Monochrome (35 page)

He shook his arm from her grasp. “I belong here.”

Abigail felt the weight and seriousness of his words. “You aren’t a part of this place. I don’t believe it no matter what
he
said. You don’t have to stay here.”

A tear escaped Ishmael’s control. “Then I
choose
to.”

Abigail shook her head. She couldn’t just leave him here. She loved him, not like she loved Jason, but she loved him. If she left, he would fade into this terrible world, alone, never knowing he was her ray of light during her darkest hours.

Abigail glanced furtively back at her garden and noticed it dimming. The thorn bush was climbing back into place, its steely needles taking over. She looked at her hands and was terrified to see their luster fading. With sudden clarity, she knew just who she was. She was a wife. She was a child. She was a sister. She was a mother.

Ishmael grabbed her hand. “You have to go now, Abby. Don’t stay here trying to change my mind when it’s made up. Your home is waiting, and it’s beautiful.” His voice broke, but it was earnest.

“Ishmael, you said you would come. You can’t break your word. You promised not to hurt me again.” She leaned towards him, imploring.

Ishmael’s eyes were stony as he answered. “What? And be a fourth wheel? An accessory? You broke your promise, first. You said you’d go home without me if I got caught, when you didn’t intend to. Because you cared about me enough to tell me what I needed to hear at the time.”

His eyes stayed hard. “I want to have you around, Abigail, but I can’t have that there. I’m not going with you to watch your happiness from the outside. It’s not fair to me, to you, or to your family. I’m sorry. I told you what I did to keep you going. Because I care, too.”

He dropped his eyes and backed away from the arch. She felt heavy and tired. She checked behind her and noticed her garden was almost invisible behind the sharp thorn bushes. She spun around and held her hands out to Ishmael, who took them. In the fading light, he almost merged with the blue scenery of Monochrome. If she waited until full night, she might not even be able to tell him apart from his surroundings. How many breaks can a soul withstand before it fades away?

Her breathing shaky and her heart labored, she spoke the only words she knew might convey the enormity of the loss she felt.

“A thousand suns will stream on thee,

A thousand moons will quiver;

But not by thee my steps shall be,

For ever and for ever.”

To his credit, Ishmael grinned tearfully at her choice of farewell. Abigail pulled him in for a hug, treasuring the feel of his rough cheek against hers, hoping the memory of his touch would heal, not haunt, her. He shifted his head towards her, meeting her lips in that brush of ritual, reminding her he could’ve been the happiness in one of her lives.

She pulled away from his embrace, still clinging to his hand as she ducked across the border. She released golden memories into his fingertips, as she let his hand drop. His eyes lost focus, but he remained standing, watching two of his favorite memories play in his head.

She smiled while her heart broke, her black eyes full of goodbye. The joy in his face was enough to make her step over the border. Maybe he would find his way home with the right inspiration. “Goodbye, Ishmael.”

His mouth moved in a goodbye Abigail did not hear as she squeezed through the shrinking opening in the brambles.

“To her may all things live, from pole to pole,

Their life the eddying of her living soul!

O simple spirit, guided from above,

Dear Lady! friend devoutest of my choice,

Thus mayest thou ever, evermore rejoice.”

As Abigail crossed, her stolen and lost memories followed her. The only two that remained were the two she willingly gave. As the memories seeped into her, her eyes lost their black stain and shone a brilliant hazel-green. Dark blue memories left her body, replaced by those she thought were lost forever. Abigail stepped into her garden, but couldn’t remember how she got there. Wasn’t she just inside with Ruby?

Jason sat on the porch watching the horizon, with Ruby on his lap. He rose as she walked towards them. Ruby’s tiny arms reached for her mother, her small words rang through the air. “Mama!” Jason met her eyes and a flurry of feelings passed over his countenance: anger, fear, concern, but mostly…love. Why did he love her?

Abigail walked to him, laid her head on his chest and whispered, “Forgive me.”

She reached out for Ruby, who jumped into her arms as if she hadn’t seen her in a lifetime. She snuggled her head into Abigail’s neck. Unconditional. It took an infant to teach her the meaning of that word.

She realized with sober clarity she acted terribly to both of the people she loved most in the world. She was cold and distant, drinking too much and relating too little.

Tears brimmed and ran over, a flood of regret. Jason breathed a broken sigh and kissed her head. “I thought you were dead.”

His voice trembled with fear and anger. He held her at arm’s length and his voice was angry. “You left her
alone
. You left us.”

Abigail gazed into his dark eyes, confused. How long did she leave the house? Her mouth quivered. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t remember going. I remember passing out. That’s all.”

Jason’s eyes were calculating the strength of her story, weighing them to find their truth. She understood why he did so, but it still hurt her, since, for the first time in a long time, everything she said rang of truth.

She wiped tears from her cheek. “I love you both so much, but I need help. I don’t know what happened or where I’ve been. But I do know how I’ve been to you. How I’ve been feeling. It’s not right, none of it. I’m sorry.”

Jason’s stern gaze broke and she was surprised to find pure relief in his eyes. His gaze softened further when he noticed how beat up she was. “What happened to you?”

Abigail scrutinized her hands, dirty and scratched. She felt her tangled, wet hair. She looked him fully in the eyes and didn’t lie when she said, “I can’t remember. But it woke me up.”

He stared at her in alarm and took her hand in his. “Let’s get you cleaned up. We’re going to have to talk more about this later.” His voice was full of a mixture of emotions, and Abigail still couldn’t understand why the most prominent was love.

Ruby made happy sounds and grabbed her mother’s curls with chubby hands. Abigail beamed at her little green-eyed, cherub face.

An ache overcame her, and she realized for however long she’d been gone, she missed her baby more than anything. She kissed Ruby’s tiny hand, and buried her nose in her fat neck. She took in her daughter’s scent like it was a life-giving breath. Ruby cooed and drooled. Jason didn’t forgive her yet, and maybe he never would, but Ruby was all innocence and happy forgetfulness. She had a chance with her daughter, no matter what. She could start clean there.

Jason walked his wife back into the house she’d abandoned three days ago, his hand on the small of her back, his face distrustful but worried. She didn’t know what happened to her, but she felt, somehow, her burdens were lifted. She sent a silent prayer thanking God for such a beautiful daughter and such a patient husband. She promised Him to work her whole life to be worthy of such gifts.

ABIGAIL TICKLED
RUBY
and chuckled to hear her chime-laugh. She was distracted from her play by an interesting story on the news. She adjusted Ruby on her lap and watched the story with an inexplicable fascination.

The news anchor tried on a fake, syrupy voice. She shot a frozen news reporter smile at the camera. “In happier news, two missing persons were found just outside of Des Moines, Iowa. Police are stumped as to how the two cases came together. Katie Mae Sorenson and Jordan DeBois were found walking together just outside of Des Moines city limits, disoriented but otherwise unhurt.”

She leaned in to view the pictures of the two missing persons, and had the strangest feeling she knew the man from somewhere. She couldn’t imagine where from, though. She watched the news report with growing interest.

The anchor continued, “The missing man and woman are indeed familiar with one another, but went missing three years apart. Police have questioned them, but neither of them can remember being gone. Doctors and psychologists are being consulted in both cases. Despite the strange circumstances, however, both of the found persons are healthy and relieved to be home.”

The footage of the anchor broke into a short interview with the man. His smiling face appeared a bit puzzled when the interviewer questioned him about the missing girl he had under one arm. “I don’t know how we found each other, but I think I can speak for both of us when I say we’re very glad to be back.” He kissed the young woman with beautiful shoulder-length auburn hair and matching eyes.

Abigail couldn’t take her eyes off of the young man. She paused the screen to look more closely at him. He was wearing a worn wool hat. She noticed a small pin attached just above the brim. Something teased and tugged at her brain. The man wore a familiar scarf around his neck, but she was being silly. Thousands of people owned grey knit scarves with fringe. Though she
was
having the hardest time finding hers.

She pushed the play button, and the young man, his arm still around the woman, smiled and turned from the camera. Abigail rewound the newscast and paused the camera on his face. His eyes were a playful brown-green, but an image of the man with black irises kept nagging at her. She rewound the newscast and watched the reel several times. As ridiculous as it sounded, she couldn’t shake the thought that the man the newscaster referred to as Jordan preferred to be called Ishmael.

I owe a great deal to the fans, friends, family and fellow authors who were early readers and supporters of my book. Your enthusiasm for my world, for my characters, your belief in them, and your desire to promote them when I unsure, made this possible. I thank you for investing your time and money into my creation. A special thanks to my
Monochrome
online launch team, who helped me make the big “release” decisions, and offered helpful advice and support.

Alesha Escobar, Dennis Larsen, Elle Jacklee, A.C. Fuller, Jean Sheldon, Austin Scott Collins, Devorah Fox and all my fellow authors who took time to offer insight, blurbs, honest reviews and feedback: you all rock so hard. Having such a strong support system of colleagues makes this authoring deal a lot easier. It’s nice to be surrounded by such talent, and I am humbled by your support and enthusiasm.

A huge shout out to my Gravity by Booktrope team: Annelle (my lady knight of book managing) Carolynn, Yosbe (could you be any more talented, mi hermosa artista?), Allie, Tia, Jennifer, Wendy, Katherine, Adam, Jesse, and Rachel. Your insight, suggestions, and creativity have made my “good” book much better. You add the behind-the-scenes pizazz to my work. Thank you.

To the librarians and library assistants at the PGST branch of the KRL system (especially David, who read my book and offered wonderful feedback and Tomi who made it a part of the KRL home), thank you for supporting local talent, for believing in me and for helping spread the word. Librarians are the best.

To those suffering from depression: Hang in there. You are loved. There is beauty in life. I understand what it’s like to feel like an empty, useless shell. Your life has purpose. If today feels hollow, I’m sorry. I believe every day offers hope, but I know that it’s hard to see when you’re in it. I am here because I believed in joy, not happiness. Every day has a joy that we can discover, even in our darkest moments.

To my children and my husband: You are behind everything I do. Your unconditional love, even when I’m half-tuned in, makes my every day precious. You are my best memories and my favorite beings.

To God. I have a wonderful life. I know I often get in my own way, but You are my underlying hope and joy.

Arnold, Matthew. “Consolation.”
Poetry Foundation.
Poetry Foundation.org, 2012. Web. 7 July 2012.

Behn, Aphra. “On Her Loving Two Equally.”
Poetry Archive.
Poetry-Archive.com, 2002. Web. 7 July 2012.

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor. “Constancy to an Ideal Object.”
Poetry Foundation.
Poetry Foundation.org, 2012. Web. 7 July 2012.

—. “Dejection: An Ode.”
Poetry Foundation.
Poetry Foundation.org, 2012. Web. 7 July 2012.

Lord Tennyson, Alfred. “A Farewell.”
The Literature Network.
Online-literature.com, 2012. Web. 7 July 2012.

—. “Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere.”
Bartleby.com.
Bartleby.com, 2012. Web. 7 July. 2012.

Wordsworth, William. “A Complaint.”
Poetry Foundation.
Poetry Foundation.org, 2012. Web. 7 July 2012.

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