Eternal Journey (5 page)

“As I started, the words, then tears, came, and I just blurted out, ‘Father, I think I’m pregnant. My boyfriend is in Vietnam,
and I still have two years of school to finish. I don’t know what to do.’

“He interrupted me at that point and said something like ‘So you aren’t married, my dear?’ I shook my head and started to
answer, but without waiting for my reply, he began, ‘You know you have committed a terrible sin. You have had sex outside
of the sacrament of marriage. You have disappointed God, your parents, the Church. You know this is a terrible sin.’

“I swear he didn’t even hear me get up and leave. I could still hear him lecturing me, the voice rising in pitch as the big
oak doors slammed shut. It was a very long time, a decade or more, before I would even enter a church, and that was the last
time I ever stepped foot in a confessional.

“I stormed back to my room, feeling very defiant and strong just then, the episode in the church energizing me in an odd sort
of way. Beth greeted me, with grave concern in her eyes. I tried to reassure her. ‘Beth,’ I said, ‘it’s not that bad. Everything
will be all right, you’ll see.’

“She seemed tense, and I was actually thinking that maybe I shouldn’t have involved her. She was a very sensitive person,
and I was feeling guilty that I had unburdened on her.

“ ‘Annie, sit down,’ she said grimly. ‘This letter just came for you. It looks like it’s from Kevin’s mother.’

“I sat on my bed, looked into her face, and went pale. Her hands trembled as she handed me the letter. I stared at the return
address and remember feeling a sudden rush of nausea. My hands shook and my heart started to beat wildly. I handed the envelope
back to Beth and asked her to read what I already knew to be inside. As Beth tried to choke out the words that Kevin’s mother
had written to me, sentences like ‘He was very brave’ and ‘He died serving his country’ assaulted my ears. I grabbed the letter
from her hands and read it over and over until I cried myself to sleep.

“Sometime later, I remember being awakened from a terrible nightmare of blood and screams. Kevin was standing beside my bed,
his hand on my face, saying, ‘I’m so sorry, Annie, this isn’t the way it was supposed to be.’ I was the one screaming, and
it was Beth’s hand on my face, not Kevin’s. She was crying and trying to console me. We sat there like two little girls holding
each other tight, crying and rocking back and forth on the bed. ‘Shhh, Annie. I’m here for you. Don’t worry, you will always
have me.’ ”

Anna sighed deeply. She gazed listlessly at the gray rain streaming down the windows and felt as desolate as the view from
her booth. Her shoulders sagging from emotional exhaustion, Anna paused and took a deep breath, wondering if she had the courage
to continue with her story. She slowly raised her eyes, prepared to mumble an awkward apology. But she found solace in his
gaze, and he urged her to continue.

“Beth’s mother had died when she was fifteen. We were inseparable, as we had been all through grammar school. Her mother had
breast cancer and died the summer before we entered our junior year. One night after her mother’s funeral, I stayed over at
Beth’s house. She had a wonderful canopy bed, with a wedding veil–like covering. We stayed up the whole night talking. We
lay there hand in hand, and Beth told me about the day her mother died. I remember that night very clearly. Beth didn’t cry
at all. She just held my hand and told me how scared she was, how quiet and lonely her house was now that it was just her
and her dad. She made me promise that I would never die and go away and leave her like her mother did. ‘Of course I won’t
ever leave you, Beth. We are friends forever. I’ll never go away, even if you want me to.’ Now in our junior year in college,
she was consoling me.”

Garish images pounded against Anna’s skull. She remembered how, the next morning after the worst night of her life, the nightmare
had continued. She’d gone into the bathroom, feeling the wetness on her thighs. Stunned, she had stared as the blood dropped
in rivulets of red. The blood turned into tissue and then into crimson rivers. Anna groaned now as she had groaned then, watching
what was left of Kevin ebb away. Just how many lives had been lost that day so long ago?

“Beth found me on the bathroom floor still bleeding, curled in a fetal position, with the letter crumpled in my hand. The
pregnancy was gone as quickly as it had come, terminated by either my shock at the news of Kevin’s death or my rage at the
priest. Perhaps both.

“Beth is the only one who knew I was pregnant and lost my baby,” Anna said. “She alone knew how hard I’ve worked all these
years to plug the hole in my heart. Beth is the only one who knows about my life that was not to be.

“ ‘I’ll tell Kevin about the baby for you, Annie, when I’m on the other side,’ she said in those final hours. ‘And remember,
I’ll always be here for you.’

“Beth died just three hours later,” Anna said, concluding her story.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Anna looked up into the gentle eyes of the man sitting across the table from her. His gaze
was steady and deep, and tears matching hers fell from his eyes. He reached across the table, put his hand on top of hers,
and turned his head toward Edgartown Harbor.

It was nine o’clock in the morning, and the rain showed no signs of stopping. It was going to be a miserably bleak, depressing
day. But Anna didn’t feel depressed at all. She felt very strange. Tired but at the same time energized. She had never told
anyone that story, ever. She looked across the table at his face and again was amazed at how comfortable she felt. There was
something remotely familiar about him, yet she was sure they had never met. Anna was just about to ask him if they had when
he looked away from her in the direction of the little island of Chappaquiddick.

“Are you up for a walk by the ocean, Annie? This weather will break, I just feel it. You have the perfect vehicle for exploring
the dunes. Let’s go see what answers Cape Poge has to offer today.”

And with that, he stood up and walked toward the Explorer.

Anna loved the wildlife refuge, but she thought even the few birds and animals remaining would be wise enough to keep shelter
on a drenchingly wet day like this. She silently followed him out the door anyway, got behind the wheel, and drove the Explorer
onto the barge that would take them across the harbor and deposit them on Chappaquiddick.

The barge, endearingly referred to as the “ontime ferry,” had no schedule. It carried people and vehicles across the inlet
upon demand. Once she settled her vehicle on the barge, Anna couldn’t take her eyes off the light that beckoned from the Edgar-town
lighthouse. She was hypnotized by the flashes that danced across the windshield in an even, predictable rhythm. As she stared
at the beam, Anna thought she heard someone call her name. She turned very suddenly. The bright light grew before her eyes,
momentarily blinding her, so that all she could do was listen.

“You are fine, Anna,” said the reassuring nurse. “The surgery went well. You are fine.”

The pain was unlike any she had ever experienced. And just as she became aware of the pain, the first wave of nausea consumed
her. Lips chattering, she stammered, “I feel awful.”

“You are in the recovery room, Dr. Carroll.” It was a male voice now. “I’m going to give you something for the pain. You are
doing fine.”

She remembered thinking they must mean that there was no cancer. That’s what
they
mean by fine, she had thought, because I’m not fine, I feel awful. But all she had said was thank you as she felt the pain
medication course through her veins.

“Annie, Annie.” The stranger’s voice startled her from her memory. “You can start the engine now.”

They drove the brief distance from the ferry toward the cape. As they passed the Japanese gardens the rain began to let up.
The dunes were almost in sight now. Anna pulled the Explorer close to the marker detailing the wildlife that inhabited the
preserve. Only four-wheel-drive vehicles were allowed out on the dunes, and permits were required at that.

While Anna was sure Becky and Michael would have followed the rules, she was inclined to overlook them. But driving the dunes
on this bleak day seemed like trespassing, so she turned to her companion and said, “Let’s walk out to the cape. Nature seems
too pensive today to be disturbed.”

Together they trekked over the infamous footbridge to East Beach. Her companion helped her up the mound of soft, wet sand
that gave the cape its allure and challenge. The view once over the slight crest was breathtaking, rain or not. In fact, Anna
noticed that the rain had almost stopped. Only miles of sand and water lay between them and the other side of the world. As
she turned to speak to the stranger, she saw that he had started walking up the beach. Hurrying to reach him, she nearly tripped
in the deep sand. He turned, as if he had heard her behind him, and patiently waited for her to catch up.

They proceeded side by side down the long, deserted beach. The stranger with the deep soulful eyes looked at Anna and asked,
“What is it about your friendship with Beth that is making you so sad, Anna?”

Anna felt her cheeks flush with anger. “Because she’s dead, that’s why I’m sad. How can you ask such an obvious question!”

“Ah, but Annie,” he continued, seemingly oblivious to her anger, “you just told me the last words Beth spoke before she died
were ‘I’ll always be here for you.’ You loved and trusted your friend, didn’t you, Annie? Beth O’Neill wouldn’t make a promise
like that if she didn’t intend to keep it.”

Startled by his bluntness, Anna almost turned and walked away. But she looked over at him and those kind eyes kept her right
on the path they had started. She looked down at the tracks she was making in the sand. That’s funny, she thought, I don’t
remember mentioning Beth’s last name.

His words sank in. Anna considered what he’d said and had to admit he had a point. She had never really listened to her dying
friend’s last words.

“You know,” Anna began, “maybe you’re right. My sadness has more to do with me than our friendship or Beth. I have had so
many losses these past two years that I just gave into the emptiness when Beth died. Maybe this feeling has very little to
do with death and loss. Maybe it’s really about fear and change.”

The two of them stopped and sat on the dune. Anna began digging with her heels, making deep crevices in the sand, and continued
to speak.

“All my connections have shifted, much like the sands under our feet. Nothing seems to be permanent anymore, though that sounds
ridiculous even as I say the words. Nothing has ever been permanent, but somehow it’s different now. I suppose I need to see
the loss as just a transition—Beth is still here and still my friend, just in a different form. I need to learn how to rework
the connection so the relationship can continue.”

“Beth will always be a real and permanent part of your life, Annie,” he said, “if you will allow yourself to let the old way
of connecting fade away and open your heart so you can see her as she is now.”

Anna looked over at him and wondered if she understood.

They stood up and together walked to the tip of the cape. They sat down again on the sand and silently gazed out into the
horizon. The rain had stopped, and there was some promise of sun. As she turned to tell him he’d been right, they would have
sun after all, she caught a blurred glimpse of him fading out of sight on his way down the beach.

Anna walked slowly, in a deliberate sort of way, back toward the dunes. The sun was fully out now, shining uncharacteristically
bright for November. What a strange turn in the weather, she thought as she lifted her face to bask in its rays. While it
was not any warmer, Anna felt perfectly comfortable as she unzipped her jacket and faced the forceful, yet soothing, waves
of the Atlantic Ocean.

Anna closed her eyes, drawing the misting sea air deep within her lungs. Over the screech of the gulls, she heard her grandmother’s
voice.

“Annie, Annie, be careful! Don’t get too much sun!” her grandmother had warned her over the sound of crashing waves. “Come
here and at least put a cover and hat on. I know it’s not hot out, but the sun will burn your fair skin.” Anna ran to her
beloved grandmother but fidgeted, anxious to get back to the water’s edge and resume playing in the waves.

It was early summer. Anna, her parents, and her grandmother had driven down to Ocean City, Maryland. They were staying in
a hotel right on the boardwalk. During the chilly nights, Anna would walk hand in hand between her grandmother and mother,
fascinated by the noisy arcades with games of chance. They browsed the bright stores filled with endless glitter and enjoyed
the delicious smells of peanuts and cotton candy, saltwater taffy and macaroons. The little girl never toddled far from her
grandmother and when she returned, she was quickly gathered into those familiar, soft, and so reassuring arms and walked briskly
back to the hotel room.

Anna smiled at her grandmother and declared, “I’m okay, Grandma. I’m a
big
girl now and you don’t have to worry about me anymore.” The little girl loved her grandmother more than words could say.

“So much love for such a little girl,” her grandmother would remark as she gathered her into her large bosom, smelling of
talcum powder and perfume.

Anna remembered how her mother would put lemon juice in her hair and rub ointment on her shoulders between her trips back
and forth to the water’s edge carrying her orange pail to fill the hole she and her father had dug in the sand. Sometimes,
in later years, when there were more children, Anna’s father and mother would drive the family down to the shore just for
the day during the summer. Anna never knew until much later that this was because they couldn’t afford to stay in a hotel
during the peak season. She believed her parents when they told her that the best time to go to the beach was when the crowds
were sparse and that was why they went to the shore in early June or September.