Coming in for a Landing
By Samantha Rae-Garvey
Shivering, tears soaking her face, Joan punched in the passcode to unlock her phone. She swiped the home screen back and forth until she finally found the GPS app. Her daughter Olivia’s voice filled her ears: “I just don’t believe you can find your way around Koa Gap, Mom.”
Joan was not yet 50 years old and newly divorced when the forgetfulness started. At Olivia’s urging, she had sought help, and specialist after specialist concluded that this absentmindedness was a side effect of her long-term use of prescribed anti-depressants. Her own willingness to forget didn’t help. That’s what had caused the breach between them; her daughter assumed with some accuracy that Joan was, once again, choosing to be helpless.
She missed her daughter, but Joan understood Olivia’s need for distance. Theirs had always been a complicated relationship, made more so by Joan’s turbulent marriage to Olivia’s father and their subsequent divorce. But the fact that Olivia hadn’t blocked her cell phone number offered Joan a little hope that one day she could make it all right. Not that she would call anytime soon.
Joan squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could forget the slew of wrong turns that got her here instead of forgetting the right ones that would get her out of town.
Come to me, weary one.
Her eyes flashed open. The words were strange, but somehow Joan knew them. Without thinking twice, she powered off her phone and started to drive without the GPS telling her where to go.
Even after hours of driving, the needle on the fuel gauge hadn’t moved much by the time the sun started to set. Joan had no idea where she was, except that she wasn’t where she had been—her sister Annmarie’s house. Her sister’s words echoed in her mind, “You’re just floating around and expecting everyone else to pick up your slack!” That’s when Joan had thrown her few belongings into a grocery bag and walked out the door.
That was all behind her now, along with the cookie-cutter houses and cereal box office buildings. Here, wooded areas stretched in all directions. Anxiety rippled through her; it was all so unfamiliar. Maybe she should have stuck it out at Annmarie’s. With a tap of her hand against the steering wheel, Joan snapped out of it. There was no going back.
The sun dipped below the horizon, and Joan switched on her headlights. The curves of the road became harder to navigate. There were no lampposts here, only moonlight. She glimpsed something rushing from the woods and right into her path. Two eyes reflected the beam of her headlights; Joan screamed and slammed the brakes.
Her grip on the steering wheel loosened. As the deer stared back at her, she noticed curiosity in the creature’s eyes. Her heartrate slowed, and she smiled.
I will give you rest.
Joan’s brows furrowed at the familiar words. The deer crossed to the other side of the road.
Wishing the animal would stay, just a little while longer, Joan watched it fade into the trees. She trailed it with her eyes, landing on a rectangular sign made of dark wood. Two soft lights pointed at the sign glowed just enough to make it legible: Parkview Heights.
Curious, Joan turned onto a short drive that ended into a lot where a small lamppost illuminated a few empty spaces. Beyond them, darkness swallowed the landscape. Exhaustion set in faster than fear. Parked in the first spot, Joan triple checked the locks on her doors, took one more look around, and fell asleep almost immediately.
Sunlight startled Joan awake. Nothing looked the same in the new daylight streaked pink with sunrise. She tried to recall how she’d ended up in this parking lot and pieced it together. Moonlight. Dark curves. The deer. “Find rest, weary one.”
The words seemed audible this time, and Joan checked the back seat to be sure she was still alone in the car. She rubbed her forehead, trying to soothe the confusion.
Joan reached for a bottle of water in the passenger seat and grabbed a few of the remaining crackers to quiet her growling stomach. A rumpled envelope behind the cupholder held what was left of the money she’d managed to save over the past two years. She counted it again: $37.46.
In the morning light, she could see buildings through the trees. A smaller one bore a sign reading “office,” and behind it were several larger buildings that appeared to be apartments. She hesitated a moment but decided to stretch away the stiffness of her sleep, brush off the crumbs from her breakfast, and make her way up the cobblestone path.
The sign on the door had been flipped to open, but Joan thought it best to knock first. Her reflection in the window reminded her to brush her fingers through her hair. When no one answered after the second knock she tried the handle. The door opened into the quaint living room of a small cottage. Joan’s smile widened. The floor plan was almost identical to the cottage she’d bought when Olivia was just a baby.
To her right was a small table with a bell. Her finger hesitated a few seconds before she pressed it.
“Come in, come in!” A voice called out from what Joan assumed to be the kitchen, given the faint clatter of dishes in the background.
Joan stepped further inside and shut the door. She scanned the room, taking in two chairs in need of new fabric separated by a coffee table, sitting close to the fireplace like they were waiting for winter to return. A rugged Bible, in need of new binding, sat on the coffee table, opened to the Gospel of Matthew. Joan ran her fingers down the page.
Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
“That’s it!” She exclaimed before she could catch herself. Embarrassed, she looked up to make sure she hadn’t startled anyone and continued reading.
“Good morning, dear!”
Joan snapped upright.
“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” The woman had kind eyes and seemed as familiar as the words Joan had found on the page.
“Might you be the one parked out front?” the woman continued. “I saw you this morning but didn’t want to wake you. I can only imagine how frightening it would be to have some stranger knocking on your window. I was hoping you’d stop in before you left.”
She motioned to the two chairs, and Joan took one. The woman poured them both coffee, and Joan added cream and sugar to hers.
“I’m Nancy,” the woman said as she sat in the other chair. “Welcome to Parkview Heights.”
Joan cleared her throat, ran her palm over her hair to make sure it was lying flat, and introduced herself. “I didn’t realize this was private property. I thought maybe this was a park or something.”
Nancy’s eyes narrowed with concern. “Have you nowhere else to stay, dear?”
Joan lowered her eyes at the bluntness of Nancy’s question. A tear pierced the steam coming from the cup of coffee in her hands.
“Oh, here I am prying into something that’s not my concern,” Nancy interjected. “My Harry would scold me for sure.”
“No, it’s okay,” Joan started. “I was living with my sister, but it was—” She paused looking for the right words. “Time for me to move on.” Her eyes darted to the corner of the room to avoid eye contact with Nancy.
“Oh, dear,” Nancy said knowingly. “Sounds like you’ve had a rough go of it.”
It wasn’t Annmarie’s fault. She tried to help me, Joan wanted to add. But she couldn’t find her voice, so she just looked down again and nodded. Counting the ticks of the clock on the wall, she took small sips of her coffee.
A ding from the kitchen broke the silence, and Nancy excused herself. “That’s the muffins. Be right back.”
Joan watched the kitchen door swing shut.
Come to me, weary one.
At the nudge of the words, Joan looked over to the open Bible on the coffee table. She leaned forward, setting her cup on a coaster so that she could find her place and continue reading.
Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart,
and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.
“My burden is light,” she read aloud to herself, eyes squinting.
Nancy returned with a plate of perfectly golden muffins. She offered them to Joan then took one for herself. Nancy said a short prayer, and they began eating.
Joan swallowed a bite of muffin and sipped her coffee. “My memory isn’t so good anymore. Could you tell me what town we are in?”
“Koa Gap,” Nancy said, holding her napkin over her mouth to hide the bite of muffin she had just taken.
“Koa Gap?” Joan repeated, more tears forming.
Nancy reached over to put her hand on Joan’s shoulder. “Far from home?”
“Not far enough,” Joan shook her head in disbelief. She’d set out the day before to leave this town and the memories she still had of it. Somehow she was still here.
“This problem you’re having with your memory,” Nancy prompted. “How did it start?”
Joan closed her eyes, feeling the full weight of the burdens of the past decade—of her whole life. With a deep breath and surprising clarity, Joan explained everything. Falling in love, giving up her position at the bank to marry. His abuse. The depression. All those medications. The forgetfulness taking over. Olivia’s disappointment. Annmarie’s frustration. All the failed jobs, and the $37.46 she had left. Now, her plan to escape had only taken her in circles.
“Dear, dear,” Nancy clucked, dabbing a tissue at the corners of her eyes.
Joan watched in wonder. Of all the tears she had cried, no one had ever shed some of their own with her. She sat up, her shoulders feeling lighter.
Nancy’s face brightened, as if with an idea. “I am getting older and just can’t do a lot of things that I used to do. And with my Harry gone, keeping up with everything has been especially difficult.”
Joan looked at her, puzzled.
“I am in great need of an assistant, dear,” Nancy went on. “Light bookkeeping, errands, and occasionally walking the property to make sure everything looks in order.”
Joan hung on Nancy’s every word as she explained the benefits and pay, which included an apartment on the property. She clung to the hope blossoming in her heart until the weight of the past started seeping back in.
She dropped her head. “I’m sorry, Nancy. I don’t think you want me for the job.”
Nancy pursed her lips. “Oh?”
“I’m useless. No good to anybody.” Joan repeated the words she’d heard so many times.
“I see.” Nancy pursed her lips. “Who told you that?”
“Everybody.” Joan wiped away fresh tears. “I’ve just been floating around this whole time, like trash in the wind. No purpose. No value.”
Joan returned to counting the ticks of the clock until her focus went back to the Bible verse. My burden is light.
“Seems to me your memory is fine, dear. You’re just remembering the wrong things.” Nancy sat forward to take Joan’s hand in hers. “You’re more like a feather in a breeze. Maybe it’s time you come in for a landing.”
Samantha Rae-Garvey is a lover of words and good storytelling. She has recently made a change in her career to focus on her writing. Samantha lives in Covington, Georgia, with her husband, dog, and two cats.