by Ada Winter
Simple answer. You love again. There is no cure for lost love. There is only new love to replace it.
Into Shavasana now, my arms and legs are fully relaxed, palms up. Consciously relaxing the body now from head to toe, my breathing is deep, at times I’m holding it, other times releasing.
Easy Pose, still breathing deeply, releasing bad energy, breathing in new positive energy.
I stand, look out over the ocean, and bow in gratitude with my thoughts on Lane. Namaste. Translated, the spirit within me honors and guides the spirit within you.
****
I’ve changed into my work clothes, and I’m off in my car to Acadia. It’s such a peaceful drive, and the Atlantic views never cease to take my breath away. The sign for the Wildwood Stables, brown with etched gold-painted lettering, is just up ahead.
Today I’m starting the morning by leading the Day Mountain Sightseeing Tours beginning at 9:00. Day Mountain and much of the surrounding area was owned by the Rockefeller’s before becoming part of the National Park. Tourists will see views of the Cranberry Isles and Schoodic Peninsula, as well as dense forests at the base and side of Day Mountain. The carriage roads that run through the former estate were designed and constructed by John D. Rockefeller between 1913 and 1940.
Sometimes it’s hard to believe that this is my job. I often think of high-powered executives, secretaries, managers and all the people that come to visit Acadia each year. They visit here to get away from the stresses of their jobs, and it’s my job to help them relax. It’s wonderful here.
The team of two Belgians are ready for me when I arrive. “Thanks, Shelby. Tuck and Briar look happy today.”
Shelby answers, “What is there not to be happy about? They could be pulling a plow through a field right now. But instead, they get to pull happy tourists through some of the most beautiful land that Mother Nature could provide.”
I love Shelby. He is always upbeat and never negative. I avoid negative people like the plague. Their thoughts are not unlike a cancerous tumor that grows until everything around it dies. Whenever I meet people like that, I silently say this prayer my mother taught me:
Positive flow, come to me, Let negativity leave this person, And allow me to infuse in them, the positive energy that will set them free.
I’m not very religious. More spiritual. It reminds me to have a positive mindset when all feels gloomy and gray.
The tourists are starting to line up in droves in front of the stables finished with white clapboard and plain black shutters. I lead the team out while Mandy readies the people by explaining safety regulations and boarding instructions.
They pile in by family, couples and singles. To either side of me sits a young couple. They are clearly in love. I had seen them in the line and they could barely keep their hands off each other. It was either love or they were both extremely horny. Maybe a bit of both.
After finishing my basic safety talk, I prompt the Belgians into action. Click, click sound. “Step up, boys.” The carriage slowly comes to life as Briar and Tuck plod along the dusty dirt road. Fortunately, it had rained the day before, but dry weather the prior month led to some dusty conditions and the inevitable dirt that rose to meet hair, clothes, and lungs with brutal efficiency. I have a traditional red and white handkerchief tied around my neck for when the dust became too much. Today is not bad.
The usual small talk arose as I inquired into the backgrounds of the people sitting adjacent to me. “Where are you folks from?”
“Middletown, Connecticut,” the man answers. “My name is Todd and this is my wife Anna.”
“Nice to meet you both.” I am also sizing them up to see if they are the types that could drive the team later on in the ride. It isn’t all that difficult, but you can’t hand the reigns over to a nervous type. It is all part of the tourist experience we provide at Acadia.
We meander through the woods and someone spots a family of deer drinking from the mountain stream. Another voice asks about bald eagles and I assure them there are some nesting pairs around. I explain how one glided overhead just the day prior while I was sitting with my boyfriend up on a bluff.
That was surely a good sign of something. My connection with Lane? Our love for one another? Something.
Boyfriend? It sounded so weird to say it. I hadn’t had a relationship in years, and certainly there had been no one I felt comfortable enough to introduce as my boyfriend.
We stop momentarily as I hand the reigns over to Todd. He smiles from ear-to-ear. “Now, keep the reigns firm, but not too firm. When you’re ready, make a click, click sound and say, ‘step up, boys’.”
He did as I instructed, and then said, “Don’t worry. I got this.” And we are off. I’m pretty sure my middle school English teacher would have corrected his grammar had she been here. I’ll have to keep an eye on Todd. He’s already driving the team too fast.
“Just pull back a bit to get them to slow.” At one point, he calls back to the rest of the people, “Don’t worry everyone. I have five minutes’ experience driving a team. Nothing to worry about.” I laugh to myself.
Anna made conversation. “So, how long have you had a boyfriend?”
I don’t know how to answer and I can’t believe I left myself open to this.
“We met about two weeks ago.” That sounds so lame.
“Tell me about him.” Anna was a pretty woman with short, dark brown hair in a face-framing style. Her eyes are so alive when she speaks.
Feeling awkward now, I admit, “I met Lane at a car race…he’s a driver and really good. He won the day I was there. He runs a youth center for disadvantaged kids in Portland, Maine. I love him.”
Wow, did I just say I love him? Where did that come from? Not that I don’t, but that doesn’t usually fall under the basic description of a significant other, at least not until one gets deeper into the conversation. Well, there was no going back.
“Slow it down a bit, Todd. That’s it, pull back.” He is driving the team a bit fast and he re-adjusts his baseball cap down lower on his forehead and continues his work. If it were up to him, we would be on an out-of-control runaway carriage and he would be at the reigns with exactly seven minutes’ lifetime experience.
“That’s great, to be in love, I mean. What do you love most about him?” Well, there is the mind-blowing sex but I can’t talk about that with someone I hardly know.
“Lane came across as cocky and arrogant when I first met him, and now he’s really in-tune with my feelings. I love that he’s into kids and he makes it his business to look after them. It shows he has a big heart.” I leave out the part about his dad being a total dimwad and his playboy ways prior to meeting me. It doesn’t seem to fit the conversation.
“You light up when you talk about him. You’re glowing right now and you look beautiful.” Her voice was low now and respective of my privacy.
I change the subject. “How long have you and Todd been together?”
She answers immediately as a smile comes to her face. “Together four years now and I hope he asks me soon. I’ll say yes.” Anna whispers the last part into my ear. I smile. We had met as two women, loving two different guys, but feeling basically the same.
“Todd, if you don’t slow this carriage down now, you’re done.” I am serious now and know he will comply. This guy will take over my job on the spot if I let him.
“Sorry about that, I’m a speed junkie. Just ask Anna.”
What was it about guys? What was it about Lane? His need for speed was exciting, yet it terrifies me. Of course, he doesn’t know that, but how can I tell him I want him to stop? To stop racing that is. How do I tell the man I love to stop doing what he loves the most, and all because of my irrational fears? I could lose him and I fear that more than anything else.
Chapter 45
CELIA
Drifting off to sleep now…what a wonderful day…talked to Lane earlier…will see him soon. Darkness.
****
Dressed in my best blue summer dress, my mom works on my hair. She French braids the back. After, I look in the mirror and I know that I have never looked more beautiful. I want to look my best for Mark.
Mark Thornton is a very handsome boy. His dirty blonde hair is styled in an ‘I don’t care sort of way’ and it always seems to look perfect. His dimples show, but only when he smiles in his most genuine way. It was like a gift for everyone else when he shared that full smile with the world.
He is an athlete, too. An incredible lacrosse player who is being looked at by major colleges even at the young age of sixteen. He is going to the Harvest Dance with me. Please pinch me someone, I’m dreaming!
Sid is on the couch reading a car magazine as my mom waits at the very bottom of the railing for me to descend. Camera in hand, she isn’t going to be deprived of her only daughter’s first major dance.
A big, warm hug greets me at the bottom of the stairs. A hug only a mom can give.
We go outside and take the normal photos. In front of the oak tree, sitting on the swinging seat and in all the other picture-perfect spots. She isn’t traveling to Mark’s house, but she has already arranged with Mark’s mom to take photos of us together.
Sid leans up against his Camaro and waits patiently for the photo shoot to be done. My mom gives me one last hug and pecks Sid on the cheek before we are off. “You two be safe and have fun.” My mom is always worrying. Sid is my chauffeur for the night and he plays his part to perfection.
“Where to, my lady?”
I play along. “To the dance, driver, but first we must pick up my date,” I answer in my best English accent. Sid is happy to be escorting his little sister to the dance. I can tell.
We make our way to Mark’s house, just a 10-minute ride from my doorstep. It is a sprawling property of roughly five acres and the white center hall colonial house commands the far end. I had been here once for a birthday party when I was eight or nine, before it became uncool to invite girls to his parties.
Sid opens the car door for me and I make my way to Mark’s front door. It’s a bit odd to be picking up my date, but Sid had volunteered to drive and it made no sense to pick Mark up and bring him back to our house as the dance is in the opposite direction.
As I am about to ring the doorbell, a voice calls out to me from the right side of the porch. It is Mark. He is peeking his head around the corner, and is now fully revealed and walking toward me. “You look beautiful, Celia.” He gives me an awkward hug and I think it is sweet anyhow. Mark is dressed in a simple dark gray suit with a white shirt and a royal blue tie with little diamonds on it. He looks dapper.
His mom and dad came out the front door and make me feel like a princess with their thoughtful comments about my hair and dress. They take more pictures of Mark and me in front of his house and on the porch seat, and then we are off.
Mark opens the door for me on the passenger side and holds up the seat for me as I squeeze into the back of the two-door. We pull carefully out of the driveway, and for the next fifteen minutes, Sid and Mark make small talk but don’t seem to have much in common. Put a gearhead and an athlete together and you come out with awkward. Finally, we arrive at the dance. The community center had been converted into a barn about twenty years before and it made a great setting for the harvest dance. Sid stops and parks the car and lets us out. “I’ll see you around 10:00, right here. Have fun you two!” Sid waves at me, and then pulls away.
Some old historic wagons had been hitched up and pulled to the front, flanking both doors. Hay bales have been stacked this way and that, and on top of them are stacks of both large and small pumpkins. Stalks of corn have been clipped and attached to the sides of the enormous sliding wood doors leading to the inside.
Formally an old working barn with dirt floors, wide plank pine floors had been installed as the rest of the barn maintained its prior character. There are balloons and streamers hanging from the rafters, and the decorations made it look absolutely perfect.
There is Jennie Wilkins and her date Russ Overlook. “Hiya’, Russ. Hi, Jennie,” Mark says, leading off the conversation.
“You two look great,” Russ says with a goofy grin. The music hasn’t started yet so we make our way over to get some punch.
Jennie and I separate from the boys and make our way to a corner to talk. “Mark looks hot!” I am beaming now.
“I know, right?”
“Are you going to kiss him tonight?”
I blush. “Jennnieee,” I say in an exasperated yet friendly way.
I think about it. “If it feels right I will.” I am a deep shade of red now and giggle for no apparent reason. The thought of kissing a guy had weird effects on me that I can’t explain.
“If you don’t, I will,” Jennie jokes. I just look at her in a defeated way and we both giggle like girls do.
The music starts up and the lead song is from Footloose. This D.J. needs some help. I’m not an expert on dances, but that hardly seems like a warm-up song. Kids make their way out to the floor regardless, and the dance is on.
The adult chaperones are hilarious. I study them as they watch the individual dancers deciding whether people are too close, or whether or not certain dance moves are acceptable according to their standards. Mrs. Testa steps in and puts her hands awkwardly between Tommy and Liz. She uses her hands to indicate acceptable distance, which looks to be twelve inches if my visual-spatial skills are accurate. As soon as she turns her back, Tommy grabs Liz and starts grinding on her leg. His eyes on Testa the whole time, he disengages when she looks and reengages when she turns away. It's all a game and quite amusing.
I stand alone now and wonder when Mark will ask me to dance. There aren’t many boys who will let loose at this age to dance, but I admire the few who do. He will ask me. I'll just have to be patient. Song after song plays and still I stand alone and wait.
Finally, a slow song comes on and Mark makes his way across the dance floor toward me. It’s ‘Earth Angel’. I remember my mom telling me how she first danced with my father to that song. Umpteen years later and this will be my first slow dance, too.
How ironic? This is meant-to-be type of stuff. We will probably tell our grandkids this story and they will all smile and say how romantic it was.
Whoah…snap out of it, Celia. He’s talking to you now. “Would you like to dance, Celia?” His hand is stretched out to me and I put my hand in his.
He guides me to a quiet corner and I am thankful for that. I'm a self-conscious 16-year-old and haven’t really danced in front of my friends before. There was my first dance with Uncle George at Sadie’s wedding, but this was entirely different. I wasn’t yet three-feet tall and standing on my uncle’s shoes while he rocked back and forth. Practically a woman now, I am dancing with a teen heartthrob.
I am sweating a bit, but keep my composure. My girlfriends and I had practiced slow-dancing since we were fourteen. I’m not sure what boys do on sleepovers, but this is standard girl fare at this age.
He was staring at his feet to start with which meant he likely got some last minute lessons, but he was actually pretty good. I keep my eyes on his and lower my face down a little so that our eyes meet.
“There, that’s better,” I say.
He keeps my gaze and smiles. “My big sis taught me a few steps this afternoon. Otherwise I wouldn’t have a clue.”
“You’re dancing with me and that’s what matters. I could be one of those lonely girls standing over there by themselves.” His hand feels good on the small of my back while his other hand grasps mine ever so gently. It's sweet. We are finding our rhythm now to the point where he no longer has to look down.
“I thought you would never ask me out.” I smile to reassure him that I was happy and everything was going well.
“It wasn’t you. It was me.” He was feeling more comfortable now. “It’s just…I like you and that makes me nervous.”
I sc
runch my face up as if I just saw a cute puppy.
“That’s about the sweetest thing anyone has said to me. Thank you.”
He moves into me a little closer while I keep an eye out for Testa. There she is harassing Tommy again. She has him by the ear now and is leading him out the front door. A fast dance starts to play then and we awkwardly disengage. I don’t believe this is within his comfort zone so I let him lead me off by the hand.
We find a quiet table in the corner just within the shadows and out of sight of most. He tells me stories from his childhood that make me laugh, and I follow suit by doing the same. It is strange, but I feel connected to him. I’m not sure that it’s love, but it feels really pure and good. My heart is full and I never want the night to end. Mark asks me to dance a few more times, all slow songs. Each time we do, I feel closer to him in a way.
And then it happens. He leads me outside by the arm in a gentlemanly way. We are leaning up against the side of an old maple tree that must be at least 200 years old judging by its gnarled branches and massive trunk. The moon is nearly full, the stars are twinkling while ‘Paradise by the Dashboard Light’ booms in the background. We are alone.
He looks at me for a long time, seemingly unsure of what to do. I blink my eyes a few times and slightly open my mouth to give him the okay sign. Mark Thornton leans forward ever so slowly, never taking his eyes off me. He slowly closes his eyes and I follow his lead. Then I feel his warm, moist lips touch mine. I flit my tongue and he accepts. What transpires is the most wonderful first kiss any girl, at any place, at any time, has ever experienced.
My heart picks up its beat and I can feel the excitement growing in him, too. He pulls away ever so slightly and studies my eyes. My eyes say yes, and he moves in again. We kiss for some time as if it’s the coolest thing either of us has ever done. It is new and exciting to us and we don’t want to stop. I pull away first, and rather than disengage completely, I pull my cheek next to his and put my arms around his waist.