Brian and Christine
"She said that?”
“Yes. I’m sorry Brian.”
Brian felt a stark, bright, bare, light bulb shining on all the accumulated futilities of his life. How often can a heart be broken? Six simple words spoken into his open pit of yearning. “She doesn’t want to see you.” She came back to be with me in that terrible fog. She said “Brian, please don’t leave me here.” She waited for me to come out of the doctor’s office instead of going off with Frank. She came to me for comfort after her nightmare. She walked with me down the streets of Buffalo Gap. She came to see me after my surgery. She has been with me almost every day since I dug her out of the snow. We faced terror, pain and death together.
And we made it. She has been the sweetest, brightest dawning of joy in my life, the child I never had, the “amazing youngster” who I have felt is a gift from heaven. And after just a few days at Saint Jane’s she doesn’t want to see me.
“Did she say why?” asked Brian.
“What could it be? What have I done to her?”
“I think that whatever has been done to her, you didn’t do it.”
“But then why?”
“I don’t know Brian, but when Ms. Foster lets me I will go there and try to find out.”
“Well,” Brian said with a sob in his throat “I guess I shouldn’t be expecting any phone calls.”
“I guess not” said Wendy. “I’m sorry.”
“Brian, I have to go back to my place. I’ll be in court all day tomorrow and I have to prepare for it.”
“Are you going to be all right?”
“No, I’m not all right, but I’ll survive. I’ll just sit here and wait.”
“Have a drink. Have a swim. Do a little work. I’ll call you tomorrow, first chance I get.”
They kissed. She left.
Now Brain was facing dark days. He saw that by making Christy go of to that place on her own he not only hurt her, he also hurt himself. His back was against a wall and there was nothing to do but wait and try not to feel sorry for himself. He felt useless, powerless. He didn’t know what to do now. There was nothing he could do. He was lost in a fog.
(To be continued.)