As she dragged herself out of bed the next morning, Kelly felt like she was living in her own version of Groundhog Day. Prepping food with Maggie, Teagan, and a few other volunteers had been hard work. Although everyone had been pleasant, Kelly knew she no longer had the key to the city.
Coffee. She needed coffee.
Once the brew started coursing through her veins, she took out her pad and started to make a list. She’d start in neutral territory, the sheds and cabins. Most of what was in there could stay; it just needed to be more artfully arranged to entice a buyer.
Then she’d tackle the barn. It definitely made sense to sell the business separately from the center, which meant packing all the stuff in her grandmother’s office. She’d go through the rest of the space, throw out anything that wasn’t useful anymore, and give the art supplies to the school.
The house would have to be last. It was the most emotionally laden space.
A piece of toast and jam sufficed for breakfast. As she walked by the baby grand, the urge to play overwhelmed her.
Just a half hour. Placing a stack of yellow books on top of the piano, she began with the long-ago warmups her teacher had given her.
An hour later she was still playing, losing herself in the discipline and love of the magic; she moved her fingers and melodies emerged.
The clock announced the hour, and she let her fingers rest. There were things to do.
Sometime in the mid-afternoon, she received a text from Maggie asking for her help. Of course, she replied. They may be pushing her out, but she would participate in the community to the end. Just one more phone call before she got to work.
“Hey, Gail,” she said when her friend answered. “How was Japan?”
“Horrible and wonderful. Where are you?”
“Montana. I told you in that email I sent. My grandmother left me her estate, and I’ve been up here trying to figure out what to do with it.”
“Are you ever coming home? School starts in three weeks. They’ve called a meeting for us the week after next.”
“Yep. I’ve got a flight back a week from Friday.” Kelly made a quick note on her pad: Find ride to airport.
“Cutting it close. What about the kids? Aren’t you dropping Peter off at school in Boston?”
“Nope. He went out early this summer to work for his grandparents. They’ve already got plans to send him home for a weekend, then get him settled in his dorm.”
“But won’t you miss that? I mean, you’re his mother.”
Kelly should be more upset than she was. She felt guilty about not feeling guilty she wasn’t going.
What a tangled mess her head was.
“I will, but dealing with the estate ate up all the time I had.”
“What’s taking so long? All you had to do was put it on the market and come home.”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Kelly said.
“Did you meet a hot cowboy who’s riding off into the sunset?” Gail chuckled.
Something like that.
“No, sorry, no romance here.” A muscle inside her chest twisted. But there could have been, if only she weren’t so afraid of fire, snow, and large animals.
“You can tell me all about it when you get home. And I’ll tell you the horrors of living with my mother-in-law.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
They spent a few more moments catching up, then disconnected.
How was she going to get to the airport? Would Ryan be willing to do it? She doubted it. Not after the way she left things. Everyone else was too busy. Well, she’d just have to find a limo service or an old-timer with a wood-paneled station wagon.
Some old movie she’d seen had one of those old wagons. Kelly smiled. They’d driven it into a pond. Kelly giggled. Then they’d done it again. Kelly laughed.
Then laughed again.
Laughter took over her body. She couldn’t stop. Her mind released control, and she dropped to the floor, filling the room with her laughter. A kaleidoscope of images whirled: the retreat, Susan’s accident, Maggie and Alex, John’s betrayal.
Ryan. Dear, dear Ryan.
Her laughter broke, changing halfway to a sob before becoming a full-blown wail.
Why was she leaving him again?
Because it was what she always did. She chose safety. The known.
He was anything but safe.
He was wild, unpredictable passion.
Was it more scary to face the love he had to give her or see who she became in his arms, arms she needed right now?
The pit of her stomach caved in, and she wrapped herself around it. Crying was the only thing she was able to do. So she let herself wail. There was no one around to hear her.
Sometime later, she lay spent on the floor, silent, exhausted.
Pushing herself up, she headed back upstairs to repair the damage.
Her reflection revealed a pale woman, wide-eyed with a lack of any expression. Every aspect of her being was drained. It would be best to do rote things, to run through the chores she’d planned until it was time to go to Maggie’s and help out.
Lack of emotion helped her move through the cabins more efficiently. And when she went to the store, she was a machine, with no more awareness than a robot. No one seemed to notice that she was an empty shell.
When it was almost over, she slipped away and headed back to the house.
Pouring a large glass of wine, she retrieved the FedEx envelope and placed it in the middle of the kitchen table. She stared at it for a few moments. Then she picked it up and tore it open.
Kelly,
When the phone rang the other day and I saw John’s number, I realized you had found his second phone and somehow managed to get into it. John had made me promise to reach out to you if that ever happened after his death.
I did so reluctantly. I didn’t think you needed any more pain. But a promise is a promise.
First of all, none of what happened between John and me was your fault. He loved you and told me about the sacrifices you’d made to fit into the life your mother wanted you to live. He told me more than once that he couldn’t have asked for a better wife.
He wanted to make sure I told you that you did nothing wrong.
What was between him and me was ill-fated passion. We met before you two did. I’m a dancer whose parents emigrated from the Dominican Republic. None of that fit the criteria his parents had for his wife. We broke it off; he married you, but we couldn’t stay away from each other. There was no way he ever would divorce you and leave the children. He felt he owed you all that.
So we began our affair, determined to keep it secret so you would never be hurt.
Unfortunately, you are hurt now, and I am so very sorry for that. What we did was selfish, but we didn’t seem to be able to call it off, no matter how often we tried. And we did try.
I miss him terribly, as you must. Remember, he loved you too. He just was, as we all are, a flawed human being.
I wish you the best.
Lydia
Kelly reread the words, trying to make them make sense. A promise is a promise? The phrase outraged her. If a promise was worth anything, John should have kept his to stay faithful to her.
Of course she didn’t do anything wrong. They were at fault, the two of them. Ill-fated passion? What was that? It was two immature people doing whatever they wanted without thinking about anyone else. She’d done what she was supposed to do. Why couldn’t everyone else on the planet simply do the right thing? The world would be better off, just marching in step to the controlled fugues of Bach.
Except, without emotion, there wouldn’t be the sweet caress of Chopin or the gut-wrenching passion of Beethoven or the haunting melody of Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Song of India.” The world would be bereft of love sonnets, Shakespeare, and the swirling skies of Van Gogh.
And what about the cultures she’d taught her students but never had time to explore in depth: the rhythms of Africa, the atonal sounds of Asia, the sensual music of the Caribbean?
But emotion needed to be contained. One couldn’t just run amok doing things because the heart demanded it. John should have been truthful with her and stuck to his vows.
Could she have weathered his betrayal? Would they have done couples therapy? Divorce? Shuttled the children from one house to another?
Who was to say his solution wasn’t the best? She’d spent their lives together believing everything was fine. Her children had grown up in a stable home. John had provided for everyone and attended all the important events.
Lydia had gotten the leftovers.
Leaving the letter, she went to the piano. Opening Bach, she obeyed his controlled expression on the keys. Chopin called to her. Life was not only duty. It was the full expression of love for oneself and for others. As far as anyone knew, she and John had stayed within the box called marriage. It was the bargain they’d made.
Chopin drew tears from her once again, grief for her own pain but also for the struggles her husband and Lydia must have faced. They’d chosen the wrong path, but there hadn’t been anything easy about the situation.
Unlike her tears of the night before, these soothed her and washed away the remains of her angst. Finally, she ended a piece, letting the chord linger in the air, and stood. She walked to the big window and stared out a few moments before registering what she was seeing.
A good-sized black bear lumbered down the drive. He wandered around the grounds closest to the house, then headed to the hammock she’d found and strung up right after she arrived. The bear put his front paws on it and swung it back and forth a few times, his body rocking with the motion. Then he pulled up a hind leg. The hammock twisted, and he landed on the ground.
Undaunted, he picked himself up and tried again. The same thing happened.
Two more times he made the attempt and tumbled to the ground. Finally, with a big heave, he plopped himself fully on the hammock. It swung madly for a few moments, but when it settled down, he lay back and shut his eyes.
Joy flooded Kelly’s body. She let her gaze expand to the land around the sleeping bear. Tinges of fall edged the property as spots of color tipped some of the trees surrounding the retreat. Most of the flower garden had faded, but the mums still held strong with their golds, oranges, and reds. Dahlias held their heads up triumphantly.
The vegetable garden could someday hold winter squashes, maybe even a pumpkin.
Fall in California meant a slight cooling of the weather; here, it was a warning. It was time to gather the last fruits before the long winter, time to find a mate, and time to prepare a home for the storms ahead.
The rawness of it woke something in her, an emotion so strong it threatened to overwhelm her. She sank into the nearest chair.
It made all the sense in the world to go. Her life was set. Her children—well, Lisa—needed her. Her story was half told already; what she did from this point in her life wouldn’t matter to anyone.
Her phone dinged with an email from Ruth.
“Just a quick note,” it read. “The fire messed up my plans to join the knitting group, but the women let me know they are working on projects to help those who’ve lost things in the blaze. So I joined up. Haven’t seen a show in a week! :-(( But it’s been worth it to spend time with these amazing women. Thank you!”
Kelly leaned back in her chair with a smile. The retreat hadn’t been a waste of time. Susan had found the courage to do the work she’d always wanted, and Ruth had found community. Had anything changed for Julia or Alex?
It would be interesting to know.