Promise Me Anthology Read online

  “I’m not flying anywhere until I know what happened,” I said angrily. “Do you hear me, Susan? Now who in the hell are you and what is going on?”

  “Your husband died along with my soon to be ex,” Susan said grimly. “They fell off a cliff on Mount Foraker. Brennan’s family is holding a funeral as soon as possible. If you want to be part of it, get the hell out here!”

  My tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of my mouth. “Why did you get me a ticket?”

  “Andy asked me to,” Susan said. “He was found alive, and he asked that I get you a ticket. He said you’d never come out otherwise and that Brennan would have wanted you here.”

  I put the phone down, hearing it click. But the sound had lost meaning.

  In my dream, there had been a boat. Brennan had sailed off in it. And I had come down to the water’s edge to greet him and found only wooden shards floating on the water.

  I would have stayed there for days, if the phone hadn’t rung again. This time it was the Alaskan police, calling to advise me that my husband of exactly one year and a few days was dead, victim of a broken neck.

  * * * *

  I arrived in Wyoming hot, jet-lagged, and exhausted. After renting a car, I found my way to my in-laws home. The place was packed. I rang the doorbell. A woman answered. It took me a moment to identify her as Brennan’s mother. She looked so worn.

  “You made it,” she said politely. “Please come in.”

  “Where is he?” I asked, coming inside.

  “Coming in a few hours,” she said, guiding me to the couch. I sat, looking around at all the people chatting. “That’s my knitting club, my bridge club, and the local Lionesses club,” she said, her tone containing a note of pride. “I’m very active in my community.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Where is Brennan? I want to collect him and take him home. I have to make arrangements.”

  “You don’t have to do anything of the sort,” she assured me. “We’re his family, Sar. We’ve got it under control.”

  I looked at her with hostility. “He’s not staying out here with you.”

  She stared right back. “He wanted to be cremated and scattered out here in the mountains. With all your death arrangements, I thought you both went over your last wishes.”

  I had never hated anyone more than in that moment. “He’s coming home with me.”

  “No, he’s not,” she said coolly, handing me a paper. “This is his will. In it he stipulated what I just told you quite clearly.”

  I snatched the paper out of her hand and read it. Yes, it was Brennan’s will, the one we’d signed a year ago. He’d left his worldly possessions to me, along with his SUV. Written on the bottom in longhand was a paragraph long notation in his handwriting, asking to be cremated, and “cast to the winds.” It was his handwriting, no question. But that didn’t mean I was going to roll over for her. I stood up. Holding the will, I walked to the nearest phone and called the police.

  * * * *

  All told, it took me a week to do the necessary paperwork, get death certificates, collect Brennan’s things, and board a plane for my home. My now-estranged in-laws got their way, in the end. I was there on the helicopter they chartered to cast his ashes in the Rocky Mountains. I agreed that it was what he’d wanted. After it was over, there was nothing really more to say, or so I thought. But his mother had said plenty on the trip back to the landing pad, about how I’d used her son for his money, how he’d died because I’d let him climb that Alaskan mountain, about how I should give up my false grief now that I’d gotten what I wanted. Some of what she said cut me to the bone, before I tuned her out, knowing she was grieving just as I was.

  It didn’t really hit me until I was on the plane home. I was a widow now. That life Brennan had hoped to build with me was over at the close of our first chapter. The rest of the story now fell to me to finish. Where the hell was I going to start?

  * * * *

  I cleaned out Brennan’s clothes immediately on my return, purging our bedroom of them and then all traces of him from the house. My wedding rings I removed and put in my jewelry box. As much as it was painful, feeling a pang every time I glanced at one of those formerly filled spaces, it did make it easier to get through each day. Because that was all I was doing, really...getting through each day in the hopes that one day I wouldn’t feel like I was going through the motions of living.

  The pets helped, of course. They were constant company without judgment.

  My new job also helped. When a part time position at a metal fabrication shop was advertised in the local Pennysaver, I applied for the job. At first, the owner acted as though he thought the job was going to be too dirty for a woman, that he wasn’t sure I could take it. But after I explained that my inclination lay more in machinery and hard work than staying at home baking pies—even if I was handy at that, too—he agreed to hire me.

  The work was tough at first, as I’d had no experience working in industry before, much less knowledge of all the governmental rules and regulations that required compliance. With a lot of research and help from the local Department of Labor, I rapidly built a rudimentary network of safety and health programs, and began enforcing them. At first, the guys on the floor didn’t respect me. But with my persistence—and more than a few batches of my special chocolate chip cookies—I slowly won them over.

  My mother and stepfather liked my changes in lifestyle. The only trouble was that for them, the modifications weren’t encompassing enough. “You’re by yourself too much,” became my mother’s most used comment. That morphed to, “we want you to be completely happy,” a.k.a, “you need a man.” When I challenged that for its sexist attitude, she began saying, “it’s dangerous for a woman to live alone. So many things can happen.” Insisting that I was safer as a single woman in the country than a single woman in the city, fell on deaf ears. To shut her up, I finally contacted a local shooting range, purchased a used .38, and got some training to handle it safely. My stepfather was pleased with my interest in self-preservation, buying me a side leg holster like Lara Croft’s that Christmas. I admitted that having the gun that winter did make me feel braver about being there alone, even if I never used it except in target practice. While I had used my old shotgun before to scare away trespassers, there was something about having a handgun that made me feel more self-sufficient.

  That first spring, I learned how to start my chainsaw myself, with a lot of swearing plus trial and error seasoned with some bitter tears of frustration. As I slowly gained upper body strength working with wood, starting the chainsaw became easier. But I did keep my promise to Brennan, either asking my friend Kat up or my mother to help me when I used the chainsaw. My pets had only me now. I wasn’t going to risk an accident claiming my life, too.

  That was the only thing that really bothered me: most of my friends had moved on. Brennan hadn’t made a lot of friends; he hadn’t been in this part of the country long enough. His family was out West, and they’d not spoken to me since his funeral, not even at Christmas. I’d never had a lot of friends, but I’d had enough at my former job to give me a big send off when I quit to marry Brennan. None of them had contacted me since I’d left there, except Kat. I’d never had many friends in college; I’d been too busy studying. At my new job, most of the guys were married; I didn’t think their wives would appreciate a new widow trying to strike up a friendship with their husbands, even an innocent one. Outside my mother and Chris, I had no other close family. That left religious and local associations, and my neighbors.

  I’d never been big on associations of any kind, and I preferred that God’s relationship with me be a private one of prayer. So it was time to meet my neighbors.

  I made friends with Henry, who lived to the north of me, did construction and plowing, and offered me the use of his quarry behind my home for target shooting. I forged a partnership with a local farmer, who agreed to farm ten acres of my land in return for helping me manage other jobs too big for me to
handle. And I met Flora and her grandson Ken. The former was to become in the last year of her life one of my best friends.

  * * * *

  I stood at the door and knocked hard. The doorbell didn’t work, so there was no point in trying it. The curtains fluttered the tiniest bit, then the door opened.

  “Sarelle!” A frail voice cried softly. “Is that you?”

  “Yes, it’s me, Flora,” I said, smiling down at her small twig-like frame. “I’ve come to visit you. I brought you some flowers.”

  “Come into the kitchen then, dear, and be sure to close the door behind you,” Flora said sternly.

  I obediently followed her into the kitchen and put the arrangement down on the table.

  “Leave it right there, so I can look at it,” she said firmly. Her wrinkled face creased itself into a gentle smile. “How have you been, Sarelle? I know it’s getting close to a year.”

  I sat down heavily, letting her take one of my hands in hers. It was wrinkled and frail, the bones showing through her papery skin. “I’ve been good.”

  “You shouldn’t have, dear,” she said gently. “I know your money situation is tight.”

  My work at the shop was bringing in cash, but not enough to live on. I was steadily using Brennan’s life insurance money up, even though I’d cut my expenses as much as I could. “You’re going to be ninety-eight. That deserved flowers.”

  “Thank you,” she said, laughing coarsely. “Why aren’t you at work today?”

  “I have a doctor appointment later today,” I supplied. “I wanted to come and visit you. I’m meeting a friend for lunch, too.”

  “Good. I hope it’s a male friend.”

  My mouth twitched as I tried not to laugh. “No, it’s a girlfriend. Her name is Kat. We’ve been friends for years. I’m not dating yet.”

  “Sarelle, you have to get back out and meet someone. I know Ken’s had his eyes on you for a while now, and truthfully, much as I’d like you to be a granddaughter to me, he’s too old for you. You need someone your own age.” She drew herself up in her chair, her expression exasperated. “I’m old enough that I can say what I like.”

  I didn’t like being pushed, nor to be reminded of her grandson’s more than friendly affection for me. “Flora, I don’t really want to discuss this.”

  “You never want to discuss it, Sar. I’ve been bringing this up every time you visit me for the past four months, and you always say that this isn’t the time to talk about it. Brennan is dead, and he’d want you to move on.”

  I swallowed hard. “I know he wouldn’t want me to feel like this. But I’m better now, really. I’m used to being alone now. I’m not sure I want another relationship anytime soon.” That was a bald-faced lie, but I was making it alone, and that was what counted, right?

  “People come in and out of your life,” Flora said gently. “It’s the time you have with them that matters, not that they might not be around forever.”

  I looked at her, vowing silently if she pressed any harder at me, I was going to leave.

  As if sensing she’d gone too far, Flora let out a small sigh, then smiled happily. “How’s your mother?” she asked. “How are your pets? Do you have all your firewood in for the winter yet? Tell me all your news.”

  “They’re all fine,” I said feeling relieved that she was dropping it. Then I launched into a tale of rescuing a baby turkey from Ghost, and the heavy moment passed.

  I stayed for another forty-five minutes. After hugging her quickly, I hurried outside to my Explorer, looking at my watch and swearing that I was late.

  Ken was there by the SUV door, waiting for me, holding a plate that I’d given him some cookies on a few weeks ago.

  “Hi, Ken,” I said, trying not to sound false.

  “Hi, Sarelle,” he responded shyly.

  Ken was dressed in some ragged cutoffs, and on old T-shirt, with sneakers that had holes big enough to poke a toe through, even though a gas company that leased his land sent him a hefty check each month. He was pretty tight with money, but free with his smiles and always ready to help a friend or neighbor with a project that needed doing. I’d considered him a good friend, until I discovered he wanted more than my friendship. I was also annoyed that he’d recently begun letting his two beagle-hound mixes run loose so he could stop by my house looking for them.

  “I wanted to return your plate,” he said, handing it to me. “Flora said you would probably be stopping by to see her for her birthday, so I was going to leave it with her. Then I saw your Explorer, and decided to wait for you.”

  “I hope you both liked the cookies,” I said, edging toward the door of my SUV. “I’m late for a lunch appointment.”

  “Well, have a good day, Sar.” He remained standing where he was.

  “You, too,” I said, opening the driver’s side door.

  “Sar, could we go out some time?” he asked hesitantly.

  I turned to face him. “Ken, I like you but only as a friend. I'm sorry.”

  “Don't worry about it,” he said with a forced smile. Have a good lunch date.”

  * * * *

  “So he finally asked you out?” Kat said in surprise. “What did you say?”

  “It happened kind of fast. I told him I wasn’t interested. That’s it.” I shrugged, downing a fry. “Tell me all the dirt from work. Are things as bad there as they used to be?”

  “It’s the same as when you worked there, except that the bullshit is getting deeper, and the shovels are getting smaller.”

  We laughed together. “Tell me how everything’s been going,” Kat asked. “I know you weren’t into Ken, but is there anyone else new?”

  I sighed a little inwardly. From where? “Not yet. Don’t push, okay?”

  “Hey, I’m here to do my part to tell you to stay single,” she replied. “You won’t believe what Brett did this past week. You know we’ve been trying to finish that house we’re building.”

  I listened to her, nibbling my remaining fries. “I’ll help, if you need me to,” I said when she finished. “I’ve got ladders, circular saws and other tools, and I’ve put up drywall before, and I know how to shingle a roof—”

  “Sar, you amaze me,” Kat praised. “I should be used to it by now, but all the things you know how to do still surprise me.”

  “Hey,” I preened. “I can’t help it. My grandfather wanted a boy, and he raised me like one. I was driving a lawn tractor when I was six, and de-nailing boards when I was ten. I learned to like knowing how to do things, because then I could depend on myself, and not need anyone else.” I was proud that I could do things that most women weren’t able to do. That most women might not want to know how to run a chain saw or shoot a gun had never occurred to me.

  “I know, I’ve seen the pictures, from when you were young,” Kat teased. “You even had a boy haircut!”

  “Hey!” I frowned at her. “It was a short style, but it wasn’t a boy’s haircut!”

  “You made up for it as you got older,” Kat said, smiling. “Your blond hair is to your waist now.”

  “Almost,” I said, smiling again. “When I got to be a teen, I wanted to be a girl, and not a tomboy anymore. But I still like knowing how to do things.”

  “We all get older,” she said a little sadly.

  I understood that. Our culture praised youth in women, not experience. “All too fast.”

  “Sar, I’m going to be thirty-six this year,” Kat said hesitantly. “I look sometimes at myself, and I think how the time has gone by, and I wonder how I got to be this older woman—”

  “You are not ‘older’ yet, not really. Neither am I,” I said, scowling.

  “You’re just thirty, Sar,” Kat said wistfully. “It slips away so fast. I still feel twenty-something inside. What about when I’m fifty?”

  “It matters how you feel,” I said staunchly. “If you feel young, that’s what matters.”

  Kat gave me a sad smile, as if I couldn’t understand. I quickly moved the conver
sation back to work, describing a funny incident with my co-workers. Soon we were laughing again. Nevertheless, a sense of mortality settled on me in that conversation and stayed with me, even as we pretended it had flown.

  * * * *

  I cranked up an old Def Leppard Album on the way home, listening to “Make Love like a Man.”

  Maybe it was time for me to start dating. My sex drive was certainly strong enough.

  I sang at the top of my lungs with the song, and the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, making me reach for my sunglasses. In the sudden warmth, I decided I felt really good. Maybe I was ready to finally get out there, and meet someone. I was a widow, and I had lost someone I loved. I wasn’t dead, and it was maybe time to stop acting like I was.

  One song switched to the next, and the next, and I decided, yes, maybe this weekend, I would go to that singles dance that they were holding in the next town over. I was due for some fun. It was time...

  Then “Have You Ever Needed Someone so Bad?” came on. Though I turned it off immediately, its first few lines popped the happy thought of my day, and left me feeling deflated. As I pulled into my driveway, the sight of the big blue barn and the sagging corral made me melancholy as I drove past them into the garage.

  There were no horses in any of the stalls. We’d talked about getting horses someday, as we both had liked to ride, but Brennan’s life had ended before someday had come. I had no time for horses now, anyway.

  I parked next to Brennan’s vehicle, a red SUV like mine. I’d kept it, as I couldn’t bear to sell it just yet.

  I walked inside, and my dogs ran up to greet me, Darkness with a toy in her mouth to let me know she had been thinking of me, Ghost just with his usual happy grin. After changing my clothes, I told them it was time we got to work.

  * * * *

  The chainsaw bit deeply into the wood, severing the branch in seconds. I eased up on the throttle, so as not to hit the ground with the chain and dull it. I didn't want to have to waste time changing it today. I had enough to do getting this last little bit of wood in. I opened the throttle again, and finished the log, the 16" cut pieces falling in a line. The cuts weren't quite as straight as I would have liked, but they'd do well enough to split the pieces anyway. I decided to call it a day after this last piece.