Thin Space

By Annette K. Collins

Thin Space is a love story with a twist. It tells the story of two people who fall in love and are true soul mates, and about what happens when their life choices challenge the course of destiny. Can we ever find our way back to each other after going separate ways? Should we? Or is it something that is beyond our control?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 30, 2011
• ISBN: 9781469141572

Annette K. Collins

Annette K Collins lives with her family in upstate New York. In addition to writing fiction, she also enjoys writing poetry and children’s stories.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Zoom In

The gentle sound of the wind chime outside my window woke me up. It was musical, almost rhythmic, and I listened to it passively for a moment before rolling over to stretch luxuriously and open my eyes. The fog of sleep lay heavily on me, and it took longer than usual to clear the confusion of where I was as I transitioned from dream state to full awareness. The dream lingered just long enough for me to be aware that it had not been a pleasant one, before it broke apart and dissipated altogether, leaving me briefly panicked as I tried to recall what it may have been saying. Then that feeling too evaporated as though it never existed.

Glancing at the clock, I realized that the wind chime had beaten my alarm clock by only two minutes. Sighing, I reached over and turned off the alarm before it could begin its dutiful call to arms.

Take a break, buddy! I said to it, giving it a friendly pat, like an old friend. Summer vacation starts tomorrow. You’ve got some well-deserved time off!

It barely registered in my consciousness how strange it was that I occasionally conversed with the inanimate objects in my house. I guess I’d come to accept the fact that living alone came with its own inherent risks to my mental stability. I guess it could be worse. At least none of those objects had begun answering back—yet.

Running my fingers through my tangled hair as I made my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth, I glanced out my window and smiled. As the weatherman had promised, it was shaping up to be a gloriously sunny day. I paused to open the window and let the fresh air in. The chime greeted me happily as I took in a deep breath of summer. I frowned briefly as a hint of something smelling vaguely of antiseptic cleanser mingled in with the smell of sunshine and freshly cut grass before remembering that I had scrubbed the porch outside my room with bleach just the day before. The offending aroma suddenly took on a new freshly cleaned role in my head, and I continued on to brush my teeth.

I turned on the shower to allow the water to heat up before turning the Oral-B loose to do its job on my nasty morning breath. While scrubbing my pearly whites on autopilot, I wandered back to my bedroom to lay out my clothes for the day. I performed my best multitasking during my daily morning routine. And that was a good thing, since it usually took a good ten to twenty minutes for my nocturnal biorhythms to completely reset and allow me to think clearly and efficiently. I pulled out a robin’s-egg blue, short-sleeved cotton blouse and paired it with my favorite pair of tan khaki capris. Then I headed back to the bathroom, spat, rinsed, and checked the shower temperature one last time before hopping in.

While I shampooed and scrubbed away any remnants of sleep, I took the time to run through a mental checklist of things I had to remember to take to school with me. The last day before summer break was always pretty chaotic; so I tried to prepare myself mentally for the fact that very little, if anything, was going to go as planned. As long as I remembered to bring the kids’ award certificates and some large garbage bags for cleaning things out at the end of the day—which, blissfully, would only be a half one!—nothing else would really matter. The class moms already had the bulk of the class party covered. I basically just had to show up!

I finished my shower, dried my hair, got dressed, and took just enough time to apply some basic makeup before stepping back to appraise myself in the mirror. Tilting my head slightly as I scrutinized my overall look, I decided to grab a scrunchie to pull my hair up into a casual ponytail. I was definitely feeling casual. Much better! Applying one last swipe of lip gloss, I grabbed my cell phone and teacher’s ID badge (proving without a doubt that I was, indeed, Brenna Marshman) from my nightstand and headed down the hall to the kitchen for breakfast. As I waited for my English muffin to toast, I realized I had missed a call on my cell. Curious as to who would be calling me this early, I flipped it open. It registered as Restricted. Oh well, if it was important, they would call back. More likely, it was a wrong number.

Hearing the toaster pop up, I grabbed the grape jam to spread on my English muffin and took a yogurt out of the fridge. I set everything down at the table and popped out the front door to get the morning paper. Then I sat to eat and read the news—nothing too exciting. I tried to focus mostly on the local news, since it was generally much more placid and uplifting. Far better for my psyche than the horror and drama one typically finds in the world or national news. True to form, the most exciting local news focused on end-of-school-year activities, listing where people could plan on viewing Fourth of July fireworks in the next couple of weeks, and a book sale and puppy adoption clinic being held at a local library. I glanced over the engagements and wedding announcements but didn’t recognize anyone’s names.

I finished reading the funnies and closed the paper. As I stacked it on the counter to put in the trash later, my eyes fell on an ad in the lower corner—nothing special. Just a basic ad for Moonlighter’s Moving, a local moving company; but for some strange reason, it triggered an odd emotional reaction in me. I couldn’t pinpoint why, but I had a fleeting feeling of loss. Then it was gone as quickly as it came and faded away the way my dream disappeared from my memory once I was fully awake. I shook my head to clear it and took a moment to analyze what had just happened. Well, maybe it was a premonition of change coming. After all, it was time for me to think about moving on—moving forward. I’d been going with the flow and following the same routine for a while now.

Marking that possibility in the back of my mind, I cleaned up and headed out for the last day of classes.

CHAPTER 2

The town pub was busier than usual that night. Although it wasn’t one of my typical haunts, I knew from experience that this night tended to show a spike in attendance as the teachers converged for their annual end-of-year celebratory gathering. It was a casual, fun place to let our hair down. Although there were the token pitchers of beer shared among many, the main draw was the large room we had reserved where we pushed the tables together and enjoyed loud conversation. Playing darts and singing karaoke were also activities we enjoyed while swapping horror stories and funny anecdotes from that year’s experiences.

Greeting my coworkers as they came in, I sat and observed them as I waited for my best friend, Cassie, to join us. She taught at the middle school, so we weren’t able to meet up at school each day during lunch or at meetings; but we had a lot in common, enjoyed each other’s company, and got together whenever we could. I sighed as I realized that, since her wedding last winter, our time spent together had dwindled considerably. I understood it, yet it made me feel nostalgic and a little sad. It made me realize that my happy little piece of heaven on earth here was still in motion even if I kept trying to slam on the brakes to keep it where I wanted it—to stay in my safe zone.

Watching everyone as they settled into conversations, I wondered how most of them saw me and how they would describe me, if asked. I guessed that they would probably get it mostly right. I was basically an easy read. I loved to be around people and to socialize. I was at my best when I was with a talkative group because I liked to learn about people’s thoughts, opinions, and lives. I wore my heart on my sleeve and could be moved to tears very easily. For some strange reason, I think this drew people to me when they wanted advice. I never understood the compulsion to do so, but I was often used as a sounding board. Maybe it was because they knew I was virtually incapable of bullshitting them. I said what I felt and could rarely hide a thought behind an expression. Because of that, I had learned early in life to observe but keep my opinions to myself unless asked. Although that personality trait could be seen as cold and standoffish in most people, my love for being around people and getting to know them at a deeply personal level apparently counterbalanced that well.

At thirty-five years old, I was still part of the young crowd here. My athletic shape (despite my aversion to actual exercise!) helped me to look the part, but it was hard not to notice a marked difference between myself and a small group of even younger teachers grouped together at one end of the large, pieced-together, wooden table. There were five of them who were all between the ages of twenty-four and twenty-eight, and they all clearly still retained vestiges of their college-party personalities. I envied them that. Everything was still fresh and fun, and they didn’t appear to carry any weight of the world with them yet. They spoke loudly, laughed loudly and without reserve, and hugged frequently. They were currently competing to see who could keep a teaspoon hanging from the end of their nose the longest. I smiled as I watched, putting my money on Jennifer Turneaux, who was one of the other first-grade teachers who joined classes with my kids for many projects but knew that my own spoon-hanging abilities would put her to shame.

I was pulled from my observations as someone greeted me with a quick bear hug from behind. Startled, I turned to see who it was. It was my friend Marc Richards. He taught third grade and was a favorite among students and coworkers alike. He was thirty-seven and still built like the sturdy, muscular football player he was back in the day. His brown hair was kept in a neat brush cut, and his golden brown eyes were always twinkling as if he could hardly contain a juicy secret. He always had a huge smile to show off his unnaturally white, although slightly off center, teeth; and his deep dimples could warm even the angriest beast. In short, he was a very likable guy. Laughing, I stood up and returned his hug.

Looking around, I asked, Where’s Katie? Katie was his fiancée, and it was odd to see him out without her.

Oh, she came home from work today with a migraine, so she told me to come without her. He winked and leaned in as if to share something on the down-low. I think she just wanted to be alone to watch the soaps she TiVo’d this week. For some reason, she thinks my flippant commentaries from the next room are distracting. He put on a sad puppy-dog face.

After providing the laugh he had apparently been plying for, I said, "Gee. I can’t imagine why!"

He shrugged and sat on a barstool next to where I stood. So why aren’t you over there playing darts?

I was kind of known for my dart-playing skills. For some reason, few of them believed I hadn’t been raised to be a ringer in a pub somewhere. Even I wouldn’t have been too sure. I hadn’t even played it in college, but it seemed to be a natural ability of mine from the very first time I played, here in this very watering hole. I found it funny that of all God-given talents I could’ve been blessed with, mine happened to be darts. That’s not to say I didn’t have other talents. I believe we’re all blessed with at least a handful of them—it’s up to us to discover what they may be; but for whatever reason, darts seemed to be what people connected to me.

Now it was my turn to shrug. Eh, I’ll probably work my way over there eventually, but I’m just waiting for Cassie right now.

As if on cue, Cassie came through the door, sweeping the room with her eyes in search of me. I waved to get her attention then reached out to meet her embrace as she approached me and threw her arms around my neck.

Hey, you! I said, Marc here was just offering to buy us a drink! Isn’t that sweet of him? I winked in his direction as his mouth popped open in surprise, as if to argue, then closed again as he looked at our expectant grins and decided it was a lost cause. He waved the bartender over and laid down the money for the two long island iced teas we proceeded to order.

He turned to Cassie. So I haven’t seen you in a while! How’s married life treating you? And keep in mind, he added quickly, you are talking to someone who will be joining that club in just a short time!

I looked to her to see what her answer would be as well. I was curious.

Cassie smiled. It looked genuine. It’s the best! she answered.

I noticed the sparkle in her eye and the color rising in her cheeks. Yes, she was truly happy and in love. I was happy for her but, if I was being honest with myself, also a little jealous. And I was a little surprised to discover that it wasn’t the lack of us time we had been experiencing that made me feel that way—as if something in our friendship was now missing. It was the fact that I was suddenly realizing that I truly missed being a part of a couple. Wow! Where did that come from?

I took a quick mental look at the last ten years or so of my life and was taken aback at just how sparsely populated my relationship column was . . . especially if I factored in meaningful ones! I’d had a few casual dates here and there. A few that evolved into something more passionate, but ultimately not entirely meaningful. And yes, I had to include it—in fact, it was probably the most important one to include—my one very brief stint with marriage in my midtwenties. I chalked that one up to an experimental rebellious stage I had, as opposed to anything at a truly deep emotional level. It had lasted less than a year, and I sometimes even forgot it had happened at all. It was the years prior to that relationship that were the meaningful ones—my college years.

Ouch! I reacted to that line of thinking in the same way I would if I had laid my hand upon a hot stovetop. The protective walls I had created around my heart slammed into place and pushed me back. They would not allow me to look any closer into it. It was a time and memory that caused me to feel too much pain and regret, so it was mostly forbidden territory—except when I was alone with my thoughts, dreams, and imagination. That’s the only time I allowed the what-ifs to come forward because I never knew which emotion would decide to take front stage. And it often was not one I’d want shown in public. Now was not the time!

Blinking back unbidden tears that were threatening to expose my inner turmoil, I forced a smile—hoping it looked more natural than it felt.

Marc was chuckling, I’ll bet Katie’s been coaching you on your answers!

Yeah, that’s right, Marc! I laughed, rolling my eyes at him. "Katie wants to trick you into thinking you’re going to be happily married instead of holding out for the real thing!" I punched him playfully in the shoulder. I noticed Cassie, out of the corner of my eye, watching me curiously. It reminded me of the fact that we were such good friends, and I winced inwardly at the realization that I shouldn’t have underestimated her ability to see right through me. She could see that something had triggered an odd response in me.

Not willing to pry any further in a public venue, she took another long sip of her iced tea, put her arm around my shoulders, and steered me toward the dart-throwing crowd. "Okay then! Enough of the small talk! We can catch up while you strut your stuff over here. I’m on your team!"

Succumbing to the energy of my friends and coworkers and already forgetting the strange sudden feeling of longing, I allowed myself to be guided into the rowdy crowd.

Then proceeded to kick butt on the dartboard.

CHAPTER 3

Brenna? Brenna, can you hear me?

I was still in bed, trapped in the vestiges of a dream, still trying to sleep off what must have been one long island iced tea too many if I was going by the pounding I felt in my head. Strange. I didn’t remember having more than two. And two should not have resulted in that feeling.

The voice I just heard sounded vaguely familiar, yet so far in the distance. I held still, listening intently, trying to discern if it was an actual voice or just the remnants of a dream I couldn’t quite make out. My eyes were still unwilling to open and surrender to the daylight.

I need you! I’m so sorry!

I forced my eyes open, so I could figure out why the voice sounded so far away and to see who it belonged to. As I did so, the feeling that it was so real instantly faded, along with the voice. Just a dream. So real. It suddenly caused tears to prickle in my eyes. Something about it instantly reminded me of the feelings dredged up last night. That must be it! I must have been dreaming about having someone in my life again since it was suddenly on my mind.

I sighed.

Turning to look at the clock, which was silent now after earning its summer vacation—and realized with a start that it was almost noon!—I winced as I sat up, preparing myself for the pounding in my head I had gotten a sample of upon wakening. I stopped. Bewildered, I slowly shook my head back and forth, up and down. Nothing. Odd. It had vanished as completely as the dream had.

I swung my feet out of bed and stood up, absently scratching at the rat’s nest that had transformed my hair during the night. Part of me really wanted to ponder what was going on in my head, but my heart pushed away fiercely at that thought. It was trying to protect me and keep me from getting hurt. It’s what happened every time I started thinking about the one time in my life when I was completely and utterly happy. But there were no crowds around now. I could allow a little bit of exploration now, especially since it appeared that there would be no relenting on the subject.

I sat back down on my bed—a king-sized bed. Far too big for just me, but it made me feel there was a touch of hope to be had. I was so good at humoring myself! I reached for the box of tissues on my nightstand. The painful aching in my chest was warning me that it was likely I’d be needing them. I was getting a little peeved with myself. Just yesterday, I was happy, carefree, and looking forward to enjoying my summer break. Now, out of nowhere and for no apparent reason, I was sliding into a pit of despair. What just happened? It couldn’t have been the fact that Cassie was happily married, and Marc was excited about his own upcoming nuptials. None of that was new or shocking. I tried thinking back to yesterday to see if I could figure out what triggered this sudden onslaught of painful, yet glorious, memories.

I was drawing a blank. But the memories kept pushing at my heart’s protective veneer. I let a few in. I had been so incredibly happy! It was ridiculous how insanely in love I had been. And even more ridiculous was the fact that he had felt the same way. So what had happened? It was the question I’d asked myself hundreds of times. It made no sense because I could never come up with a reasonable answer. In theory, we should be living happily ever after right now. But we graduated from college, parted briefly to pursue job opportunities, and lost touch. It was as simple as that, yet it made no sense. There was no good reason for us to have lost touch. With cell phones, the Internet and all its opportunities for social networking, Google, and e-mail—the list went on and on!—there was simply no excuse for it.

The first sob escaped. Pressing a tissue to my eyes, I gave up the fight and let it all out. I cried for my loss, my anger—at him and at myself—my regret, my confusion, my pain and feeling that I had been abandoned and left alone. This was not the first crying jag I’d ever had over these feelings, but it had been a long time.

I allowed myself to wallow for about fifteen minutes—allowing the pain to rip me wide open and raw again, creating new mending scars to form. I kept my face mostly buried in my pillow on the off chance a neighbor might pass by and hear the painful cries and assume the worst. I did not need any would-be heroes pounding at my door, trying to save me from what was, ultimately, only my own inability to cope. After a while, the pain eased—apparently, the freshly opened wounds had bled out. I dried my eyes, blew my nose, and lay staring at the ceiling until my head and sinuses cleared. I felt much better.

As I got up to attempt a fix on my now-swollen face, I heard my cell ringing. It was another blocked ID call, but I answered it anyway. I was curious.

Hello?

There was a brief pause then a lot of static and faraway, garbled voices. I strained to make out any clues as to who was calling. I thought it sounded like some sort of machinery in the background, but it could’ve been anything amid all the static.

I’m sorry! I can’t hear you! There’s a really bad connection! I shouted into the phone, not knowing if whoever it was could hear me either. You’ll have to call back and try again!

I hung up. I waited a few minutes; but when they didn’t call back, I put my phone away. Bad connections were not altogether uncommon around here. After all, the famed Green Mountains were all around.

Putting myself together and admittedly happy with the end result, I decided that since it was now well past noon, it would be pointless to grab breakfast. Instead, the sunshine, fresh air, and call of a new season beckoned; so I locked the door behind me and headed down the street in search of lunch.

CHAPTER 4

It was about as perfect as it could get for an early summer day. I found myself walking, lost in thought, through town, simply enjoying the sights and sounds. This quaint little town in which