Panic attacks plague Ollie during the day and nightmares torment her at night. She hikes and swims and cycles. The exercise temporarily relieves the symptoms. Until something triggers another, most often an email from her brother. Because she blocked Alexander’s number from her phone, he’s resorted to emailing her. He’s anxious to speak with her about their parents’ estate. Ollie imagines the painful conversation. Maybe she’ll let Alexander have everything. After what happened, Ollie doesn’t deserve to be a beneficiary.
Exhausted from the physical exertion, she falls into a deep sleep when her head hits the pillow at night. But she manages to sleep only a few hours before a nightmare jerks her awake. She’s thousands of miles from California, but she’s reliving the hell of that tragic night over and over again.
The lack of sleep makes Ollie short-tempered during the day, as if her job isn’t stressful enough. She’s constantly fielding complaints from guests. And not just about the pool. Word has begun to spread about the hot springs. And people are desperate for a chance to soak in the tubs, which are currently booked through the end of the year. The spa phone rings off the hook with people on waitlists checking to see if any appointments have opened up.
Ollie wonders if the mineral water might lessen the severity of her panic attacks. Maybe even chase away the nightmares. On Thursday night before July Fourth weekend, she waits until the pool complex closes at ten, grabs a chilled bottle of Chardonnay from the spa refrigerator, and lets herself into the hot springs area.
The warm water loosens her muscles, and the wine buzzes her brain. Almost immediately, she feels more relaxed than she has in a year. She’s been soaking for about twenty minutes when Cecily and Presley appear.
“What brings you two here?” she asks.
“Matters of the heart,” Cecily says, holding up a bottle of champagne. “What about you?”
“Same,” Ollie says. Truth be told, her panic attacks and nightmares stem from matters of the heart.
“Then we’re in good company.” Cecily strips off her cover-up and slips into the water.
Presley lowers herself to the edge of the pool, dangling her legs in the water. “For the baby’s safety, my doctor advised me not to soak.”
“That makes sense.” Ollie pours more wine into her empty stemless glass. “Are you seeing an obstetrician in Hope Springs?”
“I am,” Presley says, raking her long auburn hair into a ponytail. “I haven’t decided yet, but I may stay in town until after the baby comes.”
Ollie sips her wine. “I’m being nosy, and you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but is your matter of the heart the reason you’re hiding out in Hope Springs?”
“Maybe talking about it will help.” Presley stares into the teal water. “My husband and I had an awful fight when I left his tour. The few times we’ve talked since, things have been awkward between us.” She places her hand on her belly and smiles. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m excited about the baby. But we may have jumped the gun on getting pregnant. We’re having some growing pains. I trust Everett, and I have faith we’ll work things out. For the time being, with Everett away on tour, I feel more comfortable here surrounded by my friends.”
Cecily leans into Presley. “And we’re grateful to have you to help with Bridezilla’s wedding.”
Ollie snickers. “Isn’t that the truth?” She looks over at Cecily. “What’s ailing your heart, Cecily?”
“My situation is a little more complicated.” Cecily pops the cork on the champagne and takes a swig out of the bottle. “Lyle is going to The Homestead this weekend with friends. I’m moving out while he’s gone.”
Ollie says, “I’m so sorry, Cecily. I didn’t realize things had gotten so bad between you and Lyle. Does he know you’re moving out?”
Cecily takes another pull on the champagne bottle. “Nope. I don’t trust myself to talk to him about it. I’m worried I won’t have the strength to refuse him if he tries to talk me into staying. Not that he would. I’m pretty sure he’s sleeping with someone else.”
Ollie grimaces. “Bastard. What makes you think that?”
“I’d rather not get into it. But I have my reasons.” Cecily hunches a shoulder. “It’s fine. Knowing he’s cheating on me makes it easier for me to leave.”
Ollie considers this. “That makes sense. Where are you moving?”
“Into Stella’s garage apartment. Which I’m super excited about.” Cecily takes another swig of champagne and sets the bottle down. “What about you, Ollie? What’s troubling your heart?”
Ollie slides deeper into the water, resting her head against the edge of the pool as she stares up at the starry sky. “Our family winery, which has been in my family for many generations, burned last year in the Napa Valley fires.”
Presley’s hand flies to her mouth and Cecily gasps.
Ollie continues in a tight voice, “My parents were killed in the fire.”
Cecily’s brow knits. “I don’t know what to say, Ollie. I’m so sorry.”
Presley’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. “That’s awful, Ollie. I lost my mother recently. I understand what you’re going through if you ever want to talk.”
Cecily and Presley are sympathetic listeners. She’s tempted to confess the rest of her sad story. But she doesn’t know them well enough yet, and she’s afraid she’ll scare them off.
Ollie is spared from having to say more when Stella comes through the gate.
“I’m hurt. You didn’t invite me to the party.” Stella pretends to make light of it, but her expression is wounded.
Cecily holds up her champagne bottle. “This is an impromptu party, the best kind.”
“Join us,” Ollie says. “We’re confessing our matters of the heart.”
“Ironically, a matter of the heart is the reason I’m here. Not my matter. But another young woman’s.” Stella kicks off her flip-flops and sits down on the side of the tub next to Ollie. “I finally read my great-grandmother’s journals. What I learned has been weighing heavily on my mind. I was out taking a walk, and I found myself here. I guess I’m searching for answers.”
“What answers?” Presley asks. “What’s in the journals?”
Stella shakes her head. “The story is so sad. You don’t want to hear it.”
“Yes, we do.” Cecily holds out the champagne bottle to Stella. “Liquid courage.”
Stella takes a swig and licks her lips. “My great-grandmother wrote about a young woman who was the debutante of the season from Charleston, South Carolina, back in 1958. Anna’s father had fallen on hard times, financially. He arranged a marriage between Anna and an older gentleman, a wealthy man with a reputation of being a womanizer and a tyrant. But Anna fell in love with a man her own age, a man from a less desirable family. She begged her father to allow her to marry him. But her father refused. Torn between her beloved father and the love of her life, Anna ran away. She hitchhiked to Hope Springs, to soak in the famous hot springs. Her lover followed her here. But so did the man she was betrothed to.”
Stella’s expression is pained as she drinks again from the bottle. “The fiancé caught Anna and her lover together in the hot tubs. And he drowned them both.”
“What?” Cecily says, and Presley adds, “You’re joking.”
Stella gives a solemn nod. “That’s why my great-grandfather closed the hot springs to his guests.”
“That’s the most tragic thing I’ve ever heard,” Cecily says.
Presley swings her legs out of the pool, tucking her knees beneath her chin. “I don’t understand, Stella. You’ve studied the inn’s history. How did you not know about this until now?”
“There was no mention of it in any of the materials I’ve read,” Stella says. “For the past two days, I’ve been researching the story online and combing through the microfiche at the public library. I found no information about the tragic deaths anywhere.”
Presley asks, “What about Opal? Does she know anything about the deaths?”
Stella shakes her head. “This happened before she started vacationing here.” She takes one last gulp from the bottle and hands it back to Cecily. “Word is spreading about the hot springs.”
“People have already gone a little nutty,” Ollie adds, her lips pressed thin.
“I’m worried the promise of miracle cures will attract the wrong sort of people,” Stella says. “We can’t afford to let this interfere with our paying guests.”
“The miracle water isn’t working on me. The springs are a sham! “I’m still sad.” Cecily’s touches the tip of the bottle to her chest and then points it at Ollie. “Are you still sad?”
Ollie thinks about it. “Yep.” She feels less anxious. But that’s probably because of the wine.
Cecily aims the bottle’s tip at Presley. “Are you still sad?”
“A little,” Presley says.
Cecily waves the bottle in the air. “See! Problem solved. No reason for the undesirables to come, because the springs don’t cure matters of the heart.”
“I hope you’re right,” Stella says under her breath.
Cecily brings the bottle to her lips, but there’s no champagne left.
Ollie snatches the bottle away from Cecily. “Give me that before you break it.”
With words slurred, Cecily says, “I’m too drunk to walk myself home. And I don’t wanna be there anyway. Tonight’s my last night with Lyle. What if I start crying? What if I break bad and tell him I’m moving out?” She lays her head on Presley’s shoulder. “Can I sleep on your sofa?”
Presley smooths back Cecily’s honey-colored hair. “I can do better than a sofa. My cottage has two bedrooms. You can have your own bed. But you have to text Lyle, to tell him where you are.”
“You do it,” Cecily says, her eyelids drooping.
Presley picks up her phone, her thumbs flying across the screen.
Less than a minute passes before Cecily asks, “Did he respond yet?”
Presley glances down at her phone. “Not yet.”
Cecily bursts into tears. “See! He doesn’t love me anymore.”
“Okay. That’s it. We need to get you to bed.” Presley stands and helps Cecily to her feet.
“Do you want me to call security to help you?” Stella asks.
Presley dismisses them with a wave. “We’re good. We don’t have far to walk. The fresh air will help clear her head.”
Ollie and Stella watch them exit the gate. “She’s a mess,” Ollie says.
Stella shakes her head in sadness. “I’ve never seen her out of control like that. She really loves Lyle. Unfortunately, I don’t think he’s the right guy for her.”
Ollie gets out of the water and grabs two towels, tossing one to Stella. “She’s going to need her friends these next few weeks.”
“Yes, she will.” Drying her feet and legs, Stella tosses the towel into the used towel bin. “If you’re headed out, I’ll walk with you.”
“Sounds good,” Ollie says, pulling on a cover-up.
Locking the gate behind them, the women head back up toward the main building in silence, bidding each other goodnight when they part at the front entrance.
Ollie’s step is lighter as she strolls down Main Street toward her apartment. California seems like a long way away, and for the first time since coming to Virginia, she feels like she may have found a new home. Maybe the hot springs mend broken hearts after all.