Alone with the Trees

What she'd said was difficult to accept. In high school, Christine had been the most "people person" you could imagine, having friends everywhere and always being with and talking with someone. Alone was not a part of her makeup. I'd stay here all day if I had to just to hear her story. Before I could say anything, she continued.

"I'm content here and don't need people around. The cable company ran a cable to the cabin, I think feeling sorry for me. So I have TV and the internet, and I try to stay up with the world, even though I don't understand most of it. I've never seen so many people who have so much but are still unhappy, angry, and full of hatred."

"Tell me about it. That's why I have the diner. It's simple and much quieter."

Another nice smile from Christine. It brought back memories and filled me with warmth I hadn't felt since...since senior prom.

"I'm sure you want to hear about me." A positive statement with very negative facial expressions and body language.

It was difficult for me to reply. I wanted to hear it, but I didn't want Christine to do something that would be unpleasant or painful.

"I want to hear it, but don't tell me if it's going to be too unpleasant for you."

Christine shrugged. "Every day is unpleasant for me, so why not?"

Once more, I just wanted to hug her but kept my distance. All I could see was the Christine that had danced with me at the prom, her body tight against mine. Seventeen years hadn't changed that.

"I went to Stanford and felt smug and excited. My first year was spectacular as I met new people from all over the country and did well in all my classes. And I made the varsity volleyball team. All of my dreams were coming true.

"In one of my biology classes, I worked with a guy from southern California on a special project. He was good-looking, smart, and the most personable man I'd ever been with. We aced the project, and began dating. By my junior year, I was totally in love, and he asked me to marry him." She took a deep breath and looked at me. "I said yes."

I could tell the memories were flooding back into her mind, and from the look on her face and her body language, nearly overwhelming her. There were no tears...yet...but her eyes were watery and on the verge.

"We graduated in June and were married in June." Two tears trickled slowly down her cheeks.

"Chris, don't hold back. You can let it out here." I wasn't sure I was ready for that, but something made me say it, so I hoped.

"On our honeymoon, I found out he wasn't the lab partner I'd had or the wonderful man I'd dated. And he certainly wasn't the man I walked down the aisle to wed and agreed to love forever."

The words stopped as the tears began. I stood, grabbed my crutches, and headed toward her. I wanted to grab her and hold her, to squeeze her against me, as I'd done at the prom.

"No, Adrian, don't," she said sharply enough to stop me where I was.

"Christine, I just want--"

"Please. I'm just...not ready."

It was tearing at my heart to see her sitting there crying, and I was positive a hug would help. At least, I thought it would. It had been seventeen years. I retreated and helplessly sat down. She'd wanted a hug when I first came in. What had changed?

"Just give me a second."

I couldn't take my eyes off her. We'd had one date, and now, seventeen years later, I was being swept away with all of the feelings that had overwhelmed me then. I could only watch and hope.

"I'm going to keep going, Adrian. At least I'm going to try. I may need some breaks." The eyes that were fixed on mine were weary and sad.

"Christine, you don't have to keep going. That's way too much to expect."

"If you don't want to hear it, that's fine." Her eyes drifted off into the distance.

"That's not what I said, Chris."

Her eyes drifted back to mine. "My older sister is the only one who calls me Chris." She glanced at the leftover food. "She's insisted on paying for these lunches that you guys bring every day?"

"Wait, what's her name?"

"She's Laura Brown now."

"Jane takes care of that, so I never heard your name. Can we share with her?"

"No need. I'll take care of it. She knows all about our date. At least she knew about it then."

The change of subject had been good for Christine. The tears were gone, and she looked ready to continue.

"Where did I stop?"

"You said your husband...wasn't the man you married."

Another deep breath, the stress of remembering showing in her face.

I stirred as if to move toward her.

"Please, Adrian."

All I wanted to do was comfort her and make her feel loved. I did love her in a way due to her obvious hurting. Plus, it was hurting me a tiny bit that she kept pushing me away.

"It was awful," she began. "It was such a shock. I was expecting to be loved and cherished. Instead, I was belittled, and if I argued or tried to rebut him, I was slapped in the face. I was suddenly a servant, jumping quickly at every command he gave me. If I didn't, more slapping.

"He threatened me all the time that if I told or let anyone know, it would be worse. I didn't dare even tell Laura. He told me so often that I was lucky to be married to him and that most men wouldn't put up with me. I struggled against it but was beginning to believe it, despite what I'd seen with my parents and others. I had gotten a good job, but he made me auto-deposit my pay into an account in his name only. I received an allowance, and he tried to make me feel thankful for even that.

"One day, I was home alone and watching TV, dreading when he'd come home. The show I was watching turned out to be about a woman suffering through things very similar to my own--and she was able to get away. I think it triggered the common sense center in my brain, and I called Laura and told her about it. She was horrified."

I watched the look on Christine's face changing. It wasn't a triumphant look that was appearing, but a more satisfied look, perhaps. She gazed at me and nodded almost imperceptively. I smiled at her before she looked away.

"I sneaked as many things as I could into the car. It was a Sunday, and I'd be going to work on Monday, but I wouldn't be returning to that house. He'd threatened me about filing for divorce, too, that he might make it even worse for me. Maybe, if he'd used a baseball bat, it would have been worse, but not that much worse.

"I went to work on Monday and could hardly do my job, both from anticipation and from fear. I wasn't sure what..." She stopped and looked at me. "I guess I've just been using 'he' to refer to him. His name is Richard Weber. I called him Dick, and I left off the endings that I wanted to use along with Dick. Anyway, I wasn't sure what he was capable of, but I was through. When I left work, I got into my car and drove to Laura's."

Christine stopped again and sighed. Somehow I was sure there was more to her story, and I wanted to hear it all. Anxious as I was, I was also willing to be patient and not torture her if that's what telling the story was doing.

"Do you have coffee or tea? We could take a little break and just chat for a few minutes."

"Adrian, I don't know." She stared at me for long seconds. A little more relaxed, she said, "I have both. Which would you prefer?"

I wasn't a big tea drinker, but I decided that if she had it on hand, she might be.

"How about some good tea?" I chuckled. "It's been a while."

"I don't even have wine to offer you, let alone the harder stuff. I do have Darjeeling. It's a black tea, and you might enjoy something a little different."

"Chris, any tea that I have will be a little different."

"Oh my gosh, let me make coffee, then."

"Nope. I learned from you once before. I'm anxious to do it again."

She turned her back to me, and I couldn't see her face, even though I desperately wanted to. Had her time with Dick so soured her that she didn't want anything to do with any man, even though our time together had been very enjoyable.

She put water on to boil, fumbled in one of the cabinets for a small metal can, and filled the tea ball, all the while avoiding looking at me. A teapot was retrieved, the water added, and the tea ball submerged.

"Give it a minute or two," she said, moving to the table and sitting down opposite me.

Despite the time we'd already spent together sharing our stories, she looked ill at ease. She retrieved two cups from another cabinet and filled both with tea, pushing one gently in my direction.

"It's hot," she cautioned as I took the first sip, sputtering as what she said was very true.

"Sure different from coffee, but good."

"What are you doing this, Adrian?"

"Why are you sharing with me, Christine?"

She squinted at me, but there was no answer.

"I'll answer your question. I'm doing it because you're the girl who accepted a date with me for the senior prom when I hadn't expected it at all. You made it the best night of my life, and I've wondered about you off and on for the last seventeen years. And now, like a fantasy come true, I'm here with you. That's why I'm doing this.

"Now let me answer my question. You're sharing because you remember that night as well, and you trust me. And something within you told you to share it with me. You've kept it nearly totally bottled up inside you all this time, and now you're letting it go."

"And that's just the half of it, Adrian."

"What?"

"I got away, I found a lawyer, and despite Dick's threats, we were divorced. In the only gutsy thing I did, I told him to give me all the money I'd earned that he'd stashed away and lots more besides. Otherwise, I'd spill what he'd been like. He laughed at me. So, I showed him a few photos I'd taken of myself and mentioned the people who'd seen the marks on my face and who'd be happy to corroborate what I was saying. I got way more than I'd expected since he'd just gotten a promotion where he worked."

"And that's where the cabin came from?"

"Well, I kept working and saving, and Laura insisted that I live with them for a while so I wouldn't be alone where he could grab me. I saved and invested, and..."

"And?"

"Five years later, I was diagnosed with breast cancer."

"Christine," I said, hardly able to believe what she'd just said. "But you were only twenty-seven or eight, weren't you?"

"Yep, but old BC didn't give a shit about that. All kinds of treatments that didn't quite work, and finally, surgery." She was shaking her head.

"And that stopped it?"

"Seems to have, yeah."

"Is there a chance it might return?" I was sorry I'd asked that, but it was too late.

"Don't know where it would return to. No breasts now."

I felt like the roof had fallen in on me. That was the big difference I could see in her, and it had only partially registered. She was thinner than she had been, but...

She laughed, a hollow and anguished laugh.

So much. So much to handle and to live through. My stomach was flopping, and all I had done was listen.

"Now, I'll answer that question you asked a while ago. I can see the pain in your face, but you walked in here on crutches with part of your leg gone. That's why I could share with you because you've been where I've been. And we're both still there."

Unconsciously I put my hand on the carefully wrapped stump of my left leg.

"Maybe I should have stayed home, skipped Stanford, and gone to school in Ohio. I could have hung out with you."

"Not sure that would have been good. You needed that good school and that good education. I turned into a bitter and crippled soldier. Despite all of that, I'm going to be delivering your lunch a lot more often now."

She looked away. "You don't need to do that. Jane and I get along just fine."

What I didn't say was that I'd watched her go away to California when I had no magnet or rope to keep her close to where I was. I was going to do my best to not let that happen again. She was obviously reluctant to have that happen, and I could only guess her reasons for that. I was thirty-five and never married. I could be patient a while longer.

"I'm anxious to do that, and unless you tell me absolutely you don't want me coming here to see you, I'll keep coming out. You're alone here, and I'd like to supply some company for you."

"I'm not alone. I have my trees."

"Lots of trees out here."

"When the wind blows, they talk to me. Sometimes they even sing. It's a soft and warm sound, at least to me, not like the sounds when you're in the city and around lots of people."

"Well, I'm not lots of people, and I won't interrupt the trees when they're talking to you. I'll just listen, and maybe you can help me understand."

She sighed. "There's no way I can tell you to stay away. That would be mean, and I'm not quite there yet. So, keep coming, but..."

"I'm not expecting anything. I just enjoy talking with you."

She nodded, I think her way of saying she enjoyed talking with me.

"Go ahead and get," she said, a lightly teasing sound to her voice, a sound I loved to hear. "I'll finish the slaw and the potatoes and get some chores done."

I smiled, gathered my crutches, and she followed me to the door. I climbed into the Honda, waved, and headed for the diner, certain that my whole life had just changed.

◇-◇-◇-◇

Back at the diner, Jane pressed me for what was going on. I gave her a brief update, and I received the biggest smile I'd gotten from her in ages.

"Don't read anything into it. She's just someone I knew a little in high school, and it was good to see her again."

"Listen, I heard you arranging for Burt to fill in all those days so you could deliver to her yourself. I sense that an old fire has been ignited again."

That was a good way of putting it, but I wasn't about to admit that to Jane. Burt was a widower with lots of free time, so he was more than happy to fill in whenever I needed him, even the extended time I was asking for now.

"You're always after me to get involved, Jane. I had one date with Christine, and that's about the only time we ever talked. We had a good time. I don't think she has any interest in my chasing her."

"Did you two talk today?"

"Some, yeah."

"I've spent some time talking with her. She doesn't say a lot about her life, but I gather from some chance remarks that it wasn't easy."

Discretion, discretion, I kept saying to myself. "I got a hint of that too. She was a sharpie and had scholarships to Stanford. And played volleyball there too."

"She talked a little about Stanford, but I didn't know about the volleyball. She seems to just want to chat when I'm there and not talk too much about her past. It's a nice, neat cabin she has."

"I noticed that. But it sure is a long way out there."

"She said she was glad she was there during the pandemic. She didn't have to have a mask or anything."

I chuckled. With only her whispering trees to keep her company, no, she wouldn't need a mask. There were times during the pandemic I wished I had that kind of isolation. I'd managed to stay open for carryout orders only, and the regulars kept me going after I'd arranged for specific spots for each of their lunches to be left for their pickup.

"And that Honda bounces around a lot, too."

"It gets me there and back. That's all I need."

"Have you ever driven a stick?"

"Oh, lord, when I was a teen, we had a stick Chevy. I drove it a lot because there was nothing else to drive. Why?"

"I'm thinking of getting a surplus Jeep to drive out there."

"You're going to get rid of that Honda?"

"Well, not exactly," I stammered, not wanting to let Jane in on my plan just yet.

The way she was smiling told me It wasn't working.

"I don't know what magic Cristine has, but she's certainly working it on you. I think the gruff Adrian has disappeared."

"Don't count on it," I said as brusquely as I could manage.

The next day I took a large bowl of the goulash I'd concocted, along with some biscuits on the bumpy trip to Christine's cabin. I'd called it a cabin, but the more I looked at it, I decided that cottage was a better description. As Jane had suggested, it was neat and clean-looking. There was a slight breeze when I climbed out of the Honda, and the pine trees were whispering. I stood for several moments, just listening. Chris was right in enjoying the sound. I could see that it could become quite mesmerizing.

I didn't have to knock this time--Christine was at the door waiting for me and shaking her head gently.

"I told you that you didn't have to do this," she began.

"But you didn't tell me to stay away, so here I am."

Inside, I noticed that everything was spotlessly clean and in its spot. That caused me to smile, and it spread a little warmth through my body.

"Is that one of your goulashes?" she asked when she'd spotted the big bowl. "Jane has brought some of them before, and they're always delicious."

"I learned some of that stuff when I was the chef at the officer's club."

"I bet they missed you when you left."

"I heard a little of that before I was transferred. Just water under the bridge."

"Lots of water under both of our bridges."

"Amen, lady."

"And that's an awfully big bowl, Adrian."

"I suspect you eat more than one meal a day."

"Sometimes I do, yes," she said with a tiny smile.

Looking at her, I was sure there was more truth in her answer than I'd hoped for. Whatever else happened, I wanted to get her back closer to the old Christine than she was now.

I smiled, remembering something she'd said. "I stood outside for a while, and the trees were whispering to me."

"There's a nice breeze today, so they would be."

"And you know what they said?"

"Adrian, don't."

"They said that Christine was lonely and needed someone to visit her regularly."

"Adrian, you don't know. You just don't know."

"Chris, that's what I heard."

"Only because that's what you wanted to hear."

"Tell me it's not true, then. Tell me that's not what they were saying."

"I don't know what they were saying. I only know you heard what you wanted to hear. They're my trees and my friends."

"They are indeed, and that's why they told me to come more often. They're concerned about you and are looking after you."

"Adrian, I don't know what to say. I look at you, and I can read you like a dime novel. You're not at all subtle in your looks or expressions. Let me just say that I like you. I have no reason not to. But I think you are at least a half a lap ahead of me, and I don't know if I'll ever catch up."

"I can always slow down. Maybe I'll just do that."

"We only had one date, you know."

"And you think I'm blowing things way out of proportion?"

"I guess that's my fear if I'm totally honest."

"Let's keep it simple, then. I'll come out here and bring your lunch, and there'll be no expectations."

She stared at me for long seconds. "I don't believe you, but I like you, and I enjoy talking with you." She chuckled, something I hadn't seen much from her. "Your food is too good to take a chance on losing. It's not fair, but you've got me there."

"You know what they say, all's fair in love and war."

She instantly began nibbling her lower lip. "That makes me nervous when you say that, Adrian."

"It's just a saying. I'm sitting here trying to think of a good way of modifying it to our situation, but I'm drawing a blank."

"We have a situation?"

"Chris, you're doing everything you can to make me flounder."

She didn't reply immediately, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Probably so, and I apologize. The walls I've built don't discriminate, so I have to be more careful, I guess."

She was still keeping her physical distance, though. In the way she talked, looked, and acted, I detected a certain fragility that I hadn't seen in the short time we'd known each other seventeen years ago. From what she'd shared with me, it was very understandable.