Thread of Hope

FIVE

I retraced my original route into Rancho Santa Fe and returned to the highway. Gina Coleman had asked where I was staying. I wouldn’t have told her even if I had known, but the truth was I hadn’t found a place to stay yet. I’d gone straight from the airport to the hospital to both of the Jordan homes.

I drove south out of Del Mar and back toward downtown. Staying on the island was expensive and something I didn’t want to do, regardless of money. It had been hard enough to drive over the bridge the first time, returning to a town that did nothing but bring my stomach to boil. But Chuck was there, Meredith Jordan went to high school there and I figured that at least being close would save me some time. I didn’t have to stay on Coronado, but I knew I’d be spending time there.

I settled for one of the hotels across the bay from the island and checked into a room on the fifteenth floor. I threw my backpack in the closet and sat down on the edge of the bed. Twelve hours prior, I’d been napping in a small apartment in Biloxi, Mississippi, two blocks from the Gulf of Mexico. I’d been in Biloxi for almost three months, enjoying the quiet and isolation and the walks along the shores of the Gulf. No one had come calling for my help recently and I was happy not to give it.

But Biloxi started to close in around me, as I found all places eventually did. Too much time by myself, with nothing to focus on other than the past. When my cell phone chirped and woke me from the nap, I was grateful for the interruption in what had become my life.

Lauren’s voice had startled me. I hadn’t spoken to her in close to a year and for a moment, for an excruciatingly long moment, I thought that this was the phone call that I’d been hoping for for nearly seven years. Maybe we had an answer and after I said hello, I realized I was holding my breath. Lauren probably knew that and very quickly explained why she was calling. I was ripped hard back into reality.

The thought of returning to San Diego created a dull ache in my gut. There were so many reasons not to go back and yet as soon as she told me about Chuck, I said yes, told her that I was on my way. I had cut everyone out of my life and I knew he was the one person that hadn’t held it against me. He understood. He’d stood by me in more ways than any friend should ever be asked to and I owed him.

Things change quickly.

I walked over to the window. A ferry boat was crossing the bay to the island and lights freckled the bridge over to the place I’d called home for thirty-plus years.

I wasn’t comfortable being back. My plan was to never come back because I didn’t think that anything good would come of it. It wouldn’t repair my marriage or my reputation, and it wouldn't bring my daughter back. The only thing I could count on was seeing the past rush at me head-on. I stared out that hotel window and I could feel all of it bearing down on me, with no clue how to stop it.