A Heart of Time (16 page)

“Hey,” she croaks out.

“Are you a vegetarian?” I ask pointedly.

“No,” she laughs.

“Burger and fries it is, then. Same for me, please.” This helps the waitress speed up the process, leaving us back at the top of the roller coaster. “You knew Ellie? I know you made mention of it in one of your last letters, but hearing it out loud stuns me again.”

She avoids my gaze as tears pool in her eyes. I give her the moment she must need as I watch her fingers weave tightly together, forcing the whites of her knuckles to glowing under the hanging table light.

When she refocuses her attention on my face, there’s a reflection in her flooding tears, showing a disfigured version of my facial features. I wonder what the look on my face is right now. I feel so many different things, none of which I’ve ever felt before. “I was her student teacher two years before she passed.”

“Student teacher?” I’m not sure why I’m asking this since I knew she had several of them over the course of the four years she taught but she never mentioned any of them in particular to me. “I don’t understand,” what one thing has to do with another.

“I was dying,” she says as the tears dry. Her words sound sour coming from her mouth, but also rehearsed as if she was forced to look in the mirror and tell herself over and over again that she was dying.

“From what?” I should assume. I am assuming. But I need to hear it all.

“Congenital Heart Failure. I wasn’t supposed to make it past twenty, but I did,” she explains. Her explanation makes my breath catch in my throat. Ellie was always one to come home and share heart-breaking stories with me. She always had an idea on how she could fix the world single-handedly. It was never a matter of explaining a person’s situation with pity. She always had a solution. Why she never mentioned Ari to me is baffling. “She wanted to help me.”

“That was Ellie. She considered becoming a nurse but she has—had—an aversion to blood and a teacher was the next best thing when it came to helping people, so that’s what she did. She also had a thing for little kids—born to be a mother, I always thought.”

Ari pulls in a quivered breath as her lips curve into a small smile. “She told me if it was meant to be, I would receive my heart—meaning if her heart were to outlive her brain before I passed away, I would be pretty damn lucky. The kindness of Ellie is something that has been infused within me; it has remained in her heart. But her telling me I would be lucky didn’t seem so clear until I found out the heart was going to be mine. I wouldn’t consider her death in exchange for my survival to be very lucky.”

I wanted to hear every last word Ari just said but my mind is hooked on one particular statement that I can’t move past. “I’m sorry,” I shake my head. “What were you saying about her heart surviving her brain?”

Paleness encompasses her cheeks. “That’s what she said to me,” Ari simplifies.

“But why would she consider that possibility?” A cold sweat is creeping up the back of my neck and it’s making me dizzy and weak to the point where I just want to put my head down and rest for a minute. Instead, I try to hold my ground and ask the questions that need to be asked. “You must know why she would say something so random?” I hear my voice becoming louder and more aggressive, but as much as I want to tame my outburst, I can’t figure out how to. Ari looks taken aback—slightly frightened even. It feels as if the restaurant is closing in around me, closing me into this hollow bubble where everyone is looking in at me, talking about me in whispers as if I can’t hear them, which I can’t. I can only hear the thoughts in my own head, fighting with each other, battling it out for one simple understanding.

Ari looks to the side, taking in the staring gazes from the tables surrounding us. I should feel bad for making her uncomfortable but instead, I’m concerned about imploding.

“She said it was her destiny to give life. It was God’s plan for her,” Ari offers.

“No. There was more,” I reply, doing my best to keep my volume down.

“This is not my place,” she says. “I don’t feel right about this, which is exactly why I have kept my distance over the years. I didn’t come here tonight to tell you things Ellie confided in me. I came here to end the pain I’ve presumably been causing you, which is evident now.” Ari looks down to the bench she’s seated on and gathers her purse and coat, scooping them up into her arms. “This was a terrible idea.”

She’s leaving. No way. She can’t leave. Not after all of this. I grip her arm as she passes by, holding her in place, not allowing her the freedom she deserves. “Don’t leave me,” I stammer.

“Let go, Hunter.” She pulls her arm from my loose grip and continues for the door.

I reach into my back pocket and pull out a fifty-dollar bill. I toss it onto the table and grab my coat, slipping out of the booth to follow her. I expect to find her locked in her car by the time I make it outside but she’s sitting down on the curb in front of the restaurant, slouched over, holding herself tightly.

For a moment, everything inside of me eases, but I’m not sure if it’s because I’m temporarily not afraid of losing control or if I’m overly hopeful for a confession that I deserve to know.

“Ellie and I kept in contact over the years. I knew when you found out you were pregnant with Olive. I knew when she went into labor. I knew when she died. In fact, I saw you in the lobby of the hospital,” she explains delicately.

“How did you know who I was?” I take a seat beside her on the curb, instinctively placing my arm around her as a peace offering, trying my hardest to understand that I’m not the only one who has felt pain, regardless of my confusion surrounding Ari’s friendship with Ellie. Why had I never heard of her? I truly thought Ellie told me everything.

Ari combs her fingers through her hair again, a habit I have been noticing over the past few times I’ve seen her. She exposes the profile of her beautiful face, which is now glowing under the orange street light and the creamy moon. She sniffles softly and pulls her hands up to her chest, shivering against the cold breeze. “She loved you so much,” she says through a soft breath. “Like more than I’ve ever seen anyone love a person. She would show me pictures at school, like stupid insignificant pictures to an outsider, but she wanted to show off a certain smile you had when you were painting a room or the look you had after you just burnt a meal you spent three hours making.” None of this rings a bell to me, but I want to hear more.

“Ellie was madly, senselessly, in love with you,” Ari continues. “Every decision she made somehow revolved around your life, and while I never met you in person, I felt as though I knew you from the amount she spoke of you.” My heart aches with contentment, listening to her words, her explanations for a reason I may never fully understand. I needed to hear this. I’ve needed this so badly.

“I knew it was she who died when I was called about the donation. I was told to come to the hospital immediately. I was filled with a combination of heartache, despair, and hope. I had never felt so many intense feelings at one time. Selfish luck was one of those feelings, the one I’m most ashamed of. I wanted to pretend Ellie wasn’t the donor and she didn’t lose her life, in turn giving me a future I wasn’t meant to have. I tried my hardest to put it out of my mind as I walked into the hospital that day.”

Ari stands up, still clutching her hands over her chest. Walking into the middle of the parking lot and up to her blue hybrid, she stops to lean against the back of her car. “I saw you the second I walked into the hospital. I thought my heart was going to give out before I had a chance to accept the donation. You were propped up against a wall beneath a payphone, your knees were pulled into your chest and your eyes were inflamed, your cheeks were red and stained with a constant flow of tears. You don’t usually see the moment a person breaks down or loses the love of his life.” She breathes heavily from her overflow of words. “But if you did, you would feel sorry for him or her, regardless of knowing their story. And I knew your story. The guilt that found me in that one particular moment has remained frozen within my head.”

“You saw me that day, that moment?” I clarify.

“I stood and watched you for five minutes until my mother forced me to continue walking. I could hardly hold myself up from the weak state my body was in, but I felt it was the repercussion I needed before I went in and took your wife’s heart.”

“Did Ellie know she was going to die?” I need to know and I will continue to beg her for information until I no longer have the opportunity to do so.

“Hunter, would you want me to tell you something that she told me in confidence?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

My fist is
growing weak as I continue knocking on Charlotte’s door. I know she’s home. I’m also aware it’s close to midnight. I pull out my phone and send another text, pleading for her to answer.

I’m not giving up until she does. I need to talk to her. I’ve been trying to avoid calling her in case her volume is up since I don’t want to wake Lana this late at night, but she’s leaving me no choice.

My finger hovers over the call button just as I see the hall light illuminate through the foggy glass. I hear footsteps.
Please don’t be Lana
. The door opens sluggishly and Charlotte is standing in front of me in a ratty white robe, her hair tousled everywhere and her eyes half-lidded and also full of confusion. She hasn’t yet given me the opportunity to see her without make-up and now I don’t understand why. Every one of her features is lighter, more natural, flushed—beautiful.

“Hunter, it’s midnight,” she yawns.

“I know, but I need to talk to you,” I state the obvious.

“Can’t it wait until morning? I was asleep,” she says, slowly coming to the realization of what she looks like. Her fingers press through the roots of her hair, smoothing out the snarls as she pulls her robe closed a little tighter across her chest.

I step forward, forcing her to step back, allowing me in. “She knew Ellie. Ellie promised her the heart. The woman from the letters was the woman I ran into at the gardens. That’s crazy, right?”

“What?” Charlotte says through a hazy groan. “I don’t follow.” Annoyance sets in, as I need her to keep up right now. I need her to help me figure this all out.

“She knew her, Charlotte. I didn’t know her, but Ellie knew her. Ellie told her she would give this woman her heart if it survived her brain. What sense does that make?” My voice is growing in volume and Charlotte’s attention locks on the stairwell.

“Please keep your voice down so Lana doesn’t wake up.” Her words come out in soft caws.
I shouldn’t have woken her
. I need to get a grip.

“I’m sorry,” is all I can offer. With my voice lowered, I calmly explain everything again—Ari being the heart recipient and also the woman in the gardens. As I’m explaining, I keep wondering if Ellie wanted Ari and me to meet. None of this can be coincidental. I don’t believe in that crap, especially since Ellie can’t send me any of those soul-gripping whimsical messages through the wind and shit. There has to be more than what Ari admitted to me. I need to know the rest.

Charlotte’s hand reaches for my arm and she pulls me toward the couch as we both sit down. “You have to calm down.” Her hand rests on my back as she traces her fingertips in small circles below my shoulder.

I take a deep breath, one I’ve needed to take for hours. “I know this all sounds ridiculous,” I explain.

“It’s not ridiculous. I would want to know who she is if I were in your shoes, too,” she says.

“You would?” I look up at her, needing the validation in her eyes, telling me I’m not completely insane.

“Of course,” she says, but there is no validation in her eyes. Instead, there’s a distant look. “Hunter…”

“I shouldn’t have woken you. I just—you’re the one I wanted to talk to.”

“You’re making this so damn hard,” she says, sinking farther into the couch. “Hunt, this really isn’t the best time to have this conversation but since you’re here…”

“What?” I ask, my voice sounding as worn out as I feel. What is she about to say?

“I don’t know if I can follow you on this path you're heading down. I do want to be here for you, understand you, and support you, but this is incredibly difficult with your fluctuating moods and behavior. I mean, you couldn’t even tell me you were going to meet this woman tonight. I feel hurt by that, I guess.” It completely slipped my mind between all of my racing thoughts of Ari that I didn’t tell Charlotte I was meeting her tonight.
Nice move, Hunter.
“Whether this is innocent or not with her, I just wish you had been honest with me today—tonight.” She drops her head into her hands, releasing a heavy sigh, a non-forgiving sigh. I
fucked up tonight.
I deserve this. “I just—I’m not sure what you need from me right now, but I don’t know if I can handle it. I’ve been through my fair share of crap—nothing compared to you—but I don’t want things to be like this. So confusing, hard.”

“I didn’t mean to make things hard on you,” I tell her. She is the last person I would want to make things hard for.

“I know.” Her elbows fall to her knees and she hunches over, clearly exhausted. I watch, waiting for her thoughts to subside. “Hunt, I just don’t think your heart and/or mind are in the right place for us right now,” she says with tears filling her eyes.

She’s breaking up with me and I can’t think of anything to say. I do want this—her. Things have hardly had a chance to begin with us and now they’re ending and it’s my fault. “So that’s it. You’re done with me?”

“Things have been really fun. I love being with you, and Olive of course, but something feels like it’s missing. There’s a void—and it’s starting to hurt me. I can only imagine it will get harder—worse over time—as I fall for you more than I already have. So this is me protecting myself.” She places her hand over my bouncing knee and squeezes gently. “I don’t want it to be like this, but you need to figure some things out.”

“Charlotte, I want to be with you. I need to be with you.” The words come out far easier now than they did a month or two ago. I’ve really grown attached to her, to the point where she feels like a crucial part of my life, a part that feels normal with her in it. I didn’t even know I could find anything remotely close to normal before I met her, and I don’t want to lose that. “I should have been honest with you today. I was wrong and I messed up,” I tell her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. “Please don’t do this.”

“Hunt, you made it clear that you need to explore this newfound part of your life and I want you to be able to do that. You clearly have a connection to this woman and for the chance that you want to explore that after reading her letters for five years, I want you to have that freedom. Olive has told me about the look in your eyes when you read one of her letters. She told me you have a special smile just for this woman’s words.” I want to argue with her and tell her she’s completely wrong but I’d be lying if I said I felt nothing toward Ari. And Charlotte’s right—it isn’t fair to her. “Take some time and figure out what you want. If by chance, you realize it’s me, I’ll be here. And if it’s her, I understand completely.”

“Charlotte, I do want you!” But I want to know more about Ari, too, and I’m seeing right now that I can’t have it both ways. I didn’t ask for things to be like this. It isn’t fair.

“Then that’s the way things will end up.”

“Don’t throw this fate shit at me, please,” I tell her. While I’m saying this, I hear Ari’s argumentative words about our predestined paths in life. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to figure out if Charlotte is my less chosen path…my road not taken, or if Ari is.

“I don’t believe in fate, Hunter. I believe in choices.”

I stand up, as this conversation has a defined end mark that I am trying to step over. “I’m sorry for waking you up so late.” This fucking sucks. I’m thirty years old and I’m being dumped by the first person I’ve allowed myself to have feelings for besides Ellie.

“Anytime, really. We’re friends, we’re neighbors, and our daughters are connected at the hip. We’re stuck with each other.”
Kiss of death words.
Her voice rattles with an uncomfortable laugh as she tugs at her robe again. “Hunt, we’re adults; we can work through this. I don’t want there to be awkwardness, okay?”

“I’ve seen you naked,” I add with a teasing smile, testing the waters.

“And I’ve seen you naked,” she says.

“Whatever.”

“If
whatever
is meant to be, it will be,” she responds.

I leave the conversation at that, quietly slipping out the door, unwilling to turn and look back at whatever emotion is written across her face. I know I’m the cause of her pain and confusion, and now mine, as well.

Thank God. Mom is asleep in the guest room and Olive is snoring away. I quietly pad across the floor barefoot, heading up the stairs, avoiding the spots that creak. Once inside my bedroom, I flip on the lights and slide open the closet doors, reaching up for the large brown box with Ellie’s name inked across the top.

I rest the box on my bed and open the flaps, exposing all of Ellie’s belongings that I could squeeze into this thing. I reach my hand down the right side until I touch the bottom, feeling around for the book I’m looking for. The moleskin fabric comes into contact with my fingertips and I slip it out carefully.

I’ve skimmed through her journal many times before, selfishly ruining whatever privacy she wanted while she was alive, but most everything I read were things I already knew, which is why I only skimmed the pages. The memories always seemed to hurt more than help. Now, though, I need to look harder for the parts of Ellie’s life she kept secret.

I get it. We all have secrets. We all have demons and we all have moments so personal that we can’t share them. I just never considered the parts she left out.

Turning page after page, I drag my finger down the center of Ellie’s beautiful words, the penmanship I always admired. I teased her that she was born to be a teacher, with her perfect handwriting. It’s the kind of script that is so clean and crisp no one would ever struggle to read it like most cursive writings.

As I begin to read, the words sink in and memories join them. I haven’t done this in a while so it feels fresh, as if the words were nightcaps to a perfect day I experienced only hours before. Ellie wrote in this journal once a month, recapping every important detail for the prior thirtyish days. She started this new journal the day we got married. She said it was a new chapter and deserved a new book.

My cheeks burn as I read her memories on the first night of our honeymoon, the inner thoughts she had while we commenced our marriage in Puerto Vallarta in front of our open porch doors, which overlooked nothing but the water, stars, and moon. The warmth around us felt like a cocoon shielding us from everything and everyone. It was only us that night, and I would give everything I have to be back in that moment with her.

The way she looked at me, as if all of her dreams had finally come true, made me understand the true meaning of life’s plan. Men don’t typically dream about their wedding day, but since the moment my hormones replaced the thoughts of Ellie only being a friend in my life, I had dreamt of that moment, in that bed, in that hotel room, on that night with her. Even though we had plenty of prior practice, that night felt like the first time all over again.

Flipping to the next page, I continue to read her poetic thoughts, stumbling over a certain line I know I never read before.

If only God had placed me on this earth to serve more purpose than just making a man slowly fall in love with me for seventeen years, I could promise him seventeen more years. ‘Till Death Do Us Part’ is a truth I will give my soul to for eternity, wherever that may be.

Ellie always had a way of talking in circles when she wrote, words that seemed to make little sense to me, though I knew there was always a deeper meaning behind what was delicately rolling off of her tongue via the tip of a pen. These written words, however, make sense to me now, but were her thoughts intuition or a secret? That’s what I don’t understand.