In Her Eyes (23 page)

61

In Her Eyes

June 13, 2015

Ben woke to a flight attendant lightly tapping on his shoulder. “Seats up and seat belts on, please,” she said.

Ben hit Parker on the shoulder until he woke up. “We’re landing,” he said.

Parker yawned and stretched his arms.

“Hey, what time is it?” Ben asked.

Parker looked down at his watch. “Eleven forty-five a.m.”

It felt like they had been traveling for days and it still wasn’t even noon yet.

It took another thirty minutes to get their bags and grab a cab. When the yellow minivan pulled up, Parker walked his bags to the back and hopped in through the sliding door. “You coming?” he said, looking back at Ben.

“I’m going to grab the next one. I got something I need to do, man. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Alright, man. Good luck,” Parker said, knowing exactly where Ben was headed.

* * *

Thirty minutes later Ben paid the taxi driver and got out of the car in front of Casey’s house. He slipped his backpack over his left shoulder, picked up his duffel bag and walked up the driveway towards her front door.

The garage was shut, and he didn’t know if she was off today, worked today, or was possibly asleep preparing to work tonight. He also didn’t know exactly what he was going to say to her. And based on their last conversation there was a pretty good chance she may not even talk to him.

His heart was beating slow but heavy as he sat his bags by the door. He knocked distinctly three times, and the sounds careened off the plastered garage wall and disappeared in the wind.

Ben looked over to his left where the curtains were drawn, but saw no movement. He turned around and looked back down the driveway. Even though it was looking to be at least six hours until she got back home, he was about to sit down and wait for her to get home. Then the door opened.

Ben turned around and saw Casey. She was wearing navy blue sweat pants with the words “CAL BEARS” written down one leg in gold, along with one of his gray workout shirts that fell around her frame three sizes too big. Her hair was pulled back with several strands on each side hanging loose, and her nose and eyes were red with tears.

Before Ben could say anything, she leapt towards him, throwing her arms around his torso and burying her head in his chest. This was not the reaction he was expecting.

“I thought you were dead,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt.

Ben ran his hand over the top of her head, brushing back several strands of hair.

“What?” Ben said. “Why would you think that?”

Casey leaned away from him a bit and looked up, still keeping her hands on his waist. “I saw you collapse after your race. And the broadcasters didn’t know what was happening. I tried calling your cell, but it kept going straight to voicemail. Then I tried calling the hospital and they wouldn’t tell me anything about you because I wasn’t family.”

Ben ran his hand across her forehead, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know. I didn’t even think you were going to watch the race. I didn’t even know if you would talk to me when I got here.”

“Of course I would talk to you. Why wouldn’t I talk to you?”

“I thought…the way we left things…I don’t know.”

“That was just a fight,” she said. “Assuming you’re not going to do anything stupid like that again.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Ben said. “The USA Outdoor Championships are in two weeks.”

“You can’t be serious,” Casey said stepping away from him.

Ben held his hands up in front of him. “Casey, just let me explain. The moment before I collapsed, I honestly thought that was it. I thought I had traded everything just to hang onto to the memory of Grace a little longer. I thought I would never see you again.

“And then I woke up in the hospital. The doctor told me they had run a bunch of tests and that I was just severely dehydrated and probably a little overstressed.”

“What about your heart?” Casey asked.

“I talked to the doctor. There is absolutely nothing wrong with my heart.”

Ben could see the concern still etched across Casey’s face. “On the plane ride home all anyone wanted to talk about was the possibility of making the 2016 Olympics. I never imagined I would make it this far, and now I’m potentially one race away from qualifying. But…” Ben paused. He stepped closer to Casey and took her hands in his. “I won’t do this without you. I can’t.”

“Two conditions,” Casey said.

“Anything,” Ben said.

“Tomorrow you come down to the hospital and get a second opinion from Dr. Hasara.”

“Done.”

“No more ignoring my phone calls. I don’t care if you’re passed out in the hospital or not,” she joked.

Ben smiled. “I would never ignore phone calls from Casey Anise Taylor.” He raised his hands to her face and leaned in to kiss her.

Her hands clung to his, holding him there for several seconds. “Now come inside and cuddle with me until I fall asleep. I have to work tonight.”

“Yes ma’am,” Ben said. He grabbed his bags and followed Casey towards her bedroom. He sat his bags down and slid off his sandals.

Casey was already in bed curled up under the sheets. Ben lay down behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist, intertwining his fingers with hers.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

“You can always ask me anything,” Ben said.

“If you don’t want to talk about it I understand,” she said “But, do you not want to talk about Grace?”

“What about her?” Ben said.

“I mean about the voicemail and everything.”

“What do you mean?”

Casey lifted Ben’s hand off her and turned around to face him. “The voicemail I left you yesterday.”

“My phone was dead when I woke up in the hospital. I still haven’t even a chance to charge it yet.”

Casey shot up. “You haven’t checked your phone since before the race?”

At Casey’s worried expression, Ben grew confused. And what did this have to do with Grace? “No, why? Did something happen?”

Rolling out of bed, she walked over to her dresser. She picked up the handwritten letter and walked back to the bed, handing it to Ben.

He took the folded sheet. “What’s this?”

“This came yesterday in the mail. I think you should read it.”

“Okay,” Ben said. “You’re kind of freaking me out, though.” Ben unfolded the letter, and immediately recognized the block-faced letters written in all caps. He read through the same words he had written over a year ago. The words he had written just weeks after losing Grace.

A single tear streamed down his face and landed on the paper. Suddenly he felt like he was back in another race. Everything around him stood still and was silent. He saw Casey’s lips move, but didn’t hear a word she said.

“Ben,” Casey said. “Talk to me.”

He closed his eyes and retreated back to his most precious memories of Grace. The first time she called him “Dad.” Pushing her on the swing set in their backyard. Telling her endless stories at bed time.

His thoughts were finally interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back, okay?” Casey said.

He nodded, but walked toward her bedroom door. From there he could see Casey saying goodbye to the mom of one of Emma’s friends.

Ben couldn’t take his eyes off Emma as she walked in and sat her pink and yellow owl backpack on the dining room table. She turned towards the couch, but tripped over her left shoe lace that was completely untied. Her head missed the coffee table by just a few inches as she fell to her hands and knees.

Casey and Ben both moved towards Emma. “You okay?” they said in unison.

Emma nodded. “This stupid shoe lace won’t stay tied.”

“Did your mom ever teach you about the magical double knot?” Ben asked.

Emma looked up at Casey and then shook her head.

“Would you like me to show you?” Ben said.

“Okay,” Emma said.

“Okay, go ahead and tie your shoe like you normally do.”

Emma recited the rhyme as she tied her white laces. “Over, under, around and through, meet Mr. Bunny Rabbit, pull and through.”

Sitting there on the floor next to Casey, Ben thought back to all the times he had felt a familiar presence in Emma. All those times he had seen Emma.

She looked up at him as he began to pull her laces into a second knot, and it wasn’t until that very moment that he truly saw the secret in her eyes.

Ready for Another?

Read on for an exclusive excerpt from
Hope In Every Raindrop.

Hope In Every Raindrop

by Wesley Banks

Hope In Every Raindrop

Katie Price set her laptop on the counter, the cursor still blinking on the blank page as she grabbed a pencil and her hardbound journal. She unlocked the double French doors that led to her back porch and pushed them open wide. The single hook screw groaned in the overhead beam as she settled into her hammock chair. She folded the cover of the journal over on itself and scribbled the date in the top right corner of the first page. 

October 29, 2007

Then she did the same thing she had been doing all morning: she stared restlessly at the empty page in front of her.

It had been nearly six months since her father passed away and she’d barely managed to write a single word in that time. It was the longest she’d ever gone without getting something down on the page.

Katie sat there until just before noon, staring out at the Pacific Ocean, the paper and pencil abandoned on her lap. From the back porch she could see almost all seventy miles of the San Diego coastline as it curved slightly towards Mexico around the Baja Peninsula. 

The combination of the waves gently crashing on the beach and the slow sway of her hammock stilled her thoughts. Normally she would have reveled in the quiet, but she was restless and wanted more than anything to find her next story. 

She pressed the lead tip of the pencil against the paper, hoping for that one word that would send her off into endless hours of writing. Nothing came except the interrupting chirp of her phone.

She eased herself out of the chair and set the pencil and journal on the counter next to her computer as she walked back inside. The screen on her phone lit up with a number that was all too familiar: her agent.

For a moment, she held the phone in her hand, thinking she might just slide the ringer to silent and take a walk on the beach. Or better yet, she could throw the phone on the ground and stomp on it until it shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. Unfortunately, she knew that wouldn't solve her problems. Not answering would just mean within a few hours her agent would pull into the driveway in her fancy BMW—if not today, then tomorrow or the next day. Katie didn't have any options.

"Hello, Samantha," Katie said, drawing out her full name in annoyance.

"Please tell me you've got something."

Katie half-heartedly tried to lie. "I've got something, Sam."

"Oh, Katie," Sam said. "What am I going to do with you? You can't even lie well lately. At least embellish a little, make up the name of your next lead character or hint at some masterful plot you're still working out the details on."

Katie didn't respond.

"Still not writing, I take it?"

Katie let out a brief sigh as she stared back out towards the water. "Not a word."

"Katie, you know I love you. You're my little prodigy. And while I know you're only twenty-one, you're playing in the big leagues now. Your publisher is breathing down my neck— if you don't come up with something in the next month, they’re going to start requesting you return a portion, if not all, of the advance for this next book. I’ll keep trying to cover for you, but with the economy the way it is…well, you know.

Again Katie didn't say anything. She just nodded to herself, as if Sam were standing right in front of her with her fancy high heels and matching designer purse. Her agent’s career had taken off after Katie’s first couple of novels had made Katie the youngest woman on record with back-to-back bestsellers in the same calendar year.

"I don't mean to pry, but have you tried perhaps reading through some of your father's old work, to see if that might spark something?"

Katie reached down and picked up a dark brown book with a title scrawled in gold letters. It was her father's first anthology of poems—the first literary work ever published under his name. It had never gained much traction with the public, but the poems had long been one of the reasons Katie had become a writer. His words always filled her with hope, and she had wanted so badly to pass that same feeling on to others.

She ran her hands over the lettering of her father's name on the spine of the book. Over the past few months she must have read each poem ten times, especially one he wrote for her. 

Let the rain add to our tears

Until the day when all the pain has stopped

And we will say there was hope in every raindrop

To this day Katie would swear that her father was twice, even three times, the writer she was, but as a poet he never managed to find the success she had in fiction. 

"I haven't, but maybe I'll try," Katie lied, this time convincingly.

"I think you should. I think that may help you find your voice again."

Katie walked towards the bookshelf behind her couch and started to speak again, but Sam cut her off. "I'm sorry, hon, but I've got another call coming in that I have to take. I'll touch base with you in a week or so. We need to at least give them a sample to keep 'em busy. Remember, thirty days."

And with that Sam hung up.

Katie set her phone on the end table and pressed her father’s book back in its place on the shelf.

“How did I ever write a New York Times Best Seller?” she said out loud. Her own books stared back at her. The stories had always come so easily before.