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“Oh.” Marilyn’s eyes widened and her brow raised. She paused before breaking into a smile. “Come in, sweetheart, come right in.”
Kali smiled back, the tingly feeling in her arms and flutter in her chest increasing at Marilyn’s welcome. “Thanks.”
Kali held out the flowers and sympathy card she’d picked up on the way over. “Again, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Marilyn took the offering with a smile then stepped to the side to make way for Kali. She stood waiting as Kali unlaced her boots. “Cup of tea?” Marilyn asked once Kali was standing upright again.
“Uh, sure. Thanks.” Kali followed Marilyn down the hall to the kitchen. She sat on the island as Marilyn pulled open a cupboard full of options.
Marilyn turned with a grin. “I’ve got it all.”
“Uh, regular is fine.”
Marilyn tilted her head. “How about an Earl Grey de la crème?”
Kali shrugged a yes.
“I used to be a plain tea gal too, but Rachel got me started on these loose leaf teas. I was skeptical at first, but now I’m a convert.” After scooping the tea into two strainers, Marilyn leaned against the counter as the sound of the heating water became audible. She crossed her arms, her intense gaze making Kali shift. “You look good.”
“Thanks.”
“Better colour to your face.”
“Yeah?”
“Definitely.”
Kali swivelled to take in the framed photos above the kitchen cabinets and around the room: an array of the Fraser children at various ages, with a few of Marilyn and a man Kali recognized from the funeral as a pre-Alzheimer’s Alexander.
“Oh,” Marilyn’s brow raised again, “I should have asked if you wanted coffee. I hardly drink it anymore myself, so I don’t think of it.”
“Tea is perfect.” Kali swallowed and bit her lower lip. Awkwardness hung around her like a thick fog. What was she doing here? Coming to the home of a woman who’d just lost her husband to, what? Ask advice, get the inside scoop on her son, simply not feel so alone? “How have you been doing ... since?”
Marilyn crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. “I’ve known this day was coming for years, of course. Sometimes even prayed for it.” She looked past Kali. “But it’s still hard. In some ways it’s a relief, no longer having to see him suffer. In other ways I want just one more day, one more hour to hold his hand, to try to see the man he once was.”
Marilyn shrugged as the kettle clicked. She poured the steaming water into two large mugs. “Milk or sugar?”
“Black is fine.”
Marilyn grabbed what looked to be a timer, set it, then set the timer, mugs, two spoons, and a small plate on a tray. Tray in hand, she gestured to the patio door. “We won’t have many afternoons like this left. Care to take this party outside?”
Kali eased off her stool and made it to the patio door in time to hold it open for Marilyn. An unseasonably warm breeze greeted them as the sun shone brightly on the patio. Marilyn set the tray down on a table between two chairs and opened the lid of an ottoman to pull out two knit blankets. “Just in case.”
Kali sat in the chair closest to her and sighed at the array of colours in the yard. Rich green of the grass, bright blue of the sky, deeper blue of a lake at the far end of the property, and breathtaking reds, oranges, and yellows of the leaves.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?”
Kali shifted in the seat so she could see Marilyn. “Beautiful.”
“I sit out here a lot.” Marilyn’s voice quieted. “When Alexander showed me this plot of land it was fall. He stood me right where this patio is and let me take in the view. There weren’t as many trees then, and not as big, but it was still breathtaking. He promised me this patio and afternoons and evenings sitting out here hand in hand, the kids running in the yard.”
Kali stared at Marilyn, who looked straight ahead at the view. “And was it like that?”
Marilyn turned to Kali, the warmth of her smile competing with the sadness in her eyes. “It was. For a time. And even now, with nothing but the view, this is my favourite place on the property to sit.”
Kali looked back out at the view then jumped as the timer dinged.
“Time to take the strainer out if you like the ‘perfect’ cup,” said Marilyn, with air quotes. If you want it stronger, feel free.”
Kali removed her tea strainer and leaned back in the chair. She shifted again to Marilyn. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here.”
“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.” Marilyn glanced to Kali then directed her gaze back to the yard. “My son, who thinks too much, thinks life is more complicated than it is. As a result, he’s got it in his head that he’s not good for you, or not good enough, or the timing isn’t right, or some such thing.” Marilyn gave her head a slight shake. “He’s either ended it between you or created some unclear distance, and you want to talk to me about it.”
Kali’s brow furrowed. Part of her wanted to laugh, the other scream. “That’s pretty much it, yeah.”
“What I don’t know,” said Marilyn, taking a sip of her tea, “is why he feels this way or how you feel.”
Kali let out a long stream of air. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was here, but here she was, and if she was going to ask this woman’s advice, as weird as that seemed, she’d better give her the full story.
So she did.
“And is Derek why you and Lincoln were only ‘trying it out’ in those weeks after the New York trip?” asked Marilyn almost twenty minutes later.
“I don’t know.” Kali’s tea was almost done, but she sipped the last few lukewarm drops to give herself a moment to think. “Not the hope that he’d come back. I’m pretty sure of that. But his existence? The fact that he was out there in the world somewhere not with me, not with us, the fact that he left ... probably.”
“A trust thing?”
Kali nodded.
“I get that. But that’s not going to change unless you change it. Not with Derek. Not with Lincoln. Not with any other man who may or may not enter your life in the future.”
Kali nodded again, her feet pulled up under her and the blanket tucked snugly around her legs. Still, she shivered.
“Should we head inside?”
Kali shook her head with a laugh. “I don’t think it’s the cold.”
“The unknown future.” Marilyn chuckled. “It’s enough to make anyone shiver.”
“I was starting to trust, I think. Lincoln was so patient, and so kind and ... dependable. But it was like we were pretending. Or I was. Not that I didn’t feel for him. I did. I do. But it was this safe little bubble we were in, where I didn’t have to commit.”
“We always have to commit. At some point.”
“But maybe if we’d had more time, I could have. If Derek had come back a year from now, even six months from now.”
“But he didn’t.”
“I know. And so is there a reason for that? Was it some sign Lincoln isn’t the one for me?”
“And Derek is?”
“No. No.” Kali shook her head as she gazed past Marilyn to the yard. “I’ll admit, at times I’ve wondered. And I know he wants to give it another try. But I think what we had, in that way, it’s dead. I don’t know that it could ever come to life again. There’s too much history. Too much pain. Even if some of that pain was misplaced.
“I love Derek. I do. And maybe love is stronger than I think. Derek certainly thinks we can work through these past four years. And Lincoln seems to think so too. He thinks he owes it to Theo to get out of the way or something. Give Derek and me a chance. Give our family a chance.”
“As you said.” Marilyn sighed. “Personally, I don’t believe everything happens for a reason. The world is messy and chaotic and basically off kilter ... but I do believe reason can come from every experience, good or bad. You just need to look hard for it. You need to take the time.”
“So what’s the reason for Derek coming back and Lincoln leaving?”
“I can’t tell you that. But if you really take the time,” Marilyn grinned, “listen to your heart and all that woo-woo jazz, I think you’ll figure it out.”
“Woo-woo jazz.” Kali laughed. “That’s what it sounds like. I’m not exactly a listen to your heart type of girl.”
“Maybe you should try it.”
“Maybe what it’s telling me is that I shouldn’t be with either guy. That I should be alone, and that’s the best option.”
“That’s possible.” Marilyn tilted her head and set her mug down. “You were alone for a long time. Think you prefer it?”
“I like not relying on anyone. I like to only have expectations of myself.”
“I know what that’s like.” Marilyn’s eyes crinkled. “Can get kind of lonely.”
Kali hesitated. “It can.”
“And honestly, sweetheart, sounds to me like you saying that, it’s coming from a place of fear. Of being in danger of letting your past define your future.”
“Well, we’re supposed to learn lessons from the past, right? Isn’t that the wise thing to do?”
Marilyn leaned forward, a hand to her chin. “Maybe. In recent years, I’m more of the belief the past is a story we tell ourselves, and behind each of our lives are all these stories we tell about who we are, what we’ve done, what’s been done to us, what we believe. If we let them, these stories control what we see, how we act, the choices we make.”
Marilyn turned her gaze from Kali. “All the things in life that happen, they’re part of our story, but we’re each our own author, which means every event, emotion, everything and anything, can be rewritten or reinterpreted any way we choose. A tragedy can be a gift. A victory or blessing or seeming miracle can be a curse.”
Marilyn looked back to Kali. “Everything that’s happened to you, you’ve written into your story. You told yourself your husband abandoned you, while he told himself he did it for you, for love, to provide for you while protecting you from himself.
“You told yourself you could survive on your own. So you did. Then you got this horrible news; you were going blind, and you told yourself you couldn’t do it anymore, that your life was over.” Marilyn’s smile broadened. “And then you told yourself it wasn’t. You did some rewriting.
“All of it, Kali, our life, is just a huge conglomeration of stories. How we live is all based on the stories we tell ourselves.” Marilyn paused. She reached her hand to rest on top of Kali’s. “And that’s the amazing thing. Our stories can be re-written. When we tell ourselves different stories about our past, about what we want our future to be, our whole lives change.”
Marilyn gave Kali’s hand a squeeze then let it go. She settled back against her chair. “So I guess the question is, what story are you going to tell?”