A Soul Less Broken

A SOUL Less BROKEN

H E L E N L A I B A C H

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 - Helen Laibach. All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4581-4663-2

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* * * *

This book is dedicated to my family.

To my wonderful girls – I’m so proud of the young women

you have become.

To my husband and best friend, for your love and unwavering support

over the last twenty years, you are my rock.

To my son for your constant coaxing to get this published

and your amazing talents as a graphic designer.

This book never would have been possible

without the love and support from all of you.

* * * *

Acknowledgements

Every year since the manuscript for A Soul Less Broken was originally written, my son Mike has patiently asked me So Mom, when are you going to publish your book? I am so grateful for his gentle persistence. He never gave up on my dream even when it seemed that I had. As parents, we hope that we will inspire our children to greatness … but as so often is the case, it was just the opposite. Then when he found out I was (finally) getting it published, he immediately asserted that no one else but him could design the cover. And quite frankly, no one else could have brought the cover to life the way he did—Mike, you are talented beyond belief. Thank you for being my champion.

Thank you to my dear friend Kathy Carroll, a published author herself, who generously gave her time & energy assisting me with the copy-edit. I am eternally grateful for her support.

Thank you to my dear friend Rhonda Mazurek who took my portrait for the cover. She is one of the best portrait photographers out there. And Dana Fredsti, a childhood friend who gave me a signed copy of her most recent novel - a gift that was the last little piece of inspiration I needed to take my own leap of faith.

And last but not least, to the wonderful team at Wheatmark - Grael, Lori, and Hayley. Your expertise has been invaluable. Thank you for being so patient with my endless lists of questions. You’ve actually made the experience of getting published an enjoyable one!

* * * *

The best day of your life is the one in which

you decide your life is your own.

No apologies or excuses. No one to lean on, rely on, or blame.

The gift of life is yours. It is an amazing journey,

and you alone are responsible for the quality of it.

This is the day your life really begins.

Bob Moawad, Author

Whatever It Takes: A Journey into the Heart of Human Achievement

Chapter One

What is it about a hospital that is completely disarming and yet peaceful at the same time? Maybe it’s that unsettling mixture of formaldehyde, pine disinfectant, and doctor aftershave. And how is it that the nurses can put on their most reassuring smiles, all the while going about the business of medicine? After all, it is a business, or at least that’s how it feels sometimes. You become just another chart, just another statistic. They pull the white sheet up and over, wheel out the gurney, ready to clear out the room for the next one. Honestly, do they really believe that by making the walls a pale shade of green that it will magically transform dreaded news into a pill that is easier to swallow? Do they really think that by adding a paisley border along the ceiling that death will suddenly become less shocking? As she made her way to the elevator, Cat pondered these questions, anything to keep her mind from embracing the sadness that was threatening to suffocate her with every step.

New York was unbearably cold this time of year, and most people with any sense did their best to stay inside. But staying indoors meant she would have to face the truth, and she wasn’t willing to do that, certainly not today, or tomorrow, maybe never. It was impossible to understand; she couldn’t accept the idea that her dearest friend was actually gone. How could a person so full of life be taken away like this? How was she ever going to make it without her? The unfairness of it all left a bitter taste in her mouth and a painful heaviness in her heart.

Desperate to be free from the polite disinterest on every face she passed, Cat pushed against the metal bar, forcing open the heavy glass doors, and was met by the sudden sting of icy air that burned her nostrils and left her eyes weepy. But it gave her pause only for an instant; in fact, it seemed fitting that the weather outside was as bleak as this moment, that her fingers were as chilled as her soul. Poetic justice really, she thought to herself, this day should be dreary, dark, and bitterly cold.

Gripping the handrail, as if it could somehow give her strength, unable to summon the energy to keep walking, she felt herself slump down on the hard concrete steps. Where would she have gone anyway? There was nowhere she could go to escape the hollow emptiness that now haunted her. The tears began slowly at first, then in a continuous stream, etching their way down her cheeks like a river through a canyon, causing her shoulders to heave and her breath to stutter. It was as if her spirit had been lanced, the demons exorcized, and all the hurt and pain of her life was being brought to the surface. She felt snowflakes hitting her eyelashes, she saw people walking by her and around her, staring at her, but none of that mattered. She was entirely too consumed by her grief to feel the icy wind or to care what other people thought as they gazed down at a woman crying, alone on the hospital steps.

After what felt like hours, Cat wiped her tears, and watched as an elderly man, heavily bundled in a brown plaid coat, made his way slowly past her. She felt exhausted, and allowed herself to be hypnotized by the methodical shuffling of his feet in his old-man loafers. She rested her head on her knees, and closed her eyes for a moment, not realizing that the old man had turned around and was coming back to sit beside her.

My dear, forgive me for bothering you, but it looks to me like maybe you’re not having the best day. Is there anything I can do? He kindly patted her knee with his gnarled fingers and waited for a response. Cat turned her head to the side, still resting it on her knees, to look at the old man with his leathery, wrinkled face, and stark white hair, wondering why he wasn’t wearing gloves. She pondered what would ever be left when she was that old that would inspire her to go on. She bit her lip and tried bravely not to cry in front of this stranger, but there was no stopping it.

Someone I loved… very much… died this afternoon… Cat stopped in mid-sentence and shuddered as she heard her own words. Saying it out loud meant it was final, meant that it was real. The weight of it all was smothering her, and she turned to the old man with a look of desperation. I just don’t know what I’m going to do. Taking the offered handkerchief from his outstretched hand, she saw sorrow and compassion in his eyes, and unashamed now, her tears again made their way silently down her cheeks. She was such a good friend, she really understood me. She helped me through so much, and now, just like that, in the blink of an eye, she’s gone. Her silent sobs now made it difficult to get the words out in complete sentences. In a grandfatherly way, the old man gently wrapped her red scarf tighter around her neck, silently remembering his own losses and feeling her pain. Cat was grateful for the understanding she saw in his eyes and it encouraged her to continue.

She could always make me laugh, even when no one else could, even when nothing seemed funny. But that was just her nature; that was just her way. She always tried to see the bright spot in everything, and the strange thing was she always managed to find that small glimmer of hope. Cat had to pause again to overcome the emotion. Somehow, she could always get me to see the good in every bad situation. And now, nothing I do will ever bring her back. For a moment, Cat’s tears kept her from saying anything else, and the old man knew that her grief was the deepest kind of suffering.

When Cat spoke again her face was filled with the somber reality of regret. She was always there for me; not once in all this time did she ever turn her back on me. I don’t think I really told her how much she meant to me, I think I just took for granted that she knew. Now that she’s gone, I’ve lost the chance to tell her. There is so much I would say to her if she were here.

I’m sure you showed her in ways without words, the old man offered. And I imagine that deep down your friend always knew how you felt. What little reassurance the old man could muster felt hollow in spite of the fact it was given with the utmost sincerity.

Cat sighed heavily, I hope you’re right. I really wish I could believe that.

These two strangers were then both at a loss for words, and eventually Cat rested her head on her knees again, forcing the man to endure another awkward silence, not knowing whether he should go or stay. It was getting late and finally he had no choice. I’ve got to be on my way now, dear, are you going to be all right? Do you want me to call someone for you?

Cat suddenly felt embarrassed for sharing something so personal with a total stranger and quickly composed herself. No really, I’ll be fine, thank you for listening. It was very sweet of you to be so concerned.

You know, from what you’ve told me about your friend, I think she would probably want you to keep going, as hard as that may be to imagine right now. Cat nodded her head instinctively; he smiled a knowing smile and turned to leave. She watched the old man shuffle down the walkway, listening to the scuff, scuff, scuff of his feet in the snow, until he eventually disappeared around the corner onto Thirty-Second Street.

Cat let her thoughts wander back in time, over and under and around all she had been through in her life, trying to comprehend the magnitude of what she had somehow managed to survive. Her thoughts drifted back to a night that had changed the course of her life forever, a night that was difficult and haunting for her to think about, even now. But it was as if she had to look back, she had to remember the events of that night, because in a strange way, the memories gave her strength.

* * * *

Chapter Two

The young woman hurried to where her car was parked at the far corner of the lot. It was dark, and cold, and damp, and in an effort to stay warm, she wrapped her heavy wool coat tighter around her neck, but it wasn’t helping, and she felt her teeth begin to chatter. She cursed herself for staying at the law library so late; she really did know better. But her research had gone exceptionally well tonight, and her thoughts seemed to flow effortlessly. She hated to stop working, when that oh-so-persistent voice in her head urged her to keep on for ‘just a few more minutes.’ Before she knew it, she was rubbing her eyes, and glancing down at her cell phone with its almost-dead battery, she was shocked to see that it was already 10:50 p.m. She had been working on her research paper for almost four hours, but it seemed like only minutes had gone by. The library would be closing in ten minutes. Not enough hours in the day, she thought to herself, as she scooped up her papers and books, and quickly stuffed what she could into her worn leather book bag. The other large books she would just have to carry.

She yawned and stretched, and suddenly realized how tired she was and how heavy everything felt. Her shoulders ached from the tension that she didn’t realize she was holding. It would be a long walk to the car carrying all those books. Good night, Catherine, the night librarian nodded to her, as she walked out. Catherine was surprised the older woman remembered her name. Catherine Wilcox was stunningly beautiful, with her petite figure, piercing brown eyes, and auburn hair, but when she saw her reflection in the mirror she saw only flaws. She never thought of herself as someone who was pretty, let alone beautiful, and marveled when people paid her any mind. She never really understood how intelligent she was. Her insecurities always got the best of her.

This was her fourth year of law school at Pacific Northwest College of Law, and she had the whole world ahead of her. At twenty-seven, she had already been offered an exciting position as an apprentice attorney, at the prestigious law firm of Alexander Spencer & Jones. During her interview with the senior partner, Mr. Alexander, he told her in his deep, southern drawl, You’ve got a 4.0 GPA, which is impressive enough. But it’s more than that. Mind you, I’ve seen plenty of young men and woman with exceptional academics, but they weren’t offered positions with this firm; no young lady, they were not. But I see a spark in you. You have a sharp, calculating mind; you most certainly have what it takes to make a fine attorney someday.

It had thrilled Catherine to hear those words, and she had replayed them in her mind that entire day. Just the slightest hint of encouragement or praise went a long way for Catherine, since those were things she never had growing up. All she ever wanted as a little girl was to please her overbearing father, but somehow it seemed she always missed the mark, always fell short, always stumbled just short of the finish. Her father had died in a boating accident when she was twenty-four; and even though he was gone now, his disapproval continued to haunt her. Catherine knew he would have found something to criticize about her good news; with one flick of his tongue he could take a joyous occasion and turn it into a rotting apple. When she was awarded a full scholarship to law school, the only words she heard from her father were, Well, that’s a fine waste of money. You’ll never make it through, and even if you do, there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that you’ll pass the bar. What business does a girl have wanting to practice law?

For years, Catherine could never understand why he hated her so much, why he despised her so. She couldn’t understand why he was so distant and cruel to her mother, why he was so mean to both of them. But then, last year, her mother revealed the pieces of the puzzle that made it all fit together. Her mother had become very ill; a smoker for most of her life, emphysema had finally gotten the best of her. She never left the house anymore, because of the oxygen cart she had to have with her at all times. She must have known she didn’t have long to live, because one gray afternoon she poured out her heart to her only daughter.

Catherine sat on the edge of her mother’s bed, as she always did when she came to see her, holding her mother’s hand, gently tracing the veins that meandered between each knuckle. She realized how old and fragile her mother looked. Cathy girl, her mother began, I know I haven’t been the best mother to you, and there are things that I should have done for you, but I just couldn’t. She stroked Catherine’s hair, as one lone tear stained her pillow.

Mama, shhh. You don’t have to talk, just rest.

No, Cathy honey, there is something I need to tell you, because I may not have another chance and you deserve to know. I should have told you all this a long time ago, but I just didn’t know how. Her mother had to stop often to catch her breath. Seized by a brutal coughing spell, she tried to sit up straighter in bed.