A Wish for Christmas (35 page)

“Speaking of time, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Yes?” Jack was already bracing himself.

“It’s time I moved on, Dad. You and Julie have been great, but I need to get my life together and figure out what I’m going to do with the rest of it. That’s not going to happen in my old bedroom at home.”

Jack felt as though he had just taken a blow to his gut.

He knew this was bound to come sooner or later. He knew David had his own life and had to make his own plans. But it was happening too fast.

“I get it,” he said carefully. “You need to be on your own. That’s a good sign. But what’s the rush? Why not stay a few more weeks until you feel really strong?”

“No, Dad. I can’t,” David said. “I’m ready now. I’m strong enough now. I know you mean well but—”

“I just don’t want you to go so quickly, David. Or move far away again,” Jack told him honestly. “Where are you going? What are you running to? You tried that once, son. I just don’t see that it was a very good solution for you.”

Jack saw David’s face get that tight expression. He hadn’t meant to criticize, but he knew David had taken his words that way.

“Is this about Christine?” Jack asked quietly. “I know she’s engaged, but maybe you should still tell her how you feel. People break off engagements every day,” he added. “If you don’t put yourself on the line, she’ll never know. And you won’t either.”

“It’s not about Christine, not entirely,” David answered. “I need to wipe the slate clean, Dad. I don’t think I can do it here. And Christine . . . I can’t do it if I’m still seeing her every time I turn around. It’s not the main thing, but it doesn’t help.”

Jack nodded. It was complicated. He understood that. He knew David wanted to have something to offer Christine, a solid future. Right now, he didn’t have much to show. Jack could understand why he wouldn’t fight for her. It was just too bad. Jack had always thought that the two of them were perfect for each other, even more so now that they were older.

He rested his hand on David’s shoulder as they headed back to the truck. “I’m not telling you what to do, David. You’re a grown man now. I have no right. All I’m saying is to slow down. Think things through. Don’t just . . . take off. Get what I mean?”

David sighed as he pulled himself onto the front seat. He was relieved his father had not started some big argument. Maybe Jack really had changed. Maybe they both had.

“Yeah, I get what you mean, Dad. I have been thinking about this. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

Jack didn’t answer him right away. He stared out his window. “So when will you go?” he asked sadly.

“I’m not sure. Probably in a day or so. Don’t worry. I’ll let you know where I am this time,” he promised.

Jack wondered if he really would. He had to trust him, though, and not nag about it. He had to trust that David would figure out the tangled knots in his life, that the boy knew what he needed to do.

Even if it did seem to Jack like he was running in circles.

 

 

EVERY HOUR AFTER THAT, JACK WONDERED WHEN DAVID WOULD GO.

He wanted to tell Julie, but somehow he couldn’t find the words. Two days after their visit to Angel Island, Jack woke up in the middle of the night. Or he thought it was. He checked the clock. It was still pitch-black out, five a.m. He wasn’t sure what had roused him.

He listened, wondering if David had been having a bad dream and had been calling out. But the house was silent. Just the usual night sounds, the heating pipes rattling and clocks ticking. Julie slept soundly beside him, her breath slow and even.

He finally rolled over and went back to sleep. But the next morning, he was not surprised to find a note on the kitchen table, written in David’s bold, square hand:

Jack sat down hard on a kitchen chair, reading the note again and again. He would have rushed out the door, jumped in his truck, and chased David down, but he knew that his son was long gone.

Tears filled his eyes. He wiped them away with the back of his hand. He wanted to run back to David’s room, to see if this was all some big mistake. He imagined seeing David’s long, lanky form under the twisted blankets, his mop of dirty blond hair on the pillow.

But he knew David would not be there. The room would be empty now of his possessions, all packed in the big green army duffel.

They’d had some time together, some good talks. Jack knew he had to count himself fortunate for that much. David had to make his own way now. That was all there was to it.

He bowed his head and said a quick prayer. “Dear heavenly Father above, please guide and protect my son wherever he goes, whatever he does. If he ever needs us, please help him remember we’re still here and we love him.”

 

 

DAVID HAD FORGOTTEN ALL ABOUT NEW YEAR’S EVE. THE PAST FEW days, since he had left his father’s house, he had pretty much lost track of time. Easy to do on Angel Island. In fact, it was almost expected, the reason a lot of people came here.

There was little sign of the holiday at the Angel Inn. But in the early afternoon, just as he was leaving for a walk, he passed a young couple, about his age or a few years older, walking in. So that made three guests staying here, including him. The place was getting crowded.

The couple looked happy together and he envied them. He thought about Christine, wondering where she would be tonight, what she’d be doing. Ringing in the New Year with her fiancé, he guessed, kissing him at midnight.

He pulled himself back from picturing that scene. He wasn’t here to think about her, to wallow in his hopeless, pointless feelings. He was here to sort things out in his head. When he left the tree farm, he knew for certain he had to go. There was no question. He had felt so relieved leaving there, as if a giant weight had been lifted off his back, as if he could finally take a good, deep breath.

He had hitched a ride to town and stopped at the Clam Box for breakfast. It wasn’t even light out yet, and the place was just opening up. There was only one other customer, a truck driver who sat nearby at the counter. Noticing the army duffel and David’s jacket, the trucker struck up a conversation then ended up offering David a lift. He was driving north, making deliveries all the way to Toronto. David quickly accepted. He had expected to hitch up to the turnpike before finding a good ride like this one.

“I just need to stop on Angel Island, then we’ll get on the highway,” the trucker explained as David climbed into the cab. “I have a delivery to make at the General Store.”

“Sure, no problem.” David clipped his seat belt, thinking the island would look interesting this early in the day, with the sun just rising and flocks of sea birds feeding on the shoreline.

It did look interesting. Beautiful and mysterious. David felt some static sensation in his mind clearing instantly as they drove over the land bridge and up the same road he had been on a few days ago with his father. They passed the inn and eventually arrived at the little cluster of shops.

The driver parked in front of the General Store and hopped out. David hopped out, too. He offered to help the driver unload his delivery, but the man waved him off. “That’s okay. I just have to settle this bill. I’ll be right out.”

David wasn’t really sure how it happened, what impulse had taken hold of him. Some people said the island held mysterious powers. Spiritual powers. Healing energy. There was some legend, too, but he couldn’t really remember it.

Didn’t matter. He wouldn’t go that far, but the place always got to him, touched him deep down inside. He breathed in the sea air and instantly felt calmer. He stared around at the deserted road and past the few shops, all shut tight. He spied the beach and ocean in the distance, past an open stretch of land.

There was no sound but his own breath and some gulls, calling out on the beach. There was not a soul in sight. The silence and solitude, the early morning light illuminating the blue sky, it all seemed almost—sacred.

This was a good place, he thought. As good a place as any—maybe better than most—to stop and think. To sort out the questions that plagued him. To figure out some sort of plan.

The trucker had been confused when David told him he was staying on the island, but he drove David back up the road to the Angel Inn and David grabbed his gear.

“Good luck, soldier,” the trucker said as David hopped out of the cab again.

“Thanks. I need it,” David admitted.

He needed more than luck. He needed . . . a revelation.

The past few days, he had been hanging out, walking the beach, thinking things through. So far, he’d only come to one conclusion: Running away solved nothing.

Now, he walked along the water’s edge, long enough so that the inn disappeared from view and the high bluffs came into sight. David knew it would be a challenge to climb the steep path up to the top, but something compelled him to try. He had been away from the PT sessions for almost a week. He didn’t want to get soft, did he?

He struggled up the path, slipping back and even falling to his knees at one point. He used his cane like a pick, steadying his balance and levering himself up, step-by-step.

The climb was arduous, but for some reason, the effort felt like it meant something. Maybe it just helped him feel he had accomplished something today besides wading around in his own confusion.

The view from the top was astounding, an ample reward for his hard work. Dizzying. Amazing. Well worth the aches in his legs and hip. David took deep, gasping breaths as he turned his head to take it all in. The beach was far below, the waves moving in slow motion at this distance. Far off, he spotted the rooftop of the inn, a tiny white building, nestled in a clump of trees.

The very edge of the bluff was rocky but soon stretched out to a large flat meadow, covered this time of year with brown and yellow beach grass and large boulders.

Hadn’t his father brought him up here once? David made his way across the field, toward a large flat rock, a good place to sit and rest. He seemed to remember sitting on the big rock once with Jack after they climbed the bluff. His mother had not come. She wasn’t very athletic and liked to let Jack have his little adventures alone with his son.

David reached the boulder, sat down, and took a long drink from the water bottle in his pack. Yes, he had come here with Jack once, in the summer, during one of their family camping trips. He was sure of it now. He suddenly remembered something else about this place, something strange and interesting. Was it still here? Could he find it?

He stood up and began to search the ground.

Not too far away from the boulder, David spotted what he had been looking for. A path of rocks, laid in the ground in a spiraling pattern. He expected to find it hidden by the weeds by now, but it looked well-used and carefully tended.

David remembered how, as a boy, he thought the pattern of stones was so strange. “Did aliens leave them here?” he had asked his father.

Jack had a good laugh at that one. “No, Dave. I’m positive they did not. Some people who lived here a long time ago laid the stones down.”

David had been disappointed to hear that. But he still had more questions. Like what was the point of this place? What were you supposed to do here?

It was odd how clearly he remembered it now. “This place is called a labyrinth,” Jack said. A labyrinth is not a maze or a puzzle. It’s a circular path that winds to its center. “Some people come here just to slow down and find a peaceful moment,” Jack had explained. “They come when they feel sad or troubled or have a question.

“There’s no right way to do it,” his father told him. “You can follow the path all the way around and walk in slowly. Or go right to the center. On the way in, you let go of all the stuff bothering you and try to open your heart. When you get to the center, you can stand there as long as you like. Think things over. Pray maybe. Some people like to trace the same path going out that they used going in. But I can never remember,” Jack admitted.

“I do remember I was told that going out, you’re joining God. Feeling healed from whatever is hurting. Going out to do good work in the world.”

David recalled his father’s words and also remembered that, at eight or nine years old, he hadn’t understood very well. What did he know about pain and confusion at that age? About yearning for healing. For peace in his heart and mind.

Now he did.

He stared at the path of stones, noticing some visitors had left little souvenirs at the center, dried flowers held down by small rocks and even a few coins and bits of folded paper.

He did not believe that walking the path would instantly heal him or solve all his problems. But he had made it this far. Might as well give it a try, David thought. He used his cane to steady himself on the bumpy ground as he chose a place to start.

He paused and took a breath. He looked down at the flat gray stone at his feet and then out at the rolling waves and the wide stretch of slate-blue sky, where the afternoon sun was just starting to sink toward the sea.

Alone on the bluff, in the middle of the meadow, David felt close to something larger than himself, some power greater than he could imagine.

He began to walk the path, very slowly, putting one foot in front of the other.