delicious, and Bree took her time, eating it out on the patio where she could see the lake and say hello to the other guests as they walked by her table.
What a fantastic feeling, Bree thought, to be someone no one knows, and to be somewhere she had never been before.
All the world was open to her. She could choose to be anyone or anything. That’s what it felt like anyway, and she let the feeling build until she could feel a little well of joy bubbling inside of her. Yes, the grief was still there, but the joy was there too.
For the first time since Paul had died, she felt free. And while she sipped her coffee, Bree realized she didn’t have to think through her decision anymore. She had decided. It was time to see what else Paul had done. The thing she asked him to do, but never tell her what happened. He had kept his promise, and now she was going to break her promise to herself.
Because she realized that when he knew he was dying, Paul had decided to set her free. He couldn’t make her do what she needed to do. He had to let her decide for herself, which was why he sent her on the trip and reunited her with her friends.
Yes, Bree said to herself, I knew there was more to the last gift idea. She just hadn’t wanted to accept it. How could she? It would change everything.
She’d have to tell people. What would they say? What would these strangers sitting next to her say if she told them? That’s when it finally hit her. They wouldn’t care, they might understand, they might not, they might help her, they might condemn her, but what did it matter?
What about her? Was she ready to find out and do something about what she had asked Paul to do for her? Was she willing to fix it now? That was the only question that mattered.
And now that she had decided that yes, she was ready, she was afraid. But she was also excited. But, first, she needed to get back into some kind of self-care because she would need it. She had noticed that there was going to be a taiji class near the lake that morning. She’d join that, then maybe take a brief run—more walk than run—around the town. After that, she’d settle down with her computer and start the search.
But first, she had ideas. Not ideas about the search, ideas about a story. It wasn’t fully formed yet, but she knew how it worked for her. She’d dream something, or someone would say something, or a tree would speak, or even a rock, and then there was an idea.
Usually, she did not know where the idea would take her, but she knew she had to write it down quickly because otherwise, like a butterfly, it would move on to the next person, and the idea would be lost to her.
So she scribbled a few things down in the tiny notebook she kept in her purse for those ideas, trying to make sure that she could read it later, and then headed to her room to change clothes.
She expected she would get more inspiration while doing something other than worrying, so she tucked a slip of paper and pen into the side pocket of her go-walk pants that worked for all kinds of exercise and headed to the lake. But not before applying sunscreen and grabbing her favorite baseball hat.
Self-care, she told herself, begins here.
By the time the morning was over, Bree was hot, sweaty, full of ideas, and hungry. All of which she took as a good sign. So far, the day had been perfect, and she could start the search after lunch. After all, she had waited twenty-eight years to do this. One or two more hours wouldn’t make a difference.
But it wasn’t just a few hours. Bree napped after lunch, sat on the porch again people watching, said hello to strangers, and let the afternoon drift away. Once Bree checked her phone and saw that Cindy and Marsha were almost home. But that was the extent of her paying attention to her past life.
Her life with Paul, her life in Spring Falls—Bree decided to put it all aside for one more day. She’d get started in the morning. Bree knew that a deep fear of what she would find was driving her actions, delaying her, increasing her resistance.
But since she had declared it to be a self-care day, that was what she would do. Tomorrow was soon enough to find out—because she wasn’t just afraid for herself. Bree was afraid for everyone involved. Paul was safe. He was dead. But what about the living who did not know that she had a secret that would change not only her life but theirs forever? Maybe she had no right to do this.
The surety she had felt that morning had vanished and was sinking, just like the sun was sinking below the horizon.
“But the sun comes up in the morning,” she swore she heard Paul say. Of course, he was always that way, reminding her that the next day would happen and it was up to them to enjoy it. So it was probably an echo of what he always said, probably stuck in her head forever.
So she answered him, the way she often answered him, “Sure, Paul, but it doesn’t mean it will be sunny.” And his answer had always been, “I disagree, my love. The sun is always shining.”
If she didn’t stop him, Paul would go into detail about anything and everything, so she would stop him before he went on and on about the sun and clouds and the other side of the world. She stopped him tonight, too. She didn’t want to hear about shining suns. Bree just wanted one more night before the world shifted for her again. It didn’t seem too much to ask.