23– MEADOW

"You're giving him the power now. He didn't just steal your power the day that he assaulted you, but every time you turned away from your husband, pushed him away and didn't allow him to protect you, you gave him your power. Every time you run from facing things head-on, you give him that power."

I wipe the tears from my face and stare out at the ocean.

Claire and I are walking along the water's edge with our bare feet covered in sand and mud. We came down to pick up seashells, but Claire, who enjoys having these little talks with me over creative tasks, always finds a way to get me to open up about the things that I don't want to talk about.

"I know that. It's hard for me to acknowledge that some days but most days I do."

"How does it make you feel knowing that they caught him?"

"I thought that I would feel safer knowing that he's behind bars, but that didn't happen."

"So, you're still feeling unsafe?"

"Why?" she asks after I nod.

"Because if it's not him, then it could be anyone else."

"So, what do you think you need to do about that?"

Sighing, I bend down and pick up a pearly white with faint traces of peach translucent shell. I hold it up to my eye and stare through it at the sun above.

"If your future could be as bright as the sun overhead, and if you could have a guarantee that it could be that bright, would you take a risk and pursue it?"

"Well, no one can make those guarantees. The only thing that can happen is that I do my best to procure it."

"That's the same thing with your safety. No one can guarantee that, MJ. You have to take steps to make sure that you're safe. Whether that's through martial arts classes, purchasing a guard dog, getting an expensive security system or even a gun, you can take measures to ensure your safety. However, peace of mind will only come at the hands of you choosing to believe that nothing can harm you."

I scoff. "That's a bunch of bull."

"Oh sure, physical harm can come your way, but mental damage is all subjective. You can maintain your sense of security, mental well-being and health by choosing not to let anything steal your peace. Life happens. How you maneuver through it will determine if you remain healthy and well."

"You don't think that I want to get better?"

"I think you don't realize that it's a choice. You don't realize that you own the power, MJ. You still believe that he has the power, so you continue to yield to the torment that he subjected you to. The power is yours. You simply have to take it back and own it."

We turn around and walk back towards our cottages. The ten-minute walk back is steeped in silence.

I have no idea what Claire's mind is on, but mine is on Onyx. When we arrive at her cottage, she goes inside and returns with a pitcher of sweet peach tea and some muffins. She sets the tray holding the muffins, tea carafe, and two glasses on a table between us.

I pick up a muffin and take a bite.

"Mm, these cranberry orange muffins are delicious," I say.

"My grandmother's recipe. She used to make them while I stood on a step stool by her side when I was a little girl. That's one of the things that my husband used to love about me."

"Your grandmother's recipe?" I ask curiously, licking the crumbs from my fingers.

"No. My ability to bake everything from scratch."

I laugh and bask in the sound of her husky laughter along with me.

"Claire, I know that it might seem like I may not receive everything that you say, but I do. Your words of wisdom aren't falling on deaf ears."

"Oh, I know," she says, reaching over and patting my knee. "I just hope that you find the healing and the answers that you need during your temporary stay here."

"Temporary?"

She nods. "Oh, I suspect you'll be returning home soon. MJ, you have all the answers. Just unlock that treasure trove inside of you and allow yourself enough grace to do what you must do."

"What is that, though?"

"I think you already know."

"You know what hurts more than him cheating on me?"

"No. What?"

"That he cheated on me after he'd introduced me to the woman. Maybe if I'd never seen her, it wouldn't bother me so much. But I know what she looks like. I know the sound of her voice and the way she smiles. I repeatedly torment myself over every little iota of our conversations. I wonder if she was giving me cues then, but I missed them all."

"Maybe and maybe not. Here's what I know. Cheating hurts. No matter who it's with. Those little details that you keep dredging up again are just a way of ensuring that the wound remains raw. That's how you prevent your healing and stay steeped in the pain. Let that go because it serves you no good but to keep you angry and bitter."

"Spoken like a woman who knows," I say.

Chuckling, she says, "I didn't tell you who my ex cheated with."

"No. You just said a younger version of you."

"My little sister who was ten years younger than me."

"What?" I screech, choking on the muffin.

Claire reaches over and pats my back gently. Nodding, she says, "Yep. That sure stung like a pissed-off bee trapped in your bra."

I shake my head and reply, "That was foul."

"It was."

"I'm guessing you and your sister don't have a relationship anymore."

"You'd be guessing right."

"And are they still together?"

"They are. Last I heard, though, she was cheating on him."

"Serves his ass right. But she needs to be punished, too."

"Oh, honey, karma's a bitch. I'm sure she'll get hers in time. But I don't sit around waiting for it. I move on with my life and let them live theirs. I regret nothing about my marriage, including his cheating. It made me a stronger, better woman."

"He sure screwed up losing you. You're a very intelligent and insightful woman, Claire."

"I've got Clyde to thank for that, honey. He taught me lots of valuable life lessons. I've been jotting down a lot of notes since you've been here about my experience with Clyde and all. I think I'll write a book someday."

Beaming at her, I say, "I'll be the first one in line to get my autographed copy."

She smiles at me, and we rock, drink tea, and polish off the rest of the muffins.

***

I leave the post office with the mail that I've picked up. I've had all my mail forwarded to the PO Box that I set up not long after moving here to the island. I finally gave Onyx the PO Box in case he needed to send anything to me.

There's an envelope in there from him.

I recognize his scrawling writing.

I walk to the car, toss the mail onto the passenger seat, and drive back to the cottage. Every few minutes, I glance at the passenger seat at the envelope, and it feels like it's staring at me.

I don't want to open it now.

Is he writing to me to tell me that he's not waiting for me?

I haven't taken his calls in the last two weeks, and I'm thinking that he's tired of waiting. What if he's writing to tell me that he and Sharla are going to try to make it work?

Fear pounds my insides, and I realize that I truly want to make my marriage work. I don't want to let him go despite what he's done wrong.

After I arrive back at the cottage, and I've removed my groceries and set the other mail aside, I grab the envelope from Onyx.

I walk down to the beach and take a seat in the sand. I glance down at my long legs stretching from the short denim cutoffs that I'm wearing and notice I'm getting a tan. My normal copper skin is a deeper, richer, burnished bronze. I've obviously not been eating healthy or getting enough exercise because my denim shorts are a little tighter.

I slide my finger into the envelope, thinking about an exercise program, and a picture falls out.

It's an old Polaroid picture of Onyx and me on bikes outside of our home. I smile, recalling when that picture was taken. We had just ridden home from going to the market. I have a big straw hat on my head with a large sunflower at the front of the hat.

Onyx had told me that the hat was ugly when I was looking at it. The moment that I bought it and stuffed it down on my head, he said it was the most beautiful hat he'd ever seen.

When we pulled up to our house, our neighbor was coming out of his house. Onyx had said, "Hey, Frank. Look at my baby's hat. Isn't she gorgeous, and ain't that the most beautiful hat you've ever seen?"

Laughing, Frank had agreed with Onyx and taken a picture of the two of us right then and there. He had his camera out because he was going to take some pictures of the trees that were in bloom. That was two springs ago.

MJ,

I was doing some cleaning around the house and came across this picture. I remember how desperately you wanted that hat that day. No matter what I told you, you wouldn't take no for an answer. The moment that the cashier handed me the receipt for that hat, your face lit up. You tugged that old, ugly thing on your head and magically transformed it into the most beautiful creation I'd ever seen.

You have always been the most beautiful woman that I've ever seen, MJ. The beauty wasn't just in your face, your lithe dancer's body, or the graceful way that you moved. Your beauty was in every part of you, from your smile to your laughter. It was in the way that you served the homeless, purchased things your dancers needed but couldn"t afford, or how you cared for a little child.

It amazes me how much that I took for granted before it was all stolen away. I miss seeing you waltzing around the plaza in your bohemian attire or donning the latest pointe shoes and you trying them out, dancing through the house.

It's the little things that I miss, but perhaps what I miss the most is your laughter. I don't think anyone should ever take their loved ones for granted. One day, you won't be able to tell them how much the little things mean.

Always yours,

O.