Part 5: Rachel
Joseph and I made it to Estes Park about six hours later. I slept most of the way wrapped up in a blanket made of flax and wool. I felt better, albeit still a little shaky. Joseph insisted I purchase groceries. He also made me buy clothes, a coat, rain gear and boots, and then he dropped me off at a small cabin outside of town on the road leading to the park entrance. He knew the owners of the cottages and got me a reasonable monthly rate. Joseph refused to take me to a liquor store, but I didn’t complain about this. He saved my life, and I was grateful. Oh, he also said he would report my truck stolen and to expect a visit from the police soon. After I charged my cell, I made a call and had six bottles of wine delivered to my door. I also rang Tammy to tell her where I was staying. She talked my ear off, but I convinced her not to worry. I started a fire in the small fireplace and sat next to it eating bread and drinking wine.
I did not drink a lot that night. I am tired of drinking I think. It did not take long before I was snoozing away on the twin bed. The exhaustion of the trip hit me full force, and I could not move a muscle. I slept for two days, waking up after midnight on the second day of sleep. I needed air, so I took a small hike which turned into a hitchhike into the park which turned into a walk deep into the woods. It was cloudy and cold and it rained. Shivers ran up and down my spine when I stumbled upon a woman with long hair standing atop a large rock near the edge of a cliff. A rope tied around her neck attached to a tree limb above her head.
I froze in place when I realized what I was looking at. The woman’s grief uncontrolled, she wailed as she gripped the rope with both hands above her head. She noticed me. Her terrified eyes locked onto mine, and she stepped off the rock, her body jerking wildly. Her feet tried to gain purchase on the boulder to climb back up, but she found it too slippery. Gurgled, muffled screams cut right through me. I ran to her and leaped upon the rock she stood on a moment earlier. I grabbed her under her arms and hauled her back up and held her next to me. She was still choking to death and struggling to loosen the rope pulled tight around her neck. I pushed her hands away and got the rope off after a struggle. She gasped for air and hit me with all her might, swinging her arms wildly we tumbled from the rock into the mud. We fought for a time and then she seemed to just collapse.
I picked her up in my arms and walked back to the road. As we made our way back, she begged me to not tell anyone what she did. She said she couldn’t go on and her boyfriend dumped her. That she had no money. No place to live. She prayed in church for help, but none came.
“I am so alone,” she cried. “No one listens.”
“I’m listening,” I said.
It was tough to get a ride back to the cabin, but we eventually got picked up a Park Ranger. I gave her my coat which she zipped to conceal the burn marks on her neck. We pissed off the ranger because we were out in the woods so late at night but he took us back to the cabin. I don’t know why he didn’t hand us over to the local police, but he didn’t. Thank god. We got off with a warning not to return to the park.
I placed the woman in the bed and took a seat by the fire. I now had my stray to take care of, and I am sure Tammy would be proud. We stayed in the little room for months talking and learning about each other. I slept on the floor to give her space. Our bond grew with each passing day. I listened to everything she had to say, and I never passed judgment on her. I tended to her needs as she applied bandages to my heart. I agreed to quit drinking and stay away from the news if she would promise never to attempt suicide again. It was a deal.
We grew closer and closer, but I became restless. I had told Susan I sought a woman named Rachel. As much as I fell for Susan, as much as I experienced this incredible connection with this woman–the woman I saved from death on the cliff’s edge, she was not Rachel, but I couldn’t just leave her there, so I stayed put.
One night I had the shakes and became feverish from lack of drink. No, not true. I had the shakes and was a wreck for many weeks, and Susan held me as I went through withdrawals. I did not preach or lecture Susan, and I assured her I was not mad. I refused to ignore the problem and talked about it, when Susan wanted to speak, deep into the night. I told her I was happy she still lived and made sure she knew I wanted to help. We came up with a plan what to do if she felt suicidal and what I was to do if I wished to booze. I think Susan took responsibility for her actions as a way to get me to take responsibility for mine.
This story is a romance if you haven’t guessed, but not all romances include buff guys with rippling biceps, kisses which stop the world, or crazed love triangles, and sorry, no sex scenes. It’s like someone shot us multiple times on the battlefield and we were put on stretchers within arm’s length, holding hands, bleary eyes staring up at operating room lights. Mortally wounded but bound by touch, our holding hands saying “I won’t die if you don’t.”
One night during our recovery she told me the truth about something.
“Jeff,” she said. “My father killed my mother and my brother and then killed himself. There never was a boyfriend. I prayed for help… that part is true.”
“I must tell you something too,” I also admitted. “I’m not really a pirate.”
We laughed, we cried. We stuck to our sides of the small one-room cabin, but we never deserted each other. One day someone outside knocked on the door to our little bungalow. The postman showed up with a delivery. This surprised me because I had long forgotten about the existence of mail. The item delivered was a small package sent from Tammy. I sat on the bed with Susan looking at the box.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” she asked.
“OK,” I replied. My hands were shaking as I nervously opened the parcel. Inside was my grandmother’s ring. Tammy had found it and shipped it to the cabin. I picked it up and showed the ring to Susan.
“I promised my grandmother I would give this ring to the woman I marry. I think I love you Susan, but you are not Rachel.” At this, a single tear slid down my cheek.
Susan gently touched my forehead with her palm and looked into my eyes: “I will change my name to Rachel.” And she did, and we eventually married, and made love–you know, after the story ends when you guys aren’t watching.
Fin…
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