Vicki explained.
“I need to learn how.” I made a helpless little sound. “Old habits die hard. And now it’s Monday. If I don’t make a call within the next day or two, I won’t have a job to return to. Help me with this, Vicki. You were always so good at getting to the heart of the matter. What should I do?”
Charlotte whispered something to Vicki that I didn’t catch. I had assumed that our conversation would be over her head, and was wondering if I was wrong, when Vicki said, “O-kay. Potty time.” She rose, at which point Charlotte became a little monkey, four limbs clinging to her mom, which was good. Otherwise, she’d have fallen when Vicki bent forward and wrapped an arm around my neck.
“I want you here,” she whispered fiercely, and, straightening, held Charlotte with both arms and backed up. I was thinking that I neededto tell her about Jude, but she was saying, “Make yourself at home. Books and puzzles are in the parlor, bikes are out back. If you want to drive somewhere, the keys to the van are on the board by the door. The kitchen’s yours. If you happen on a short, dark-haired woman there, that’s my baker, Lee. She has an interesting story.”
I was still obsessed with my own. “What about my boss? And what about James?”
Vicki paused at the door. “That depends on what you want, and you’re the only one who knows.”
But I didn’t know, which was why I was here. I didn’t even know how to go about finding out.
I did know that what had started as an act of impulse—rebellion, perhaps—was growing more grave by the minute. Much longer, and there’d be no going back.
Frightened, I slipped lower on the pillow and pulled the comforter to my ears, hoping to bury reality under the billowy down. But the smell of flower-fresh Vicki and her powder-soft child lingered in my psyche, making me feel grubby. Getting out of bed, I showered, put on jeans and a sweater to look as much like Vicki as possible—inconspicuousness being the goal—and pulled my damp hair through the back of my hat.
I finished my tea as I stood at the window, looking out over the backyard. There were benches there, and Adirondack chairs scattered in pairs. Beyond lay the woods.
I knew these woods. They held pine and hemlock, fir, spruce, and birch, and their foliage varied greatly. With the sun blindingly bright in the foreground, the colors behind bled into the deepest, darkest forest green.
In my dreams, that green was nearly black. My dreams took place at night.
I needed to visit those woods. But not yet. At a time when I was feeling weak, that took more courage than I had.
Chapter 5
Sunglasses in hand, I tiptoed from my room, but the caution was unnecessary. I made it to the first floor without seeing a soul. Loath to trust my luck, I went straight to the kitchen, which was empty as well, and slipped quietly through the screen door and down the back steps.
As Vicki had promised, there were bikes. I spotted one that was my size and imagined myself pedaling hard through the Bell Valley roads, because pedaling hard was like spinning at my gym in New York. But the thought of it now made my legs hurt, surely emotions at play, because I had never been afraid of a workout.
But I did need to learn how to chill.
So I walked down the parking lot to the street. There were a few cars in front of the stores and one parked at the end of the green. Crossing the grass, I sank down beside a bench. The sun soothed. Sounds wafted about—the burr of a mower on the church lawn, the murmur of a couple emerging now from the Red Fox, the su
-weet
of a goldfinch on a nearby oak. I took one slow breath, then a second deeper one, aware of the novelty as my lungs filled and stretched. It struck me that other than during yoga class, I’d been breathing shallowly—running everywhere, stressing about everything, always connected to machines—for ten years. Just thinking about it quickened my breath.
Drawing in another
“I need to learn how.” I made a helpless little sound. “Old habits die hard. And now it’s Monday. If I don’t make a call within the next day or two, I won’t have a job to return to. Help me with this, Vicki. You were always so good at getting to the heart of the matter. What should I do?”
Charlotte whispered something to Vicki that I didn’t catch. I had assumed that our conversation would be over her head, and was wondering if I was wrong, when Vicki said, “O-kay. Potty time.” She rose, at which point Charlotte became a little monkey, four limbs clinging to her mom, which was good. Otherwise, she’d have fallen when Vicki bent forward and wrapped an arm around my neck.
“I want you here,” she whispered fiercely, and, straightening, held Charlotte with both arms and backed up. I was thinking that I neededto tell her about Jude, but she was saying, “Make yourself at home. Books and puzzles are in the parlor, bikes are out back. If you want to drive somewhere, the keys to the van are on the board by the door. The kitchen’s yours. If you happen on a short, dark-haired woman there, that’s my baker, Lee. She has an interesting story.”
I was still obsessed with my own. “What about my boss? And what about James?”
Vicki paused at the door. “That depends on what you want, and you’re the only one who knows.”
But I didn’t know, which was why I was here. I didn’t even know how to go about finding out.
I did know that what had started as an act of impulse—rebellion, perhaps—was growing more grave by the minute. Much longer, and there’d be no going back.
Frightened, I slipped lower on the pillow and pulled the comforter to my ears, hoping to bury reality under the billowy down. But the smell of flower-fresh Vicki and her powder-soft child lingered in my psyche, making me feel grubby. Getting out of bed, I showered, put on jeans and a sweater to look as much like Vicki as possible—inconspicuousness being the goal—and pulled my damp hair through the back of my hat.
I finished my tea as I stood at the window, looking out over the backyard. There were benches there, and Adirondack chairs scattered in pairs. Beyond lay the woods.
I knew these woods. They held pine and hemlock, fir, spruce, and birch, and their foliage varied greatly. With the sun blindingly bright in the foreground, the colors behind bled into the deepest, darkest forest green.
In my dreams, that green was nearly black. My dreams took place at night.
I needed to visit those woods. But not yet. At a time when I was feeling weak, that took more courage than I had.
Chapter 5
Sunglasses in hand, I tiptoed from my room, but the caution was unnecessary. I made it to the first floor without seeing a soul. Loath to trust my luck, I went straight to the kitchen, which was empty as well, and slipped quietly through the screen door and down the back steps.
As Vicki had promised, there were bikes. I spotted one that was my size and imagined myself pedaling hard through the Bell Valley roads, because pedaling hard was like spinning at my gym in New York. But the thought of it now made my legs hurt, surely emotions at play, because I had never been afraid of a workout.
But I did need to learn how to chill.
So I walked down the parking lot to the street. There were a few cars in front of the stores and one parked at the end of the green. Crossing the grass, I sank down beside a bench. The sun soothed. Sounds wafted about—the burr of a mower on the church lawn, the murmur of a couple emerging now from the Red Fox, the su
-weet
of a goldfinch on a nearby oak. I took one slow breath, then a second deeper one, aware of the novelty as my lungs filled and stretched. It struck me that other than during yoga class, I’d been breathing shallowly—running everywhere, stressing about everything, always connected to machines—for ten years. Just thinking about it quickened my breath.
Drawing in another
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