Warmth trickled through her at the thought. She hoped he was. The phone calls hadn’t ceased as the time had drawn out, giving her encouragement that Lincoln loved her still, that maybe, even though it wasn’t right of her to expect or want him to, he was waiting for her. She felt like she’d been waiting for him for so long as well.
“I promise I will be here within one month, not two. I’ll miss seeing you too much if I go any longer than that. Maybe you could come visit me in Boscobel as well.”
Dana dabbed at her eyes with a wadded up tissue, smearing her makeup. “Well. If you insist.”
Sara reached over to wrap her in a tight hug. Dana’s flowery scent amplified with her nearness and caused a small twinge of homesickness for her in Sara’s chest even though she hadn’t left yet. Sara vowed, “I do.”
The wind blew, scattering fallen leaves and waving tree limbs as though Waupun was saying its own farewell to Sara. She smiled, feeling a closure she hadn’t known was possible. This time away had healed her; not completely, but enough.
“I’m old, Sara. I’ve known a lot of people. I’ve loved a lot. Hell, I’ve married a lot. But you,” Dana patted her cheek, “you’re my girl. I’m glad you picked up the phone and decided to call me. I think I got as much out of our time together as you did, if not more. I always wanted a daughter. You’ll do.”
“Only I’m more like a granddaughter,” Sara teased around the tears burning her eyes.
“Hush,” Dana said, reaching up to kiss Sara’s cheek, her lips papery thin and cool. “I didn’t say how old I was.”
“I’ll call you,” Sara promised, unable to resist the pull to hug her friend once more. She kissed her tight cheek, already missing her.
“You better.” Dana gave her back a pat as Sara turned to get into the car.
Hands on the steering wheel, Sara’s gaze went to the second floor room that had been her home the past few months. Dana walked past the front of the car on her way to the office, waving as she went. Sara smiled and waved back, inhaling slowly around the churning sensation in her stomach. Her nerves were jittery with excitement and fear. It was time to say goodbye to another piece of her life and began a new one. Beginnings and endings; that’s what life was made of. Sara turned the key in the ignition and turned the car in the direction of Boscobel.
***
Sara saw with clarity she hadn’t been able to find before the time spent in Waupun. She knew she could love Lincoln without betraying Cole. Some things, like the blame she’d placed on herself for the loss of her husband’s life, weren’t so easily accepted. But she was trying and that was all she could do. Forgiveness, even for oneself, was earned. Sara was earning it with each thought of Cole that was happy instead of sad; with each smile she allowed herself, with every sunrise and sunset she gazed at with thankfulness; with every breath she felt worthy of instead of unworthy.
She’d been gone a little under three months and she’d been back over a week. It was unusually hot for September in Wisconsin; making her think even the weather could be confused at times. There had been no calls from Lincoln since her return and she wondered why that was. Had he known the exact day she’d come back to Boscobel or was it a coincidence that that was the day he’d decided she wasn’t worth waiting for? The thought made her heart painfully squeeze. Or maybe he was simply waiting for her. He’d waited so long already; too long. Knowing Lincoln had loved her for so years was dizzying, unbelievable.
Sara talked to Dana every other day. She made her laugh with her recollections of her marriage fiascos and her continuing search to find the thieving housekeeper at the motel. They both knew there wasn’t one. Dana’s employees were honest and trustworthy; it was just something to talk about and Dana was certainly a good storyteller. Even with the distance between them, they still had their coffee and doughnuts at eight on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays as they chatted about nothing of importance. The conversations were important; not the words spoken during them.
The house she’d found to rent was red with tan trim, small, and filled with unpacked boxes and new furniture. It fit her and Sara felt a relief upon entering it she hadn’t known whether she’d feel or not. It was time to get back to herself; the new self that was living without Cole and able to do so. She would make this home hers and only hers; leaving the ghosts of the past where they needed to be, in the past, in the place in her heart designated to Cole and her parents and their unborn baby; to love and not mourn.
Painting was easier and her finished art had more depth than it used to carry; the colors were bolder, and the peace she found didn’t fade as soon as she set the paintbrush down. Sara painted with her soul now. Every stroke of the paintbrush on canvas was a gift to those not with her; every painting a piece of her she would share with the world with joy and not sorrow or fear. Business was slow with her artwork at the moment; having been out of practice and contact with the art world for so long, but Sara was confident it would be steady again in time. Like her.
On one such day, as she painted, her mind drifted to the day she’d seen the ‘C’ in the blue paint and thought it an omen from Cole. Maybe it had been, but maybe it had been in a way different from what she’d thought. Sara set the paintbrush down and tried to recollect the exact shape of the splatter on the floor. Could it have been an ‘L’? Even then, had he been telling her something? Had she seen a ‘C’ at the time because she’d had to see that or because it truly had been? Did she know it to be an ‘L’ now because she wanted it to be or because it always had been? An interesting concept. The letter ‘C’ and the letter ‘L’ could be quite similar, depending on the hand that wrote them. Or it could have simply been a splotch of paint.
She’d bumped into Mason and his nephew one day at the park and had spent the afternoon swinging and playing with Derek; regaling Mason with tales of her Waupun adventure and Dana. He’d looked at her with contentment, knowing she was on the right path. It was because of him and Lincoln and so many other people, but most of all, it was because of Sara.
As she now left the house, a warm breeze played with her hair. Sara gazed at the leafy green trees and grass as she walked, her destination filling her with apprehension and purpose. Lawnmowers whirred along in various yards, tossing the scent of freshly mowed grass in the air; kids shouted and squealed as they played. The sun was hot, warming her lightly suntanned skin. She’d loved Waupun, but she didn’t want to live there. Her home was here, in Boscobel. Her home was wherever was closest to Lincoln, even if not with Lincoln. Even if they couldn’t be together, even if he no longer wanted her, Sara wanted a part of him; she needed a part of him; even if only it was his friendship and nothing more. It would be enough. It had to be. But she hoped it wasn’t.
She hadn’t heard Cole or seen anything unusual since she’d been in Waupun and had heard his final words of “Take care, Sara” in her mind. So maybe he was truly gone and that had been his final goodbye. That saddened her, but it also set her free in a way. Of course, maybe he’d never really been with her at all. But her mind, at least, she had needed him to be, for a while anyway.
Sara walked through the rusted gate of the equally rusted fence, her skin prickling as she gazed at the land littered with tombstones. Giving a slight shudder, she walked toward his headstone. Sara had never liked cemeteries; they were filled with the dead and no matter where she stepped, she feared she was walking on a body. Graveyards made her feel like she was in another world; the land of the dead, where the dead were never really dead. Winds were cool and harsher here; shadows lengthened and darkened, and even when it was warm out, it was colder here. Sara didn’t want to think of Cole being in such a place, but this was where he was now, and so this was where she would talk to him. She knew it was only his body and not his soul buried beneath the ground—it wasn’t really him; Cole—but it was the closest she could physically get to him.