He had always been an athletic person and his body even now, as he worked out at Halifax’s NordicWorld Gym, seemed to be in good condition. In fact, during the past four months he had embarked on an all-out program to ensure that his body wouldn’t give out on him again. He would never allow himself to fail another living soul such as he believed he had done with Vicky.
As Peter began another series of 100 push-ups, he continued to torture himself for not having had the strength to pull Vicky from the vacuum of disaster that she had fallen into. If only he hadn’t of slacked off of his exercise regimen during the darkest of days with his wife, Peter surely would have had the power to continue running after Vicky.
Why had he allowed his despair to cause him to stop taking care of himself? If he had of possessed an ounce of pride during those times, even the excruciating injury to his ankle wouldn’t have crippled his leg. He would have maintained the gait of a charged thoroughbred and Vicky would be alive today.
Peter’s chest heaved with a crescendo of gasps as he forced himself to balance on one hand and counted out the push-ups. “Ten, eleven, twelve,” grunted Peter as his heart answered the brutal punishment with an angry shot of pain. “No,” anguished Peter, “I won’t stop, I can’t, I can’t.” He renewed the attack of vengeance on his taut body while his mind filled with visions of floundering on the field overlooking the waters where Vicky had perished.
Two hours later, Peter dragged himself into the health club’s shower room and then allowed a blistering deluge of water to begin soothing his strained muscles. As his lungs continued to expand and deflate with jackhammer-like proportions, he slumped against the shower wall and tried to catch his breath.
After what seemed like an eternity, Peter’s exhaustion and pain dissipated and he turned off the flow of steaming water. He picked up a towel and dried himself off, then headed for the locker room.
As Peter sat on a bench in front of his locker, Vicky’s death scene was revisited in his heart and soul. He crimped his eyes shut and mentally watched in terror as the young woman plunged over the side of the cliff.
He felt the pain of his sprained ankle prevent him from reaching her in time. He must try, though, he must try, but all he heard was his own scream in the silence of his mind, “Vicky! Vicky! Oh dear God!”
“Peter, are you okay? That must have been some kind of a workout you went through. You look absolutely terrible,” said the club’s pro as he stood over the quaking man.
“Oh, um…yes, I did overdo it, Buff.” Peter gave the perfectly toned figure in front of him a slight smile and said, “I’ve been pushing myself lately and guess today’s session was a little too much for me. I’ll be all right though.”
“Okay, guy, well you know my motto. Full of pain, full of gain! So I don’t think you can really ever overdo it. You’ve just got to keep at it and not take breaks like you did last year. I mean, look at me! Once upon a time, I was in your shape, but now I’m…perrrfect!”
Buff seemed to carefully choose which set of muscles he wanted to flex and then proceeded to twist his upper torso into some sort of a cartoonish shape. “There,” said Buff, “take a look at that bicep! Peter, one day, you’ll look just as good. Well, close perhaps.”
“Yes, I’ll keep working at it, Buff. Thanks for the demonstration,” sighed Peter with an air of resignation. He was already in a place far removed from the locker room. Just as certain words would cause Gene Kelly’s thoughts in the movie “Brigadoon” to return to visions of his beautiful Fiona, Buff’s comments about Peter’s past temporary lack of commitment to his exercise program thrust Peter’s thoughts back to the field overlooking The Bay of Fundy.
“Atta boy, Peter,” exclaimed Buff as he flexed yet another set of muscles. “I’m pretty busy, but if you ever want to use me as your personal trainer, well, I might be able to work that in. Trust me, Peter, it would do you good.”
Peter ‘s thoughts instantly returned to the comedic scene taking place in front of him. “I’ll talk with you about that sometime, Buff, and thanks for the offer.” Peter glanced at his watch and said, “I’ve got to get going.” He began to rise from the bench and then winced as he felt a sudden pressure in his chest.
“There, that’s what I’m talking about, Peter. Full pain, full gain! See! You must have had a good workout! Well done! Okay, guy, I’ll see you tomorrow evening. Bye for now!”
Peter watched as Buff headed down the hallway. Every few feet the would-be Mr. Atlas made certain to flex at least two or three of his muscles whenever a guest of the club came within view. The ludicrous sight of the health club’s pro trying to impress the elderly janitor was sufficient to raise Peter’s spirits and make him temporarily forget about the low pain in his heart and the field of terror.
Peter looked at himself in the mirror, brushed a rogue lock of hair into place and walked off in the direction of the club’s lobby. As he entered the brilliantly lit room, he spied a burnished metal-framed picture of Buff posing in front of a mirror. The caption reflected back at the pro read, “This could be you!”
Peter was still shaking his head and wondering if the poster did the club more harm than good when he heard a voice call out, “Peter, Peter, how are you?”
“Shona, oh it has been so long! Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since Vicky’s….” Peter stopped short of saying the word “funeral” as he looked into Shona’s vibrant, but suddenly misting over eyes.
“I’ve been out of town, Peter. I decided to take a break after…after what happened. I just couldn’t seem to…well, I wanted to take some time off. So, um…how have you been?”
“I’ve been all right, Shona, but look why don’t we grab a cup of coffee or something and talk. I’d love to know how you’ve been getting on and I want to tell you what’s been going on with me. Oh, but were you going to exercise? I don’t want to keep you from doing that.”
“Peter, I just stopped by to purchase a membership in this club. I completed the form and paid my dues, but now that I look at this picture of the pro, I’m not so certain that I made a good decision. I should have looked at it before I signed up.”
“Yes, well don’t worry about Buff. He’s too busy thinking about himself to be any bother. They probably ought to rename this club “Buff’s World.”
Shona offered Peter a warm smile and replied, “No I don’t think so, Peter. After all, the club does have to have at least a fair shot at being successful!” Shona was grateful that the air of sadness that had engulfed her when Peter began to refer to Vicky’s death had been cleared, for now that is.
“Ha, ha, ha,” chortled Peter, “well said, Shona. There’s a coffee shop just around the corner. Let’s walk over and we can sit and chat for awhile.”
“Great,” responded Shona, “let’s go.”
Within fifteen minutes, Peter and Shona were sitting in a booth located in a cozy little bistro named “Café Canadienne.” While they were awaiting delivery of their coffee, neither had ventured forth into a conversation more complex than a simple commentary on the day’s weather, but now Peter decided to open a more personal topic.
“So, Shona, after Vicky’s…um…I didn’t try to reach you for a few weeks or so. I thought that you’d probably prefer not to talk about it and…well, then I got tied up with a number of things.”
“You’re right, Peter, I really couldn’t have brought myself around to talking about what happened. In fact, I decided to take a vacation about three weeks after Vicky’s fu…funeral.” Shona wiped a tear from her eye and then continued. “I just had to get away and spend some time by myself. You know, I hadn’t done that in a very long while and Ginny, my partner, was working with an intern and the two of them were able to take care of the business.”
“That was probably the best possible idea, Shona. Where did you go?”
“Peter, I’d long promised myself that when I got a chance, I would like to spend time in Newfoundland. That is exactly what I did. The scenery is so beautiful and I was very fortunate to make a few new friends. Have you visited the province?"
“No, but am planning on getting over there sometime in the near future. I’d like to take the ferry from Cape Breton and then spend at least two weeks on the island, or as the locals call it, “The Rock.” Peter took a sip from his coffee cup and asked, “Was it difficult coming back to work after being away for such a long time?”
“No, not at all and the truth is I’ve been so busy that I’ve not had a chance to spend much time thinking about that night. Whenever I do, however, I…I…the pain is so terrible, Peter.” Shona began to weep quietly in the solitude of the café.
She looked up through tear-drenched eyes at Peter and said, “But it must be so much worse for you. My God, Peter, you poor man. You poor man. To have been there and unable to do anything about…oh Peter, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” Rivers of tears were flowing down Shona’s cheeks even while she tried to regain her composure.
Peter’s eyes were also brimming over with sadness as he said, “Shona, I tried to help her. I tried, but I failed, I failed her and I….”
Shona reached out and gently clasped Peter’s hands in hers as she whispered, “I know you did, Peter. You did everything you possibly could. It was just Vicky’s time and I’m sure she knew how desperately you tried to help her. When you explained everything to me that night, I knew that nothing else could have been done. It’s okay, Peter, it’s okay. You must let this pain go. Let it go, Peter.”
“I’m trying, Shona, I’m trying,“ said Peter as his eyes continued to mirror the sorrow and despair inhabiting his heart. He took two long sips from the steaming cup of coffee, looked out at the now storm-engorged skies and then quickly changed the subject. “So…so, are you planning on doing another show soon? ‘Brigadoon’ was such a great success and I know your fans would love to see you on stage again.”
“Yes, I am. I’ve been asked to play the lead role in a new production of ‘Camelot.’ That is something that I’m really looking forward to. It will do me good to get back on the stage. Tell me, Peter, what has been keeping you active these days?”
“Shona, what’s been keeping me busy is getting divorced.” Peter hesitated for a moment while allowing the news to sink in. After noting that Shona didn’t seem all that surprised, he continued, “As you probably know, Jessica and I haven’t been close in a very long time and just after Vicky’s death, we mutually decided to bring the marriage to a close. In fact, I had been meeting with an attorney before Vicky passed away.”
“I knew you and Jessica weren’t doing well together, Peter. But how did you manage to get a divorce granted so quickly? I know, in my case, it took quite a few months to obtain a decree absolute.”
“Shona, let me just say that Jessica and I hadn’t been…well…together in a particular way for a long time. The marriage had really been over for ages and so neither of us decided to contest the divorce. We agreed on a settlement and that was that. I expect to receive the final papers by the middle of next week. Had she spoken with you about this? How did you know that we were heading for divorce?”
“Peter, it was obvious from the way you spoke about her at the charity party for ‘Brigadoon’ that the relationship wasn’t doing well. You’ve also hinted at the problem in the past whenever we’ve chatted. Now…I…I hope you won’t be upset at my telling you this, but Rory confirmed that your marriage was in deep trouble and that divorce was a definite option.”
“No, Shona, I don’t mind that he told you. I suppose many people have known about my situation for a long time. Certainly Jessica chose not to hide the truth from her friends. In any case, the marriage is over and I’m on my own. By the way, speaking of Rory, have you heard from him lately?”
“As you know, I saw Rory at the funeral, but haven’t spoken with him since then. He did leave a few messages for me while I was on vacation and even a few days ago, but to be honest about it, I didn’t return the calls. You know, Peter, I was very interested in Rory a few months ago, but since Vicky’s death, I’ve pulled back. I’ve tried to understand if something about Rory bothers me or perhaps I just want to be alone. I can’t quite get a grip on what I’m feeling.”
Peter sat back in his chair and tried to decide what would be the proper thing to say. He knew, in his heart, that this wonderful woman probably shouldn’t be involved with Rory, especially knowing what he did about the man, but Rory was his friend and he didn’t feel right about opening up to Shona, not just yet.
“Shona, I’m sure that you’ll talk with him again at some point. He’ll be returning to Halifax within a few weeks and perhaps you can meet with him then. And if not, then that is what must be. You have to do what is right for you, Shona. That is the key to your happiness.”
On that evening, he had been contacted by Vicky who cheerfully offered him a ticket to see Shona MacKenzie appearing as the lead actress in a local production of “Brigadoon.” Later that night, he believed that he had begun to fall in love with the star of the play. Yes, Shona was the most magnificent woman he’d ever seen and one day, one day he’d be with her.
Rory stretched his legs out beneath his chair, casually raised his glass of Scotch to his lips and took a long drink of the exquisite liquor. As the soothing potion attempted to warm its way through his system, visions of Shona suddenly disappeared and he felt a stark chill as memories of the night that Vicky perished caused him to shudder. He violently shook his head, then drained his glass and thought, “No, no, I can’t dwell on that image. Vicky is dead and I had nothing to do with it.”
He raised his hand and said to a waiter who was cleaning the table next to Rory’s, “Get me another one of these, would you.”
“Yes sir, right away sir,”
Within a few minutes, Rory had already swallowed a few drams from the new glass of Scotch and was once again thinking about Shona. Now, however, his mind was clouding over with sadness and even a tinge of anger. He began mumbling to himself, “Why hasn’t she called me? Why hasn’t she bothered to pick up the phone and….”
As the effects of the alcohol began to take their toll on his emotions, he continued, “I know she loves me. It was obvious from the way she and I…well, perhaps I’d best get back to Halifax earlier than I expected and see what in hell is going on and then I’ll….”
“Rory! This is a surprise! I haven’t seen you since the night that we…oh you know.”
Rory turned his head in the direction of a very inviting and scintillating feminine voice. Cynthia Miles, the one-time love of his life and the woman he was going to marry someday, was standing in front of him. His eyes immediately took in the luscious sight of the stunningly sensual woman clad in what could only be described as a very little, but hardly simple black shimmering mini-dress.
“Well, aren’t you going to offer me a drink, Rory? I went to see a play with one of my girlfriends, but she’s already gone home for the evening. That’s just fine with me. I think you and I have something to talk about and I’ve been meaning to call you.” Cynthia’s voice smoothed its way throughout Rory’s body in an outpouring of satiny texture unsurpassed by the fabric of the dress that she was wearing.
Shona looked out of the window of the café where she’d been speaking with Peter. She took a deep breath, futilely tried to clear the lump in her throat, and then turned back towards her friend. “Peter, I know you probably don’t want to talk about this, but please, please tell me if Vicky told you about why she was so angry with me? I…it is so terribly painful to know that she…she died believing that I’d hurt her. I…I just…I can’t take this, Peter. Please, if you know, please tell me.”
Peter closed his eyes, raised his hand to his forehead, and once again his thoughts returned to the wind and rain swept field overlooking The Bay of Fundy. He pursed his lips as tightly as humanly possible and then slowly, ever so slowly opened his eyes. In a voice blissed with compassion, he said, “Yes, Shona, yes she told me. She told me about it and I guess it is time to tell you.”
(Gary loves to hear from his readers so please email him)
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