Palm Etchings-Hope Van Bronkhorst

Van Bronkorst !1 Hope Van Bronkhorst Palm Etchings He’ll be back soon, Cadence thought as his car sped out of the driveway and hooked a sharp right. He always is. Still, in times like these her hands could not bear to be idle. She found herself tracing the lines on the palms of her hands yet again. Annoyed with herself, she thrust her hands in her pockets and then pulled them out mere seconds later. Her bangs had fallen in her eyes. She raked her fingers through the curly mane and gathered the tendrils in a tight bun at the top of her head. She inhaled a shaky breath and chastised herself once more for reacting this way yet again. She’d never meant to become so attached. After what she’d endured as a child, she’d never intended to fall in love at all. With Oliver Sommers, however, she’d had no say in the matter. Enough, Cadence. You just need to do something to take your mind off of things. Her eyes settled on a small, overgrown plot of dirt near their front stoop. She observed the lines on her hands once before plunging the tips of her fingers into the cool soil plods. She tried to focus on the individual distinctions of each weed she pulled, but her thoughts always returned to him. Irritated with her preoccupation, she began to rip at the weeds while humming a tune—that is, before she remembered that it was their song. She hated the fact that he’d had to leave. Cadence, you know that he can’t help it. Helping others is his nature. Remember how he helped you? He’s pretty great, isn’t he? She was annoyed with her mind for not agreeing with her to think of him no more in this moment. May as well think of something pleasant rather than worry. Her first thought was of their first memory made, their first chance encounter. Very clever, brain. Well, go for it. Indulge yourself if you must. Cadence had squinted her eyes against the rising sun as she drove back from her third shift job. It didn’t pay much, but it was enough to sustain herself and pay for her summer lease. She had just finished the academic year, but this time she had refused to return to the place of her upbringing. This time, she would be the one to leave. “Of course this would happen,” Cadence had huffed as her gas gauge dropped to empty and her car begin to sputter. Noticing a diner up the street, she’d dug around in her center console until she’d grasped 12 dimes and a quarter, hopefully enough for a cup of coffee. Van Bronkorst !2 She’d ordered a black coffee and had slumped down on a red-cushioned stool next to the counter. Please, God, I can’t do this anymore. She was tired of struggling on her own. Tears began to well, and she’d stiffened. No, I will most definitely not cry in public. “Excuse me, ma’am, can I actually get that coffee to go, please?” The instant the warm Styrofoam touched her fingers she backed away from the counter. Her body ran straight into a broad-shouldered man and she felt herself falling and then being grasped just inches from the ground. “Are you okay, miss?” he’d whispered. “I’m fine.” Her coffee littered the metal base of the stool on which she’d been sitting and its surrounding tiles. “Nice to meet you, Fine. I’m Oliver.” “Cadence.” She was in no mood to flirt aimlessly. She knew the end to these types of stories. “Cady, you look a bit frazzled. Please, let me buy you breakfast to make up for your spilled coffee. We can talk a bit.” Just do it, Cadence; what can it hurt? Me! Still, she was lonely and hungry, and so she’d stayed. A free breakfast, some small talk, and she’d be on her way. The conversation had continued for a year and a half. Cadence dug her fingers once more into the cool earth and clamped her hands around the roots of a weed. She thought once more of Oliver’s necessary frequent and rapid departures. He’s not like him. He’ll come back; he always does. Sure enough, he did. ! Cadence let out a murmur and then jolted as her body was hoisted into the air. “Shh, it’s alright. It’s just me.” “You’re home,” she sighed as she leaned into his chest. See, you had nothing to worry about, Cadence. “Of course. Cady, I’ll always come home.” She felt his eyes boring down on her and turned her head away uncomfortably. “Your cheeks are damp.” Van Bronkorst !3 Whatever happened to evaporation? “Are they?” Come on, you know he’s not an idiot. He walked across the threshold of their room and set her down gently on the bed before scooting next to her. He ran his thumb across her cheeks. “Same dream?” She was so angry with herself. What is wrong with you, Cadence? Before she’d met Oliver, she could count on one hand the number of times she’d cried since her father had left; she’d never let herself before Oliver. “I feel so stupid. Seriously, it’s nothing, yet here I am, acting like a child.” “Cady, it’s not nothing, and that’s okay. His choices changed your life. Nobody expects you to behave as if it is no longer a part of your past once things start going well, especially after holding everything inside for so long.” She rolled her eyes but smiled at him still. “You should’ve been a therapist instead of a firefighter.” Cadence, stop trying to make a joke of things. You know he really cares to hear, even if it was the same dream again. She rolled over onto her back and began to trace the lines on her palms. “It’s the same story. I was staring out the picture window in our living room. I could hear my mom crying. “He’s not coming back this time,” she kept whispering. But there was a note sitting next to me in his handwriting saying he’d be back for me. I had my suitcase packed and was so happy when I saw the cab pull up. My dad walked in, looked right past me, and asked if you were ready. Then, you both left without saying goodbye.” “Oh, sweetheart. I still don’t understand how anyone could ever leave you. I know I never could.” He took her right hand in his and began to trace the lines on her palm. When he’d finished he touched the outer edge of her right hand to the inner edge of his left. He traced the heart like shape that their connected palm lines seamlessly, miraculously formed. “You flatter me, Oliver Sommers.” Was that a British lilt in my voice? Wow, well that’s embarrassing. The pair laughed, and Cadence adjusted herself so that her left ear was directly over his heartbeat. “So, did you rush off to save a kitten trapped in a tree today?” He’d admitted once that many of his days were merely spent playing cards and traveling to schools for safety demonstrations. Still, this knowledge had done little to settle her nerves each time he left, for she knew that there would always be days like today, days when his job would fit its stereotype. Van Bronkorst !4 “But of course.” They both knew he wouldn’t tell her the truth. Wouldn’t tell her that he’d been called to a house fire with two small children or that they’d only managed to retrieve one unscathed and the other, a little girl, was now in the pediatric intensive care unit. “Are they okay?” She felt his heartbeat quicken. She hated to know how much danger he’d been in and wondered how long she could endure his lifestyle. Cadence, this isn’t just about you; you need to listen to him and care what he has to say. “No.” The man beside her swallowed hard. She breathed in a shaky breath, hating her next words, yet needing to say them. No matter the details, at least he’d be safe with her tonight. “Tell me about it.” ! Cadence sat on the floor of the living room days later as she prepared her lesson plan. She had just started her second semester of student teaching and had uncharacteristically grown attached to her students. She was cutting out strips of construction people when her phone rang. “Hello, is this Cadence Hall?” an anxious voice asked. Cadence set the scissors down and her palms began to sweat. “Yes, this is she. May I ask who’s speaking?” “This is Sean Flannery. I work with Oliver. I was calling to let you know that there’s been an incident at work, and he’s being brought over to Mercy General right now.” She swallowed deeply and her heart beat faster. “Is he okay? What happened?” Cadence, don’t overreact. Still, she found herself drawing in short, rapid breaths. As Sean began to respond the piercing blares of the firehouse alarm sounded. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’ve got to go.” His voice was frantic as the line cut out. Of course, you couldn’t just be playing cards today, she thought before racing to the counter to grab her keys.

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