The memory of the crash hit Heather hard. She saw again the glare of headlights in her eyes and everything in her mind went white. Heather sucked in air and tugged at the seat belt pressed against her chest. Smells, sounds, screams of the accident replayed in her mind. The terrible, deafening thud of metal hitting metal . . . and then nothing. Heather covered her face with her hands as soft, whimpering sounds escaped from her lips.
Her father looked her way, worry etched on his face. “It’s all right, baby,” he told her, and reached over, trying to grab her hand. She held herself too tightly. Grimly he set his jaw and, peering out his window, flicked on his turn signal and guided the car across the slick highway to the exit. Every foot advanced was a victory in the torrential downpour.
At last the car came to a stop. Heather felt her father’s hand on her shoulder, big and comforting. “Heather?”
Heather dropped her hands and, looking around, knew where she was. She still had control. She saw her father’s face near her own. His sunglasses were off, and she stared into blue eyes soft with concern and sadness.
“I thought it was a good time to take a break,” he said gently. He stroked a hunk of hair from her face. “You okay?”
Heather chased away the images from her mind. Very slowly she moved to lower her legs and straighten in her seat. As she did she felt her mind uncoil as well, releasing the nightmare that clung to her like a second skin in the light of reality. She was angry with herself for still having the flashbacks. She’d worked so hard with her therapist, taken her medications, but she felt powerless against them.
Taking a deep, calming breath, she peered out the windshield. It was still raining steadily, but no longer the desperate downpour. She could see they’d parked at a rest stop. They were off the road. Several other cars were idling there, waiting for the storm to pass. From the backseat came the sounds of her birds chirping in their covered cages. She felt some comfort at the sound.
Heather nodded and ventured a wobbly smile. “I’m okay. I just need a minute.”
Her father reached into the back to retrieve a paper bag of bottled water and snacks. He offered her a bottle, then pulled out some granola bars. “Natalie packed us a few things. Might as well enjoy them while we wait out the storm. What do you want?” He looked between two of the bars and made a soft grunt of disapproval. “It’s those damn healthy things you like. See? She’s got you in mind.” Then he mumbled, “Certainly not me.” He held out both bars. “Lemon or coconut?”
“Just water, thanks,” she said softly. Her stomach was in knots. She couldn’t eat. She reached to the floor of the car and grabbed her purse. Her hands were still shaking, but she managed to pull out her medicine bottle and shake out one pink tablet. Popping it into her mouth, she swallowed water, hoping the tiny pill would do its job.
David watched her helplessly, then tore into a health bar and began chewing. “These things taste like shit. No wonder you don’t want one.”
Heather tried to smile. Her father was making an effort to improve her mood, distract her.
David finished his bar, complaining about it the whole way through, and crumpled the paper in his big hand. Heather noticed the gold wedding band, shiny and new, on his ring finger. Around them the rain pattered steadily, streaking the windows as the engine rumbled beneath them. David drank from his water bottle, then spoke as he screwed the top back on.
“I know driving in a car is hard for you,” he began haltingly. “And this rain didn’t help.”
Heather looked away. She couldn’t begin to help him understand the torture inflicted upon her by her memories. He couldn’t comprehend how on that evening her life had been broken, never to be fully repaired. “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to overreact.”
“Baby, you don’t need to apologize. You’ve been doing so well. You have to remind yourself of that. You’ve driven in cars countless times since then. You even got your license.”
“Yes,” she replied, frustrated at herself for sliding back. “The rain, the highway . . . it was too close to that night. The memories . . . I can’t control when I get the flashbacks.”
“It’s been eight years since the accident. Your therapist said you were ready for this change.”
Heather didn’t want to talk about what her therapist had said.
“Honey, sometimes we just have to overcome our fears and move forward in life.”
“I know that, Dad,” she replied testily. She didn’t want to be treated like a child. She’d been working very hard for those eight years to overcome the blowup of fears and anxiety brought on by the accident. She’d made great strides. She’d managed a successful career and had agreed to take this big step in her life. But the anxiety was still there, a beast lurking inside of her, waiting to emerge at any new situation or trigger.
“I am moving on.” She looked at her hands. “Clearly you’ve moved on.” Her voice rang out with accusation.
His face drew in. “Yes, I have.”
Heather turned her head to look out the window in a rebuke-filled silence.
“When are you going to stop this grudge against my marrying Natalie?” he said. “It’s childish. And, frankly, beneath you. It’s not Natalie’s fault your mother died.”
Heather swung her head back around, shocked he would say such a thing.
“And it’s not your fault, either,” he continued. “It was a horrible, terrible accident. We all suffered. But it was nothing short of a miracle that you survived. No one who saw that crumpled car would believe anything else. Heather, you lost your mother. I lost the love of my life. But it happened. And I thank God every day that He spared you.”
Heather fought the tears that filled her eyes. It wasn’t often they spoke about the accident. Yet it was always hovering nearby, the elephant in the room.
“Wasn’t I enough for you?” she cried, finally asking the question that had been niggling in her brain since he’d gotten engaged and then married to a woman twenty years his junior. “I thought we were doing pretty well. We were happy. I did my best to take care of you.”
“No, Heather,” he said, suddenly sounding weary. “It wasn’t enough. I was lonely.”
“How could you have been lonely? You dated every woman within a fifty-mile radius of Charlotte.”
He didn’t rise to the bait, merely releasing a sardonic smile. “It sure felt like it. But dating can be lonely, too. You’re not the only one who had a hard time letting go of your mother. You’ll never understand the depth of that kind of loss until it happens to you. And I pray it never does. It took me a long while to be ready to let someone else in. And when I was, I met Natalie. She’s a wonderful woman. I wish you’d give her a chance. She’s my wife now. You can’t change that. And your stepmother.”
“She’ll never be my mother!” Heather shot back. “Or any other kind of mother to me. I’m twenty-six years old. I don’t need a mother.”
“Then not a mother,” he replied, still in that calm voice that was beginning to irritate her. “How about you start out as friends?”
“Then why did my friend demand that you get me out of the house?” Her voice was querulous, to show she was no fool.
“She didn’t. I asked you to leave.”