Promise Me Anthology Read Online Free PDF Page A

felt a sharp
pain again, thinking of Brennan laughing about how he had climbed
so many mountains, and this was just one more.
    “He loved the danger. He thrived on it, and
it led him to his death.”
    “Sarelle, I know it might not feel this way,
but you are out of the worst of your grief. In fact, you are
handling it better than most. You have a new job, you’re making new
friends, and you’re keeping busy. I don't think you need to come
and see me anymore, unless you began to feel depressed again.”
    “But there is something wrong with me,” I
persisted. “Since the accident happened, I've been less, um,
cautious."
    I had his attention now. “What do you
mean?”
    Mentioning that I chainsawed alone now
seemed unremarkable. “I mean I find myself thinking about
things that I never would have before.”
    “Such as?”
    Like walking into my forest and being okay
with not coming out. “Just odd thoughts. They don’t seem like
they’re mine.”
    “Elaborate.”
    “I always used to reach for the phone to call
911 as soon as I got scared, back in the city,” I said reluctantly.
“But now I don’t think I would call, if there was trouble.”
    The counselor gave me a stern look. “You
aren’t threatening them with your shotgun, are you? I thought we
discussed that was not a good thing for a woman living alone to be
doing.”
    I colored slightly. Illegal hunters don’t
count. And you wouldn’t say that to me if I were a man. “Of course
not. No one’s bothered me, really.”
    “If someone does, call the police and stay
inside.”
    Why? They would never get there in time, just
like for Brennan. “Okay.”
    His expression remained unconvinced. “Have
you had thoughts of suicide?”
    “No,” I said quickly. “Just thoughts of
getting older, and wondering if this is all there is for me. I want
there to be more than working and being alone all the time.”
    “I’m sure you’ve got a lot of living to do,”
he said with a smile. “I know it doesn’t seem possible now, but
this time next year, you may be amazed that you ever felt this low.
Life has a way of changing.” He handed me a piece of paper from his
shelf.” Have you ever read this poem?”
    “With Every Goodbye,” I read aloud. “I think
I remember this vaguely from my youth. Isn’t it about coping with
loss?”
    “Yes,” he answered. “Take it home and read
it. Think about it a little. Then if you want to schedule another
session with me, I’ll be happy to see you again.”
    I’d done as he asked. The poem was cheesy in
its way, but I did like its message of self-sufficiency. I already
knew I was strong and that I had worth. But I’d learned all I
wanted to of heartache and loss. I just wanted to find someone with
whom to share my joys. That was the lesson he’d wanted me to get;
that to really be ready to date again, I had to accept that I might
find myself back in this same position someday.
    I wasn’t ready to do that now. I wasn’t sure
I ever would be. I was okay with that. The rest of the world would
just have to be okay with it, too.
    * * * *
    I was conveniently curled up on my couch one
night in September, cats plural sharing my lap, reading the latest
DeMille thriller. Asher was in the basement, which had become her
home this past year. She still ventured outside, but only at night.
She’d relaxed her guard enough for me to pet her and pick her up,
but she still didn’t enjoy being held.
    My work at the metal shop was going well, and
I was looking forward to a slow autumn, instead of the usual rush
to the wire to beat winter’s harsh descent. Maybe I wasn’t all
better, but I was going to survive. I’d written my second chapter
already this past year, and made a new life from the ruins of the
old one. The rest of my story lay before me in the years to come.
Maybe there would even be a cowriter. There was plenty of time for
a great love to enter stage right. And if it took a few more
chapters for that to happen, that