To Honor (5 page)

My dearest Evelyn,

I wish I could tell you how sorry I am for what I have done. You have no reason to trust me ever again, and I understand that, but I hope you’ll give me a chance to right the wrongs I have committed. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life proving how sorry I am if you’ll allow me to.

Do you remember that lingerie photo you sent me on our first deployment? I still have that in my wallet. You are so beautiful and I will always love you.

With deepest regret,

Derek

Evelyn put the letter down, fighting the urge to succumb to the whirlwind of emotions that swirled inside of her like a tempest. Confusion dominated her mind, followed closely by anger, pain and fear. Hope tempered them all— a strange sense of hope that she didn’t understand.

Why, after what he’s done, do I still love him?

With a shake of her head, as if the action would help clear her thoughts, she stood and gathered her breakfast dishes. After depositing them in the nearest trash bin, she approached one of the nurses. “May I please have a paper and pen?”

* * * *

Derek’s feet pounded a steady tempo on the treadmill as he stared at the folded piece of notebook paper he’d sat on a nearby chair. He’d received the note when he’d stopped at the front desk to check on Evelyn after his session with Sherman. Instead of giving in to his immediate desire to read it, Derek had tucked it in his pocket and asked if the facilities had a gym.

Sweat trickled down his brow and he mopped it with a small hand towel that he’d snagged from his room before coming to work out. The mindless, physical activity gave him time to think, to sort through the dread and sickness that clenched his stomach. Derek feared opening that letter. More appropriately, he feared what message that letter might contain.

He knew he’d performed a great and terrible wrong on so many levels. Evelyn had every right to tell him to get lost, or worse. On the opposite side of the coin, she’d been his partner for years. Perhaps she knew he truly was sorry, that he regretted his actions, and that he meant it when he said he wanted to make amends.

Only one way to find out. Suck it up, Moore.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Derek reached out and pushed the stop button on the treadmill. He used the towel to dry his face, neck and hands while he walked with the cycles as the tread strip slowed, then finally, shut down. Surprise seized him when he realized he was shaking over the idea of reading the letter.

Come on, man. You’ve been in gunfire fights, parachuted off of moving planes and performed hand-to-hand combat with real enemies, but you’re scared of a letter. Real smooth.

The internal pep talk did little to stop the shaking or calm his nerves. When he reached the letter, he picked it up, holding it gingerly as if it were fragile. With slow, deliberate movements, he unfolded the piece of lined, notebook paper. It was written in bright red crayon that made it hard for Derek to recognize Evelyn’s personal handwriting, but there were still tell-tale signs he’d become familiar with over the years. The way her “r’s” were cursive while her “s’s” were in calligraphy. He took a moment to trace his name before reading the message.

Derek,

I don’t understand. If you truly loved me, you would never have cheated on me. You’ve made it clear that you don’t even like me. “I like you better than my wife.” Those are the words you told her, I saw them. They are etched in my mind, echoing like voices in a cavern. Constant whispers that remind me that no matter how much I loved you, how dedicated I was to you, that it meant nothing. In the end, I’m not even someone you can like, much less love.

If you are doing this out of guilt, please stop. I don’t want to die because my husband cheated on me and talked trash about me. I want to die because my best friend betrayed me on top of the pain I suffer over my baby being dead.

If you didn’t like me, you should have left me sooner. Before all the fertility treatments, the in vitro and the wreck. I wish you hadn’t waited to kick me while I was down. But then again, I have to thank you. You’ve gave me the strength to finish it. I suppose you rushing me to the emergency room was just one more cruel thing you could do to me.

Evelyn

Derek winced as he folded the paper up once more. Though he deserved every bit of her scathing remarks, the knowledge didn’t make them hurt any less. If anything, they added to the guilt that already pulled him apart inside. If only he could make her see, make her understand the truth behind his sorrow.

There was only one thing he could do, he realized. It was up to him to explain everything, even if it meant doing it, little by little through letters. He had to make his wife understand that he did love her, that he always would.

As he walked back to his room, he began composing the next letter he’d be sending to Evelyn in his head.

Chapter Six

Evelyn stared at the window, fighting the smile that threatened to curve her lips. One was not suppose to look amused when they were in trouble. She nodded at the lecture from her therapist while planning her next disorderly conduct.

“I’m not really sure I understand your reasoning.”

Evelyn blinked and refocused her attention on Dr. Williams. “Huh?”

The therapist steepled his fingers and rested his wrists on the edge of his desk. “I’d like you to explain to me what inspired you to do it.”

“She started it,” Evelyn protested. “She rearranged my things first.”

“Your roommate is highly OCD. I’m not defending her behavior, but I don’t see how her putting your side of the sink in a specific order is an attack on you. Nor do I believe your retaliation is conducive to her healing process.” Dr. Williams raised a brow.

Anger coursed through her until her fingers curled into the fabric of her jeans. Evelyn was sick and tired of being treated like she had a lesser intelligence simply because she was a patient here. Being in a mental health facility did not automatically make one stupid. “It was an attack on me, as you put it, because her actions depicted that she feels free to infringe on other’s personal property. This doesn’t surprise me considering you obviously cater to her behaviors. If you don’t teach her to curb them, she’s never going to be well enough to re-enter society.” Evelyn kept her tone tightly controlled, yet the words came out clipped. “If she didn’t like me rearranging her toothbrush, toothpaste and hand sanitizer on her side of the sink then maybe she'll sympathize with the reaction of the person next time she does it to someone else.”

“Now, now.” Dr. Williams lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “There’s no need to be so upset. You are also viewing this as an attack on you.”

“Isn’t it?” She tilted her head and studied him for a moment. “I’d think being sent up here to get my ass chewed over how I offended my roommate is an attack. I treated her the same way she treated me. Did she get lectured too? Likely not.”

“So you view your session here as a chastisement?”  Dr. William’s settled back in his chair, his face going neutral.

Evelyn narrowed her eyes at him, wishing looks could kill. “Why yes, now that you ask, I do. I think my whole stay here is a load of bull. I want to go home, and I want you to take your sessions and shove them up your merry derriere.”

“Let me ask you one question, Mrs. Moore.” The therapist leaned forward and steepled his fingers again. “Do you still want to kill yourself or do yourself harm?”

“No.” The lie slipped easily from her mouth while her stomach lurched. He was a trained professional and she feared he would see the truth despite her carefully masked features and brave tone.

The clock ticked on the mantel, punctuating the deafening silence between them. Evelyn met his gaze, keeping her own steady.
Believe it, believe it, believe it. C’mon you jerk, believe it.

Just when she was about to lose her temper, he reached across the desk and picked up his phone. “I think it’s time we change your routine here. I’m going to arrange some marital therapy, starting tomorrow, between you and your husband.”

“Wait, what?” The sick panic she’d experienced over lying seemed trivial to the rolling nausea that encompassed her now. See Derek? Tomorrow? She wasn’t ready for that. Granted, she looked forward to receiving his letters everyday now, but she didn’t think she could actually face him.

“Tomorrow morning you’ll be seeing a Dr. Sherman and begin working on your marital issues. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Meanwhile, I’m moving your roommate to different room so there will be less conflict.” Dr. Williams smiled at her as he sat the phone back in its cradle. “Our time is up. Have a nice day, Mrs. Moore.”

“I do not want to see Derek,” Evelyn protested.

The therapist began stacking files on his desk. “Well,” he replied, “as you so aptly put it; if I don’t make you face your husband, then I’m catering to your depression.”

Evelyn clenched her fingers until her hands ached. “You evil bastard,” she muttered. “Clever, but evil.”

Without another word she rose, walked to the door and slammed it behind her.

* * * *

Derek stared at his hands as he sat in Dr. Sherman’s office. Turmoil and apprehension were his constant companion these days. Each morning he gave the nurse at the receptionist desk a new letter for his wife. After his daily appointments with Sherman, he’d check with the desk and find a reply. Opening the replies were like spinning a wheel on a game show. He never knew, from letter to letter, how Eva’s mood would be.

Some days her replies were simply heart-wrenching. “What did I do wrong?” she would ask. Derek’s assurance of “nothing” never satisfied her. He shouldered the blame completely for what happened, and yet she bounced back and forth between raging and him, and what appeared to be a quiet acceptance that she deserved this. Those letters hurt him the most.

Dr. Sherman hung up the phone he’d been speaking on and smiled at Derek. “Good news. Dr. Williams believes it is time to start the marital counseling. Your first session will be with me, tomorrow morning.”

Various emotions surfaced, and Derek fought to sort through them all. It had been a week since he’d seen his wife. The memory of her, lying in a bed as he begged her to stay alive, haunted his nightmares. He reached a hand up and grasped the dog tags that hung from his neck. Beside them, also within his palm, were two rings he never thought he’d be in charge of keeping. Two rings that no man should have to wear as the brand of their guilty deeds. His only hope was to see those rings, shining and beautiful, once more on the hand of his wife.

“Where will I even begin?” He voiced the words in a mere whisper, afraid that if he spoke them loudly, the world would know the cowardice he felt right now.

Sherman offered him an encouraging smile. “You will begin with yourself. The sick cannot effectively heal the dying, nor can the wounded mend the broken.”

Derek tried to suppress the quirk of his lips at the advice. “And here I thought you’d say ‘start at the beginning.’”

“Do you know where the beginning is?”

He paused as he thought about the therapist’s question. When had he an Evelyn fallen apart? Derek knew the affair and asking for a divorce was the breaking point, but when had they started to truly go downhill? “I’m not sure,” he admitted after a moment.