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Kelly glanced at the box the next morning. In spite of the instructions, she was tempted to open it.
But there was no time. Grabbing her mug of coffee, she headed to the barn where she’d asked the women to gather. She’d already started coffee in the small kitchenette and put out the pastries Charlene had delivered. Once they were all settled and the morning chatter subsided, she began.
“I’d like you to give us a brief sketch of the biggest thing that may be holding you back,” she said. “It doesn’t have to do with your art or music—it can be a place where you feel stagnant in your life. My grandmother believed human beings were a whole. Everything we think, feel, or do influences everything else.”
As they’d planned, Alex volunteered to begin.
“Like Susan and Ruth’s husband, my husband was in the war. We’d been married for only a few years. He couldn’t find a job—there was a large recession then. I couldn’t work at the time because ... well, that’s not important. He felt he had no choice. The only way he could figure out how to earn money was to enlist. I begged him not to, but ...” She sniffled, and Ruth pushed over one of the tissue boxes Kelly had placed within reach.
“He wasn’t even there a month before he was killed.”
Silence took over the space.
Kelly’s heart ached for Alex.
“But ... I guess it’s the thing that holds me back,” Alex said. “When we had our quiet time yesterday, and even listening to everyone talk about their lives, it’s all I could think about. I still have all his things. Sometimes I touch them and try to remember ... but I can’t. Creating my pieces allows me to focus, to push it all aside. But as soon as I put away my tools, it’s there, like a splinter I just can’t get out.”
Susan touched her hand. “I’m sorry. That’s very hard. Losing someone you love when you’ve barely begun to be together.”
Alex nodded.
“I think we can all get stuck in the past,” Ruth said.
“Yes,” Kelly added. “There’s a kind of false security in it.” She suddenly made a connection. “Even if it’s not as large as hanging on to someone’s things, it can be doing something just because the person who is gone used to do it.” She looked at Ruth.
“Like my television watching,” Ruth said.
The other women nodded.
“And sometimes it’s holding onto the illusion of the other person,” Julia said quietly. “What you wanted him ... or her ... to be, in spite of being shown over and over again that your belief is false.”
There was a thoughtful silence.
“How about you, Susan?” Kelly asked.
“Well, when you told us this morning that you wanted us to talk about something holding us back, I had to think long and hard about it. All my life I thought being gay was my biggest problem. I’d hoped if everyone would just get over it and let me live my life, everything would be okay.”
She stopped, and they waited for her to gather her thoughts.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “That’s still part of it, but I think there’s more. Like every other human being, I’ve got my own issues to sort out that have nothing to do with what anyone else thinks or does.” She absently rubbed at a scar on the back of her hand. “In the military, there was a sense of a team. In the field, you didn’t question a person’s sexuality. What mattered was that they were on top of things and could shoot straight.”
Staring at her fingers, Susan paused again before continuing. “I think the thing holding me back is that I don’t feel part of this town. And that’s my fault. I haven’t given people a chance to know me.” She finally looked at them all. There was a vulnerability Kelly hadn’t seen before in her face.
“Thank you,” Ruth said, touching Susan’s hand.
Kelly hesitated. While she’d originally planned to leave Julia to last, she sensed that now might be a better time.
“Julia?” she asked softly.
“Well,” Julia said and then stopped. “I’m not sure. I mean, there’s lots.” She looked up, her deep blue eyes wide. “I’ve been in therapy for a long time. I ... uh ... something happened ... traumatic.”
“PTSD?” Alex asked.
Julia nodded.
“We’re a safe space,” Kelly said, “but only share what you want to share. This weekend is for you. You don’t have to meet anyone else’s expectations.”
“Thanks. But I want to accomplish something for myself. I’m tired of spinning in the same old box. He still wins if I don’t change.” She took a deep breath. “Someone—an up-and-coming country singer—well, she heard a demo I put out before ... well, just before.” Julia took another breath, as if she were trying to breathe in courage. “She wants me to do a guest track on her next release. She’ll provide studio time. No other singer will be there. Just me and the studio people. And her ... she says she’ll be there to help me.”
“Wow,” Alex said. “That’s big.”
“It’s huge,” Julia said, losing some of her scared rabbit appearance for a few minutes. “But I’m afraid. What if I mess it up? What if there’s someone there who makes me uncomfortable? I could lose it and not be able to perform. I’d never get a second chance.”
Kelly nodded. “It’s a big risk. I can see that.”
“But I want to do it.”
“I’d go with you,” Alex said. “That might make you feel safer. Someone you know. We could meet now and again, get to know each other better.”
“You would?” Julia said. “I couldn’t ask that.”
“You didn’t. I offered. I’d be happy to do it. Gives me a chance to get out of here for a while. If I’m lucky, she wants you to record in Hawaii in February.”
The group laughed, even Kelly. Though she hadn’t been through a winter in Montana, cabin fever had to reach its height in February.
“I’ll think about it,” Julia said. “Thank you.”
“I guess that leaves me,” Ruth said. “After our discussion last night and this morning, it’s pretty clear how I’m stuck. I need to leave Perry and Jessica behind. My life has revolved around school and old television shows. Like you, Susan, I need to become more of the community.”
“That was inspiring,” Kelly said. “We’ve got a lot to think about. To close—“
“Wait,” Julia said with the loudest voice they’d heard yet. “What about you? It seems to me you need to move forward, too. What’s holding you back?”
“Me?” Kelly hadn’t prepared an answer. She hadn’t even thought about it. Four pairs of eyes looked at her expectantly.
Her grandmother’s journals had indicated that she had always participated and learned something new about herself at each retreat. Kelly glanced at Alex, who nodded.
“I guess ... right now I’ve been focused on what I’m going to do with this property,” she said. “Whether I should stay or go back to California.” Whether she should open herself up to the possibility of a new relationship or let the past be the past. “I don’t think anything’s holding me back.” Her heart thudded as she realized how close the time was.
“Are you sure about that?” Alex asked her.
Kelly thought of the lovely, and tuned, baby grand in the house. She’d started her practice diligently but had let other things take over. There had really seemed no point to practice—what was she going to do with her talent other than teach?—so other than those first few sessions, the piano lid had stayed closed.
And Ryan? Her grandmother’s dream? All of that belonged to other people, the people who could live with fires and months of freezing cold and snow.
“Yes,” she said. “It’s only the decision holding me back.” She smiled brightly. “And you lovely ladies are helping me to make it. So, we’re done with this session. Let’s have lunch!”
As they rose, Alex stepped to her side. “You’re lying to yourself,” she said. “Isn’t it time you took a good look at why you’re having so much trouble making this decision?”
“I’m fine,” Kelly said, taking shelter in the timeworn denial women had been using for years.
# # #
BUT SHE WASN’T FINE, not at all. The box Ryan had left sat on the kitchen table, his note, John’s phone, and a glass of pinot noir were right in front of her. In spite of the instructions, she was going to open it early.
Kelly,
I didn’t want to disturb your retreat. I’m glad you’re taking that on. I hope it helps you make the right decision.
My friend got John’s phone unlocked. Best of luck there.
Ryan
Tonight’s assignment to everyone, the one she’d suggested all on her own, was to do something quiet and brave. And mindful of her grandmother’s example and leery of what Alex would say, she’d decided to participate.
Now she was stuck with her decision.
She took another sip of the wine. She didn’t have to turn it on.
If she didn’t, it would nag at her all night.
She pressed the on button and waited for it to go through its succession of steps. The familiar icons appeared in front of her. With a deep breath, she checked the phone messages. Only one.
“John?” a female voice she didn’t recognize asked. “John? What happened? We were talking and you were cut off. Are you okay?”
Kelly checked the contacts for the number. Lydia. Who was she, and what was her relationship to John?
Kelly grabbed a notepad from the counter and jotted down the name, phone number, and a big question mark.
The text messages were a little more revealing. Apparently, John had planned to meet Lydia on his next trip to New York—the unused ticket she’d found. They were both looking forward to seeing each other.
Other messages were chatty little notes—exhibits she’d seen in New York, a dinner he’d had with colleagues, an update on how well Peter was doing his senior year. There was nothing specific, but the correspondence was between two people who obviously knew each other well for a long time.
She carefully placed the phone on the table, her emotions moving from the mild disturbance of a spring storm to a full-blown hurricane of doubts, pain, and anger. How could he? He was married. He’d made vows. She’d stuck to hers. They’d discussed her kids!
She moaned out loud. She needed to talk to someone. There was no one she could talk to. How could she ever reveal what her husband had done? He’d betrayed her. What could she have done better? She’d given up everything to be the model wife and mother, and she’d even failed at that.
Ryan. He’d know what to say. Whenever she’d fought with her mom or had a falling out with Maggie or Alex when they were younger, he’d been the one she’d turned to. He’d offer comfort or humor, whichever would put the situation back into perspective as quickly as possible.
But she’d messed that up as well, all because she couldn’t decide what to do with her life. Had her mother guided her so well that she was incapable of inventing her own future?
She stuffed everything back in the box. They were all supposed to meet back at the firepit for a final evening. It was time to put her game face on, the one every woman knew how to pull off, the one that showed the world she was in control, even if everything inside her was crumbling.
