but she couldn't hear me above the roar of the waterfall, and she jumped…"
"Suicide," said Sam, grimly.
He nodded. "I was running along the side of the river, looking for her body, when I saw you here. Do you have a car? I came on horseback, since I live in these woods."
"Yes I do."
"Do you know the way?"
"I've got a map in the car."
"What's going on?" Melanie asked. Sam looked behind him. Danny was with Polly, a safe fifteen feet away. It would not do for Sam's four-year-old daughter to see the broken young woman.
Sam took one of Melanie's hands. "Honey, she's alive, and we need to get her medical attention." He leaned in and whispered softly, "It was a suicide attempt." She exhaled sharply.
"What about the children?" Her blue eyes darted back towards their children ― Danny was now restraining a frustrated Polly. The toddler pushed at her big brother with her plump little fists, but Danny held onto her grimly.
Sam nodded in approval. "Danny is mature enough to handle this. You and Polly can sit in the front, and I'll talk to Danny about sitting in the back seat with the woman." He looked towards the hiker. "This is Mr.…uh ―"
"I'm Henry."
"I'm Sam, this is my wife, Melanie, and my children over there ―" he nodded towards the other side of the stream, "Danny and Polly."
They went quickly through the rest of the hike back in silence. Sam felt like the beauty of that afternoon had been shattered by this unfortunate event. It was supposed to be a nice, family daytrip ― one of those beautiful things that came very rarely for city-people like Sam. Now, the fate of the woman rested entirely in their hands, and if she died…
He and Henry alternated carrying the young woman. She never stirred, remaining limp and cold during the whole hike, and her lips took on a corpse-like bluish tinge. As if…as if she were dead. So much so, that Sam cringed from checking her pulse a second time.
By the time they had gotten to the beginning of the trail, the sun was just touching the edge of the horizon and everything was now bathed in a thick, pumpkin orange. Sam gently lowered the young woman into the backseat of his Ford. Her head lolled about and left a wet smear over his leather seats. Thick, moist eyelashes stroked the top of her pronounced cheekbones. He supposed that she might have been pretty ― if not for those numerous pink cuts that crisscrossed her skin, and those purplish bruises that discolored her complexion. She just looked so young, and so innocent. Too young to die like this.
"Thank you for the help."
"You too, sir, goodbye." Henry's broad-shouldered back disappeared under the dark cover of the forest as he left.
Danny hopped into the car and scooted to the far side of the back seat opposite the woman. Melanie stepped into the passenger seat in the front, holding Polly protectively as she squirmed around, trying to sneak a peek of the mysterious woman. Lastly, Sam sat down next to his wife, and leaned down, his hand riffling through random pieces of junk on the floor of the car. When he resurfaced, he had a map in hand, and he gripped the steering wheel firmly with the other. It was the only thing that felt real.
- - -Earlier the same day- - -
It was so quiet.
I slowly opened my eyes. Blinked. There was no moon tonight. I looked to the window; a velvety darkness covered the sky, studded with twinkling jewels. No wonder it was so silent — I was up so early that even the Bakers weren't awake yet.
I had had a miserable nightmare, but I couldn't remember what it was about ― I only knew that it had been a miserable dream. Now wide-awake, I felt dismal and depressed, thanks to the nightmare.
I counted sheep. I stared at the shining stars and tried to remember some of the constellations I had learned a long time ago back on the farm in Columbus. I tried to empty my mind of everything so that I could go to the dark forgetfulness of sleep. But I couldn't bear to hum the old family lullaby ― it was a memory too painful bring up.
Eventually, the darkness of the room faded into a twilight blue and I was able to make out the leafy tops of trees and the rippling waters of Lake Superior. It was the start of another day. Another one of those uneventful, drawn-out spans of wakefulness.
When the morning sun finally crawled into full view, tip-toeing along the edge of the treetops, I reluctantly pulled myself out of bed. Every night, I cracked apart, and as a result, I had to gather myself together every morning, like the scattered pieces of a broken china plate. I went through the daily morning ritual: glue myself together, wash, dress, head out of the room and downstairs for breakfast.
Something smelled nice. Lisa's cooking, of course. I took my usual seat at the table and prodded the food with my fork. It was soft, yielding easily to the steel tines of my silverware. I couldn't focus hard enough to fully recognize what it was. But I tore out a bit of the spongy stuff, speared it, and put it in my mouth. Chewed and swallowed. Although the flavor couldn't seep through the fuzzy cover on my tongue, it was somewhat good, and I skewered some more with my fork.
"Good morning, Esme," Thomas said brightly.
I nodded at him. I wished I could greet him properly, but the muscles at the corners of my mouth were rusty from lack of use, and besides, my mouth was full.
The Bakers and the other customers continued to talk and eat with false cheer, occasionally trying to include me in the conversation. It was like this every day, every meal. I was obviously bringing down the mood of the morning atmosphere simply by being there. I ate quickly and went to the kitchen to wash my plates, not wanting to affect the happy family in the dining room. It was the nice thing to do, to relieve them of my bad company. When I finished washing, I retreated to my room and sat on the bed.
"Esme, it's time to go to church." Lisa's head emerged from a small crack behind the door expectantly.
"Not today."
Her face fell, and Lisa drew back, closing the door behind her quietly. I fell back onto the bed and closed my eyes. Through the window, I heard the sound of carriage and car doors slamming shut, and the sound of horses' hooves clip-clopping farther and farther away as they all left, leaving me alone in the empty house.
I felt strange today. Some kind of restlessness. My daily existence has been like this for…for…I-don't-know-how-long now. I don't teach. I don't knit or sew. I don't go to church anymore. I endure each day doing the bare necessities of survival. I wake up, eat, clean, and muse over my life, bringing up dizzying nostalgia every time. Then the nightmares come for me after the sun disappears over the hill, and I awake again in the morning, sometimes gasping for air as if I'd almost drowned in sleep. But I never remember my dreams, and they remain as unsolved puzzles rotting away.
I find that there isn't really any meaning in life anymore. It's just all…the same. I'm in a cocoon of numbness and the world seems so dull from inside. Food has lost its taste. Colors have faded to an unchanging gray. I don't seem to hear as well as before ― I do not even remember the last time I have heard music…
- - -Sam- - -
Sam pulled into the Ashland hospital's parking lot. It was a tiny brick building in the center of town. Even at nighttime, the plain hospital stood out from the painted blue and white ones in its neighborhood. Sam was glad it had been so easy finding it ― after all, he did have a dying (probably dead by now) woman in his car.
Once he'd parked, Sam got out and ducked into the back seat, reappearing with a soaking wet young woman in his arms. Polly was asleep in her mother's warm embrace, and Danny was staring at the woman.
"I think she's croaked, Dad," he said.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," he said, shooting his son an annoyed glare.
Sam rushed through the heavy double doors into the hospital. Dim lights lit up the small waiting room, giving everything an unhealthy, sallow tinge. "Help! Somebody help!"
The nurse behind the front desk leapt up out of her chair hurriedly. "Oh my," she murmured, taking in the sight of the bedraggled woman. "Dr. Cullen!" she called out loudly. Then she turned towards the hallway that led into the building. "Please follow me, sir."
Sam concentrated on not slipping on the slippery linoleum floor as he followed the nurse, who seemed to glide effortlessly ahead of him. (She was wearing three-inch heels!) They pushed through another set of double doors and were met by a grim-faced young man. Sam gasped as he saw the doctor ― he was young, very young ― too absurdly young to already be well versed in medicine. Why, he couldn't have more than 25 years under his belt! Sam settled the woman on the clean, white, hospital cot nearest to him and retreated into a corner.
"Sir, what happened to her?" The doctor's face was a mask of shock. It was obvious that he truly cared about his patients. Most people would only grimace in distaste at the woman's piteous appearance.
"Well, " Sam fidgeted uncomfortably, "She…fell…off a cliff ―"
Dr. Cullen's eyes bulged furiously. "You let her get that close to the edge? Why, you…"
"No, no, I wasn't with her when it happened!" Sam protested quickly, "I just found her washed up by the stream. There was another hiker who'd seen her throw herself off the cliff ― and that's all ― I swear!"
The doctor seemed to deflate slightly when Sam told him about her suicide attempt. "Then…thank you for bringing her in," he said hoarsely, "But, there's nothing I can do for her." Sam's heart dropped heavily to somewhere below his navel. So he had failed. Dr. Cullen looked away dejectedly and delicately placed a sheet over the woman.
"Oh," Sam said stupidly. And then, because it felt right, "I'm sorry."
Dr. Cullen just nodded, his golden waves bouncing a little. The nurse gave Sam a quick sympathetic look and went over to the doctor to pat his arm. "Dr. Cullen, I'll do her papers and take her to the morgue."
He looked up, and the look of intense pain on his face took Sam off-guard. "No, I'll do that, Annie. I can go right now." He abruptly turned, picked up his briefcase, and wheeled the hospital cot out the door. The double doors bounced back and forth in his wake.
The nurse, Annie, was the one to break the silence. "Don't take it personally," she said, shrugging, "He just takes it really hard whenever any of his patients…um…kick the bucket." She sighed. "And she's only the second. The other one was already almost 82 years old."
"That makes me feel oh-so-much better," he muttered.
"Fine, be like that if you want, but it wasn't your fault. Who told her to go jump off a cliff anyhow?" she demanded. "Good night, now, and drive safely."
Sam just grunted miserably. He dreaded breaking the terrible news to his family.
This was really difficult to write. I had to play around with lots of different POV's and plots and whatnot to get to this. As you've noticed, the beginning and endings are in 3rd person with the one-time character, Sam, and the middle is a very numb Esme.
Reviews are very much appreciated as they will atone for my fast worsening eyesight (from staring at the computer everyday).
Sometimes I get soooooooo depressed just thinking about my eyes...God, I'm way too young to go blind! Of course, I blame my parents first and foremost, they've both got terrible eyes too. Anyway...