Inspirational Women's Fiction Sampler Page 4

Three Months Earlier

  Gabriella stood as close to the edge of the cliff as possible without toppling over the 300 foot drop, then looked down at the jagged edges cascading downwards until abruptly dropping into the rolling blue-green sea.

  She inhaled, steadied herself, and raised her eyes toward the heavens and all of its seemingly unreachable mysteries. Then she raised her arms toward the sky, fists clenched tightly, and exhaled. It was in these moments—when she dared the sea, the world, even almighty God Himself—to swallow her whole, that she felt most alive. Only here, one tiny step away from death, did she feel life stirring within her.

  It hadn’t always been this way.

  Five years ago, Gabriella had been happy. She’d been married to Nicolas, was the mother of a young son who was the light of their lives, and lived a comfortable lifestyle that had left her feeling, if not completely satisfied, then as close to it as someone could possibly expect in this life.

  Gabriella met Nicolas the year after she graduated from college. She was the adopted daughter of her poor immigrant aunt—he the cherished son of an elderly couple who’d been blessed with fertility later in life. They were a study in contrasts, these two, the laid back all-American boy and the fiery Latin immigrant. He was charming with his offbeat features: solid build, blonde curly hair most men his age had already outgrown, and soft green eyes that lulled you into an unexpected comfortableness. Gabriella was tiny with exquisitely delicate features set off by a wall of blue-black hair cascading down to the small of her back. Her face wasn’t beautiful, not even pretty, but it had a bottomless quality to it that made people want to push in and find out who she was.

  The following years were filled with freshly baked apple pies and tamales, sweet sixteen birthday parties and quinceñeras, bobbing for apples and smashing piñatas with brightly wrapped broom handles. It was a multicultural family life marked by love and warmth and an easiness few people are lucky enough to enjoy.

  But that was over three years ago, before she and her son moved to Rendiciòn, a tiny village located on a remote island in Latin America that time had seemingly left behind. Now everything was different, and on more days than she cared to admit, she found herself dangling on the edge of the cliff, trying to find a reason why she shouldn’t let herself fall over it. She gazed into the endless expanse of blue-green, and felt the familiar longing pushing up against her insides, demanding to be heard. Gabriella wanted so much to be there again, back in time to the place before things had gone so terribly wrong. But she couldn’t go back, would never again be in the place where she lived in ignorance of just how cruel life could be.

  That choice, of whether to live or die, to allow herself to fall over the cliff, or to stand still and try to make sense of a life gone so wrong, gave her something solid to hold on to. It put the decision about what would happen next in her hands, instead of leaving it to chance. And because she hadn’t been in control of her life for so long, the idea of deciding for herself was intoxicating. But Sammy, her ten-year-old son complicated things.

  The easy way out would be to fall into the nothingness she so craved, but she would never do that to Sammy. He needed her, still loved her, despite the fact that she’d been emotionally absent for so long. And she of all people understood the importance of family to a child.

  Before she married Nicholas, Gabriella hadn’t been part of a family, not truly, not in the way she’d always longed for. Abruptly abandoned by her parents at an early age, she’d been left to maneuver her way through life with her only guide a stressed out and emotionally unavailable aunt who said she had no choice but to take in her sister’s kid. After all, she was the only family left, her aunt had grudgingly muttered year after agonizing year.

  And so throughout Gabriella’s life, she’d clung to the few early memories she had of her parents. Those of life in the pale yellow house on the cliff. When her life had been light and not dark, filled with laughter and not tears, love and not abandonment.

  And now, as she allowed the memories to come, she tasted the salty sea air the winds drove inland, heard the clamoring of the waves, felt the sting of the sea spray carelessly spit out by the roguish waters. She remembered what it was like to be enfolded in warmth, a love that knew no boundaries, a sense of security that all was right in the world. This is the place in time she wished had stood still—that place of belonging, of not desperately wanting or needing.

  But it hadn’t.

  Those memories, those elusive fragments from her past, were from before her parents mysteriously disappeared into the night, never to return. It would be easier, she often thought, if she could just forget those happy times because they left a gaping hole in her already torn-apart heart. This not knowing, this wondering why her parents would walk away and leave her behind had always been a force to contend with for Gabriella. It grew up with her, becoming bigger and taller and wider right alongside her, like a shadow bully who followed her relentlessly wherever she went.

  Her aunt had been mute on the subject, even as she laid dying with Gabriella at her side pleading with her not to take the secret to her grave. But she slipped away anyway, tightly clutching to the knowledge that would have set free a portion of Gabriella’s heart.

  Which is why she clung so fiercely to Nicholas and his parents. When she married him, she not only gained a husband, but a loving family as well.

  They saw her for who she was—someone once loved and accepted. Nicolas’ parents somehow sensed she carried memories from the past just outside herself, too frightened to truly claim them as her own. So they embraced her in a way that made it impossible to refuse. Slowly, steadily, she allowed herself to be taken into another family, and soon found herself immersed so deeply she forgot to allow for the end—that inevitable moment in time when everything you live for and love comes to an abrupt halt.

  It came on an impossibly wet morning, one of driving rain, low smothering clouds and frantically moving windshield wipers. When the policemen came to the door in their black, dripping slickers to deliver the news that Nicolas’ parents were dead—that they’d never even seen the truck barreling down the wrong side of the slick highway, she immediately chastised herself for falling for the illusion. It always ends this way, she told herself. With a leaving.

  But instead of letting go of those she loved, distancing herself to avoid the inevitable pain, she held on tighter, trying desperately to change what destiny surely held.

  Now, a sympathetic breeze swirled around the cliff and disturbed the hem of her peasant skirt, and Gabriella realized she was holding her breath. It was always this despair, this hopelessness of her life that brought her to the edge of the cliff, but it was the thought of that next step, that plunge into utter darkness that drove her back to life. Here, so close to eternity, she could barely discern the faint whispers in the wind telling her there was more.

  But what?

  She desperately wanted—needed—to know where she would land if she allowed herself to fall. Into the hands of the so-called loving God as Nicolas had tried to tell her, or into an all-consuming black abyss?

  Ah, yes. Nicolas.

  She shut her eyes against the sun’s glare and tried not to feel. The loss was still too fresh, too sharp to bear. A mere ten years ago, she and Nicolas had shared the unspeakable joy that stems from watching the child of your love push his way into the world. Sammy had come out screaming, a scrapper, a forceful personality from the start. He’d delighted, mystified and worried his parents with his colorful antics, his wide-open heart and his unquenchable curiosity.

  As Sammy grew, he and Nicholas, who were father and son lookalikes, became inseparable. Both were light, fair-skinned and freckled with unruly blonde curls toppling over their foreheads. Nicolas was a sturdy man, he had the kind of build that hints at honor and dignity and old-fashioned values. Sammy inherited Nicolas’ build, as well as his eyes—green and soft, reminiscent of the moss that comfortably settles in the soft spot of a pond.

  G
abriella loved to watch her little boy mimic Nicolas. If he wore a red shirt, Sammy would quickly change into a matching one. If Nicolas put his hand against a doorframe and leaned into it, Sammy would be right there, copying his movements precisely. It was an easy few years, the kind of time that pleasantly melts away like the last of the butter on a warm kitchen counter. So she tucked away her fears of misfortune, her ever-present sense of doom, and despite the pledges she made to herself never to be lulled into a false sense of security again, she failed to steel herself against the calamity waiting just outside the door. And so it snuck up on her. Insidiously. Deceitfully. Cruelly.

  On the cliff, Gabriella inhaled the heavy salt air, and began to think about the night when their world was irreversibly shattered.

  It began when Nicolas was invited to a men’s retreat in South Texas by one of his co-workers. He decided to go because the man was one of his supervisors and he didn’t want to offend him.

  “Who knows, mi amor? You might have fun,” teased Gabriella.

  Nicolas sighed. “I just wish the timing was better. I’m so exhausted I think I could sleep for days.”

  She lowered her head, letting her long tresses hide her concern. While it was true that Nicolas was putting in long hours at work, it couldn’t possibly account for the level of exhaustion he’d felt for the past few months. She’d begged him to see a doctor, but he believed if he could only catch up on his sleep, he’d be fine. But he was sleeping away most weekends and seemed to be getting more and more tired. “Nicolas,” she began…

  He dropped a stack of shirts into his open suitcase and came to her, gently taking her small face in his hands. “I know what you’re going to say, and you’re right. I’ll make an appointment with the doctor first thing in the morning.”

  She smiled, relieved. “Thank you. I’m sure it’s nothing, but it will make me feel better, okay?”

  He pulled her close to him and spoke softly into her ear. “Don’t worry, Gabby. I’m sure everything is fine.”

  She nodded, battling back the familiar sense of unease.

  A noise by the door interrupted them, and they turned in unison to find Sammy struggling with his child-sized suitcase.

  “Daddy? I’m all packed. When are we leaving?”

  Nicolas and Gabriella looked at each other, trying to discern in each other’s eyes where the misunderstanding had occurred. Nicolas knelt down beside Sammy. “I’m afraid I’ll have to go by myself this time, son.”

  “Huh?” Sammy said, dropping his Spiderman suitcase with a thud. He pushed back the mop of curls falling over his forehead. “I thought you said it was a men’s treat.”

  “Well…”

  “So, I’m a man. Why can’t I go?”

  As Gabriella watched the scene, she noticed Sammy had once again emulated Nicolas’ clothing—this time they wore blue jeans and a yellow pullover shirt. Nicolas put his hands on Sammy’s shoulders, which shook with the indignation of being left behind. “Son, sometimes a man has to think of others before himself. Now, if we both went, who would be here to take care of your mom?”

  “We could get a babysitter.”

  Nicolas smiled and shook his head. “She doesn’t need a babysitter. She needs a man in the house. You’ll have to be that man while I’m away.”

  Gabriella watched Sammy process the information. He went from being on the verge of tears to standing up straighter, a new determined look on his face. “I’ll do it, daddy! I’ll be the man of the house while you’re gone.”

  Nicolas had hugged him. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down, son. I’m counting on you.”

  The sun went behind a cloud and the change in light distracted Gabriella. She sighed, felt herself sway a bit, pushed by a malevolent wind from the north. The memories were enough to make her consider slipping over the edge of the cliff, but then images of Sammy came to her mind. Her little boy had been through so much, and she wouldn’t cause him any more pain. But the ache she felt in her heart was unrelenting, and she didn’t think she could continue with it as her constant companion.

  She let the memories take her back again. She had been shocked when Nicolas walked in the door after the retreat. He looked exhausted, and it appeared as if he’d aged in the short time he was away. But she couldn’t look away from his eyes. They looked like they had all the light in the world stored in them.

  “Nicolas!” she cried, rushing toward him.

  He didn’t refuse her offer to carry his suitcase, and when he sank deep into the sofa, he closed his eyes to steady himself for a moment. When he opened them, the light was still there.

  She struggled to focus on his words because she was so concerned about his health. It turned out the retreat had been a Christian one, and Nicolas was excited about the things he’d heard.

  “I found Him, honey,” he said with a quiet awe in his voice. “The one who can give us life that never ends.”

  “We need to get you to the hospital,” she countered. “I’ve never seen you so sick.”

  “We’ve been living our lives for the wrong things,” he said. “Things that will fade away instead of what’s eternal.”

  She put her wrist against his forehead. “Amor, you’re running a fever. When is your appointment with the doctor?”

  “Oh Gabby,” he sighed, sinking deeper into the sofa. “He loves us so much. I never knew. I just never knew.”

  “Vamanos,” she said, irritation tinging the word. She stood up and tugged on his arm, but she wasn’t strong enough to move him. “Let’s get you in bed, and I’ll call the doctor myself first thing in the morning.”

  Nicolas reluctantly and with great effort pushed himself off the sofa. “Gabby,” he said, taking her by the shoulder and gently turning her toward him. “I just want you to know what I do. To see what I’ve discovered. It changes everything, honey.”

  She let out her breath, tried to remain patient. “Right now,” she said. “All I want to see change is your health. Really, Nicolas, let’s get you in bed before you fall down.”

  The salt air stung her eyes, and Gabriella momentarily freed herself from the memories. Nicolas died less than a year later from a particularly nasty and aggressive form of cancer.

  So, he did leave after all.

  “Some God you are,” she hissed bitterly. She clenched her fists tighter and ignored the wind as it ruthlessly began to whip her hair against her face. Against her will, her thoughts turned to the time when her and Sammy’s world was forever altered.

  After Nicholas’ death, Gabriella had slipped into a deep depression, a feeling of wanting to fade into the background, never to resurface again. Over the next couple of years, she retreated from her friends, stopped returning calls and began to forbid all references to God in their home. It angered her that Nicolas had put all his trust in this God who had abandoned him when he was sick.

  She stopped doing things the way they had as a family. She didn’t cook the same meals, keep the same schedule, and she got rid of the familiar things in the house and replaced them with functional, serviceable items. Otherwise, each meal was a reminder of what she’d lost, every familiar event caused her to experience the pain as if it were new. She couldn’t bear to sit on the same sofa Nicolas had. Eat from the same plates. Sleep in the same bed.

  She was a woman desperate to escape the pain, and in her mind, eradicating all the memories of Nicolas and their lives together seemed the only way to cope. But she knew it was wrong. Nicolas was the love of her life, and the hero of Sammy’s world. Yet, no matter how much her mind told her she needed to keep things normal and familiar for Sammy, her heart couldn’t find a way to do it. The guilt that followed crushed her. She was robbing Sammy of his chance to grieve, she knew, and he wouldn’t be able to heal naturally from the loss. Her heart screamed at her to do what was right for Sammy, and yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t. Nicolas’ death had destroyed her. It had turned her into a woman whose actions were solely driven by her pain, and although sh
e saw the damage it was causing, she couldn’t find a way to stop.

  The further she retreated from their old life, the more prominent one thing became in her mind: The yellow house on the cliff where she had spent those precious few years with her parents. When she first felt called to the waterlogged, forsaken seaside village perched high on a cliff, she tried to ignore it. After all, why try so carefully to tuck her life behind her only to go in search of another faraway painful past?

  But she longed to go there again. Her father had spent his childhood years roaming those hills and helping with the small orange grove that supported the family. Then her parents inherited the place when they married, just as she had when her aunt died.

  Thinking about the old house made her nostalgic, longing for what she’d lost so long ago. She remembered baking in the kitchen all day with her mother as a child, and then losing herself for hours in the orange grove as she played in her imaginary world. The memories were gauzy and drifting, but left her with a sense of pleasantness and comfort. The urge to return to the house had become so strong, so persistent, she’d finally given in to it just to give herself some peace.

  So she’d packed up her and Sammy’s life in Texas and left everything and everyone behind to travel to this left behind part of the world in an attempt to contain the damage. Life is too unpredictable, she decided, too out of control. So she meticulously and deliberately reduced their once expansive life into a smaller, more manageable one. Smaller is safer, she reassured herself. Less of a chance for the unthinkable to happen. Surely death and disaster wouldn’t follow them to the ends of the earth.

  But no matter how far she ran, she couldn’t hide from the fear, the anger and the sense of being betrayed by everything that called itself good.

  And so instead of the longed for peace, more days than not she found herself dangling on the edge of the cliff, listening intently to the elusive voices in the wind for some explanation of why things had gone so horribly wrong.

  Now, she closed her eyes and rallied her fists again against the sky. “Where are you, great and terrible God of Nicolas?” she screamed toward the surging sea. “And why have you made me your enemy?”

  Chapter 2