Finding The Way Back To Love (Lakeside Porches 3) (20 page)

“Correct. He broke the engagement. Lorraine was furious and embarrassed. She married, on the rebound, a smoking-hot professor from Tompkins College, and she had two beautiful baby boys with him.”

“And they lived in that house in the clearing?” he asked, his tone skeptical.

Gwen nodded. “The truth was, he was a degenerate sot who disgraced himself, defiled their marriage, and put the college in jeopardy. She divorced him, took the two boys to live in England, and—”

“England? Why?”

“She has a couple of college friends who have estates in the Thames River Valley, not far from London. She bought her own little estate in their enclave, and she lives there with the boys. Travels a lot. Lives a life of leisure.”

“Like the rich and famous?”

“Rich, yes. But she keeps a very low profile.”

“What happened to the husband?”

“He got the house in the divorce settlement and trashed it.”

She shivered, and he guessed she had omitted something. He tightened his arms around her.

She relaxed against him. “He was subsequently ousted from Tompkins College and, I think, blackballed at every other college in the region, if not the state. Anyway, Lorraine bought the house back from him for the equivalent of his legal fees, and then he disappeared.”

“As in, somebody killed him?”

Gwen snorted. “No, but a few people wanted to. He slunk away and, I guess, found another rock somewhere.”

“To crawl under,” Peter added.

“By the way, your outgoing Chief Barker was very active in that investigation, and Joel feels indebted to him for what he did. Hence the festive party in his honor when he retired.”

“Say that again. Why would Joel be grateful?”

Gwen hesitated. “His wife Manda was impacted by some of the husband’s dirty dealings. I’d like to leave it at that. Okay?”

“Geez. Tompkins Falls is sounding like Peyton Place.”

She snuggled closer, and he wrapped her tight. “I think every town and city has a story like that.”

“Why didn’t Lorraine sell the house? There must be a dozen wealthy New Yorkers who fall in love with the area every time they come, and who want a vacation home on the lake.”

“Actually, Joel tried to buy it from her. He wanted to bulldoze the house and build Manda’s dream.”

“After whatever happened, Manda actually wants to live on that site?”

“No, she wants to create a holistic wellness center that taps the healing energy of Cady’s Point, closer to where we’re sitting.”

“Hm.” He sat quietly, his face raised to the midday sun. “It makes sense. I really can feel that soothing energy. That’s why I said that earlier about building a high-end spa.”

“Manda is definitely tuned into the healing force. I’m not sure Lorraine ever was, to tell you the truth. When I said she’s self-absorbed, I wasn’t being unkind. It’s a fact.”

“Okay, but isn’t it likely Manda’s project will jinx the place, too, just like Lorraine’s house did?”

“I think her house was jinxed because she didn’t acknowledge the healing force and because the husband she chose was beyond healing.”

“He was a real bastard, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, he was.” Gwen wiggled away and turned to him with a bright smile. “My theory is the healing force is in the land, not in the tribe or the owner. Manda’s holistic center will work because she has profound respect for the force, just as the Native Americans did. Lorraine, on the other hand, was oblivious.”

“Which I can believe, just from where she chose to build the house.”

“Exactly.”

His eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“A rich woman builds a beautiful house like that, and then everyone else just wants to trash it or bulldoze it. What’s up with that?”

“Lorraine lives by her own rules,” Gwen answered with a grim smile. “People tolerate it up to a point and then they rebel.”

He cocked his head. “Are you and she still friends?”

“Yes, we are. One of my core beliefs is you don’t abandon your friends.”

“You’re very different from her.”

“I’m fortunate that my life followed a different path, one that took into account other people’s beliefs and concerns.”

“Joel seems more like you than Lorraine,” Peter observed.

“Yes. Manda, too. You, too.”

“Thank you. If we hadn’t gotten such a late start and I weren’t so hungry, I’d have passionate sex with you, right here on our hot rock.”

She winked. “This rock is hard, mister. I’d have to be on top.”

He laughed. “We should have brought a picnic.”

“Next time.”

“Can we make it back across the lake before we starve to death?”

“One way to find out,” Gwen answered and scrambled off their rock.

Peter stayed where he was for a moment, as a nagging doubt played in his head. “Did you mean that,” he asked her, “about her husband being beyond healing?”

Gwen brushed the dust off her shorts and plucked a few twigs from her shirt. “Some people get lost in their pain and rage, and they can’t find the way to heal.”

Just like I couldn’t find the way out of the creepy clearing back there, even though it was clearly marked by those big oak trees?
He shook off the rogue thought, jumped down from the boulder, and followed Gwen back to the canoe.

Just before the Tuesday night women’s AA meeting, Gwen told her sponsee, Manda, “You’ll do a great job leading the beginners’ group. You don’t need me in there with you. A few very experienced women are there, so you’ll have support. Do your best, and we’ll talk after. Okay?”

“Wish me luck.”

“Luck.” Gwen hugged her and gave her a little push toward the front room.

The beginners’ meeting focused on the first step of AA and encouraged newcomers to ask questions and to get help with their sobriety.

Manda smiled at everyone as she strode into the room. She took her place at an old school desk between two windows and opened the Big Book to a favorite passage. She would use the words to begin her share about how she realized she was an alcoholic who needed the help of others to get sober.

A dozen women stood talking inside the circle of chairs when Manda announced, “If someone will close the door, we’ll get started.” Within seconds, everyone was seated and quiet.

“Hi, I’m Manda, and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi, Manda.” The group chorused.

Manda read from the Big Book, closed it, and set it reverently on the desk. “I love those words. I say them out loud every morning as soon as I get up.” She observed the women’s faces. One seemed to be a newcomer. She cried quietly into a fistful of tissues. Manda gave her a warm smile. “I cried at every meeting when I got here.”

The woman turned to her with liquid, sea-green eyes.

Manda told her, “The amazing thing is, you don’t ever have to feel this bad again.” She continued, “I’ve been sober a year and a half, and my whole life has changed since I put the drink down.” She felt herself tear up. “It was rough for a while, but the women in this room, and in other meeting rooms, helped me. I didn’t have to drink, no matter what. I learned how to handle whatever life brought my way. One huge difference between today and a year and a half ago is that I don’t try to handle everything on my own anymore. I have a sponsor to advise me about using the AA principles and steps in my life. I have a mentor at work and at school. I talk everything over with my husband.” She laughed at herself. “I still can’t believe I’m married. Some of you remember, when I came into AA, I was ‘off men for life.’”

The group laughed, all except the teary-eyed newcomer. Her head was down, and she twisted a ring around and around on her pinky finger, while her right foot tapped a nervous rhythm on the carpet.

Manda told more of her story for a few minutes, then softened her voice. “Since this is a beginners’ meeting, we encourage newcomers to ask for help about anything that threatens their sobriety or to ask questions about the AA program.”

The group followed Manda’s lead and sat quietly for a moment to give the newcomer a chance to speak up.

The girl licked her lips. “I guess that’s me, right?”

Manda gave her a big smile. “Welcome. Can you tell us your first name?”

“I’m Bree, and I’m an alcoholic/addict.”

“Hi, Bree,” the group chorused.

“Hi. I’m pretty new and I don’t know what to do about something. I apologize if it’s not about alcohol exactly, but I really need some help because it’s about staying sober and being honest.”

Manda had frozen when she heard the newcomer’s name. It was an unusual name, and it was the name of Peter’s sister, who’d be this woman’s age. The same Peter who’d “forbidden” his sister to be an alcoholic. And this woman was tall and strong like Peter and had dark curly hair and eyes the color of green sea glass.

Manda realized people were waiting for her to say something. Her gaze skimmed over the group with panicked eyes.

One of the women, Carol, who’d been sober a while, calmly advised, “Bree, why not give us the short version? If it’s not really a topic for a meeting, I’m sure one or two of us will talk with you after the meeting.”

Manda exhaled in relief and nodded her thanks to Carol.

Bree gave a nervous laugh. “Okay.” She licked her lips. “So I’m staying with my brother for a few days, and I didn’t tell him I was coming to a meeting because he hates alcoholics. But I needed a meeting, so I told him I was going for a walk and to find a cup of coffee, and I came here. He lives past the marina up on the bluff by the park, so it wasn’t too far.

“Anyway, the thing is he wants me to come live with him, and I-I want to do that and to go on in school, but I have to go to meetings and I don’t know how to make that work. I wish he understood about the disease. I didn’t choose to be an alcoholic. I just am one, like our father was. And these meetings are the support I need to stay clean and sober. But Peter doesn’t get that. I don’t know if I should move here and live with him and sneak around so I can go to meetings?” Bree’s voice broke. “That doesn’t feel like the right thing.”

Her tears spilled over. She took the tissue someone offered, dabbed at her eyes and continued, “But if I stay in Syracuse where all my old friends are, I don’t think I can stay sober. They’re on me all the time about partying with them, even though I’ve told them I’m not drinking or using anymore.” She reached for another tissue. “I’m so scared I can’t think straight.”

“Bree,” Carol said, “that’s definitely a topic for a beginners’ meeting like this. I think everyone here has suggestions. What comes to my mind is ‘be true to yourself.’ What I’m thinking is that the highest priority for any newcomer is her own sobriety.

“Someone told me when I was new that my sobriety came first . . . at any cost. If I had to change people, places and things by giving up old friends and habits, then that’s what I had to do. If particular family members did not support my program, then maybe I should avoid them for a while, too.”

Bree rolled her eyes.

Carol continued with a knowing smile. “And if both those things were true I’d better get myself to a meeting and cry about it and ask for help.”

Bree laughed from her belly, and everyone joined her.

Carol nodded to Manda.

Manda stepped back into her role as leader of the meeting. “Carol pointed out several tools—asking for help; putting your sobriety first; being true to yourself; changing people, places, and things. Those are important for every newcomer. Who’d like to speak next?”

The group continued the discussion, and Manda tried to stay focused so she could move the discussion along. Still, half her mind was on the fact that Peter’s sister was a self-admitted alcoholic and his attitude was a problem for her. Should she tell Gwen? But Gwen was constantly reminding her to protect everyone’s anonymity. She shouldn’t tell anyone else who was in attendance at this meeting. But she really needed to talk to her sponsor, or someone, about this. Maybe she’d grab Carol afterward and ask her advice.

After the close of the meeting, though, Carol was with a group of three women gathered around Bree. Manda returned to the main meeting room and kept an eye on the door to the beginners’ room, while she talked with friends. Finally, Carol came out with Bree, and the two of them walked together toward the parking lot. Manda wouldn’t have the opportunity to talk with Carol tonight, but at least Bree wouldn’t be walking home alone in the dark.

“So, chickie”—Gwen’s voice sounded behind her—“how did your meeting go?”

“Good. Thanks, really good.”

“See, you didn’t need your old Mother Hen Gwen,” Gwen teased.

“You were right. The women with more time were able to step in and keep us on track.”

Gwen cocked her head. “Why, what happened?”

“Oh, someone new wasn’t sure if her question was okay for a beginners’ meeting,” Manda said breezily. “That’s all.”

“That’s all,” Gwen repeated, her voice rich with skepticism.

“Yeah.”

Gwen stood quietly. Wait Time was one of Gwen’s most effective therapy tools.

Manda felt the pressure. Her eyes darted around the room. “Yikes, there’s a newcomer standing by herself. Let me see if I can help her.”

She dashed across the room, leaving Gwen with her mouth open.

From his post at the bedroom window, Peter saw a strange car stop outside 14 Lakeside Terrace. A newer-model sedan, possibly a Malibu, white or ivory. A woman was driving, but he couldn’t see her face clearly. The car sat with the motor running and the lights on.

Peter shifted his weight to his left foot and crossed his arms. After a few seconds, he tapped his right foot.

Finally, Bree got out of the passenger side. An interior light came on and showed him the driver’s face. It was a woman he’d seen a few times, but he couldn’t think where. Maybe around town hall or the library. Redhead, no-nonsense, friendly. She was probably okay, but she was about twenty years older than Bree. Where had Bree met her?