The Box: My Journey Through Hope, Faith and Love

By Isabel Ducanon

Emma grew up in Indiana feeling like the ugly duckling of the family—the third daughter of a high school beauty queen and football star who had two older daughters with perfect teeth, flawless complexions, and gorgeous hair.
She felt left out.
Then one day she met Clark Oden, who made her feel special.
But she pushed him away and with her cousin, Kalie, drove away in a Datsun with a “California or bust” sign. At eighteen years old, she was going on her first adult adventure, but she kept thinking of Clark.
When she found out he was engaged, she wondered how he could love someone else if he had loved her. Then she realized the answer: because she’d ended it.
Against all odds, Clark and Emma got back together after seeing each other at a funeral, with Clark calling off his engagement. But about a year after their reunion, Emma could not shake the feeling that something was missing, and once again, she broke it off.
Over the years, however, she thought of Clark often, but it wasn’t until nine years later that she heard from him again, just before he went off to war as a married man.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Dec 13, 2018
• ISBN: 9781480864771

Isabel Ducanon

Isabel Ducanon grew up in Indiana and always dreamed of becoming an author. She lives in California with her husband. This is her first book.

Book preview

Copyright © 2018 Isabel Ducanon.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

Archway Publishing

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.archwaypublishing.com

1 [phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

ISBN: 978-1-4808-6475-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-6476-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-6477-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018908226

Archway Publishing rev. date: 12/11/2018

Contents

1979

1980

1983-1988

1988

1991

1992

1993

Still 1993

1994

Remainder of 1994

1995

1998

1999

2000

2004

2006

2009

2010

2011

Last half of 2011

Ending 2011

2012

More of 2012

Still 2012

2012 into 2013

The best of 2013 and beyond

Epilogue

To my

loving husband.

1979

It was a beautiful, sunny day, and I was missing it—again. I stood just inside the large glass doors of my high school, wondering whether someone would remember to pick me up. Or would I be forgotten again? It had been a difficult childhood since the divorce of my mom and dad. Mom’s second marriage proved to be a challenge for us as well. Because of my severe shyness and because we moved a lot, friends were hard to come by.

We moved to Tulip Grove when I was in seventh grade. But when Mom said we were moving again at the end of my sophomore year, I refused to change schools again. I’d made wrestler-ette and was finally making a few friends. So we agreed that I would drive the thirty minutes from the east side of Indoton to the south side in Tulip Grove to finish out high school. But on this day, my car wouldn’t cooperate with the drive, and I once again was waiting and hoping someone would remember I was in Tulip Grove without a car and would need a ride home.

Then it happened. I felt someone looking at me. When I turned to look, he was walking and rounding the corner from the gymnasium toward me, wearing a singlet with one side hanging off his shoulder. He was tall and lean with beautiful, black, curly hair. A thin, dark mustache sat at the top of his upper lip. He was solid muscle.

He was looking at me.

As he approached, I feared he would speak to me; my throat closed, and my mouth became dry. I wondered why this popular high school stud would talk to me. He walked directly up to me and asked what I was doing. After I found my words and pushed the fear and shyness down, I explained my daunting situation. I feared I’d been forgotten again.

He asked me my name. Emma, I replied. I already knew who he was—Clark Oden. I’d heard of him through random girls talking about him. Plus, I had listened to my older sister talk about him almost daily during her senior year about how hot he was. Now, standing before me and up close, I could understand her crush. He was definitely hot, and he was talking to me.

I don’t recall what else was said, but suddenly he excused himself and said not to go anywhere. Well, where would I go, stranded and in this embarrassing situation? I felt the air suck out of my lungs. He’d left just as quickly as he’d come to me.

But I wasn’t surprised. After all, I was the ugly duckling in my family. I was the third daughter of the high school beauty queen and football star, and my mom and my two older sisters were perfectly beautiful—perfect teeth, flawless complexions, and gorgeous hair and eyes. I felt left out and wondered how I could be so homely and ugly coming from a family of beautiful people. So Clark was gone, and I wasn’t surprised.

Then suddenly he was back. He awakened me from my sulking and self-pity. He handed me some keys. My baffled look told him he should explain. He said to take his car and that he’d get it back from me later. I immediately said no. I couldn’t do that. I didn’t know him; he didn’t know me. How could he offer me his car without knowing me?

Confused and dazed is how I’m sure I looked, but he insisted. Since he wasn’t taking no for an answer, I obliged and took the keys from his hand. There was a sizzle, lighting, or something I couldn’t explain when our hands touched.

Later that evening, I drove the car back to his house and knocked on the door in anticipation of seeing him. His father answered the door. He was a big, curly-headed man. I could see the resemblance to Clark. I handed him the keys, frightened he’d be angry his son had loaned his car to a total stranger. But he wasn’t. He was kind and gentle, and he thanked me.

It turned out his dad owned the white Pinto, so when I explained that I’d filled up the gas tank—it took a full six dollars in 1979—he seemed pleased I had the good manners to return it with a full gas tank. I turned to leave and felt a presence of calm flood my body—a foreign feeling in my seventeen years of being in this body on this planet.

I continued walking to my friend Jenna’s house. Jenna had become my best friend during those last two years of school. Because Jenna and I were both wrestler-ettes and because I lived thirty minutes from school, I spent many nights over at her house. She came from a loving family with six children. I was always welcome and felt like I was part of their family. I felt loved and at home with them. Because we moved so much, and I was painfully shy, I’d been a junior in high school before I felt like I had a good friend. For me, Jenna and Daisy became my rocks. For the first time in my life, I was beginning to see the differences in home life and in how families interact and love each other. I found it interesting.

I thought of Clark often—of his kindness and good looks. Then I found myself sitting smack dab next to him in study hall. And on the other side of him sat his friend Drake. I remember Drake because he loved the Beatles. Clark and Drake goofed off and talked a lot. I was terrified of getting in trouble and would have been mortified if the teacher had reprimanded me for talking. I was scared for Clark and Drake. If they kept goofing off and being loud, they would get in trouble. The thought didn’t seem to bother them.

Then when Clark would talk to me I responded quietly and shyly. But inside I was bubbly with excitement and giddy at the thought that Clark was once again talking to me.

Then it happened. Wrestling season had started, and he asked me out. Me! He asked me out, and he wanted to know whether I would go out with him after the wrestling meet on Saturday. I nervously said yes, but after study hall, I ran into the hall with enthusiasm and excitement. I hurried over to find Jenna; her locker was always next to mine because we both had last names starting with H.

I ran to her, practically screaming, He did it! He did it!

Jenna seeming a little lost, because she said, What? Who did what?

I replied, Clark. He asked me out after the meet Saturday. And I said yes!

So we became an item. He was my first real boyfriend. We slowly got to know each other and spent as much time together as we could. We drove around a lot. It was funny. He would ask me where I wanted to eat, and I would say I didn’t care—wherever he wanted. Back then we didn’t have the options people have today. Fast food was fairly new, and chain restaurants weren’t even heard of. Ponderosa, I believe, was one of the few. There were some nice steak places that were locally owned and operated. I didn’t feel like I belonged in places like those. But mostly I feared saying anything because I didn’t know whether Clark had enough money for us to go to a nice place. I wished he would just decide where he could afford to take us and take us there. But he was trying to please me. He wanted to make me happy. And he did.

I was fast in love—or what I thought was in love. I certainly had never felt this way before. I guess some would have called it puppy love. But I knew it was more. We dated all through the wrestling season and to the end of the school year—my entire junior year. Once after a meet, we ended up at a party of one of the wrestler-ettes. We were drinking a little (or a lot); it was one of my first drinking experiences.

I don’t know how much I had or even what I was drinking, but I do remember the two of us making out on top of the huge pile of coats lying on the bed in the bedroom off to the right of the entrance of the house. Some of the wrestlers saw us making out and started chanting to Clark, Pin her! Pin her! It was an enormously embarrassing moment for me.

A few months later, we went to the turnabout dance, and then we went to prom his senior year. The theme for the evening was We’ve Got Tonight. It was a good fit because I knew he was going away for college after graduation, and that fact scared the bejesus out of me.

I remember feeling awkward; I’d borrowed Jenna’s mom’s dress. I don’t recall why she had it or where she had worn it, but I didn’t have money for a new dress. All the other girls had probably shopped for hours with their moms, looking for the perfect dress. But I didn’t. I do remember mentioning to my mom a pair of shoes I’d found that I loved. They were super-high platform heels and kind of funky. But somehow she provided the forty dollars I needed to purchase them. They were brown, and the dress I’d borrowed was blue. Nothing matched or probably even looked good. But that’s the way it was.

I stayed at his house overnight after the prom so the next day we could get up early and go to Kings Island, the amusement park two hours from Indy. But I remember walking around that day and getting sunburned in my red pants and white terry-cloth shirt with red trim around the sleeves, just wondering whether this was the way we were supposed to feel and be. We seemed distant and disconnected, but I wasn’t sure why or what to do about it. Sometimes when I was with him, I felt like I didn’t want to be. Then when I wasn’t with him, I longed for him and couldn’t wait to see him again. I knew I loved him, which made the situation so confusing for me.

We drove around so much in his parents’ red Mercury. I could sit so close next to him that we could have our hands on each other’s legs. We drove and listened to Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band over and over.

That fall, when he went away to college, it wasn’t too far away. He drove home on the weekends to see me. By then I was a senior, so I was able to go to school part-time and work full-time trying to stay busy and keep my mind off what he was experiencing at college. I imagined him partying on the weekends like I’d always heard people talk about. I imagined him meeting and talking to beautiful, smart girls; this suspicion led to my insecurity and my knowing he would dump me once he discovered there were all kinds of smart and beautiful women all around him. He was so amazingly handsome; I imagined he had swarms of women fighting for his attention and affection.

The situation became unbearable, so I did it. I ended it. I told him I’d met someone else. Breaking up was hard, but I knew it would be better than him telling me he’d met someone. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to handle that, so I broke up first. Plus, I’d heard through the grapevine that someone was interested in me. I figured that was my way out. And I started going out with Ned after I ended the relationship with Clark.

There had been many times during my relationship with Clark when I wondered how much he truly liked me, even loved me since he’d said it often. But although we had numerous heavy-duty make-out sessions, he’d never tried to go all the way. He confused me because I thought if we loved each other, we should have sex. I believed that sex meant love. But he never tried, and we never discussed it. I had sleepovers at his house, and he had slept over at my house. But still, we never had sex. I always wondered in the back of my mind, Why didn’t we? So when Ned and I started dating, and he wanted to go all the way, I obliged. I thought it meant he loved me. And I thought it meant maybe Clark hadn’t loved me like he’d said because he’d never tried to go all the way. That was a long and difficult life lesson that would take me years to understand and clear up in my head and heart. So I gave my virginity to Ned during my senior year.

1980

After I graduated, I was lost and confused. Ned moved on, and my thoughts turned back to Clark. Many of my classmates went on to college, and my Ponderosa (where I’d worked during my junior and senior years) buddies were still working and partying, but I didn’t feel like I belonged in either of those places.

During a heated argument with my sister, I became so scared and afraid for my future that I called my cousin Kalie. She, I think, felt lost and confused too, convinced me we should go to California and live with her dad and his girlfriend. So, after two years of working at Ponderosa, I put in my notice, and we packed up Kalie’s Datsun B210 with a California or bust sign in the window and started on our first big-life journey. It was my first as an adult (if you consider eighteen an adult).

I’d never driven a stick shift, so by the time we arrived in California, my uncle had to replace the clutch. We all got a kick out of that one. I got stuck stopping at toll booths and stoplights and annoying the people behind me. Some were angry and honking. Others just laughed. But boy, it was a great lesson. Years later I drove a five-speed Mazda RX-7, which came to be my all-time favorite car I owned. I quickly got a job in the shipping and receiving of a small airport, and it was fun.

I was trying to overcome my severe shyness and convince myself I belonged … here, somewhere, anywhere. I just wanted to feel like I belonged. I thought of Clark often, and we kept in touch with an occasional letter. One day when I got home from work, there was a letter from him. I anxiously opened it, desperate to read his words of love for me. But I was devastated when he said he was engaged.

Engaged! My Clark was engaged!

I sat on the side of the bed with my head hung low, silently crying, heartbroken and angry at myself for letting him go. I’d thought he loved me. How could he love someone else if he loved me?

Because you ended it with him, silly girl. I berated myself inside my head. It was my fault; I had done this.

You told him you didn’t want to be with him anymore, so he moved on. What else was he supposed to do?

I vacillated for days between berating myself and crying of a broken heart. At some point, I knew I had to stop this, forget about him, and truly let him go now. My heart had to let him go.

My cousin and I stayed in California for a year. Then, missing our friends and family, we decided we were ready to head back to Indiana and start fresh. It was time to decide once and for all what we wanted to do with our futures. So that journey ended, and I desperately needed a new one—a fresh start, a new look at life. I moved back to my mom and stepdad’s place.

After settling back in, I immediately found a job, working at a restaurant where my former manager of Ponderosa was managing. Meeting new people, moving a tad out of my shyness, I had a bit of contentment for the time being. Some regular customers of mine recruited me to work for them across the street at the hotel as a desk clerk. Oh, what an opportunity! I loved it. It opened more doors … well, you know, what a nineteen-year-old thought was a door.

Months later I was settling back into my life and even had a blind date. I think my mom’s friend or someone set us up. But I was sitting on the couch with mom and Richard (my stepdad), waiting for my blind date to pick me up, when the phone rang. It was Jenna from high school. We hadn’t stayed too much in touch once she went to college, but here she was, calling me. She said she was calling to let me know Brianna had died.

What? Did you say Brianna died?

Clark’s baby sister had passed away? Brianna was only a year younger than I. She too had been a wrestler-ette, Clark and I had a few times had a double date with her and her boyfriend, Jim, who happened to be one of Clark’s best friends. I was in disbelief. What had happened?

Jenna didn’t have too many details, just that Brianna had passed away from a rare illness, and there would be a wake I could attend to pay my respects. I canceled my blind date and spent the next several hours sad, crying, and not understanding life at all.

The next evening, I drove myself to the funeral home. Almost everyone knew who I was. I was nervous, scared, and timid. Someone approached me and told me Clark was in the funeral parlor basement.

I quickly went past the casket to say my good-byes, and emotions I wasn’t used to flooded me. I had only experienced my Papaw’s, death when I was sixteen, so my experience with death was foreign and filled with foreboding. As I walked downstairs, my throat became dry, and I held back tears. I was apprehensive. Not knowing what to say, I descended the stairs anyway, and half way down, I saw him.

He was sitting on a couch stationed against the wall. He sat in the middle between Jim and Drake. He was leaned over with his head facing the floor, supported by his hands. Seeing me on the staircase, Drake nudged Clark, and he looked up to see me approaching.

As he stood to walk toward me, I was so overcome that I could barely walk. The emotions of indescribable proportions hit me like a ton of bricks. My sadness for him and his family, for their loss, but add to that my love for him, my loneliness, and the longing I had for him—I wanted to run into his arms and have him hold me again. The only place I had ever truly felt safe was when he had his arms wrapped around me.

His six-foot frame and 185 pounds of solid muscle engulfed my tiny five-foot-five, one-hundred-pound frame. The emotions swirled so much that I truly can’t remember what happened next. But the next thing I do remember is being in the park together. We were sitting on a concrete bench that rounded a water fountain. We talked. I don’t recall the words, only his presence and our being next to each other again.

I kept reminding myself that he was engaged. I wondered what she was like, but I didn’t dare ask. A few hours later we were sitting in his car in front of my house. He said if there was any chance at all of us getting back together, he would call off his engagement.

Without a thought or a hesitation, I said, I don’t ever want to lose you again. I then proceeded to the house.

I didn’t kiss him, although my heart wanted to, so I could seal the deal. But I didn’t dare, at least not until the engagement was off.

The next day was the funeral. I didn’t go because he’d told me it was going to be a private family service. I don’t know how many more days it was before I heard from him again. But when I did he explained he had ended the engagement with Tracy, his fiancée, and he and I were back together again. I knew Tracy must have been hurt, brokenhearted, and shocked. I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for her. I knew it must have been hard for him, too. Just losing his sister, ending his engagement, and finding me back in his life … It was a lot for all of us. I felt sorry for Tracy, but I was elated that I had my Clark back.

She knew about me. She knew he’d loved me and that I’d hurt him when I ended the relationship with him. Apparently, they’d worked together during his second year at the university. She’d found some poems and letters we’d written to each other. I’m certain she’d been angry when she found out he’d broken their engagement to reunite with me. She must have hated