A Winter Dream

Chapter


Nineteen


Sometimes our cruelest acts come not from meaning to do wrong but from not trying hard enough not to.

Joseph Jacobson’s Diary





I didn’t call April the next day. Or the next. I didn’t call her that whole week. It’s not that I wasn’t thinking about her—I couldn’t stop thinking about her—it’s just that I wasn’t sure what to say if I did. I didn’t even send the text messages I had written. It may sound strange coming from a professional copywriter, but I just couldn’t find the right words.

At first I told myself that I didn’t know who she really was. But the truth was, I knew exactly who she was. She was the woman I loved. As incomprehensible as her past was to me, it had also made her one of the kindest, sweetest women I had ever met. I suppose it was hypocritical of me to love the fruit but hate the tree.

It took me a full week to sort things out, to realize the truth that whatever she was born into didn’t matter. I wasn’t interested in her past. I didn’t even have a past anymore. I was living for the future and I wanted her in it.

I thought it best to tell her what I’d discovered in person, so I decided to tell her on Friday—the night of the Christmas party.

If you’re a woman reading this, you won’t understand my thinking. I’ve been told it’s a guy thing. Or maybe it was just the way I was raised by my father—stick to the plan until you hear differently—but it never occurred to me that April might not be expecting me the night of our company Christmas party. After all, I had never told her we wouldn’t be going.

I called the morning of the party to let her know what time I’d pick her up. But she didn’t answer. I assumed she was busy and left a message.

Around six o’clock I took a cab to April’s apartment. I knocked on her door, but she didn’t answer. I knocked again. Then I called her cell phone, but it went right to messages. I walked back out to the cab and climbed in.

“Take me to Lawrence and Austin,” I said. “Mr. G’s Diner.”

Ten minutes later the driver pulled up to the diner’s curb. “Shall I wait?”

“Yes. I’ll only be a minute.”

The diner was crowded as it usually was on the weekend. Ewa was standing behind the counter. She watched me enter.

“Hello, Joseph,” she said. Her tone was angry.

“Have you seen April?”

“She’s gone.”

“Gone where?”

“She went back to Utah.”

My chest constricted with panic. “When did she leave?”

“Yesterday.”

“Yesterday?”

“I told you to be careful. She was very, very sad that you did not call her. She cried for many days. You broke her heart.”

“I didn’t mean . . .” I exhaled. “I just tried to call her, but she wouldn’t answer. Would you please call her for me?”

Ewa shook her head. “She did not take her phone. She said she would not need it there. Just a minute.” She walked out of the kitchen door, then returned. “She left this for you.” She lay something on the counter. It was the Tiffany necklace I’d given April for her birthday. My heart felt like it would break.

“How do I find her?” I asked.

Ewa looked at me as if she was amazed by my stupidity. “You cannot find her. She went back to her husband.”

My head spun. I could hardly breathe I was so sick with grief—much worse than when Ashley had told me she wasn’t going to follow me. This time I was to blame. Why hadn’t I just called? How could I have been so stupid?

I just stood there, my world caving in around me. After a minute Ewa said, “We are busy, I must go. I am sorry for you.” She disappeared into the kitchen.

I stood there for a moment, stunned, until I noticed several diners in the restaurant looking at me. I picked up the necklace and put it in my pocket. Then, on weak legs, I walked back out to the taxi.

“Not there?” the driver asked as I shut the door.

“No,” I said. Even though I was just a few blocks from my apartment, I didn’t want to go back. The idea of being alone terrified me. I handed him the invitation to the party. “Just take me to this address.”