JOHN

The kids were having a blast and so was Terry. I could tell he needed this more than he’d admit. Time with his godsons, time to just … be. He doesn’t get a whole lot of that. Just ‘being’ has no place in his real life. So, I figured, what the hell? The weather was holding beautifully and who would it hurt if we stuck around a while?

But starting our third week in the perfect, rustic cabin at the foot of beautiful Alaskan mountains and near a pond, I noticed just maybe we were missed back home when a mailman showed up at the door with three letters. Letters from home.

Home.

I sat in front of the fireplace, the kids tucked tight in bed and Terry just vegging out with a book. A book? It’s not like you’d think he couldn’t read or anything, I just never actually saw him do it. He looked stupidly content. I chuckled and readied to read the mail.

The first letter came from Kim – nothing special, just a report on the simple things at the Inn. Reading it made me a little homesick, but it seemed Wigand had things running smoothly, even if Kim wasn’t thrilled with the new management. Needless to say, Jeff would be a whole lot harder to pull one over on than Riley.

Heartsick. That ache. God, I miss Riley. I chose to hit the sack and read the other letters tomorrow. Not like there was any emergency. I just wanted some quiet time to think, remember, maybe sleep and dream.

NATALIE

It was the little things at first. You know, those things that in the beginning were nothing, just stuff you let roll off your back. Stuff of no consequence like his snoring, the way he mixed up his clichés, his loud bombastic laugh. Stuff that now gets under your skin and makes it crawl. Stuff you can’t ignore anymore, no matter how hard you try. And so you argue and nag when in the past there was peace.

I never thought it would come to this. Once upon a time, I used to look at him and see nothing but a hero, the man who brought me back to the living. He was my life, my world, my reason to get up in the morning and live.

I don’t look at him like that anymore.

And I wonder what happened. We were the proof of the power of love, that it could heal broken hearts, save broken souls. I remember those days on the Surprise right after we were married. It was like the scene out of Titanic; the two of us standing at the rails, wrapped around each other and seeing our future in each other’s eyes. We were the fairytale, the happily ever after. We were once, way back in the beginning, before his going way to sea, before the stalker … before the death of our daughter.

I guess the fairytale was a lie.

When did the change happen? Well, I’m not really sure. I didn’t wake up one morning and decide, “Hey, today my marriage is in trouble.” Instead, we just started talking less and assuming more. Taking each other for granted. I guess if I had to pinpoint a specific time or place, it would be the death of Catherine. Our beautiful, happy daughter. Some days, I’m still surprised to walk into Chelsea’s room and find only one bed, only one daughter instead of two. There’s a hole in my heart that will never be filled.

I don’t blame Jack for what happened. Really, I don’t. Seriously. But, there’s that tiny little nagging part of my brain that repeats the same message. If only he’d stayed home and hadn’t gone to sea. If only he didn’t have that psycho in his class. If only he didn’t teach school in the first place. If only he wasn’t at the Inn when I came home from the hospital. If only I didn’t … If only.

So, we continued in our stupor, sleepwalking through our days and nights, playing at being the perfect couple. Hell, we were so lost that even our respective infidelities didn’t wake us up. You know what finally did the trick? At least for me? Riley’s death.

She was my best friend. My confidant. We were close from the first time we met, way back in those “sharing” days. And we’d been through a lot, knew each other’s secrets. We knew the skeletons in each other’s closets by name. And now she’s gone, and that’s another hole in my heart.

And with her passing I realized that things just couldn’t continue on like they had. Jack and I didn’t talk. Oh, we’d chat about mundane, routine stuff, but it had been a long, long time since we really reached out to each other. And physically, well, that was routine, too. We were treating our marriage, and our lives, like we were doing the right thing rather than what really mattered to us. What people expected instead of what made us happy. And I knew it couldn’t go on. We had to make a change. I suggested to Jack that we see Siggie. That maybe going through couples counseling would help us. That we could wake up.

Jack saw it differently. It’s not that he doesn’t respect what Siggie does. He has the highest regard for all doctors, especially what he calls doctors of the mind. And, he knows how much Siggie helped me in those dark days after my suicide attempt. But, he doesn’t think that there’s anything wrong with us that a brisk walk, or a good time at sea, won’t cure. So he refused to see Siggie with me and I went alone.

When I first walked in and sat down. I was a bit shamefaced. Siggie had warned me so long ago that I was rushing things. I had only been out of the hospital a few months, and it was too soon to think about a relationship, much less getting married. But I was so certain that this was right. That Jack and I were right and we’d prove to be the exception. And I fully expected a bit of an “I told you so,” from Siggie.

But that’s not what I got. Instead, I got an understanding heart and some very pointed questions.

“What do you think happened, Natalie? Did Jack change?”

“Um … no. He didn’t. He’s been the same throughout.”

“Then who changed?”

“Um … I guess I did.”

Siggie pointed out my assumptions, both true and false. He drove through my confusion and self-doubt to expose my guilt. I was the one who changed, the criminal who was unhappy in her marriage, who dared to want more.

And it was Siggie that asked the two questions that I was too afraid to ask myself.

“Is your marriage salvageable, Natalie? Do you want to save it?”

I sat and stared at the floor. Did I want to save it? And for the first time I realized I had a choice. This crisis wasn’t just little habits that irritated, but a more serious, deeper problem. Me.

All my life I’d been searching for that one person to make me whole, to fill in the missing parts of me. First, I thought that someone was Colin, but that was definitely a mistake. Instead of saving me, I felt like his nanny most of the time … “do this,” “don’t do that.” I felt like the only adult, the only one who thought and planned and saved. Colin was a dreamer, and he dreamed big. He was not the one, the hero I so needed, and that broke my heart. And I felt so lost, isolated and helpless that I slit my wrists thinking it was the only way out of my pain.

And then Jack came along right at the most perfect time. He really was a hero and he was mine. I never felt anything for anyone like I felt for him. I loved him completely and totally, so much so that his passions became mine. I gave up photography, Art Nouveau, motorcycles, and rock and roll for painting, Neoclassicism, minivans and Mozart. I lost myself in him.

If I could have stayed that way, starry-eyed and naïve, it might have worked. If we could have continued our love affair without actually living with each other, he could have stayed that hero I so craved and needed. Or thought I needed. Instead, we married and in time, the hero vanished. In his place was a human man, the man who was always there and I refused to see. The man who snores, makes bad puns, laughs too loudly. The man who makes mistakes.

And in the end, I discovered that the only person who could complete me is me. I can’t expect someone else to fill the cracks in my soul. Only I can do that. And so, do I think I can save my marriage? My answer could only be no.

Jack did not take the news well. We had a terrible fight, worse than we’ve ever had. His voice raised, his face red.

“You are my wife! ‘Til death do us part! You took the vow, now you must keep it.”

“But, Jack, please understand. I can’t, I just can’t keep this up.” I begged for him to comprehend. And honestly, how could he? He never pretended to be the hero. He was only himself, someone I promised to love and cherish. And now I was breaking my promise.

He refused to leave the house, but moved to the guest bedroom. I suppose he thought he could change my mind, and he did try. Brought me flowers, tried to woo me like he did back in the beginning. But it’s too late for flowers and soft words. And in the end, separation was the only solution.

Chelsea, who’s nearly three, doesn’t understand. She knows Mommy and Daddy are upset and sad, and she tries to cheer us up. But, as long as Jack is still in the house, to her it seems like we’re still together. Eddie, though, is a completely different story. Poor kid, been through so much turmoil in his life and now I’m adding more. He’s withdrawn, sullen, and I think he blames me for the breakup. And rightly so. Jack is angry and it breaks my heart to know that I’m causing him and my children so much pain. But, selfish though it may be, I just couldn’t continue living a fairytale I didn’t believe in anymore.

So, Jack is indulging in his own form of therapy. He bought a schooner and gathered a small crew to take an extended sail. He even convinced Stephen to take a leave of absence from the Naval Hospital to join him. Tomorrow he’s headed to Cape May to prepare for the voyage, then to the Caribbean and South America. Maybe even go around the tip of the continent and perhaps sail as far as the Galapagos. Maybe retracing the path from his movie will help heal his heart. I know that if salt air and ocean waves could heal anyone, it would be Jack and I wish him well.

Of course, we had to work out the breakup of our estate. For the most part, we settled everything amicably. Since neither Jack nor I wanted to stay at the stables, East has finally agreed to buy the property. It was the perfect solution and we urged him to take our offer, but he didn’t want to. Felt it wasn’t right. He believed Jack and I would fix things and want to live together again in this big, old place. He believed it right up until this morning when Jack and I signed our divorce papers.

So, it’s almost midnight. Eddie and Chelsea are both in bed asleep, and I’m wide awake. Sitting at a dark kitchen table smoking a cigarette. And I worry about them … the life they knew is gone. I want to assure them that Jack and I still love them, that whatever is happening between us doesn’t affect them. But I know that’s not true. It does affect them and I can feel my forehead contort with worry as I look around the dark room seeing the indistinct shapes of boxes stacked neatly. Most of them are going to storage. Eddie, Chelsea and I will be moving to the Inn tomorrow and from there I will decide what to do, where to go, the next step to take.

I will decide. This time there is no savior, no hero but me.

The moon is passing behind clouds and the shadows are looming as the kitchen gets darker. The only light is the orange glow from the end of the cigarette. It’s almost gone now, burned practically to the filter and I stub it out in an old saucer, then make my way upstairs to bed and a long, sleepless night.

JOHN

Breakfast and the kids are gearing up for a game of footie with Terry after they clean their room. Time to get back to the mail.

Letter number two was strange. I never expected to hear from Tracy Wade and for a moment I worried that something happened to Ben. The mayor might need to get his sorry ass home if the sheriff had a problem he couldn’t handle himself, ay? But instead it was just a bit about this and that. She said everyone at the last town meeting asked about me, if I was ever coming back. Well hell, of course I was coming home … eventually.

She said old lady Martin actually stood up and spoke that night. Elvira Martin is ninety if she’s a day and shy as a newborn calf. I couldn’t believe it. The woman said something that actually wrenched my heart.

“I feel like we not only lost Riley Biebe, but John too.”

Ouch.

Then Tracy mentioned a few miner crimes Ben had handled and finally babbled about how she and Natalie had become friends. Well actually, she said that Natalie was spending a lot of time visiting with the kids in the evenings. That Nat was seen all over town a lot. Her guess was that something was up. Women. Gossip. In one word … Tracy. I discounted her comments and opened Jeff Wigand’s letter.

It was a long one, making what looked like a full report on the Inn’s inner and outer workings. He mentioned that the gardener needed to hire help to get the grounds prepared for winter, then he went through the finances. Seems we had a good fall, always nice to hear since no one really knows when ski season will kick in or for how long it would last. Nice to know we were flush. Then of course, he recounted the reservations. Not bad. Already at sixty percent capacity over November, December and January. A hundred percent over Valentine’s Day week, as usual. Jeff kindly didn’t mention what I already knew. March and April were most likely dry as a desert.

He mentioned the kitchen and a few staff changes under Chef’s Chris and Andy. Pricing restructure on the menu for winter. And of course, he mentioned Kim’s obvious dislike of his tight reign.

When you’re back, John, I can lighten up on him. I’m only trying to keep this ship afloat while you’re out of town.

Speaking of ships, he then went off on a tangent I was surprised to see.

John, I think you may want to know what has happened here. It seems things have gone seriously wrong in the Aubrey house.

I braced myself. Poor Nat and Jack have had so much heartache.

Here are the facts. Unfortunately since before the funeral, there have been problems. This afternoon I learned that Jack and Natalie have filed for divorce. Natalie has sold the house and stables, including the stock to East, and although he had offered her the hospitality of the big farmhouse, she’s chosen not to remain. Jack is off to sea.

Now you have three (hopefully) long time guests here at the Inn. I offered Natalie and the children the suite in the left tower. It seemed enough room for them to be comfortable until Natalie makes a few decisions.

I must warn you, John. She may leave Vermont with young Eddie and Chelsea. She has made no solid decisions for her future and I am worried for her. Having her under the Inn’s roof seemed secure for her as well as close enough for us all to show our love and support.

I’m hoping all is well with you, Terry and the boys. Know you are sorely missed here. Let us know how you all are doing.