Grant had skipped the flower arranging event and dinner. He knew better than to miss an opportunity to scout out The Foundry, but he held back. Instead of doing his job, he chose to cower alone in his room all afternoon. This woman, Thandie, had captured his imagination like no other person had done since he had lost so much.
He was utterly distracted from why he was even there. Their shared moments together had been a refreshing realization. For the first time in nearly a decade, he could see a reason for possibly dismantling the walls around his heart. There was no reason he couldn’t do both his job and explore the crack rapidly forming in his defenses.
Grant stood from the picnic table where breakfast had just wrapped up and helped Margret and Anne slide out from the bench. He noticed the awkward bench braces that hindered one’s ability from scooting out with any kind of grace and felt it was probably time for the resort to make an upgrade. His new friends’ jovial spirits had made his trip so much more fun than he had on a typical consulting job, and breakfast had been no exception. Though Thandie hadn’t made an appearance, he had been thoroughly entertained and stuffed.
Light, wispy clouds had shaded them during their breakfast of fresh fruit cut into various flower forms and an array of baked goods made to resemble little ducks, eggs, twigs, and more. Now the sun burned through the high-level haze and cut a line of light down the pathway towards the dock.
“What happened after you fell into the creek?” Grant asked Margret, wanting to know the rest of the story. “Did you find the coin?”
“My feet planted in the sticky mud at the bottom of the stream. It was shallow, maybe a half meter, but I couldn’t move. It was as though the mud had wrapped a million ropes about my ankle. I was stuck.”
Three other women joined in on listening to her tale as they made their way to the dock. “How did you get out?” one of them asked.
“I’ve heard this story a hundred times,” Anne said. “I’ll meet you down there.” She speed walked with her hips swinging from side to side and separated herself from the group.
“So?” one of the other women asked and nudged her way between Grant and Margret.
“I yelled for help, knowing that my companion was nearby searching the banks further downstream. After a panicked quarter hour, I realized no one was coming anytime soon. I began to wiggle my foot ever so slowly as not to create suction underneath. I felt the pressure around my ankle begin to give way as the stream moved the fine silt under my rising boot. When I got it about halfway out, I moved my cupped hand through the water just above my ankle and swooshed the muck from around my trapped toes. When I brought my hand up, peeking out from the slippery black sludge . . . gold.”
“Gold what?” a woman asked.
“It was a coin. And it shone in the late-day sun like the day it was struck,” Margret beamed at the retelling. “I cupped it in my hands and dunked it in the passing water until it came out completely clean. Oh my! It was a beauty.”
“What kind of coin was it?” Grant asked, now that he was totally in the grips of her story. “Do you still have it?”
“It was exactly what I had been out there looking for in that bog. The coin dated back nearly five hundred years. I must have shouted with such exuberance at the find, that my partner heard me and arrived on site. He helped me out of the creek and we both just sat there staring at the golden piece.”
Margret opened her small bag and dug around inside. Grant wondered why this woman would be carrying around an ancient gold coin in her purse, but waited with excitement to see the object. At this point in Margret’s story, she pulled out a small leather envelope and the whole group crowded around to see the coin.
With practiced drama, she untied the twine and opened one flap. “Do you want to see it?” She toyed with them, drawing out the moment further than necessary, but for effect, and Grant appreciated the theatrical flair.
“Show us,” Grant said. “You’ve kept us waiting for long enough.”
With her fingers dipping into the opening, she presented, not a gold coin, but a photograph. Barely in color, it was so faded. But he could make out her younger self with long blonde hair, standing on the bank of a river, and holding a gold coin to the camera.
“You don’t have it?” Grant said with disappointment evident in his cracking voice.
“Of course not. I sold it, and the others. How else do you think I can afford to travel all year round?” Margret said and replaced the photograph back in its home after they each looked.
“The others? You found more coins?”
“Several,” she said. “We found more on the side of the riverbank where I had been stuck. The find was one of the greatest moments of my life.”
“I bet,” another woman, whom he hadn’t been introduced to yet, said as they reached the dock.
“Now you know why I didn’t need to hear this again,” Anne said. She sat on the bench that was built-in along the side of the old dock’s railing.
“Why didn’t you warn us?” Grant joked to Anne.
Anne laughed. “She pays my bills. I have to allow her a bit of fun.”
More footsteps trailed the group down the dock’s weathered planks, and Grant’s pulse quickened as he hoped to see Thandie. He turned, smile already in place. It wasn’t Thandie. It was the old man whose name he could not remember. He ran the ones that sounded right through his head. Ted? Ken? Ben? Buzz? He snapped his fingers. Buzz was the correct name he was searching for.
Buzz waved and skip-walked with his cane to Margret’s side as though they were old friends. Their conversation picked up where one had previously left off, and Grant was completely lost. He bowed out of their repartee and walked to the end of the dock where an unpainted section of railing looked to have recently been added.
Leaning over the edge, he could see where a ladder had once been attached for climbing in and out of the lake. The exposed lakebed was only a yard below his feet, but he could still imagine kids cannonballing into the warm summer waters. Even now, the sun heated the flesh on the back of his neck and arms the way he knew he needed after a long winter without getting much sun.
Sun was preferable to the damp conditions of the previous morning. Despite the less-than-ideal weather, the staff had planned for and thought of everything. The gravel path was well drained and easy to walk on, even in the rain. There were more umbrellas and ponchos than any guest might need. Many of the cabins boasted wide covered porches, and the activities had, so far, worked well in the environment. This report to Davis would be balanced and show that the apparent drawbacks of the property might actually be advantages.
The last of the guests moseyed down the dock and joined the rest, who were already there and waiting for their activity to begin. He checked his watch out of habit and looked around for any sign of Thandie.
“Come join me down here,” Thandie’s voice cut through the air from down the shore a way. “What are you all waiting for?”
He could hear her smile even though she was far away, and the sun was too bright against her back for him to see her clearly. Whatever she had in store for them, he hoped it would be as good as yesterday’s events. His favorite event, of course, had been the little rendezvous in his cabin. Asking her to bring towels that he didn’t need may have crossed the line, but he wanted to see her so that he could offer an apology. He could have just been honest, but he didn’t think she would come willingly if there wasn’t a good reason.
In the gazebo, he had let his body do the thinking. When Thandie pulled away, his past crashed into his soul and guilt flooded his veins. She would never understand. How could she?
With refreshed boundaries, and having skipped the flower arranging, it was crucial that he not miss any more activities. They had agreed to get to know each other more on a professional level, and he still had a job to do.
Grant took up the rear of the pack behind the old man with the cane, Buzz, and allowed the others to get to Thandie first. After all, they were all real guests, wanting a relaxing experience. Whereas he hadn’t even paid for the privilege of being there. Taking up the rear gave him a better vantage point to take-in and take note of the whole scene.
“Thank you all for coming here. Today, we are going to practice a type of meditation. As you can see, I have brought some supplies for your use today. What you’ll do is take a mat and find a quiet spot along this stretch. Find a comfortable seat,” she pointed to a chair and nodded to Buzz, “and using the materials within your reach, you’ll create a stacked stone sculpture called a cairn.”
Thandie picked up two mats by their bungee strap. When her eyes came back to the group, they swept over the tops of the heads in front of Grant and landed squarely on his face. “I see you back there,” she said.
A slight hesitation in her voice, barely perceivable, and a shake of her head, like a chill had just run down her spine, caused him to bite his lower lip. He certainly had an effect on her. There was no use in denying it anymore, but it was yet to be seen whether the effect was a good or bad thing.
“Why don’t you come down to the front and demonstrate for me.” Thandie waved him forward.
What was he supposed to do? A different kind of heat warmed his neck, but not from the sun—from his rising anxiety. There was a reason he preferred to take up the rear, sit in the back of the classroom, and by no means did he want to demonstrate anything to anyone. She gave him a smirk, and the side-tilt of her chin encouraged him to come up. He obliged her request.
The group broke out into applause as he moved between them and took a mat from Thandie’s hand. Taking a bow, Grant couldn’t help but chuckle at the anxiety he had just felt. It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. These people looking at him had nothing but good vibes towards him, but even still, he wanted to hide under a rock, not stack them.
Being nervous wouldn’t serve him now. He took a deep breath as he came beside Thandie. Seeing the tension in his face, she placed her soft fingers on his forearm and calmed him further. “Okay. Okay. What do you want me to do?” Grant asked and unrolled the mat.
“Now, take a seat.”
Grant flopped the rubber mat onto the ground and sat, but as soon as his bottom hit the surface, he was right back up again. “Ouch.” He laughed without humor and rubbed his bottom where something goosed him. Folding the mat back, he revealed a rather pointed stone sticking up from the place where he had attempted to sit. He kicked the errant stone away and tried sitting again, this time with more success.
“Now, reach for three stones of various sizes. Taking the largest one, place it in front of you so that it has no wobble,” she said, and he acted out her instructions. “Now, take the medium-sized stone and balance it on top of the first.”
Grant caught on right away. Though he’d never taken part in any Zen rock stacking before, the concept was one that every kindergartner would be familiar with. “I got it,” he said as he balanced the remaining stone.
Thandie clapped, having joined the others for a better vantage point. “Very good,” she said. “Now, this was the most basic example and certainly a good place to start. But I want you to challenge yourself with this meditation. Remember, this experience is only for you. With each rock you place, you will assign something to it that you need to let go of. I want you to see that, as the structure rises, your negative thoughts, your trauma, and your vices together can be turned into something beautiful.”
Behind Thandie, Margret raised her hand. Grant pointed in that direction, causing Thandie to turn around and face the group.
“Questions?” she said.
“Hypothetically, what if we don’t have anything that we need to let go of?” Margret asked.
Anne nudged her friend and put up a palm to Thandie like a crossing guard. “Thandie, I got this.” She looked Margret straight on and took her shoulders in her hands. “Listen to me very carefully. Nobody, not even you, is perfect enough to have nothing they need to let go of. Even Gandhi, as good a man as he was, let go of his shoes. You will sit there, and you will build a tower of all the things wrong with you.”
Margret was slack-jawed at the rebuke, and Grant held in his amusement with his lips between his teeth.