There is no reliable security except in You.

Saint Augustine

Chapter Forty-Four

Ellyn

I slip out of my pajamas and step onto the scale. For once, I’m looking forward to seeing the number. After living on vegetables and odd sources of protein, the number can only be lower. But when I look down, my countenance drops.

The number is the same.

The same as it was last week.

And the week before.

Get used to it. You’re a failure at weight loss, you know that.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it all before, Earl. Get some new material.”

I look down at the scale again. While Earl’s snide comments don’t wound like they used to, I still can’t believe what the scale says. I’ve made major changes in my diet, cut out everything good, how is it possible I haven’t lost even a pound? How? I step off the scale . . .

And then kick it.

“Ouch!” Not a good move with bare feet.

Pajamas back on, I walk out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind me, and head downstairs to the kitchen. Just as I get there, the phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Did Miles save you from the rat?”

That’s Sabina’s greeting. I sigh. “Yes, as a matter of fact, he did.”

“You’re still irritated that you needed a man, aren’t you?”

“Oh, hush. How are you?”

“I’m good. Are we walking this morning?”

“If we have to.”

“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.”

“I’d rather sit, drink coffee, and eat buttery croissants.”

“Wouldn’t we all?” She laughs. “Same time, same place?”

“Sure. Well . . .” Wait a minute. “I’d really prefer walking on the headlands today. I could use a good dose of sea air. If you want to join me, great. If not, that’s fine too.”

She hesitates. “O . . . kay. You don’t think it’s too cold out there?”

“Have you looked outside? The sun is shining. It’s gorgeous. Wear one of those designer workout jackets of yours. You’ll be fine.”

“Where do you want to meet?”

“I’ll park in the lot by the cypress grove, just down from Hesser and Lansing. See you there in thirty minutes.”

“Fine.”

I hang up the phone. Oh Lord, open her eyes. Give her eyes to see You.

I’m in no mood to exert myself, or drink pond sludge, or eat a breakfast better suited for a squirrel. I look at the nut mixture in a container on my countertop. I sigh again and glance at the hot cereal I made before I went upstairs to weigh myself. I spoon a serving of the steel-cut oatmeal from the pan on the range into a bowl. It looks no more appealing in the bowl than it did in the pan. I sprinkle a handful of the nut mixture onto the cooked oats.

I shake my head. “I am so over veganism.”

Of course you are. You’re a woman, not a rabbit. You need real food. You deserve it.

“Why thank you, Earl. I agree.” But even as I agree with Earl, something nags at me. Is it the tone of the voice I hear in my head? Or the words themselves that bother me? I cock my head to one side, like a dog who’s heard a familiar voice. “Huh . . .”

Something about Earl is different. Or . . .

Maybe it’s me who’s different.

Changing.

I’m not sure.

I reach into the freezer and take out the pound of butter that I couldn’t bear throwing away when I ventured into my little vegan experiment. I put a cube of the butter into the microwave for a few seconds. Then I pop two pieces of cinnamon swirl bread, also from the freezer, into the toaster. As I wait for the bread to toast, I attempt to ignore the red flag waving in my brain.

Agreeing with Earl, I’ve learned, is never wise. But just this once can’t hurt. Right? I’ll get back on track tomorrow.

I take the toast out of the toaster, slather it in butter, and take a breathless bite, like a woman about to receive a long-anticipated kiss. Mmm . . . heaven. Nothing has tasted this good since . . .

I sigh. Miles’s kiss.

I pull a paper towel off the roll and set the piece of toast on it.

It’s not often I’m shocked by my own thoughts, but I feel my face go pink . . . I’m caught off-guard by what just went through my mind—and heart.

Miles’s kiss.

So tender.

Gentle.

And safe.

S.A.F.E.

In an alluring, exciting, and adventurous sort of way.

“Get hold of yourself, Ellyn.” I walk away from the toast—no longer interested in what it offers.

Or doesn’t offer.

I pad my way back upstairs to brush my teeth, wash my face, and dress for our walk. I give the scale dirty looks each time I pass it. Then I recall something Twila said about the scale that makes a lot of sense this morning, so before I go back downstairs, I pick up the scale from the bathroom floor and carry it down with me. I set it on the counter in the mudroom until I’m ready to go.

I go back to the kitchen, throw the now-cold oatmeal out, and do up the dishes. Then I fill my aluminum water bottle, cap it, and stand it up in my purse. I grab my car keys, and go back to the mudroom and pick up the scale.

Once in the driveway, I leave my purse and water bottle in the car and then walk to the end of the gravel drive. I lift the scale above my head and throw it, as hard as I can, onto the asphalt street. It makes a satisfying crunching sound—like a car wreck—as it lands. Metal and plastic parts fly in opposite directions.

There! Take that!

I retrieve the pieces of the scale, large and small, from the street and put them into the garbage can. Then, smiling, I leave to meet Sabina.

By the time I reach the cypress grove, I’m several minutes late. I pull into the lot and park next to Sabina’s BMW. She’s sitting in the car, head down, looking at something. Of course, she wouldn’t get out of the car and enjoy the fresh air and scenery.

I get out of my car and walk to the driver’s-side door of her car and tap on the window. She jumps. Then she opens the door. I see she’s holding her cell phone.

“Oops, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“That’s okay. I didn’t see you. Solitaire.” She holds up her phone and I see tiny playing cards lined up on the screen.

She gets out of the car and gives me a hug. “How are you?”

I smile. “Well, I just smashed my scale into multiple pieces. So, I’d say, I’m better than usual.”

Sabina smiles, her eyes shine in the morning sun. She holds up one hand. “High five, girl.”

I slap her hand.

“What precipitated that act of emotional health?”

“Emotional health? Ha! It was precipitated by frustration and distress.”

“Well, taking out your frustration on an inanimate object isn’t always bad—especially, if, as I guess is the case, that object was the source of your frustration.”

“It was. C’mon, let’s go.”

“I’ll follow you.”

“Have you seen the cathedral?”

“Do you never stop talking about church and God?”

I ignore her quip. I take the trail toward the restrooms and then veer to the left and follow the trail into the middle of the grove of trees, which opens up onto a wide clearing. The old-growth trees surrounding the clearing form a canopy high overhead. “This is what is known as the cathedral. It’s a favorite place for local and destination weddings.”

Sabina takes a quick look around. “Nice.”

“Nice?”

She nods. “Ready to walk?”

“Wait. Look out there. Isn’t that incredible?” I point to the picnic table at the end of the clearing, where it opens onto the cliff overlooking the ragged coastline.

“Beautiful. Can we go? I’m cold. I need to move.”

My heart is heavy for her. Lord, she refuses to see You. “You need some body fat to keep you warm. I’m happy to share.”

“Very funny.”

“I thought so.”

We make our way back to the parking lot and then to the street. I keep to the street rather than taking one of the many trails out toward the cliffs. I’m grateful to walk out here this morning—I won’t push Sabina any further. We fall into a companionable stride, which is unusual. “You’re taking it slow this morning.”

“I want to hear what happened with the rat. It’s nice to talk when we walk too.”

Talking probably keeps her from noticing the grandeur of her surroundings. I don’t know if that’s intentional on her part or not, but I welcome the chance to talk this morning and take the walk at a slower pace.

“I’ll tell you about the rat, but may I ask you a question first?”

She raises her eyebrows. “Sure.”

“Do you think I . . . sabotaged my friendship with Miles?”

Her pace slows and she looks at me. “I’m not sure. It’s possible.”

I look out at the morning sun gleaming on the water and consider the thought that occurred to me earlier. “I think maybe I did. Not intentionally, but maybe out of habit, or something. Rosa says I’m terrified of becoming involved with a man.”

Sabina stops walking. “Is she right?”

“I don’t know. I may be. It just never seemed like an option for me.”

“Why?”

“Are we going to walk or just stand here?” I take off at a clip this time, although it isn’t like I can outwalk Sabina’s long stride.

“Why doesn’t it seem like an option for you? I want to understand.”

“I’ll tell you what, when I understand it, I’ll fill you in.”

“Ellyn, have you considered talking with a counselor? Talking things through with someone experienced could help you understand.”

Sabina walks a few paces beyond me before she realizes I’ve stopped again. “A counselor? You’re a counselor.”

“Yes, I am. I was. But not yours. I’m your friend.”

“What’s the difference?”

“The difference is that I’m not doing therapy with you. We have a mutual give-and-take friendship. It’s just different.”

“Oh. No, I haven’t considered a counselor. It’s not that big a deal.”

“Girl, it’s your life. How is that not a big deal?”

The same reverent fear or awe I felt the morning after my hospitalization returns. Lord? My life, in my mind, never meant much. I’m grateful for life, but most often it seems I’ve failed the exams. Haven’t passed some elusive course where others excelled. My life isn’t a big deal because I am a disappointment to God, or so I’ve let myself believe.

“Huh, I’ve never thought of it that way.” I take a few steps and Sabina falls in stride with me again. “I’ll think about it. Okay?”

“Whatever you decide. It was just a suggestion.”

“So do you want to hear about the rat now?”

She laughs. “I thought you’d never ask.”