I didn’t make her leave, just as I couldn't make her stay. Maybe it was her own ghost that propelled her out the door thatday.
The best I can do now is let her be. I’ve given her enough of my past. There are other people who deserve my future. And I can think of one person in particular who deserves so much more than I’ve givenhim.
If life were a movie,maybe I would've looked in the rearview mirror just now. So much symbolism in that one gesture. But life isn’t a movie, and Sugar Creek doesn't need one last, lingeringlook.
I turn my phone back on for one minute, to tell Isaac I’m on my way home. When I do that, text messages and voicemail notifications flood my screen. Isaac calls again, just as I’m pulling over to read and listen to themessages.
“Isaac,hi.”
“Aubrey, thank god you finally turned your phone on.” Relief colors his words. “Your dad was in a hunting accident. He’s stablebut…”
His words run together for a few seconds, until the fuzziness clears from my head and I can hearagain.
“…Are you still in Sugar Creek? Can you comeback?”
“Yes.” The word is so mixed with salty tears I can barely choke itout.
“Claire and I are here, at thehospital.”
“I’m on myway.”
“Drive safe,” Isaac says. “Don’t rush. He’s stable. The mountain didn’t kill him, but if anything happened to you,thatwould.”
“I’ll be there soon. Please give Claire a hug for me.” Suddenly all I want is to hold my baby girl, feel her soft, sweet warmth and smell the top of herhead.
We hang up and I drive. I’m safe heading down the mountain but I go faster than normal. I’m no doctor, but I think right now my elevated heart rate probably matches the number on myspeedometer.
And my mother is the very last thing on mymind.
The hospital isa flurry of activity, and it takes a few minutes for the people at the front desk to tell me what floor my dad’s on. My outfit distracted them almost as much as the night clerk at thehotel.
The elevator lets me off on the third floor. I creep past rooms, reading the numbers, until Claire yells, “Mommy!”
I find her down the long, white hall, footsteps thundering. Isaac’s a few feet behindher.
Hurrying forward, I gather a leaping Claire into my arms. “Baby,” I breathe, the tears springing backup.
“Grandpa is hurt, Mommy.” Claire’s tone is solemn, her small hands coming to rest on my cheeks. Eyes wide, she continues. “His leg is in a soft cast, and I’m not allowed to touch it. And his face looks funny. It’s a differentcolor.”
“Bruised,” Isaac clarifies, reachingus.
I shift Claire onto my hip and step into him. I want his touch, his smell, I want everything he can giveme.
His arms wind around me and Claire, holding usboth.
“Hi,” he whispers into myear.
I press my face harder into his chest. “Isaac, I’m so sorry. The way Ileft—”
“Shh, it’s OK. I know.” The rumble of his voice in his chest comfortsme.
“Aubrey, what can we do for you? Food? Coffee?” A woman speaks up behind Isaac.Lucia?
I peel myself off Isaac, and he steps and turns so he’s beside me, but his left arm stays around my waist. Lucia and Paul wait for me to saysomething.
“You guys…arehere?”
“Where else would we be?” Lucia smiles, and I know her question isn’t one that needs answering. “Here, let me take Claire so you can see your father.” She steps forward, handsout.
