From The Dead (30 page)

As she recalled details from the past, Eden’s lips
tightened and her eyes danced. She continued, “What I said about
believing God because you can see His effect—I saw it over in
Zimbabwe. People walked up to us, curious about the building.
Because English is prevalent there, we talked to people as we
worked. A woman came up—this woman had lost her husband and a kid
to AIDS, and now tried to raise the rest of her kids by herself.
She was desperate for hope.” Eden wiped a tear from her cheek. “I
saw that woman give her life to Christ. I know that decision’s not
an emotional experience for everyone, but you should have seen
her—the peace that overcame her, the tears that poured from her
eyes. And she lived in such poverty, Jess. That woman had no money,
but she had joy. Granted, I was a Christian before the trip, but
that moment sealed it for me. I watched the gospel progress from
words in a Bible to something alive: something that can get into
someone and change who they are from the inside out—not from the
head, like a lobotomy, but from the heart, like falling in
love.”

Another knock sounded at the rear of the auditorium
and stunted their conversation. Blake walked up, wrapped his arm
around Eden, and kissed her. “I had a hunch you’d stop by your
dad’s office since you had an adoption placement out this way,”
Blake said. He stopped. “Did I interrupt you two?”

“Just small talk,” Eden said.

Blake peered closer. “Babe, are you crying? Are you
okay?”

She laughed, and then sniffled by accident. A brush
of her hand to her eyes and she said, “It’s nothing. I’m just …
thankful.” She took Blake’s hand and rubbed her thumb along his
knuckles. “Just thankful.”

“Have you eaten yet?” Blake asked. “Do you want to
grab a late lunch?”

“Sure, I’ll be right behind you.” She nodded to
Jesse. “Want to come along?”

Jesse declined, and Blake headed out the door.

When Blake was gone, Eden turned again to Jesse. “I
have faith in you, Jess.” She got up and grabbed her purse. “I
think Caitlyn does, too.”

Jesse mouthed his agreement without a sound.

Eden took one step away, then swiveled back around.
“When was the last time you and Caitlyn took time by yourselves—not
where it happened by accident, but where you
gave
her the
time?”

“Not since we were eighteen. We’ve talked a lot since
I’ve been back, but that’s all.”

“If you think about it, she’s lived under stress for
so many years. She could probably use some time together with you,
just to hang out for the evening. I’d imagine she’s missed you all
along.”

Eden waved good-bye and walked out of the
auditorium.

Alone in the room, Jesse pondered what she’d said
about Caitlyn. Eden had a point. During the process of getting to
know Drew, he had managed to overlook Caitlyn. Jesse wondered what
would make his former girlfriend gleam.

Then a smile emerged on his face.

CHAPTER 46

“I need to see so I can lock the door!” Caitlyn said
as she closed the front door to her house. Jesse covered her eyes
in jest.

On Friday just past six o’clock, the clear sky
sparkled at full light. Jesse parted his fingers and allowed her to
peek until she got her key into the lock, then closed his gates
again. Caitlyn’s giggles proved infectious, and Jesse laughed as he
watched her bask in the attention.

“Okay, this way,” he said. As he stood behind her,
Jesse wrapped his free arm around her waist and they proceeded from
her porch, step by step, down the concrete walkway. “So, how late
can we stay out tonight?”

“Till whenever: Ryan’s visiting his dad for the
weekend and Drew’s spending the night there. When can I look?”

“Almost there.”

When they reached the driveway, Jesse uncovered her
eyes to reveal a dark-blue convertible with its top down. It
sparkled after a fresh wash and wax. The orange sun painted a
sporty, reflective stain across the door on the driver’s side.

She started to form a word, but abandoned it, which
left her mouth in a small O. Now motionless, a wide-eyed Caitlyn
stared at the vehicle. “Where did you get this?”

“I traded cars with Blake until tomorrow.”

Her face drenched with delight, she cuddled back
against Jesse. “You
know
I love convertibles!”

Jesse took Caitlyn by the hand, led her around to the
passenger side to open the door for her. When he had her buckled in
and situated, he bowed and closed the door, which prompted another
look from her. Jesse got in the car and pulled out of the
subdivision.

Southbound on Interstate 71, they sat in silence for
a while. For Jesse, relaxation proved beneficial as stress fizzled,
seeped through his nerves and out of his body. He and Caitlyn raced
in the direction of Columbus, though they wouldn’t travel quite
that far.

Caitlyn sank into her seat and yielded to the wind
that cascaded around her. “Wow, I haven’t ridden in a convertible
since—probably since you rented one for prom. Remember?”

“And the next day we drove it all the way to Niagara
Falls.”

“We’re not going
that
far tonight, right?” she
teased.

“If we were, then I’d say we’re already lost since
we’re driving south.”

Both wore sunglasses. Jesse, one hand on the wheel
while he rested the other on the door, leaned his head back. Soon
they reached a stretch of highway where population was sparse and
cars were even more so. He glanced over at Caitlyn, who had melted
into her seat, eyes closed and hair whipping in the wind. She wore
stylish jeans and a salmon-colored top. Unnoticed by her, her navel
peeked through the space between the two articles of clothing. A
pleasant reminder, her navel—Jesse had loved to lay kisses
there.

Beyond the threat of speed traps and radar, Jesse
turned on the stereo, which he had stocked with CDs of artists he
knew Caitlyn enjoyed. Within a few seconds, Toad the Wet Sprocket’s
“Come Down” blasted through the speakers. And in the sonic
landscape, Jesse and Caitlyn found themselves liberated.

After the first thirty minutes, they exited the
freeway and headed down a local rural highway, where the speed
limit dropped to forty miles per hour but neither stop sign nor
traffic light impeded them. Dominated by farmland and undeveloped
country, the area boasted a scant number of homes, plus a handful
of billboards which sat low to the ground and peeled by the
hour.

When she opened her eyes, Caitlyn removed her
sunglasses, took a glimpse, and recognized the scene immediately.
To compete with the music, she shouted, “Wait a minute! Are you
taking me to—”

Jesse grinned.

She reciprocated his smile, then shook her head and
sank back in her seat, a vision of contentment. She turned the
stereo volume down. “I can’t believe you still remember Caitlyn’s
View.” Caitlyn’s View was the nickname Jesse had given to an
isolated clearing upon which they had stumbled as teenagers.

With feigned nonchalance, he replied, “The only place
in northern Ohio fit for a princess—Princess Caitlyn, that is.”

“That’s right! I forgot all about that part.” Her
laughter resurfaced. “How sweet; he remembers my favorite place
within a hundred-mile radius.” She leaned over to give Jesse a
playful hug as he drove. “Thank you.”

With the music low, neither Jesse nor Caitlyn spoke
for a bit. She watched in abandonment as tall grass and maturing
corn stalks frolicked in the breeze. They passed barns painted
brick red and aged farm houses with whitewashed edifices. After a
quick shuffle, the CD player transitioned to Michelle Branch’s “All
You Wanted.”

Her curiosity piqued, Caitlyn turned to Jesse, her
eyes narrowed with playful suspicion. “Why are you taking me out
here, anyway? I mean, to remember all this, you must have given it
a lot of thought.”

“I figured you could use some time to let loose and
unwind,” he said. “I thought back to when we used to trek out here
on Sunday afternoons. You always seemed so free when we got away
from home for a few hours.”

With yearning in her eyes, Caitlyn unearthed the
memory. “Yeah,” she said. “I did feel free. The way we’d drive for
miles, wind blowing through my hair, not a soul around: For a
while, I never had to fit in, never had to care.”

He took his eyes off the road for a moment to glance
her way. “Not as easy to let loose as you get older, huh?”

Caitlyn chortled. “What, is that a dare?” she
teased.

Jesse played along. “You were fearless back then.”
Years ago, during these drives, he’d spurred her on; she had, in
turn, emerged from her restrained nature.

“Oh, and I’ve lost my edge on this drive?”

“We’re getting older. A couple of old farts in a
convertible.”

Her mouth agape, she replied, “Whatever, Barlow.” She
unbuckled her seat belt. Jesse hadn’t counted on that. “Eat my
dust, buddy.”

And with that, she ripped the stereo volume to full
blast. Amid the blare of music, she eased her way to her feet and
stood on her seat, practically sat on its headrest. She steadied
herself, then looked toward the sky.

Caitlyn spread her arms sideways, stretched her
fingers as far as she could, and let the wind rush against her body
like a cleansing rain. She looked as though emancipation rose up
within her and charged her veins, as if she found herself caught
between laughter and tears. And it was then that Caitlyn let out a
carefree yell, satisfying and sustained—a purifying shout which,
for her, Jesse knew, symbolized all her heartache, all her unspoken
hurt and pressure. For a brief moment, Caitlyn was a teenager
again—those final teenage years she had lost to oblivion. Her smile
spread and her face radiated as time slowed to a crawl just for
her.

Even from his low vantage point, Jesse noticed a pair
of tears that trickled from her eyes and dried in the wind.

And then Jesse knew: After all these years, once
again, if only for a fleeting moment … Caitlyn was free.

* * *

Their journey ended along a dirt road—whether an
intentional or unintentional road, they had yet to decipher. When
they arrived at the clearing around 7:20 that evening, Jesse parked
the car and turned off the engine. Awestruck at first, Caitlyn
didn’t move, until reality settled in that, yes, she had finally
returned here. Slowly, childlike, as if she now experienced the
ambience for the first time, she eased out of the car and made her
way five yards ahead. Then she stopped. Jesse came alongside her
and, together, they soaked in the sight.

Not a house in sight, nor had they ever spotted
another human being during their visits. They couldn’t determine if
the property was public or private. Jesse had nicknamed it
Caitlyn’s View because it seemed like a place of their own, a
shared secret.

Stretched before them, nature’s expanse sat untouched
by human hands. They stood at the edge of a cliff three stories
high. Below them, a tranquil stream rippled, its chirp a treble
whistle as it passed over smooth, oblong stones. Acres of
yellow-green grass rolled before them as far as the eye could see.
And in the air, Jesse picked up the summer scent of moss and
wildflowers.

Neither Jesse nor Caitlyn had returned here after
Jesse left. Yet the scene remained the same.

They breathed pure air tinged with minerals of the
soil beneath their feet.

Jesse jogged away and returned with a bouquet of
wildflowers, freshly picked from the shallow woods nearby. When he
handed them to Caitlyn, she clasped them in her hands, soaked in
their hues of dusty purple, velvet red, and sunflower gold.

They gazed ahead and spotted the lone tree, bent at a
slight angle in the eastern corner of their view. It appeared to
have doubled in size since they last saw it. They peeked downstream
and found the large boulder they remembered, its stratums colored
with tones of pottery.

And Jesse watched as Caitlyn, rapt, immersed herself
in the view—Caitlyn’s View.

CHAPTER 47

Around nine thirty that night, as daylight faded and
stars speckled the sky, Jesse and Caitlyn sat in the top-down
convertible and listened to crickets chirp from the woods. They
stared at the sky, far from the industrial haze that obstructed
their view of the stars back home.

As nature purred, Jesse placed his hand on Caitlyn’s,
which rested upon her knee. They whispered in the night.

“I’m glad we got back in touch again,” he said.

Caitlyn nodded. “It could have happened sooner.”

“It never seemed an option, I suppose.” He looked
into the distant shadows, the rolling hills now blackened. “If I
hadn’t left,” he paused to find the words, “would we still be
together today?”

At first Caitlyn pondered the question. She peered
down at his hand upon hers, ran her thumb along his. “I don’t know.
Maybe …” Between them the question lingered.

The minutes ticked along. By now, they sat in
complete darkness, save the moonlight, their faces lit by its
incandescent fire.

Caitlyn seemed hesitant. “That girl you were with,
the one in L.A.,” she whispered. “What was her name? Did she keep
you drawn there?”

“Jada?” He considered the question, then shrugged. He
tapped the steering wheel. “She and I ran into problems last year.
In my soul, I realized it could never grow beyond the status
quo.”

Jesse struggled to speak. His sincerity, his
vulnerability, the earnestness in his tone seemed to comfort
Caitlyn. In the recesses of his voice, an undeniable honesty
existed, and as the layers peeled away, the old Jesse emerged, the
one that had first drawn Caitlyn to him.

“I wouldn’t let myself break free from my
relationship with Jada. I don’t know why: Fear of failure? Fear I’d
end up alone? Maybe it truly was habit—perhaps staying with Jada
had become an addiction … or maybe deep down, a part of me just
gave up.”