Heather Hummel

Heather Hummel resides in Carmel, California.

Through Hazel Eyes was inspired by her former high school English students.

© Heather Hummel, 2008
Through Hazel Eyes
First Printing, US 2008
ISBN: 0-9776232-8-9

CHAPTER ONE

Television offered little entertainment on a night when most people were in bars, at parties, or catching a movie on the downtown mall in Charlottesville, Virginia. Freshly-washed flannel sheets warmed Madison as she tucked herself under the covers. She fluffed her pillows and curled up with her latest read, Travels with Charley. Reading often distracted her, but some nights the words on the page became secondary to her thoughts of leaving Rick. Her head still carried vivid images of that hot summer day in Colorado.

With covers pulled over her head in yet another attempt to hide, Madison well knew that it would not prevent the visions. The darkness failed to allay the combination of fear and wonderment that settled in when she faced the four walls of her bedroom. She considered painting them a different color than pale yellow, the landlord’s choice, but browsing color swatches had been overwhelming. Almond Pinched Panache, Café Summer Twist, and Mango Blossom.

“They may as well be ice cream parlor flavors,” she told the pimpled face teen working the paint section. She left the hardware store that day hungry and paintless, much like the day she left Colorado.

Madison’s relationship with Rick ended when she informed him that she accepted a job outside of Colorado. She didn’t emphasize that it was a teaching position; he’d know that. On a hot mid-summer morning she broached the issue. Rick had been sitting on the front porch scanning over the blueprints of the old ranch house that sat high on a hill just outside the town limits. It was his biggest remodeling job since they moved to Colorado. The owner of the early 1890s ranch wanted Rick to retain the historical exterior while updating the interior and retiling the dilapidated roof. The job would take up the majority of the summer, and it had kept Rick busy each day from early in the morning until late in the evening. Madison’s summer break from school was well underway, but her break only heightened Rick’s insecurities.

“What are you doing today?” he’d ask each morning putting his coffee to lips and an eye on her over the rim of his mug.

Her answers were variations on a theme: “Taking Seth for a walk, reading, errands. The usual.”
Rick not only worked long hours on the ranch house, but he also had meetings to attend with city officials regarding the historical aspect of the project. Living in rural Carbondale made it difficult to find specific materials for a historical house.

Madison loved the beauty of the area and all that it offered a nature lover and athlete, and she felt relieved that Rick had to travel, often several hours, to find just the right materials needed for the job. He would return well after dark to find her sound asleep, or so he thought, sometimes in their bed, sometimes on the futon in her office, books sprawled across the floor and a lightweight throw draped over her shoulders. He never woke her up verbally, but his heavy footsteps on the porch shook her awake every time. She kept her eyes closed and positioned her head away from sight before he climbed the steps to the loft where their bedroom and her office neighbored each other.

“G’night, Seth,” she’d hear Rick say to his black and white Border Collie mix, who usually lay at the bottom of the stairs until Rick came home. After that Seth would move and lie down within a few feet of wherever Madison was sleeping.

On this day, Seth sat at Rick’s feet on the front porch steps, just one step below, when Madison approached them. As a mutt, Seth’s features were unique; his fur was shorter and his chest broader than a purebred Border Collie. Most of all, his black face was cleanly accented—a wide white stripe down the bridge of his nose, creating an almost perfect symmetrical split on the tip of his left ear was a spot of stark white fur shaped somewhat like a teardrop that stood out against the midnight-black fur. When his ears were tucked or flipped back, the teardrop wasn’t visible, but when they were flopped forward it was evident.

Rick wore faded jeans, despite the heat, and a worn-out blue t-shirt with “Colorado Contracting Services” on the pocket sporting his contracting company. His long, muscular arms and hands, slightly scarred from a variety of job related cuts, emerged from the short sleeves. Two days of stubbled growth shadowed his taught, angular face.

Deep in concentration, Rick didn’t look up when Madison sat down on the bottom step. He was home for lunch and to pick up additional tools from the shed. Madison clenched her tiny hands together in her lap, creating a round fearful fist. Sweat stuck her favorite floral sundress to the curves of her body. The seam of the dress hugged her kneecaps, exposing only her well defined calves. Loose curls framed her forehead; the rest of her hair had been bundled in a high, tight ponytail. Her toes poked through the straps of the brown leather sandals, faded from long walks in the western sun. The same rays now beat directly on her tanned face as she attempted to begin the familiar discussion she had begun so often with little success.

“Rick, I need to talk to you.” Looking up at his blank stare, Madison continued, “I’m taking a new job. Out of state.” She paused to gain another round of courage. “I’m leaving to start a new life…alone.”

Her hands remained clenched, but eerily Rick remained calm.

“I figured this was coming again, Madison. But don’t think it’s over.”

When she began to reply, he held one hand up. His tone remained steady and clear. “Don’t.”
His voice, however, had not matched the look in his steel-gray eyes as he sauntered inside for his keys. He returned to his truck and slowly made his way down the driveway, never once looking back.

Madison flew inside, tears streaming, dripping off her jaw. She grabbed her already-packed bags from under the bed and in the closet, and started for the door. On the way out, she stuck her head in the door of her office to bid a silent goodbye to her grandmother’s secretary desk. Once she was settled in Virginia, a friend would arrange to ship it to her.

Now, nestled under her flannel covers in Charlottesville, Madison curled her body into a tight ball, the steely look in Rick’s eyes lingering in her mind. Even deep under her down comforter two thousand miles away, she was still frightened, still checked the house when she came home, and still wondered when he would find her. The Rick she knew would keep his promise to never let it end. And she wondered if letting her go the way he had was the ultimate act of his emotional abuse toward her—there were days when the wonder and fear was worse than facing him again.

The phone rang, startling Madison out of restless sleep where she had drifted into a slew of nightmares. In the first one, Rick hid in the bushes outside her house. All she saw were his gray eyes through the twigs. In the second she was walking down a crowded city street where the back of every head resembled Rick’s. She wasn’t sure of the city, just that it held a sense of cold, of lonely. The third placed her on a small rowboat in the middle of a frigid ocean, or was it a large lake? Rick’s head bobbed atop the small currents behind the boat, drawing closer and closer.
It was during this dream that she was awakened. She swam her way out from under the covers, catching it on the last ring before it rolled to voicemail. In a deep, sleepy voice, she managed,

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Olivia?” Madison rubbed her eyes and sat up in bed. “I thought you were out with Gregory.”

“I was. He just left to join the guys for poker. I think at Phil’s. What’re you doing?”

“Sleeping. What time is it?” The clock’s illuminated digits were hidden behind a small pile of books on the nightstand.

”It’s only nine. Do you want to go back to sleep? I can call tomorrow.”

Madison didn’t know how Olivia, a night owl, managed on such little sleep. ”No, I could use the distraction. I’ve got visions of Colorado ghosts clogging my head again.”

“C’mon, we’ve been over this,” Olivia said. “If he were looking for you he’d have found you by now.”

“I know. I know. But I can’t shake the look in his eyes. Let alone his behavior when I left. It’s too hard to explain. You’d have to know him, and these nightmares don’t help.”

“Well, you’ve managed to make yourself pretty difficult to find. Just a P.O. box and a cell phone keep the information seekers at bay.”

“It doesn’t take much to find someone.”

“Exactly my first point. Either Rick or a private investigator would have discovered you by now if they really wanted to.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for the right time. Whatever that might be. And, he wouldn’t hire someone, he’d find me himself. That much I know.”

“Maybe you’re worried about nothing. He’s probably happily married with a baby on the way by now. Go back to sleep.”

“Okay, okay.” With that, Madison ended the call and found her way back under the covers. It was 11:12 p.m. when she last stretched to look at the clock and fell back onto her pillow.

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