Tales From Below The Frost Line

“The Forgiving”
a short story by Julie Malear

Katy Lester’s knuckles paled as she leaned forward and clung to the dash of the small red seaplane which had taken off from Palm Beach International less than a half hour before. All above her, the blue and white magnificence of the Florida sky imbued her with freedom and omnipotence. Below, the feeling was contradicted by the earthy beckoning of green sea and turquoise gulf split by a zipper line of keys. They were getting close to Perrito Key. She could sense it and was afraid.

The pilot of the amphibian, Ted Steele, was a Tom Cruise type, clean-cut, nearly 30, capable, kind, and adventurous. Ted wanted her to marry him. He had asked her again, just now, playfully threatening to turn the plane upside down to help persuade her.

“Don’t you dare, Teddy!” She laughed with a mirth she didn’t feel. “But I do care for you, honey. Jackson did, too. I couldn’t have made it after Jackson’s death without you.” Letting go of the dash, she brushed a strand of dark brown hair from her face and tried not to let Ted see she was also wiping her eyes.

“Katy, we’re alone up here with God, the sky and the water. Tell me what keeps you tied so tightly, darling. You know Jackson’d want you to be happy.” His blue eyes were soft and full of love.

Ted would be a great husband. Better, even than Jackson, with his keep-to-himself ways. But such an idea was disloyal. She felt the tears well up in her eyes as they’d been doing so often since her husband died eight months ago. She barely heard Ted’s sigh over the hum of the motor. She sensed his frustration. He should find a new woman. She was no good for him. She could never marry again.

“Look, Teddy,” she said, “There’s Perrito Key. Please fly to the left or right. I can’t look at it.” She pointed to a small isle far in the distance off the main chain, accessible only by boat. It belonged just to her now — a bitter reminder of her loss.

Once Perrito Key had been Eden. She and Jackson had reveled in their own private island with its little Spanish styled house, its boat landing, its beach, and its garden. Ah, its garden, her nemesis ... She turned her head, refusing to allow the key into her vision.

“It’s not on the charts,” Steele said, banking into a slow curve which drew the plane to the right and over the gulf. “Hey, it does look like a little dog. That’s what `perrito’ means, isn’t it?” They were too far away to see more than its shape.

“Jackson named it when we first saw it from the air. Can you see what looks like a puppy’s bushy tail sticking off the right? Jackson used that strip for his secret garden. He was a genius there. Planted hedges around it. Every year when we flew down to Perrito, we’d fly low over it and see what he’d planted the year before to surprise me with. Sometimes it was a rainbow arcing along the strip with red and pink hibiscus, purple flowers, yellow — all the colors. It was so gorgeous. I looked forward each visit to this treat. He loved that garden so.”

“Then why don’t we fly over and see it this year? It ...”

“No!” She shouted.

He reacted as if she’d slapped him, then asked gently, “But why, Katy. Why? I bet he planted something there last year.”

“No! There wouldn’t be any ... I mean...” She paused. How could she tell Ted the unforgivable thing she’d done to her husband. Trying to keep her voice light, she added, “I seldom went in his garden, anyway. It was his haven, his escape, a nook where he spent happy time alone, grafting gardenias, planting seeds, experimenting. I tried not to violate his privacy (I was shut out.) Oh, Teddy, please fly on to Key West.”

Glancing at her, Steele’s lips parted. He reached over and gently wiped her damp face with a finger. “You’re a beautiful woman, my friend. You were good for that withdrawal fault of his. Look, don’t worry. We’ll be at Key West in a matter of minutes, honey.” The plaintive look on his face moved her.

“You think I’m so perfect. Such a loving wife. Did it ever occur to you that I may have done something which caused your partner’s death?”

“Only in your imagination, Katy. Jackson and I’ve known each other all our lives. We grew up together. Don’t you think I’d have sensed it if you had? He’d have given it away.”

“I don’t want to talk about this. I’m sorry.” She drew her full lips together tightly. What she’d done to Jackson, she’d done the day before he died, and Ted hadn’t seen him afterwards. When Jackson found out, he scarcely spoke to her — just went off in his hidden garden. He never said, “I forgive you.” If he had, she might be able to forgive herself now. But there hadn’t been time. The accident. Those weeks that followed were so cruel, so full of sorrow and guilt. She’d suffered. She’d suffer till she died.

“Okay, kid, no more nagging from me. We came down to have a good time. So hang on. We’re at the southernmost city in our country and here we go down.” Ted nosed the plane towards the water. Despite her sadness, a sense of excitement and admiration engulfed her as she watched his strong hands twist dials and move the yoke and throttle.

They glided onto the water like a graceful egret. After docking and leaving the plane, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Teddy was such pleasant company and he didn’t hold her attitude against her. Just for this trip she’d try to forget the past. They would have fun. For his sake.

“Today, Katy, we’ll play tourist. We’ll start with the pier, buy some souvenirs, go through the shark place, eat conch, go through Hemingway’s house, buy some Key West t-shirts ...”

“Stop.” She laughed, feeling better already. “It sounds wonderful!” He looked the part of a vacationer in his bright sport shirt and white slacks. Before leaving the plane, he’d slung a camera around his neck. He snapped her picture as soon as she disembarked.

Following his agenda, they stopped at Key West’s “southernmost point,” where a black and white sign said: 90 miles to Cuba. When a sailor offered to take the two of them together, Ted accepted. Just before the shutter snapped, he leaned close to her, placing his cheek against hers. She felt the slight roughness of his invisible beard and sensed the virile scent of his cologne. She experienced a warm, shivery sensation at the touch.

By the time they had completed all the sightseeing he’d promised, Katy had not felt so relaxed in months.

“Now, my beautiful lady, let’s go find the motel rooms I phoned for, change, and go out to wine, dine, and dance.”

A twinge of remorse hit her as she took his arm. She was enjoying herself too much. Maybe I can pretend I’m someone else, she told herself. Then I won’t have to feel guilty.

After dressing in a soft blue knit gown with matching heels, she met Ted in the motel lobby. They took a cab to a restaurant overlooking the ocean. It was candlelit and romantic. The food was delicious. By the time they’d finished off the evening with wine and dancing, and headed back to the motel, Katy was spinning inside, as dizzy and elated as a teenager with her first crush.

Unlocking her door, Ted handed her the key. “It was wonderful.” His voice was husky. In the dim hall light, his eyes had a sultry green look.

“Oh, yes, Teddy, so wonderful!” She reached out to hug him goodnight. His shoulders were so strong. She longed to be closer. Suddenly, his lips were on hers. Unable to help herself, she kissed him back with all the fiery passion she’d stifled for so long. Amazed, she sensed the ice of the long year break apart, deluge her with intensity, rush through her veins, erasing rational thought. It was when Ted moaned and pulled away that she finally regained control.

“No, Katy, no!” His voice was hoarse. “I want you but not like this. Not because I bought you too much wine.”

She knew it wasn’t the wine. My Lord, she must have been in love with Ted Steele for months. How could she feel this way so soon after Jackson?

Thinking of her husband brought Katy to reality. Ted wanted to marry her, but ... “ I have to tell you what I did,” she began.

“No. I love you,” his voice was strained. He almost ran to his room next to hers and shut the door.

Once in bed, Katy tossed and turned, too aware of Ted on the other side of the partition.

It was just before she finally dozed off that the memory of those last days with Jackson came back so intensely she could smell the sea air and hear the rusty-gate cries of the white gulls coasting above the surf on Perrito Key. They had quarreled, she and Jackson. Something silly no doubt, she couldn’t recall. What she did remember was that they hadn’t made love for weeks. At first, she thought it was because of his flu, but he’d gotten over that, choosing to spend all his time in his garden, shutting her out as if she didn’t count, ignoring her, taking her nowhere. Other years they had spent much of their vacation making love so beautiful she sometimes wept. This year, the vacation was ending and there’d been nothing. On this next to the last day she’d tried every way she could think of to seduce him. When nothing worked, she threw aside her pride and begged.

She could see him yet, standing in the living room looking at her, that eternal cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “Not today, Katy,” he told her. And she’d felt like a whore. She ached to hurt him, to shake him out of his selfish complacency. She did it the cruelest way she could think of; when he went to the bedroom to take a nap, she took a hoe and mangled his stupid old garden. Dug it all up — poinsettias, lilies, impatiens, everything — and left their dying green bodies slung in mucky piles. Now he’d notice her, she told herself.

But even after he went out on the puppy’s tail and saw the mayhem, he didn’t let on. She knew she’d hurt him. The garden was his pride and joy. But he continued to work there even more than before, and he barely spoke to her the rest of the day and the following morning. She’d regretted her act immediately and told him so. But when he didn’t respond, even with anger, she couldn’t let it alone. He came back to the house at noon, perspiring and exhausted. The minute he sat down on a kitchen chair and lit a cigarette, she began on him, wanting a rise from him, a quarrel, anything except the silent treatment.

“You don’t love me anymore, Jackson Lester,” she screamed at him loud enough for tourists in Marathon to hear. “Well, just go on and play with your precious plants and flowers. Climb in that little chest you keep seeds and fertilizer in and sleep with them. I’m sure they’ll give you all the love you need and I’ll go get me a real man!”

She saw the hurt pour over Jackson’s face, dousing the fire in his violet-blue eyes. “Oh, Jackson, I didn’t mean that! Please forgive me.” She hugged his too-thin frame. With a pang, she felt the prominence of his ribs and wondered at the virus causing him to melt away in front of her. He’d been losing weight ever since the flu last month. Fear clutched her with icy claws. After six years, she didn’t know what she’d do without his strength and care.

“You think I don’t love you, Katy?” A vein stood out on his pale skin which used to be so swarthy. He took a drag on his cigarette and then continued. His voice was strained with emotion. “You think that I’m in the garden forgetting about you?” A sudden paroxysm of coughing convulsed him, frightening her. She ran to the sink and brought him back a paper cup of water. She spoke lightly, trying to make a joke while she held the cup to his lips. Beautiful lips, she thought. Was she imagining it or had they taken on a bluish cast. She wished he’d quit smoking.

He drank the water, said he wasn’t hungry and returned to that dead, crushed garden. There was nothing there to tend. She’d ruined it for him. He hadn’t forgiven her, obviously, and was spiting her by passing the day among the plants she’d killed rather than spend it with her. It rained, but he didn’t come in.

That night, the night before they were to return home from their vacation, he took the boat over to Marathon to see about their flight the next morning. When the police arrived around ten to tell her he’d crashed into the bridge and been killed, she fainted. Guilt, grief, terror, and anger swept her out of the real world for what seemed eons. It had been agony.

Now as she lay in the motel bed she wept silently. Dear God, why did he have to die? He was such a good person. But of course she knew; she caused his death just as surely as if she’d fired a pistol into his beautiful blond head. How could she even think about marrying Ted Steele? If Jackson had lived, would he finally have forgiven her? Would he have ever understood she truly loved him in spite of the cruel thing she did? At last she slept, determined to tell Ted to forget her.

But next morning, Ted was so sweet and so happy, she postponed telling him. They left the motel and returned to the plane. Once in the air, he reached for her hand, squeezing it possessively. She closed her eyes as they soared, wishing they could stay aloft forever. But Ted called her name.

“I need to tell you something now. Something important,” he said, shouting above the plane’s motor. He leaned towards her. “Jackson had lung cancer. The ‘flu’ was part of it. The doctor only gave him a month or so to live. He told me to tell you when I thought the time was right, honey.”

Wave after wave of shock hit her and for a moment she couldn’t speak. So that was why he ... Jackson had really been sick and couldn’t ... “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“He couldn’t bear your pity. Why did he tell me? He wasn’t just my partner, Katy, he was my best friend. He knew I loved you. He knew I’d take care of you. He loved you so much.”

Until I ruined it! Katy turned away, unable even to cry.

Suddenly Ted exclaimed, “Look, honey, look below. Now!”

Wondering, she stared out the window. There, below them was Perrito Key, and what she saw on it changed her life completely. The giant letters: “K, I LOVE U FOREVER. J” were white bordered in red with a green background and they were stretched the length and breadth of the puppy’s tail — Jackson’s beloved garden. The green was undoubtedly grass; the white and red were probably impatiens. Elation washed through her like a shot of wild turkey. He had forgiven her right along. That’s what he’d been doing that final day in the rain. Making a garden and telling her in the only way he knew. He’d loved her that much. Oh, poor darling Jackson. He’d released her at last. She began to cry but the tears were joy. She reached over and squeezed Ted’s hand. “I love you,” she said, and she meant them both.

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