Within a Man's Heart (11 page)

Much as I didn’t like it, I watched Gina and listened closely as she taught me how to mix fuel with oil and then operate the thing. I also paid close attention when she showed me how to sharpen its chain, and the blade of my axe. I must say, I was pretty proud of myself. I caught on
in no time at all. Gina had brought along her own saw, too; and before I knew it, both of us clad in protective glasses and leather gloves, we were buzzing away at two fallen trees. And I was darn glad we were. I wanted to get the job over with. I
needed
to finally tell her what I had to. For far too long, the anticipation and dread had been eating away at my insides. I was at the point where I couldn’t wait a single minute longer than I had to.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long to saw the tree trunks into smaller, more manageable sections. All we had left to do was split them and stack the smaller pieces next to the back porch. We killed our saws and before going around to the front of the cabin to put hers back in her truck, Gina said, “Don’t even think about swinging that axe until I get back, Chris. I’ll just be a minute.
”

Then, as she walked away
dusting wood shavings off her shirt, I thought,
I don’t think so. It’s
bad enough having to have a woman teach me how to do all this stuff, but splitting wood . . . that’s not going to happen. It’s a manly thing. I might be a lot of things, but I’m no wuss. I’ll show her what I can do. I’ll split this thing with one swing. Here . . . I’ll stand this piece of wood on top of this other one.

Once I did that, I waited until I could see in my periphery Gina walking back up the driveway. When I did I
thought,
Okay, here she comes!

I raised the axe over my head, reared it back, way, way back then yanked it down with everything I had. And I missed. Not completely, but I only nicked the bark. The axe cut right through it and, with tremendous force, kept on coming down. Sharp as a butcher’s cleaver it was homing in on my right foot.

“OH NO!” Gina yelled when the blade sliced right into the soft toe of my sneaker. “I just sharpened that thing! Are you okay!”

“I don’t know,” I answered in a doubtful and concerned tone, as she came running up to me. “That blade’s a good inch inside the rubber.”

“Damn it, Chris! I told you to wait until I came back! You’re supposed to stand with your feet
apart
when you swing an axe . . . for just this reason. Here, let’s take a look.” she said, squatting down, beginning to untie my shoe.

“I don’t feel anything.” I said.

“Sharp as that thing is, you wouldn’t.”

Now I did feel like a wuss. Just like the all-thumbs, incompetent city slicker I was. And Gina didn’t do much to diminish that feeling of inadequacy.

Shaking her head as she grabbed the sneaker and pulled it off, she said, “Christian Crews, you are some kind of city boy.”

“Thanks a lot!” I shot back as I lowered my butt onto the grass.

“Well, would you look at this?” she said. “It cut right into your sock, but there’s not a bit of blood on it. I can’t believe it. Take it off.”

I did, and neither of us could believe what we saw. The blade had slid right between my big and second toes. It didn’t do a bit of damage. It obviously had stopped just before slicing into the flesh between my toes.

“Wow, would look at that!” Gina said. “Not a scratch on you. No pun intended, but that’s what I’d call a stroke of luck.”

“Cute, Gina, real cute!”

With her knees still to the grass, she then lifted her eyes to mine. We studied each other for a silent moment and, suddenly, I felt closer to her than I ever had before. I knew that the fond look on her face had originated in her heart, and that she, too, was feeling our bond intensify.

Slowly, she then leaned toward me. And as she did, she put her hands around the back of my head, gently easing my head toward her, burying my face in her lo
vely breasts. “I love you.” she said, “I really, really do.”

I wanted so badly to reciprocate. I wanted to tell her I loved her
, too, and that I was sorry for keeping that distance between us all summer. I wanted her to know that since I met her the sky had become bluer, the grass greener, and the hope that I could give my love again had come back to life. Yes, I wanted to open up to her. But I couldn’t. That part of me that wouldn’t allow me to move forward with my life still wouldn’t. Oh, how I wanted to blow that heartless dam apart and let my true emotions flow. But it seemed impossible, so I said nothing.

Gina loosened her grip on me and leaned back just a bit. There was disappointment in her eyes, but the love she felt was still there as well. Then, as our gaze lingered for another quiet moment, something very unexpected happened. I suddenly felt a warm feeling in my lower abdomen. It was a pulling sensation as well, and it began to spread. Four years had passed since I’d felt it, yet it still seemed very familiar. And even that stubborn side of me couldn’t beat it back.

Then Gina’s beautiful face, framed like a museum masterpiece by her long flowing hair, floated slowly toward mine. The closer it got, the more that warmth inside began to spread. Our lips met and so did our tongues. With her arms still around me, she then pulled her soft breast against mine. She held me tighter yet, and I put my arms around her.

The warmth inside me was now a raging fire. The entire world stood still. Nothing existed but the two of us. No longer was the cloudless sky overhead. The cabin and woods were gone. If a chickadee chirped or a squirrel chattered neither of us heard. Had the fragrance from the lilacs alongside the porch wafted our way we wouldn’t have smelled it. As our tongues danced and slid along each other’s the only things registering in
my
mind were Gina’s soft moans.

She wanted to lie on the grass, so I complied, gently lowering her back. With both our chests heaving now, I slipped my hand between them, to undo her blouse. But then something else happened. As I fumbled with her top button
, everything suddenly went all to hell. I let the small round piece of plastic fall from my fingertips, opened my eyes, and slowly lifted my head up. Gina continued to lie there, perfectly still, looking up at me.

I said nothing at first, but she could clearly see the sorrow in my eyes. There were apologies in them
, too, and Gina knew it. After I straightened up, I softly stroked the hair away from her eyes. Once I did, she sat up also.

“Who is she, Chris? Who’s the woman you left back in New York? I think maybe you should go back to her.”

Rotating my head, I said, “I can’t go back to her. She’s gone.”

“Gone where? Did she move away
, too?”

“No
. . . she’s still there, in a sense. She’s buried there . . . in a Long Island cemetery.”

“Oh no
. . . I am so, so sorry,” she said, resting her hand on my shoulder now, “What happened? Is it something you want to talk about?”

I didn’t answer right away. I dropped my eyes to the grass between us. Gently, I pulled my thumb and forefinger over a single green blade a few times before looking back up at her.

“Her name was Elyse.” I said, lifting my head, “She was my wife. We were married twelve years. She’s been gone for four now. Brain tumor. She had a God-damned brain tumor and was only thirty-five when I buried her.”

Neither of us said anything. Gina’s hand was still resting on my shoulder. As she started to stroke the side of it, I just sat there, studying her sympathetic look. Her eyes were pulled tight
and narrow, and it had nothing to do with the late afternoon sunlight that was shining on her face. It wasn’t the reason small furrows were rippling her forehead either. Her lips had tightened, too; and they were pulled back into a slight grimace, as if
she
were the one enduring my pain.

Then, at that very moment, something happened. I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t hear it. But I certainly could feel it. It drifted silently into my heart like a fulfilled omen. Right then and there I realized that I would no longer want to go on living without Gina Elkin. I deeply wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. There was no longer any denying it. But as I looked into her gray eyes during this quiet moment, I still didn’t know if I could tell her. Yes, Elyse was gone, but she would always be with me. It had been difficult enough leaving a part of her back in my New York apartment. I very well may never
have
left had I not seen that dog-eared page in
Travels with Charlie
and the traced route in the road atlas.
No
, I thought now,
I still don’t think I can tell her I love her. Shit! I just can’t do it!

But then something else happened. With my eyes still locked on Gina’s, I noticed something in my periphery. It was a movement—a small blue movement. It came from a freestanding blueberry bush, maybe fifteen feet to the side of us. Gina saw it
, too; and together we rolled our eyes toward it.

A bird had lighted in the bush—a beautiful, deep blue Indigo Bunting. And the magnificent bird was looking
straight at
me
. Then, without budging its dark glossy eye, it started singing in high strident notes.
Sweet-sweet, chew-chew
, it sung over and over again, as if it was trying to tell me something. Then, as quickly as it had arrived, it flapped its wings and flew back toward the pines. Gina and I both marveled as we watched it.

It was as if the bird had been summoned to
deliver a message
—did just that—then went back on with its life again. To Gina it was surely just a strikingly beautiful bird, but in my mind it seemed possible that it was far more than that. And it was enough to rev up my desperate-mourner’s imagination once again.

Trying to be logical now, I questioned whether or not I was simply trying to protect the loss of Elyse again. I asked myself, had I
really
seen something more than just a bird, or was my mind farther gone than I’d realized all along? Was I grasping at straws? Was that what the folded page and yellow traced line had been—empty straws? Was the way I interpreted all three of the odd incidents nothing more than some inner-mind safety device kicking in—trying to help me keep a handle on all my pent up sorrow and pain? Was I trying to convince myself that Elyse may have been dead but not totally gone? Was I trying to read into things that weren’t really there or was Elyse in fact telling me to go on with my life? I just didn’t know for sure.

But the moment that Bunting disappeared into the trees, and Gina and I returned our gazes back to one another, none of those questions seemed to matter anymore. Somehow, deep in my heart, I suddenly felt it would no longer be any great sin or a hurtful slap in Elyse’s face if I told Gina what was on my mind and in my heart. And that’s exactly what I did.

Looking deeper into those silver eyes than ever before, I slowly said, “I love you, Gina. I love you very, very much. There’s no longer a doubt in my mind. But I’m afraid. I’m afraid there’s a hitch to that love. You
know
that I have issues. And I wouldn’t ever want to hurt you because of them. Look . . . the bottom line is, I can’t promise you that things will ever be the way you . . . .”

“Chris, Chris,” she interrupted, holding her palms up and out, “I’ve already told you once that if and when you were ever ready for a relationship I would be here for you. Well
. . . I’m here now, and I’ll be here for as long as it takes for you to get things sorted out in your mind.”

“That’s just it! I don’t know if I’ll
ever
be totally right, Gina. Ever since my wife’s death I’ve been damaged.”

Lifting my eyes to the sky then, I drew in a long, deep breath. I held the air in my lungs for a moment before releasing it ever so slowly. Then I looked back at Gina’s eager face and let it out.

“Hell,” I said, “I don’t know if I’m ruined for life or just badly damaged. Either way I’ve been like an empty shell since I lost my wife. And, Gina, I loved her more than I ever thought any human being was capable of loving. My friends . . . back in New York . . . they couldn’t understand why, after two, three, four years, I couldn’t move on with my life.”

I watched Gina then, hoping for some kind of miracle, wishing she could say something that would somehow make everything alright. But I knew that was impossible.

“Chris, Chris, Chris’” she said in a soft voice as she slowly rotated her head, “I wish more than anything I could make your hurt go away. Maybe, as time goes on, I will be able to help. But there’s no way I can make it disappear right now . . . right here. All I can do is keep trying, and more than anything, I want to do that. But listen to me, listen to me closely. You’ve got to keep one thing in mind. No matter how hard I try to help, or how hard I love you,
you’re
the one who has to live with your mind and your heart.
You’re
the one who’ll have to deal with the bulk of your troubles. And hopefully . . . someday . . . you’ll be able to do just that.”

“I know. I feel so inadequate the way I am. It’s been torture.”

“Well, remember one more thing, Chris, and I really think this is important. They say that time heals all wounds, but I’ve never believed that for a minute. There’s a certain kind of hurt that even time can’t take away. But I
can
promise you one thing . . . time
will
numb your pain
. And with the love I have for you, and time working for us, I truly believe things will get better. What do you say? How about you and I start making some terrific memories together?”