Authors: Debra Kay
He nodded. “Communication is best. Let’s try to talk through problems if we encounter any.”
I thought the discussion was over, until Blake released a sarcastic laugh. “Ironically, I stood courageously in battle, but now I feel fear. I have decided it’s worth the possibility of hurt and disappointment to try to create a new relationship with you.” There was warmth in his voice as he continued. “It’s scary to open myself up to so much vulnerability, but you’re worth the risk. Even if, in the end, you hurt me twice, it will be better to have loved you twice than to have never loved you at all.”
I put my hand on Blake’s arm. “I feel thankful to have another chance,” I said.
A moment later, we pulled up to the resort. I breathed a sigh of relief. The hotel was nestled in a valley next to an enchanting lake—quite an idyllic setting. All around us, snow covered the landscape like a soft blanket. And beyond the lake, we saw soaring white-peaked mountains that provided the backdrop for this picture-perfect scene.
Blake pulled the car under the portico. “Let’s unload here and check in. Then I’ll park the car,” he said.
“Thanks, handsome.”
While unpacking, I began to feel that too-familiar stabbing pain in my side. I bent over, gasping for air. After a few seconds, I staggered around the car in an attempt to hide my sickness.
And just as quickly as it struck, the wave of suffering passed. My frustration was on maximum. I made a point of resting during our time apart. I wanted to have plenty of energy for this weekend. And I hoped to ward off any further episodes. The pain followed me anyway.
I glanced around the car at Blake and wondered if it was time to share my secret. Maintaining a facade of normalcy was becoming too much, since I had a secret growing inside me. But when should I tell him?
When Blake walked over to me, I sighed softly. If only we could share a future together. But I could feel the painful waves growing more intense every time. I knew the cancer was spreading in my body, like weeds taking over a garden. This weekend, I would pretend to be healthy. A mountain getaway was exactly what I needed.
And as if by magic, upon entering the hotel, I felt a sudden surge of energy—rejuvenation. Carrying my bag, Blake ushered me into the hotel.
After looking around the lodge, I said, “It’s lovely in here. What would you call this décor, rustic opulence?”
“You’re the artist. I’m going with your interpretation,” he said, smiling down at me.
I lifted up on my tiptoes to brush a kiss across his lips. “I’m so excited to be here with you.”
“Me, too. I can’t wait to get checked in and then check you out.” He winked and then glanced around the lobby.
While Blake went to the reservation desk, I looked around our homey surroundings. Next to the lobby was a sitting area that had oversized leather chairs and a matching leather sofa. Mixed in the seating area was an assortment of bulky wooden furniture and a pile of magazines. I plopped down in a chair that almost sucked me into the pillowy cushions, picked up the latest issue of
Cosmopolitan
magazine, and began flipping through the pages.
A few minutes later, Blake walked up and said, “Take your time and finish reading your magazine. I’ll deliver our bags to the room. Here’s your keycard for our room, 226. See you there.” I nodded, extended my hand, and reached for the key. I only glanced his way out of the corner of my eye, watched him grab my bag and my purse, and then continued reading my article on fall fashions.
About five minutes later, I snapped my magazine shut, tossed it on the coffee table, and began my search for the room.
Stepping out of the elevator, I saw a sign, rooms 200-225 to the left and rooms 227-250 to the right.
Well, that is odd.
What about room 226? Where was it? An uncomfortable sting pulsated through my nervous system. Maybe room 226 was a separate suite, perhaps around the corner? No. Only an alcove with an ice machine.
I strolled up and down the halls, floundering in disbelief, and continued looking for room 226. I searched the maze of rooms. And searched. In the silence of the corridor, I only heard the faint drumming sound from my beating heart. I could hear my pulse thumping in my ears. Two more laps around the second floor. Now the drums were beating furiously, whooshing through my head.
After wandering up and down breathlessly for several minutes, a woman with flowing red hair from housekeeping, pushed her cart into the hall. I almost grabbed hold of her cart as I exhaled. “Excuse me, miss, where’s room 226?”
The plump-faced housekeeper looked at me curiously. She hesitated and then said in what sounded like a French accent, “There’s no room 226 in this hotel. Is that the room you were told? Well, it doesn’t exist.”
My smile vanished. A visible shiver traveled through me. “Are you okay?” she asked. I must have looked like I was having a seizure. I nodded and walked away without even realizing what I was doing.
I know Blake said room 226.
In haste, I took my phone from my pocket.
I punched in Blake’s cell phone number and listened while it rang straight to voicemail, but I refused to leave a message. Maybe I could text him to verify the room number. I sent him a text while clutching my phone, and waited.
A few agonizing minutes passed. Nothing. No reply. As I walked the corridor, the walls began to feel as if they were closing in on me, constricting me, like a vise—closer, tighter.
I needed fresh air.
And then the unthinkable, the possibility of
revenge
occurred to me. How well did I really know him?
Had he become the kind of person who could scheme and lure me out on false pretenses? Could he really be angry enough to pretend he desired me and wanted to spend time together when in reality he set me up?
A shiver buzzed through me as if I stepped outside, in this frosty air. Did he lead me to believe we would be vacationing together and then leave? Would he do something so awful?
I sent another text and waited. Once again, no reply. I called Blake again. When his voicemail answered, I became alarmed. Adrenaline shot through my body
. Would he abandon me like an unwanted animal?
Am I chasing after Blake like I’m a lost puppy?
What should I do next?
Well, I couldn’t go to the car to look for him because he dropped me off. I had no idea where he parked. He took my purse. He had everything.
I stood lost in thought.
Maybe he had an elaborate plan of cruel vengeance all along. He did tell me he had been angry with me. Did he really do this? Did he just drop me off and go somewhere else or back home?
Foolishly, I let him take my purse. I trusted him. I thought we had so much fun on our last outing, or was that just a setup to reel me in further? Could he be so spiteful and cruel? Maybe our renewed happiness was all a smoke-screen, a well-laid out plan of revenge.
It worked, Blake. This hurts.
At last, I gave up on the idea of finding Blake or the missing room. I began searching for the front desk to get my answers. I shuffled across the corridor, my head down, becoming dizzy staring at the geometric patterns on the endless stretch of carpet. Around and around I went; I felt lost in a labyrinth.
With my mind in a fog, I was not sure if I could navigate my way to the front lobby, but somehow I stumbled upon it. I knew I looked pale when I finally reached my destination, leaned across the reservation desk, and with a fretful smile asked, “Where’s room 226?”
The young man at the front desk combed his nails through his stringy blond hair that hung almost to his shoulders and gave me a blank stare. His booming voice conveyed confidence well beyond his years and didn’t match his skateboarder appearance as he repeated what I had already been told. “Sorry, but there’s no room 226.” I cringed. Chills raced down my back.
I inspected the lobby as if searching for answers. He just watched me in silence. I avoided eye contact by rotating my head to look at his name tag. “Eddie, why do you have a resort with a missing room number?”
He shrugged.
I looked down at my tightly woven hands while I squeezed so hard it turned my fingers beet red. “If it were room 13, I might understand, but 226? This makes no sense,” I said.
“I agree. Not much our eccentric owner does makes sense, but this is his hotel, and he has an issue with the number 226.” He leaned forward. “Most people don’t notice it’s skipped, which is good because we don’t know the full story behind the missing number. But I do have to explain this scenario often enough that I feel frustrated,” he said in a ponderous tone.
“Whatever pleases the owner?” I sighed from this setback. “Will you look up my friend’s name and see if I have the correct room number?”
I gave him the name Blake Benton and Lila Baxter. He searched the computer screen and shook his head. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but those names are not in my computer or checked in to this resort.”
My stomach dropped like an elevator with the cable cut, careening out of control.
I rolled my eyes toward my eyebrows as if searching my brain for answers. I leaned in closer. “Are you sure that’s correct? Will you look again?”
Eddie would not meet my gaze when he answered, as if not wanting to witness my embarrassment and pain. “Sorry, ma’am; there’s no one checked in under those names.”
I automatically nodded at his response, because my mind had already left the conversation. It took a minute for my brain to put the mental puzzle pieces together and register what he had told me. Blake never checked in to the hotel! I stood frozen, baffled. This was mystifyingly unreal.
Absorbed in thought, I stepped away from the reservation desk. What was going on here? I believed we had a connection, but I thought wrong.
I walked outside and scanned the parking lot, looking for any sign of him. I did not see Blake’s Corvette anywhere. I began to pace nervously up and down the endless rows of cars. I searched and searched. Ten minutes passed, and still, I didn’t see Blake’s car anywhere.
My head began to throb as I fought off mental images of Blake laughing while he spun away—with my purse and my suitcase, too. Our getaway weekend had become a living nightmare.
I sat down on the curb, dropping my face into my hands, and cried. If our relationship hadn’t worked the first time, what made me think it was a good idea reuniting with him now? Was sexual attraction stronger than good judgment? And I thought that night on the beach meant something to him.
Stupid me. Sex is sex and never means commitment or anything else to a man. Women are so easily confused by a man’s touch.
Just because I easily could fall head over heels in love with him again, doesn’t mean he had fallen in love with me. I guess that weekend at the beach was just a fling for him. And this weekend was a joke. Well, I guess he got the last laugh. I must be a dreamer for believing it would work between us a second time around.
After hesitating, I wrote a text that read:
How long did you plan this one?
And hit send. Convinced that Blake had left, I started to send a hostile second text that read:
You just had to
be the one to leave me this time
.
Well, we are even. Did you plan this revenge all along?
With my finger hovering above the send button, my blood boiled.
I placed my finger on the button and hesitated. Should I press it? Shouldn’t I?
At that instant, a familiar voice called out my name. “Lila! What in the world are you doing outside?” I jumped, startled by Blake’s voice. I dropped my phone. My entire body lurched, and I spun around. I twisted around so quickly that I flipped backward and toppled over the curb.
After that awkward gymnastics routine, I tried to act nonchalant. I stood slowly, wiping the gravel from my clothes, and picked up my phone. I checked him out—up and down—to make sure it was actually Blake. I regained my footing and composure, but I was hurting.
So now I just stared at him, confused. I could see the questions in his eyes, and to my amazement, he gave me a concerned gaze. “Finally.” He tossed his hands in the air and elevated his voice. “Why didn’t you come to the room? I waited and waited and then started looking for you.”
My lower jaw dropped sharply, and my mouth looked like a giant
O
. W
hat the heck?
My stare questioned him, but I found no words for a response.
He continued speaking, with his voice sounding serious. “I was having trouble getting phone reception here in the mountains, so I walked the halls for an hour looking for you.” He paused, catching his breath. “Why were you just sitting outside on the curb? Is everything okay?”
I released a huge sigh of relief. Simultaneously, his words sank into my brain, and my heart filled with joy.
And when I finally regained my speech, the merriment in my voice was back. My words gushed out in a squeaky high-pitched tone. “I started to think you changed your mind about our weekend together, but I didn’t understand since we had a fabulous time on our last trip.” I laughed shakily and added, “Or so I thought.”
He looked at me perplexed. “Of course, I loved our last trip together.”
“I looked all over for room 226, but there’s no room 226 in this hotel.” Just saying those words out loud sounded amusing to me, now that Blake was here, standing in front of me.