Lover Come Back (Pt. 1)

LOVER COME BACK

A man discovers the power to reach into heaven and steal back his lost wife.


“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?”
“I’ll be fine. Now will you please stop worrying? I’ll call you just as soon as I get there. I’ll probably stay for the weekend.”
Shane knew, deep inside, he was being overly worrisome. Still, on the surface, he couldn’t shake this feeling that a bad omen was taking up residence in the cloud over his head. It was just a weekend trip to her mother’s, but it was almost a hundred miles away. And there was a storm a-brewin’.
“Well, okay, if you’re sure about this. And you call me anytime, day or night, if you need anything at all. You know my cell number, right? I’ll be at the company conference, though I’d much rather stay with you. And give Mom my best.”
“I will, honey. I know your number. You just try and enjoy the time with your boss and colleagues. I’ll be thinking of you a lot. And don’t worry, nothin’s gonna happen.”
“I love you, Ruth,” he said, as he planted a kiss on her cheek. “Take care of yourself.”
“I know,” she replied. “I love you, too.”
Shane and Ruth Carver were newlyweds, married just two months. But it felt to Shane like two years as well as two days. He searched for a true love all his twenty-four years, and now that he had found it, he had become obsessed with keeping it safe and close to his heart. He always placed a stranglehold on the most important things in his life. Ruth might have thought she was being smothered by him doing this, but she reasoned it was because their life together had just begun. She was sure it would fade with time. She hoped so.
Ruth pulled away from the curb of the house and started down the long, country lane that served as the driveway. Just before she faded from view, Shane could have sworn he saw a crow--the bird of death--swoop down and rest for a second on the hood of the car. Common sense told him he was being ridiculous in his anxieties; it was just a random moment. Still, he couldn’t shake this foreboding that an omen had been aroused.
He turned back to the house and began making final preparations to leave, himself, for the weekend-long series of meetings and lectures focusing on the improving technologies of his employer, a paranormal studies research group. It was their job to use the laws of science and of the unknown to delve into the fine line between this world and the next, in hopes of gaining greater understanding and, perhaps (do they dare even think it?) find a way to ‘close the door’.
“Let those who have already crossed over remain in their eternity, but we want to figure a way to keep from joining them,” Lawrence Sachs, the founding director of Project Lifestay, was often known to have quoted, in one form or another.
Shane gathered the last of his things and jumped in the cab for the airport. The flight was uneventful, and he knew that fate was just setting him up for a letdown later. Upon exiting the aircraft on the runway and walking toward the terminal, that same crow landed on a luggage dolly, stared right into his face, and let out a loud “Caw! Caw!” Shane knew the crow was saying, I’m coming for you, buddy! I’m coming and the angels won’t save you this time, for I locked them all up in Rapunzel’s tower! Shane vigorously shook his head, and banished the banter from his memory. This is just an ordinary day, he told himself. You are fretting over nothing. Everything will be fine.
But he hadn’t been in his hotel room for more than ten minutes when the call came in. “Mr. Carver,” spoke the voice on the other end of the line, “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. It’s your wife…there’s been an accident.”
It took what felt like an eternity for the words to register. Shane gasped for a breath, but none came. He just stared straight ahead at the blackness of the television screen. But hearing the news is not what placed him in shock. What did it was the sound of the voice on the phone: it was familiar, with a raven-like quality.

“Wh-what did you say?” Shane stammered. “What about my wife?”
“Mr. Carver, you need to get back home right away. There’s been a horrific accident. The police and coroner’s office wish to speak with you.”
Shane could have sworn he continued to hear the cackling of several blackbirds in the background. He hoped he wasn’t hallucinating after taking a few aspirins earlier in the day to help calm his nerves. He
remembered he has sensitivity to any medication, with unpredictable results. When he was twelve, he had an episode of sleepwalking after downing some cough syrup.
“Who is this…really?”
“I told you, sir. This is the hotel manager. I’m calling from the front desk. Caw! Caw! Please pack your things back up and come down to the lobby to check out. I know you had an important meeting to attend, but it will have to wait. And, of course, there will be no charge for your stay. You have been here for less than a half-hour, and due to the circumstances--”
Shane didn’t even wait for the man to finish. He threw the phone down--which, oddly enough, landed in its correct position in its cradle--grabbed his weekend bag that he hadn’t even opened yet, and bolted out the door and down the hall. He had no patience to wait for an elevator, so he took the stairs. All twenty flights of it. With adrenaline pumping, he surely had the energy.
Shane’s mind was racing. When he was a young child, he’d heard stories about how death makes its ominous presence known by the appearance of a crow. Nature has a strange way of paying tribute to Edgar Allan Poe, he thought. He didn’t place much faith in those tales, however, passing them off as mystical phooey. Naivety teaches a harsh lesson, even if it takes a long time for the teacher to appear. You didn’t listen when you were younger, Shane baby. Now you must pay the price for being a non-believer!
“What’s this about my wife? You summoned me down here?”
“Mr. Carver?”
“Yes.”
“I’m very sorry, but we’ve just received a message that your wife and mother-in-law have been in a terrible accident. The authorities say one of the women was killed, and it is presumed it was your wife.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Do you really think that most people would believe the tale of a man caring about his wife’s mother?”
Shane gave the clerk a look of bewildered disgust. “Oh, right. I forgot. Every man on Earth must hate his mother-in law.”
“Here are your papers for check-out. We will contact you if we need anything else. I have called a cab to take you straight to the airport. It should be here shortly.”
As before, Shane didn’t wait for the end. He was halfway through the revolving doors when the taxi pulled up. The driver had just turned around to greet him when he was already in the seat, closing the door.
“Good afternoon, sir. Where--”
“Airport, please. Hurry, please.”
Shane was in such a frantic state he could not even take in the sights of Los Angeles. This was his first time here, and he really wanted to see the place during his downtime. Now he realized, under the circumstances, he had only been in town less than two hours, and didn’t know when, if ever at all, he’d get the chance to return. A part of him was mentally hallucinating. He thought the crow might have followed him cross-country to continue his string of evil luck.
Shane was so nervous on the return flight home to his town in New York that he couldn’t even stay awake. He used the six hour jaunt to get in some extra rest. It was more or less a fitful sleep. His mind was still racing, expecting the worst. He didn’t remember talking to the local officials at the police station, or even the hospital. When he fully came to his senses, the most prominent thing he was aware of was the familiar, if not unmistakably disquieting environment of a morgue. He was led down a small corridor, entered through two cold, steel doors. Then another corridor, and then yet another. Before he knew it he was in a small room, where everything looked white, the way he could imagine what heaven must be like. The head coroner and a policeman walked him over to a wall made of large, metal drawers, resembling a huge filing cabinet. The coroner pulled on the handle of one and slowly drew back the table within, holding a female body. As if from rote memorization, he asked Shane, “Sir, is this your wife?”
Shane stepped back, aghast, about to faint, if not for the policeman’s quick catch. He knew what to expect. But nothing could prepare him for the moment. “Yes…yes, it is.”
Shane replied quickly, so as not to lose his breath, but it was too late. All he could feel in his lungs was cold, misty air. It was as if the smoke from the drawer had replaced his breath. Cold as it was, Shane forced himself to hold his wife’s clammy hand. He wanted to feel her skin once more, even in the grip of death. He reached up and stroked her hair.
“Ruth…oh, Ruth,” his voice quivering, with tears in his eyes that he intentionally did not wipe away. “I only knew and spent a year’s time with you. Nowhere near the amount of time for it to be fair.” Ruth had told him of several instances in her years growing up when life was not perfect. Her parents dying when she was just a child. Not feeling close to her foster families. The physical hole in her heart that never quite healed right. The friends she chased after and never quite caught. “This world sometimes didn’t treat you very well, did it? And this is the cruelest cut of all. But you gave it all the love you had. It is your mark you left. And I am only one of many who will never forget. You are in a better place now. Goodbye, Ruth dear. I’ll see you again one day. Goodbye for now. I love you. I love you.” The last affirmation was made as a whisper.
The last thing Shane remembered before he left was to discreetly remove the gold bracelet from her right forearm, and toss it in his shirt pocket, to be tucked safely away later. It was the very first gift he gave to her, and he told himself he’ll be damned if he’s going to let anyone take it away, even in heaven.

Shane nearly had a row with his boss, Mr. Sachs, over his absence and neglect of work for the last two days, despite the tragedy befallen him. “Look,” he scolded Shane, “I’m sorry and I know you’re hurting over losing your wife--a feeling I suppose I would have if I had ever been married--but there is work to be done around here. You missed the conference in L.A. entirely, and didn’t even acquire any notes. And now I hear you want the rest of the week off? For what? So you can wallow at home in your grief? I know what happened is a bad thing, but it’s time to grow up, son. You need to move on.”
How can this man be so unfeeling? thought Shane. He remembered this is not the first time his boss had come across with such a harsh demeanor. Shane was not the only one to be on the receiving end of the man’s wrath. His best friend in the workplace, Dave, a senior office manager, was once chewed out for forgetting to refill paper in the copier (which wasn’t even his job). At one point, Mr. Sachs jokingly threatened that if he made a careless mistake like that again, he was going to have company security escort Dave down to the basement and have him suspended from the ceiling above a vat of boiling oil, in which lived otherworldly demons who liked to have little boys for dinner. Though at times it seemed Shane got it worst and most often, perhaps because he was one of the younger rookies. But also maybe because Mr. Sachs knew Shane was a newlywed with a new home, and took pleasure in making his life difficult, lest he quit or got fired. Sometimes it appeared the man was inhuman; he truly was the boss from hell.
“I’m sorry,” said Shane. “I can’t stay here and listen to your yapping. I’ve got to go.” And with that, Shane started for the door.
“Hey! Hey, Carver! Where are you going? There’s a lot of work to finish here. What about those shipping orders and reports from last week? I never got ’em.”
“I’ll send you an email.”
“Mister, don’t you walk away from me! Get back in here!” Shane had his hand on the door handle. “Carver…you leave outta here, don’t think about comin’ back!” The door was ajar. “Carver, you hear me? Carver!”
Shane was already halfway out the door. Before he disappeared from sight, he flipped the middle finger of his left hand in his former employer’s direction, which he was certain was clearly seen.
Shane wished the bird was a crow.
========================================

Moping around the house in a daze, waiting for the love of his life to walk through the front door--when he knows she never will--was not something Shane was accustomed to, and he doubted he ever would become so. The house was modest at about 1200 square feet, but with Ruth gone, it felt like an endless mansion.
The nights were the very worst of all. Shane had to endure one round after another of quiet darkness. He lay in the bed restlessly, holding onto the mass of pillows that provided the only comfort of thinking Ruth
was still with him.
At one point the could have sworn he felt the soft touch of a hand run through his hair. But it was just one more hallucination; or was it a dream? Nevertheless, Shane felt it real enough to shock him awake. He awoke in a cold sweat and hit his head on the backboard. Wincing in pain for just a split-second, he was knocked out and fell forward onto the pillows.
When he regained consciousness about an hour later, the hallucination continued, albeit pleasantly. He was confronted by an image of Ruth standing at the foot of the bed. Shane sat up, got to his knees. He scrambled to be within an inch of her face. He was tangled up in the sheets, and it nearly pulled him back. He was afraid he’d hit his head again, and Ruth would be gone, as if the backboard was a toggle switch.
He violently threw the sheets and pillows onto the floor, and then once again scrambled on his hands and knees to be next to her. He longed so much to kiss her lips…just once more…to run his fingers through her hair…to feel the touch of her hand. He reached out to hold her, but missed. His hand went right through her.
“Ruth…”
“Shane,” she spoke in a voice that was more misty than corporal, “I’m not really here, but I will always be in your heart. I live in a different place now; a different kind of existence.”
“Please…come back.. You can come back to me. We can be together again.”
“No. Shane, listen to me. I love you with all my heart, and because of that, I need you to be happy, here on Earth.”
“Wha--”
“I want you to find someone to spend your life with. I don’t want you to be lonely.”
“No, I can’t. I only want you.”
“I am sorry. You cannot. Not until your time comes and you can be like me and join me. It is time for you to move on. Find someone to share your life with.”
“No. I refuse to look for anyone else.”
“You must. If you don’t, you will die inside while you are still alive.”
“So be it. Without you, I feel like I’m already dead.”
“Goodbye, Shane. Remember what I said. Be happy here on Earth.”
And with that, the hologram that was Ruth dissipated into the air.
“No! Ruth, don’t go!” Shane shouted into an empty room. As he reached out to grab her, he fell off the bed and onto the floor. He got to his knees and continued to try and grab hold of her, but he was clutching nothing. A moment later, his fists drenched, he realized he was clutching his own fallen tears.
Then he woke up, this time for real, and found himself still holding onto a mass of pillows. But the words Ruth had spoken didn’t leave his mind. And at that moment, he vowed to himself never to forget them. Not so much to remember the message, but simply to remember her voice.

The weeks dragged on, followed by the months. Shane worked occasionally at temporary jobs, but was in no mood to concentrate on anything long-term again. Good thing he had a $20,000 savings cushion to help him when needed. Mostly he was just going through the motions of life, but without really living. He still remained friends with Dave, the guy from his former job. Dave had mentioned to Shane, several times, that he needed to get back into the swing of things if he were to have any hope at all of regaining the joy of life. But the absence of Ruth seemed to be overwhelming. If the obstacle was this insurmountable, Dave could only imagine what it would take for Shane to love again. But it was still worth a shot. It would be a crime against humanity if Shane wound up living the rest of his life in this state. It turns out that Ruth spoke wise words in Shane’s dream. The rest of his friends and everyone else who knew him agreed that he should work past his grief, move on and find another companion. And they also agreed that Dave should be the one to help him with this, if necessary. He just didn’t know how.
But fate had other plans. It was on his next job assignment that he met her. She was a client (and a bit of a demanding one at that) that Shane was ordered to assist in a home remodel, when he landed a position at an architectural design firm. There were many business lunches and dinners to attend, both with her alone and with
other colleagues. The difficulty arose from her needing to have things “just right”, and she changed her mind often, when something wasn’t perfect. Carpet or wallpaper color had to match exactly with the main décor of the room, or a window was placed too high or low for her tastes. But Shane had to hold his tongue and keep his opinions to himself, for she was, after all, a client.
Eventually, she began to ease up on her pickiness, when she realized she would rather have the job completed, period, rather than have no mistakes made. Also, the prolonged time to finish the job was taking a toll on her house, with papers and other materials scattered throughout the place. It was putting too much strain on her orderly, cleanliness-centered lifestyle, and the mess was irritating her. She discussed this briefly with Shane during one of their meetings.
The amount of time Shane was spending with her very much surprised him, but only when he stopped to think about it. He apparently was so involved in the work that many days he literally forgot about the misery which was taking up most of his personal life. And the more this melancholy slowly disappeared, the more he started to see her as possibly more than just a business client and, perhaps one day, the answer to what he is supposed to be looking for.
Her name was Myra. She was attractive, with dark hair and eyes, but not a classic beauty like Ruth was. Not that Shane forgot about Ruth. No, he never would. During one of their appointments together, the conversation slowly turned more personal than expected. She was not married; did not have anyone in her life at the moment. Went through a bitter divorce with an abusive man about a year ago. Moved into her current abode shortly after. Was relatively well off, financially. No kids, didn’t want any. Said they got in the way of work. A blow to Shane’s dreams. He wanted a family, a large one. And was about to start that endeavor with Ruth when he lost her. Upon further reflection, it came through a revelation that that was a major cause of the pain of missing her. His dreams of having a family had vanished in the haze, or so he thought. He didn’t think he could find another person in the world who would love him and take care of him and a family the way Ruth promised to. So Myra doesn’t want children, Shane thought. S’alright, I’m sure I can change her mind or work something out. But I don’t even have her yet. She’s just a business client.
Unless I can change that.
After the home remodeling project was completed, Myra came to the conclusion that the place was just too small for her (and someone else who may come into her life at some point). Shane’s depression over losing Ruth had completely disappeared. The more time he spent with Myra, the more he got close to her as a romantic interest. And this was confirmed one particular night with the help of alcoholic beverages and a period of getting lost in passion. In time, their business relationship faded in favor of a more personal one, though she still maintained ties with the company. But this was going to prove very difficult to juggle.
On one particularly stormy afternoon at the beach, Shane and Myra got caught up in a seaside squall, underneath the posts of a dock not far from the café where they had their first date. They were very much taken by surprise, considering there was a cloudless sky when they started. It was then and there that they were overcome by passion. They were sure they would lose their balance and tumble down the sandy embankment to the shore below, with the waves crashing around them, locked in an embrace, recreating a classic scene in From Here to Eternity. But Shane wouldn’t let that happen. Ruth was the only woman he swore he would get involved with nautically--or naughtily. He only regrets that he never took the chance to do so, in either case.
“Your house is finished, you know,” he spoke. “There is no more work to be done. I did everything you wanted.”
“Yes, I know,” she replied. The rain continued to wash down their faces, drench their clothing. She alternately pulled away from him at the same time that she wanted to be close. Their faces stood mere inches from each other. “It’s just that…now it seems so small…for two or more…”
“What more? You said you don’t have a family; didn’t want one.”
“Yes, I know,” she repeated. “But I’ve been rethinking that lately. I don’t want to be in such a cramped abode the rest of my days, by myself. What if someone doesn’t come along?”
Shane took a step back, looked at her for a moment, and just blinked.
Myra continued, “I mean, someone that I know is right for me, and believes in all the same things I do.
Someone who shares all my same hopes and dreams with.”
“And I want it, too. Since I lost Ruth, I don’t have very much in my life anymore.”
The wooden planks of the dock began to snap and collapse under the weight of the water. Shane and Myra escaped for cover to the safety of a nearby cave in a bluff, just as the entire dock gave way. The crash made Myra wince and turn. She buried her head in Shane’s shoulder. When she looked up, their lips barely touched.

Shane and Myra were married two months later. This was to both the pride and relief of Dave and all the rest of Shane’s friends, who were wondering when he was going to see in Myra what they saw.
They both concluded that Myra’s house was indeed too small. Barely enough for the two of them; crowded for even a family of three. It was not a consideration for them to occupy his home. Too many memories from the first union. Not in a million years was Shane about to let another woman sleep next to him in the same bed he shared with Ruth.
So a decision was made that Shane and Myra sell their respective houses, and they would use the money to help buy “a little place all their own”. Strangely, Shane thought that’s what he had with Ruth. Now, however, looking back, perhaps the place was too large--much in the same way Myra’s place was too small.
The first few weeks of married life were filled with all the special little moments of a new life together, and getting to know one another better. Although, Shane was raised to believe that should come before the marriage part. In his first try, he courted Ruth for ten months before walking down the aisle with her.
Myra’s need to have things a certain way extended into married life. Dishes and cooking receptacles and utensils were to be placed in a particular way in a particular spot. Items of furniture were placed an exact distance from the wall and from each other. She even retired and arose at precisely the same time each night and day.
But perhaps her strongest rule of thumb revolved around cleanliness. Myra was the type of person who silently cursed the dishwasher or soap manufacturer if a spot was left on her glasses. Not that she did anything about it. It was enough for her to send a spell through the air. She couldn’t just wash dishes by hand in the sink. She demanded an appliance do what was expected of it.
She had a tiff if someone put a single fingerprint smudge on a window, or carelessly left behind a streak of dust or a crumb of food on furniture when cleaning up after themselves. And eating was to be done only in the kitchen, dining room or patio. No taking food elsewhere in the house. Bringing a late night snack to bed was to invite the fury which hell hath wrought of a famous scorned feline.
Needless to say, or perhaps coincidentally, the newlywed couple had few friends or neighbors visit.
Shane told himself that because he bought Myra a home, she should be entitled to keep her things her way. He also told himself that these were just early marriage eccentricities; symptoms of anxiety of a life with someone new. He hoped that, in time, the day-to-day rituals would fall away, and Myra’s neuroses would sail away into the sunset in favor of a life filled with ease.
Easier said than done.
One evening, shortly after the two-month probationary period of their wedded bliss, Shane came home ten minutes late. He told Myra he wanted to have “a night out with the boys”. He said he’d be home by midnight. He waltzed in the door at 12:10. He came in the front door, and stood there swaying for moment. He was not drunk. He was trying to adjust his eyes to the light. Myra had all the lights on in the living room. She was standing by the fireplace, tapping her foot, arms crossed, a scowl on her face. She looked like a teapot about to boil over, with steam coming out of the sides.
“Where the hell were you?” Myra asked calmly. “What time is it?”
“It’s a little after twelve. I told you earlier, I spent the night out with some friends. You look mad. Did I forget to do a chore, or something?”
“You forgot something, alright. You forgot to check your watch.” Shane felt like a youngster being scolded for missing a curfew.
“Look,” he affirmed, “I said I’d be home at midnight, and it’s…it’s a little past midnight.” Shane’s eyes lit up as a revelation hit him. “I don’t believe this! You’re upset over a measly ten minutes?”
“Twelve does not mean 12:10!”
“Are you so critical that you can’t allow a leeway of just a few minutes? Just because you’re so anal and perfect doesn’t mean everyone else has to bow down to your demands.”
Shane regretted those words the moment he said them. He walked toward her with open arms.
“Oh…oh, honey. I’m so sorry. I…”
But it was too late. The teapot had blown its top, and was spewing hot water and steam all over the kitchen counters and floor. Myra turned and stormed toward the master bedroom. “Oh!” she screamed.
Shane chased after her, but she slammed the door in his face. “Since you like that living room couch in front of the television so much, you can have them both tonight!”
And that was the start of trouble in paradise.
========================================