This morning, the pooch and I went for a walk in the rolling hills of our favourite park. The sky was laden with billowy clouds, variations on a theme of grey. Gold and yellow and auburn prairie grasses rustled in the chilly October breeze that swept down from the north. I imagined the wind whispering its stories into the barren branches of the trees that lined the trail as the pooch bounded ahead of me, her nose pressed to the ground, on the scent of prey. It was a windblown, shape-shifting morning. Leaves swirled in the air, a hint of frost nipped at my cheeks. It was a morning made for sweeping thoughts and soaring spirits.

My mind swept back to a time when the P roamed freely the streets and avenues of this city at the foot of the Rockies. To a time when I believed he lay dying, with only the mechanical assistance of a life support system keeping his body away from crossing over into the land beyond this realm where life had blossomed in perfection upon his tender kisses. At that time, I would wander these hills and cry and plead with the angels above to set him free; the burden of his ailing heart weighed heavily on my mind, the thought of his body wasting away on life support took my breath away. I felt numb. Confused. Frightened.

What a difference time makes to broken hearts and wounded spirits.

He’s been missing now for 4 months. Disappeared. Headed west the police say. On the lam. In violation of his parole. Racing westwards as we had done when he was on the run just 2 and a half years ago and he had taken me along with the promise of letting me go once he had fled the country.

As I walked I looked down at the stones scattered across the trail and spied a deep red  rock. I knelt down to inspect it. It was heart shaped. Smooth. Glossy. I picked it up. Felt its coolness in my palm. I wrapped my fingers around it. I rubbed my thumb against its smooth surface, into the ‘v�?pulling the edges into its heart.

I used to collect heart rocks. I’d send them to the P when he was lying on his death bed. I’d ask his minions to ensure that one was placed in his hand everyday. “Even a heart of stone can be warmed in loving hands,�?I’d told the P when first we met and he had told me of his ailing heart. I would place my hand upon his chest and will my strength into his body in the hopes that his heart would heal beneath my touch and he would never leave me. He told me my touch was magic. I wanted to believe him.

Then one day I walked into his office and found him sitting behind his desk. Only hours before I had held my cellphone to my ear and heard the sibilant hiss of his life support system breathing for him. I had been walking in the park that day too. I had held a heart rock in my hand as I whispered words of encouragement into the silence of his dying heart and when the call ended, I had cried.

Yet, there he was, breathing freely, sitting behind his desk. I wanted to find my heart rocks. I wanted to take back that which I had given in love. I pounded on his chest, struggled with him to see if the heart rocks I had lovingly held in my hands and warmed for him were somewhere in his desk.

“Ellie�? he said as he grabbed my wrists and tried to keep me from opening the carved wooden keepsake box on his desk. “They’re not here. I have them in a safe place.�?/P>

“Where?�?I demanded as I tried to get around him to check the drawers in his desk.

“I can’t tell you that,�?he said guiding me back to the chair on the other side of his desk.

The OW was there too. She sat in her chair and watched this part of the drama unfold. I couldn’t look at her, even though we’d come here together. I still didn’t want to accept her existence. I didn’t understand how she could be sitting there if our love had been so true.

Her mother had called me earlier that day.  “Hi.�?The stranger’s voice on the phone said. “You don’t know me. I’m a friend of S. He suggested I give you a call. I’d like to have coffee with you to talk about something.�?/P>

I wasn’t really listening to the words. S was a former boyfriend. Since meeting the P I had terminated all contact with him as the P didn’t like the idea of our friendship. I had seen him once in the intervening months and he had asked about the P. He’s dying, I told him. He promised to pray for him.

“What would you like to talk about,�?I asked, thinking she wanted to talk to me about a consulting job as S tended to refer clients to me still.

“I’d prefer to talk about it when we meet,�?she said.

That wasn’t unusual so I agreed to meet with her that afternoon.

“Can’t you meet this morning?�?she asked.

A thought flickered through my mind, she’s pushy. “No,�?I replied. “I have a meeting and need to get ready for it.�?/P>

That afternoon should never have come I would later think. I should have said no. I should have walked away as guilt and shame and the Ps lies cascaded into me. But I did go. And I fell.

“S tells me the man you love is dying. On life support, “the woman said. “My daughter is also in love with a man who’s dying. She talks to him on a cell phone. He’s on life support in a hospital in California. I’ve told her it’s all a lie. I’ve told her he’s using her. I’ve told her he’s the same man you told S about.  She won’t believe me. She’s been crying for days. She won’t eat. She’s desperate. Please. Help me. Tell her the truth.�?/P>

The truth? I heard her words and tried to wrap my mind around their meaning. But they hung in the air before me. An impenetrable wall blocking all sound.  Incomprehensible. Flat. Unemotional. Empty words. What was the truth? She must be lying.

“No.�?I said. “That can’t be true.�?/P>

I had to prove her wrong. The P had warned me ‘others�?would try to fill my mind with lies. I had to find the truth. I agreed to meet her daughter.

Driving behind her, on my way to that fateful meeting, I wanted to call one of the Ps minions and tell him what I was doing. Ask him to tell me it wasn’t true. But she had warned me not to call. “He’ll tell you it’s all lies.�?I didn’t believe her but was too afraid to test the truth. I had to find out for myself.

I walked into the front door of the woman’s house and her daughter stood in the hallway waiting. She was very pretty. Younger then me. Dark hair like mine. Big smile. Slim. Her blue eyes were puffy with tears. I opened my wallet and pulled out a photo of the P.

“Is this him?�?nbsp; I asked.

She took the photo. Held it tightly. Her hands shook. She passed it back to me without a word. She didn’t have to say anything. Her eyes told the truth.  Wide. Frightened. Tears welling up over the lids and spilling down her cheeks.

I didn’t know what to say.  I moved into the living room. Sat down on the couch and put the photo back in my wallet. She left the room. I sat silently while her mother paced the room, cursing and swearing.

“I knew the rotten bastard was too good to be true. I knew it. How could he do this? How could he hurt her like this?�?/P>

I didn’t have any answers.  I could feel my heart turning to stone within me. My chest hurt. I couldn't think. I couldn't grasp what was happening. The young woman came back. In her hands she held a stack of cards and letters. She handed them to me. I recognized many of them. They were the same cards he had sent to me.

“Maybe he got a discount on volume sales.�?I quipped as I read the words of love he wrote to her that were the same one’s he’d written to me.

Smile for me my love and my heart smiles back.

Last night, I made a wish on my wishing star, but I know it didn’t come true…cause if it did, you’d be holding me right now instead of this card!!

Honesty…beauty…trust…respect…understanding�?all the wonders of the world are mine because of you.

“He’s alive,�?the OW said. “He’s here.�?/P>

“No.�?I whispered. “That can’t be. I just spoke to him.�?/P>

“On life support. Right?�?she asked pointedly.

I nodded my head.

The mother stopped her pacing, spun around and grabbed the letters and cards from my hands.

“Lies. Lies. All lies.�?She said.  “I saw him drive by me. He was in his white Range Rover. He’s here.�?nbsp; And she threw the cards onto the coffee table. Some of them slipped off onto the floor. No one picked them up.

“I was at his office this morning,�?the OW said. “I sat on the hill across from the parking lot and watched. His Range Rover is there.�?/P>

I didn’t want it to be true. It couldn’t be true. I had come expecting to meet the OW. I’d always held a fear that I was not worthy of his love deep within me. And now it was true. He loved another. He hadn’t had the courage to tell me he didn’t love me. I had come expecting to have my hopes of love everlasting shattered, but I had not come expecting to find his imminent death a lie.

“No.�?I said. “He wouldn’t do this to me. He couldn’t.�?/P>

The OW laughed. A note of hysteria in her voice. “Of course he would. He is doing it. He’s playing us for fools. He’s laughing at us right now. Him and his minions.�?/P>

“No.�?I whispered. “He wouldn’t.�?I was wrong. He would. He did.

We walked into his office a short while later. The OW and me. Two women scorned. Fooled. Betrayed.

He sat at his desk. His minions around him. He looked at us in surprise and then a flicker of something else swept through his eyes. A glint of pleasure. A look of satisfaction. I shook my head. It couldn’t be. I remember Steve, the one with whom I had most contact look sheepishly at me as he slunk from the room with the others to leave the three of us alone.

The P got up, moved from the far side of his desk and closed the door. He walked back, stopped beside me and touched my hair.

“You look good,�?he whispered, his eyes looking deeply into mine. I stared into the depths of his, trying to see the man who was dying in this living, breathing apparition.

The OW made a noise. He broke eye contact with me. He looked at her and said, “You look wonderful too.�?/P>

I sat and shook my head. My mind screaming inside me No! No! No! But my words were frozen on my tongue. My heart was cold. I could not speak.

The P sat down behind his desk. Leaned back. Looked at both of us. “Well. This changes things.�?/P>

But it didn’t really. Change things. Until the end. But that was to be three years later. At the time, I tried to shut the door. He kept forcing it open. Again and again and again as I took to hiding in darkened closets to avoid the truth of the terror he surrounded me with and the fear erupting in my stone, cold heart.

“Your daughters lives are in danger�? he said. “You went to the police. They are pulling apart my life. The evil men are angry.�?nbsp;

“Please tell me why�? I kept asking.

“I did it for you.�?He said. “I had to keep you and your daughters safe.�?/P>

I didn’t understand. I couldn’t understand. I wanted him to help me. I wanted him to tell me why. But he never did. Never could.

“Not yet.�?He said.  “All will be revealed but I must tread carefully. I cannot let them use what you did to destroy me and you.�?/P>

Lies.

“It’s too risky. The less you know the safer you will be.�?/P>

Lies.

“Trust me, Ellie. You must trust me. I will not let harm come to you and your daughters. But you must do as I say. The evil men are lurking. Watching. We cannot be too careful.�?/P>

Why I asked again.

It was the why that almost killed me. I wanted to know why. And there was no why that could explain away his betrayal. His lies. His deceit. The why is what I needed to leave behind in order to get beyond his control. But I couldn’t do it. I could not let go of the why. I wanted to believe there was a reason for all the pain and fear and terror.

I wanted to believe he didn’t do it just because. But he did. He did it simply because he could. Because he had to in order to keep alive the image of who he wanted me to believe he could be so that I would not see who he really was. The lie.

I stayed focussed on why and ignored the lies. It took me three and a half more years to find the answer.

He lied.

And I believed him when he said, his love would set me free. I believed him when he said I was worthy of his love. I believed him when he told me, he would never hurt me.

He lied and I wanted to know why.

This morning I held the heart rock in my hand, looked up into the sky and laughed out loud. The pooch, startled by my sudden laughter came prancing back to me. I spun about, my arms flung wide, the heart rock secure in my hand.

I wanted to heal his ailing heart. I poured my love into his stone cold heart and for a moment, he felt its warmth. But he could not hold onto it forever. Why? Because his heart was not true.

Like the heart rock laying warm upon my palm, his heart could only feel my warmth as long as I was touching him.

A heart rock is just a stone.

A stone cold heart feels warmth when held in loving hands but it feels the chill as soon as it is left alone. I wanted to love freely. And he wanted to hold my love captive within him. He wanted to make believe his love was real and I wanted to believe his love was true.

Today, my heart breathes warmly within me, no matter where I am, no matter who I'm with. My heart protects me. It keeps me strong. It guides me lovingly through my day without fear a heart rock will be anything other than a piece of stone.

I dropped the heart rock into my pocket and carried on with my walk, my heart filled with joy. In front of me, leading the way, the pooch continued to prance in anticipation of the wonders she would find upon the trail ahead.