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It’s not a word I would use often, but she nailed how I felt back then. “He was starting to bounce, anxiety getting the better of him. He was erratic and kept grabbing my shirt, wanting me to listen. I was listening, man. I was listening.” I glance at her again, and this time, her eyes meet mine. “He brought up the pact.”
“Harbor . . .” I can’t tell if it’s a cry of sympathy or a warning to stop.
“I’m sorry. I can stop.”
“No. I don’t want you to. It just hurts to know you carried this secret all on your own.” She takes my hand and brings it to her mouth. When she presses her lips to the top of it, I close my eyes and savor everything about it, about her, at this moment. I may not get another.
“Lucas was convinced that day was the day we needed to hold each other accountable for the pact. He was determined to make me keep my promise.” My knee is bouncing. I wish it were daylight so I had something steady to set my eyes on. Fisting and releasing, stretching my fingers, I fist again and repeat as anxiety rebuilds from that day. “He just kept swearing that I swore my life that night, grabbing my hand to show me the scar.”
A tear rolls down Lark’s cheek. I reach to wipe it away for her, but then I pause. She gives my hand a little squeeze and the green light. I gently catch the tear and hold it to my lips, tasting her for the first time in what feels like forever. The tears she cries for me give me strength, knowing she still cares. “He went to the edge and told me he didn’t want to live this life anymore. When I went to stop him, he grabbed my shirt to take me with him.”
With a gasp, she jumps to her feet and throws her arms around me. “That’s horrible, babe.” The wine spills, but neither of us cares. As I pull her onto my lap, this woman I never stopped loving, I know what saved that day and again years later.She did.
Her tears seep through my shirt, but she doesn’t hold back, just like the name she called me. We’re bonded more than she used to think. We always will be.
I hold her tightly to me, and say, “He jumped, but I fell. My life was inexplicably tied to his that day. He hit his head, not clearing the cliff, and I fell on my back fifteen feet below Devil’s Edge, landing on a ledge.” I exhale and set her back on the bench. As much as I want to hold her again, I need space to work this out not just in my head but also around me.
I say, “I broke a leg and most of my ribs on one side, but I held Lucas in my arms until he died. It wasn’t long, probably ten minutes, but I was stuck there for hours praying I’d be saved.”
“I’m sorry, Harbor. I’m so sorry you went through that.”
Seeing her in her bare feet against the gravel, I stop and scoop her into my arms. “Did you not feel the pain under your feet?”
“How could I when your pain was so much greater?”
Sighing, I’m so torn up that I’m not sure how to feel. She has me feeling like a superhero flying back into her life, into her arms again, but I’m not a fool. This story takes a toll when I relive the words that tell the story.Is she just feeling sorry for me?
I carry her to the car and set her in the seat. Kneeling beside her, I say, “Don’t do that. Don’t compare our pain. Yours matters to me just as much, if not more, than any I’ve experienced.”
She caresses my cheek. “How did you survive?”
“I was there, but my phone had fallen out of my pocket. Lucas didn’t have one on him. So I waited. For hours, I waited. At different points, I was fading in and out of consciousness. I knew that wasn’t a good sign, so I focused all my energy on one thing.”
“What was it?”
I drag the pads of my thumbs over the apples of her eyes and wipe away the tears and makeup that’s run down her face. “A bird.”
“A bird?”
“Yeah. This little bird was perched high in a tree that overhung the cliffs and lake.” I’m glad she smiles. I say, “I listened to that bird, tuned into its melody as it sang. I remember that bird being there, singing to keep me awake, until I was rescued.”
“How did they find you?”
“My car. I’d run so fast to stop Lucas that I’d left my door open. A passerby called it in, and the police and paramedics came.” I smile. “That bird kept me alive.”
She smiles, her hands resting on my knees. “It sounds like it. What kind of bird was it?”
“It was a lark.”
45
Harbor
Her eyes softenat the outside corners as she stares into my eyes. God, I miss lying in bed next to her, talking into the early hours of the morning, sometimes until the sun sneaked in and shined a light on the golden flecks of her eyes.
She still has the most captivating eyes I’ve ever seen in a kaleidoscope of greens and golds.
Angling, she dips her legs out of the car again. Lark leans forward and cups my face. We move closer, so close until her forehead is against mine.
