The Promise of Change - By Rebecca Heflin Page 0,64
Sarah asked.
“They found him on his sailboat this morning. They think it was a heart attack.” Kim was crying on the other end of the line. “I gotta go. I’ll let you know when they arrangements have been made.”
“Right. Okay. Let me know when you find out. Okay. Bye.”
“Sarah, what is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Ken’s gone.”
Perched on the sofa with a cup of tea, Sarah surveyed the other black-clad mourners who had come to the post-funeral gathering. Some assembled in groups of three, talking in somber tones, others in larger groups, joking and laughing. All had some form of refreshment in their hands.
She’d always thought it was an odd tradition. Someone dies, and the grieving family invites the hordes back to the house and feeds them.
Her wandering gaze landed on Ken’s wife, Cindy. Only now she was his widow. She still looked dazed, like she’d woken from a bad dream only to find it wasn’t a dream at all. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, but she managed to play the consummate hostess, ensuring that her guests wanted for nothing.
Sarah realized then how self-absorbed she’d been the last year. Her heartaches, discontent, and mid-life setbacks were nothing compared to Cindy’s devastating loss. Sarah’s marriage was long over, and any possibility of a relationship with Alex non-existent, so she needed to get over herself. Move on.
She also needed to come to a decision about her career. If she was going to continue to practice law, then she needed to recommit herself to finding a job and then give one-hundred-ten-percent. If she decided to give writing a try, then she needed to devote herself to that task with the same level of dedication.
Life was too short. Ken’s death had made that all too clear. No one knew how much time he or she had left, and she wanted to leave this earth with the knowledge that if she didn’t accomplish her dreams, at least it wasn’t for lack of trying. As Alex said, in not even trying, she’d already failed.
What was that saying, be bold and courageous. When you look back on your life, you’ll regret the things you didn’t do more than the things you did.
She didn’t want to look back and regret that she’d spent this opportunity tidying her closets, instead of pursuing a dream. On a more practical level, her savings weren’t going to last forever. Time was not a luxury she could afford at this point.
“Baby, we’re worried about you,” the Admiral said, his voice filled with concern. “We thought you’d return from England recharged and renewed. Instead, you seem even more miserable than before you left. And Becca tells me you’ve cancelled the job interview.”
Sarah and her father sat in her garden taking advantage of the unusually dry, temperate August dusk. Citronella torches flickered, keeping the ravenous mosquitoes at bay.
“What’s happened to my steady, sensible Sarah?” He nudged when she didn’t respond.
Sarah tucked her legs up under her chin and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Oh, Daddy, it’s everything. Alex, my love life in general . . . or the lack thereof.” Sarah blushed to the roots of her hair to be discussing her love life with her father. “Ken’s death, my career, in that order. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
The decision to cancel the interview had felt like cutting a lifeline. Biting her lip, she finally said, “I think I need a change . . .”
“You need a change. But, baby, you hate change.”
“Yeah, I know. But maybe it’s time.” They listened to the first cricket song of the evening. “I’d just like to take a little more time, you know, figure out what I want to do. Maybe the time will give me some perspective.”
She knew he wanted to protest, to talk her out of it, but he held his tongue.
She hesitated, wondering if she should confess her real plans. “You know, Dad, I’ve always wanted to write. Maybe I’ll give that a try for a while.”
Her dad looked up, pain and uncertainty flashing across his face. “What would you write about?”
“You remember my sophomore year when I said I wanted to be a writer? Well, I’d actually finished a manuscript.”
“You did? You never told me that?”
“You weren’t too thrilled with my revelation. In fact, you talked me out of it, remember?”
“Oh, baby.” He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, trying to hide the unmanly tears that threatened his composure. “I thought it