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Caleb
Islowlyblinkawake, and wonder for a minute at the marvel that is the human body. Given everything we’ve been through, I can’t believe we fell asleep at all.
I reach out an arm but find the bed beside me empty. I bolt upright, and stare around the room. My legs shift under the sheets, and my hands reach out along the pillows. Like a blind man, still able to see but untrusting of my eyes, I search for an absent Lizzie.
“Lizzie?”
Memories of the previous day flood back, reminding me of the silence after I called her name in the woods. My heart pounds and my stomach turns over.
I throw back the sheets and speed through the house. Bathroom, spare bedroom, living room, kitchen… Nothing. No wet clothes strewn over my bedroom floor, no mud-caked shoes scattered in the hallway. The wardrobe in the spare room is empty. Her shower things are missing from the bathroom.
Lizzie is nowhere to be found.
She’s gone.
The world has just tilted under my feet, and my shoulder hits the wall as I’m forced to lean on it or risk dropping to the floor. For a moment, I have the ridiculous urge to cry.
I’d done it. I’d admitted that I loved her. I’d told her everything, I’d apologized for all that I’d done wrong and made vows to give her all that she might want from life…
And she’d left anyway.
Most likely she’s on a plane right now headed back to New York.
I drill my fingers through my hair in despair, and my hand gets stuck. Tangles and encrusted pieces of dirt and leaves stick my fingers in place. I pull my fingers free, and a Post-It note flutters and spins to the floor.
I dive for it.
It must have been left on my pillow and gotten caught up in my hair. I turn the note right way up and stare at it. It takes several minutes for me to register that it’s not the world’s shortest letter of goodbye, but an instruction.
Yellow Fields. 3pm.
I rush to the kitchen to read the clock on the stove.
11:00.
With renewed hope and a healthy dose of confusion, I sprint for the bathroom. I’ll wash and head straight to Gatlinburg. I might be a little early but right now I don’t care how punctual I am when knocking on my mother’s door.
All that matters to me is that I discover Lizzie on the other side of it.
“Caleb!”
I try to smile when my mom opens the door but it feels thin on my face. I’m scanning over the top of her head as she greets me, trying to see further into the room.
“We weren’t expecting you until three,” she chides.
We.
I breathe a little easier. It would be too cruel of Ma to be talking about Denise the nurse, right?
“Is she here?” I ask, trying to see through the walls toward the kitchen.
My heart thuds harder against my ribs when Lizzie’s voice calls out down the hall.
“You’re early!” she accuses.
As Ma hustles me inside so that she can shut the door behind me, I head for the kitchen. Relief floods my nervous system as soon as I see her.
Lizzie is standing, cool as can be, with a hip against the countertop. Her hair falls in glorious waves about her shoulders, and her smile is warm and vibrant.
