“Now, lift your knees.” His hands moved to my stomach and helped lift me.
Another chill this time. It wasn’t that chilly out here. His hands were warm, and my mind raced. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to recall the last time he’d touched me. It was beyond my memory.
“Tuck your toes, get that butt in the air. Bend those knees.”
I felt his gentle tap the back of my left knee, and even that made my body heat.
“Stretch, slowly. There you go. Are you breathing?”
The moment he touched my wrist I realized I had been holding my breath. I exhaled so loudly I was sure everyone could hear it.
“Straighten your knees a little. There!” His hands left me, and I felt disappointed. “You got it!”
I couldn’t see him, just stared at my feet, which I stretched on my tiptoes. I felt the stretch in my back and legs and ... it felt good.
Better than good. For the first time in my life, I felt stress running from my body in rivulets. It was like the more I moved, the slower I stretched, the more it wept from my pores. My chest felt thick, my eyes watery. Oh no. I wasn’t going to cry, was I?
“Breath, inhale slowly, exhale,” Matt said, and his voice was farther away now, much to my disappointment. I focused on my breathing now, instead of him. Before I knew it, everyone was standing now, but instead of scrambling to keep up, I went at my own speed, finding my feet under me as everyone else was moving into downward facing dog and finally into a standing position.
“Remember it’s okay to go at your own pace,” he announced softly, looking around the room. “Yoga is all about emptying your mind and relaxing, but if there are moves you can’t do, then that’s okay, too. Just do what you can.”
I followed everyone as we all reached for the sky, arms up, then stretched the left and the right.
“Sweep your arms out, and come forward,” Matt urged.
I couldn’t do this one - touching my toes was a bit difficult. Instead, I bent at my waisted and twisted slightly. My back stretched again just as we swept our arms out of the side and then to the ground. Everyone went into downward facing dog again, and then back to our knees. We finished in the laying down position, knees up.
“Come back to your steady breath here and drop your knees to the left for a slight twist. Remember, do whatever is comfortable.”
I did as he did, and with one last pop, my back righted itself. I heard someone moan audibly – was that me? Oh god, how embarrassing.
“All right, one last position. Stretch those legs and forget about your breathing. Just close your eyes and relax for a count of sixty.”
Instead of counting, we all waited in silence. After a minute, Matt ended the session with pulling himself into a sitting position, “A wise person once said, ‘if everything was perfect, you would never learn, and you would never grow.’ Now, we raise our hand together and touch our forehead, to remind us to go with clarity. Go into your day with these thoughts of rest and relaxation.”
While everyone set about rolling up their mats, I drank the rest of my coffee, which was cold now, but I didn’t care. I rolled my shoulders, which didn’t creak or protest this time.
“How do you feel?” It was Matt, his coffee back in his hand. Again, his voice was so soft, so smooth, I briefly entertained the idea that he really had been kidnapped by aliens, if such a thing existed.
“Good,” I blurted without thinking. “Better than I have in a really long time.”
He reached out and patted my shoulder, then pulled his hand away like it had been a mistake. “Awesome.” He smiled, and it looked forced. “You’d be surprised what yoga can do for you.”
It was starting to get awkward, so I blurted, “Who was that ‘wise person’ you quoted?”
He chuckled. “Beyoncé.”
“Wait, what? Since when do you listen to Beyoncé?”
“You’d be surprised what I listen to now,” he winked. “See you around.” Abruptly, he turned and walked back into the inn.
See you around? What about the rest of the day? He couldn’t just kiss me last night and pretend like yoga and all this other stuff was just a normal part of his routine.
Maybe it was; maybe I was reading too much into this. Cam was right – exes were messy, and Matt even more so. Despite his calm exterior, I knew better. Under all this yoga crap there was an angry alcoholic that I knew the best, and I didn’t ever want to see that side of him again.
Could it be he had changed, though? I could see he was just as committed to this vineyard as he had been his law cases, so I realized sadly not much had changed. I rolled up my mat and turned it to the front desk. I really needed to stay away from Matt and focus on my own vacation. The last thing I needed was to be distracted by him.
But the remnants of his touch on my wrists, my stomach, my knees – it was innocent yoga, and I’d given him permission, yet I couldn’t stop thinking about how it made me feel. In those brief moments, the gentle way he’d handled me had somehow reached inside me and repaired the tattered sinews in my chest. The ones I severed when I left him.
My back and knee pain may be gone, but what was I going to do about this stupid heart of mine?
Chapter 6
Matt
HAVING ELLIE AT MY resort was slowly undoing everything I had worked so hard to build since Shuri’s death. Beautiful women came and went here all the time; many of them starting new lives, and between desperate singles at weddings and on the rebound divorcees I could have had my fair share of gorgeous women in my bed if I’d wanted. But all of them felt like a betrayal, until Ellie walked through that door. In all the years we were together, I don’t think she ever knew she was my first, thought Shuri knew almost right away.
I’d been so broken and destroyed when I met her, and she had repaired me in more ways than one. Now Shuri was gone and I had thrown myself into restoring and rebuilding this place all for her memory. In the last five years, Liam and I had built something we knew she would have been proud of. Not only did I expand the inn to include another story and six more rooms, but I had also acquired the three vineyards next door, making Moscato the biggest vineyard resort in Northern Oregon. My years in law made me an expert negotiator, and the senior ages of the owners of the properties had worked in my favor. I paid under market value, but still with enough buffer for them to retire comfortably. Shuri would have been proud of me.
But during yoga this morning, seeing Ellie dressed that way and letting me help her move, I was treading some dangerous ground. I didn’t work for five years to destroy it all with these feelings about someone who was basically a customer, even if she was my ex-wife. In all my years in law, I had been tempted by clients, but always turned them down. In the beginning Ellie had made it easy; she was worth coming home to. But then she took that hospital job and she was gone all the time. When she was home, she was on her damned phone or iPad and ignoring everything I said. I drowned my sorrows at work at the bottom of a bottle, and everything fell apart so fast. Before I knew it, the door was slamming behind her.
It was now a little after nine o’clock, and I had to start overseeing the menu for lunch – we had a limited menu of salad, soup, and three different cold sandwiches today, as most of the people staying wandered over to Portland for the day - and prepare for the wine tasting this afternoon. Liam had texted early to say he run into town for some supplies. A light dinner was on the menu for the evening, mostly hors d'oeuvres and wine tasting. Liam had out done himself with prime rib dip appetizers on puff pastry, caprese-style skewers, fruit hand pies, and crab cakes. He’d even come up with this crazy idea that I had no doubt was mostly Camden’s and now his: shrimp and grits. As much as that made me cringe, I agreed to let him try it tonight. Most of the clientele – including my wedding party – would be out in Portland celebrating the nightlife, but I was sure Liam’s menu would be a hit for those that stayed behind.
But after yoga this morning, there was one thing I had to do first, even if was
early in the morning. A few years ago by this time I’d be working on my second bottle of sauce, and my sobriety was more important than even my vineyard.
After yoga and a check in with the kitchen, I wandered back to my little cabin at the back of the inn. Pulling out my cell, I speed dialed the one voice I needed to hear right now.
“Paul,” I said as soon as he answered. “I’m so sorry it’s early.”
“No, no it’s okay. How are you, Matt?”
I could hear the tired in his voice. He must have worked a double last night at the precinct. “Long night?”
“Double homicides, south side Gresham. It was a very long night.”
“Damn.”
“The world is a terrible place, my friend.” Paul yawned on the other end. “So how is the vineyard doing this weekend? I imagine you’re busy this time of year.”
“Well, I do have a wedding party right now...”
Paul waited. “And?”
“And my ex.”
“Ellie?” Paul’s voice perked with caution. He’d never met her, but he’d heard plenty about her, especially after Shuri’s death. “What’s she doing there?”
“Her friend brought her down for the weekend, I guess. Some special thing.”
“Can you make yourself scarce, buddy? Until she leaves?”
“I can try, but one of my staff quit and I’m stuck leading a couple things myself.”
“Like what?”
“Yoga, wine tasting, and probably driving later for the mudding...”
“Matt, we talked about taking on too much,” Paul interrupted. “What’s our cardinal rule to follow?”
“Do no harm, take no shit, and relax,” I quoted from heart. “It’s not exactly AA, Paul.”
“No, but it’s my motto and I’ve survived this long. Look, Matt, it’s hard to be up there surrounded by all those vices you’ve given up. I don’t know how you do it. But if Ellie being there is making you give in, you need to tell her about your boundaries.”
“I already told her at dinner I’m sober now.” I sighed. “She didn’t believe me.”
“Make her believe you.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
It was Paul’s turn to sigh. “I know after Shuri you’ve been lonely, and you’ve done a fantastic job keeping away from drinking, despite being literally surrounded by the shit. But Matt, Ellie’s part of the problem, and we’ve talked about this many, many times. From what you’ve said, she’s toxic. Do yourself a favor and stay away from her. It won’t do you any good, and you certainly don’t want it hurting your business, either.”
I ran a hand through my hair as I paced around my living room. “You’re right, like always.”
“I’m cheering for you, bud, you know I’m always in your corner, right?”
“Sure I do. Thanks, Paul.”
A yawn from the other end. “Look, I’ve got a shift in a few hours, I’ve got to hit the hay. You all right?”
“I’m okay.”
“You call me the minute you start having second thoughts, and stay away from that ex. You feel me?”
“Yup. Ten-four.” As my answers got shorter, I felt around the edges of my anger. It was there, barely, and I kept it tightly wound inside me. Paul didn’t think it was very healthy, and neither did my therapist, but, it was better than the alternative; the past me. “Talk to you later,” I told Paul, and we hung up.
Talking to Paul always helped, but in the end that dry, burning feeling always returned to the back of my throat. I flipped through my phone, started some relaxing music, and plopped down in front of the fireplace. I let myself slip easily into my routine meditation to fight off the need to drink.
But when I closed my eyes, all I could think about was how Ellie felt in my hands today. She’d gained a little weight in the last few years, but she was still as beautiful as ever, and soft, and fiery.
I missed her. I missed Shuri.
I let my mind go and focused on nothing at all.
AVOIDING ELLIE PROVED to be difficult. We seemed to keep running into each other, even when I excused myself to go tend to business matters. I refused to be locked in my office behind the reception desk – I really tried to only be there once a month for payroll – so when I saw Ellie, Cam, and Liam enjoying lunch, I ducked out of the dining room and decided to take a walk instead. I’d have to come back for the wine tasting because we had fifty people signed up, and my employee who usually did it had quit last week. I was in a bind, and Shuri had always done the wine tasting, understanding my weakness for it.
As I strolled down to the gazebo to check the paint from yesterday, I ran over the script in my head. I’d seen Shuri do it a million times probably, and I knew I got this. Paul was right about me living in a den of temptation surrounded by alcohol, but in all honesty, I hated wine. My vice had always been the much harder stuff. I relied on my excellent staff to report on what was good or not, and the rest of it was just my lawyer side bluff.
So far, so good.
The paint had dried efficiently on the gazebo, and the twinkling solar lights we hung last year were still working to capacity. Tomorrow I’d have to be up before the sun to prepare for the wedding, which would take place at 2pm. We’d hold the private reception and catered dinner in the barn down across the small lake, but there was no telling when everyone would wrap up. Most of the time they finished around midnight or so, when the last of the patrons wandered back to their rooms. I always hung out in the back or disappeared and let my staff handle the reception. They were good, and I trusted them. Plus I had promised Liam the reins on this one; at our staff meeting tomorrow morning I’d officially announce he was the numero uno on this event.
But that left me with a lot of down time tomorrow, which I didn’t like. Down time was foolhardy; it left time for mistakes. I had to find something else to do or resign myself to more meditation and reading. Despite a thousand books on the Kindle that Shuri had bought me a few years ago, I’d just finished my latest paperback Patterson novel – Paul had got me into them – and needed more reading material. I decided tomorrow I’d run into Portland during the reception and hit up Powell’s. Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.
I wandered down to the barn, where I heard some voices. The first I recognized instantly: Liam, followed by that peppy whine of Ellie’s friend Cam. I rounded the back corner to the barn and peeked inside the employee entrance to see they weren’t alone: Ellie was with them, too, examining the equipment to the right of the stage at the front of the barn. Liam and Cam stood in the center of the room, and he was pointing out the round tables stacked in the corner and describing the place settings in all their glory that would be set up tomorrow.
Ellie shuffled aimlessly from the karaoke machine under the tarp over to the emcee stand in the corner. She trailed her fingers lightly over the gray covers and peeked under one of them.
None of them had noticed me, so I turned and pressed my back against the wall just outside the side door and listened.
“Who gets married on a Sunday anyway?” Cam quipped.
“It’s Labor Day weekend,” Ellie responded right away. “What better day to get married than a holiday weekend?”
“Yeah, but still weird,” Cam pouted. “And getting married on a holiday is like bad luck or something.”
“And over here will be the band to play for the daddy daughter dance for the bride,” Liam was saying, ignoring them both, I assumed. “The bride’s colors are turquoise and pink, a bit garish if you ask me, but eh, to each their own...”
“Did you just say garish?” Cam giggled.
I already knew my son would have a face brighter red than an apple. “So?”
“What are you, a Harvard graduate?”
I smiled as I thought about Liam struggling to answer her. Cam was a cat, graceful with claws. Always had been. “No, but I did go to college.”
“So a daddy daughter dance, huh?” Cam laughed, changing the subject again. “Do pe
ople still do those?”
“We did at mine,” Ellie spoke up; her voice was far away and echoed, so I guessed she was standing by the wide-open entrance now. “Don’t you remember, Cam?”
“Oh yeah, your dad made you dance to that terrible Garth Brooks song.”
“Daddy loved Garth Brooks,” Ellie murmured wistfully. “Brad Paisley, too.”
I wondered how her father was – from the sound of sorrow in her voice, I guessed not great. I felt a twinge of guilt; he’d been in fine health the last time I saw her. What happened?
None of my business, I tried to tell myself, but I still wondered.
“It’s so much better than the stupid song that Matt picked,” Cam laughed. I tensed up. What was she talking about?
“Oh...’Use Your Love’ by Outfield,” Ellie quipped immediately. “It wasn’t too bad...”
“I hate eighties music,” Cam whined, “Matt’s stupid love for David Bowie and Air Supply was like so dumb. Well, unless it’s like ‘Push It’. Now that’s a classic. Ya’ll could have danced to some sweet Taylor Swift, but no, Matt hated the magnificent Tay-Tay.”
I almost burst out laughing. I pursed my lips and swallowed it away.
“I can’t imagine my dad listening to eighties anything,” it was Liam’s turn to speak, and he chuckled. “Most days he listens to Taylor Swift or his damn rain sounds for when he meditates.”
I groaned. Shut up kid, you’re making me look bad!
From the ensuing silence, Ellie and Cam must have done a double take. Their voices were closer now, so I didn’t dare look.
“What?” Liam offered. “My mom loved Tay. Dragged dad to two concerts in L.A. He sang ‘Lover’ at her funeral. It was the best send off my mom could have asked for.”
More silence. I remembered that moment and I swiped at my eyes. I’d do it again in a heartbeat for her, too. I’d never heard Liam talk about it in the year since his mom had passed, though. His voice sounded stressed, but not as cracked as it usually was. We didn’t talk about his mom much these days – we were too busy with the resort. I figured we both needed to grieve in our own way.
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