Chapter Twenty-Two
It was a strange thing, falling into the rhythm of the Katama Lodge and Wellness Spa. Even after only a few days, Janine was amazed at the clockwork-like ease with which she, Carmella, Nancy, Elsa, and the other workers at the lodge worked alongside one another. The space was comfortable, quiet, with soft, relaxing music easing through the halls. The food from the restaurant area was mostly vegan, all simmering with nutrients and all absolutely divine, created with the masterstroke recipe-work of a nutritionist Nancy and Janine had hired from the west coast.
As Janine walked the halls and through the tables in the dining area, she heard snippets of conversations from their guests.
“That acupuncture from Carmella yesterday? It totally relaxed me. I had the best night’s sleep I’ve had in years last night. I feel like a little kid.”
“I have Carmella later this afternoon. But earlier this morning, Janine prescribed me a very particular diet. She said that my exhaustion is probably hormonal and that I’m not eating enough of these vitamins. She gave me this chart. Look.”
“I did yoga by the pool with Nancy at sunrise. The woman is almost sixty years old, and she has some of the best flexibility I’ve seen in my life.”
“She also looks so much younger than sixty.”
“Did you know Nancy and Janine are mother and daughter?”
“What! I mean, they look similar...”
“Someone said that Nancy had Janine when she was like sixteen or something.”
“That’s crazy. Can you imagine growing up, having Nancy as your mother? It must have been incredible.”
“An adventure, every single day.”
“And so much meditation. I wonder if she taught Janine everything she knows?”
“I read the pamphlet, and it looks like Janine studied separately from Nancy.”
“Huh. Well, they were certainly drawn to this same discipline for a reason.”
JANINE LOVED HER ONE-on-one time with her clients. She often spoke with them for up to two hours, and they covered almost everything, from what they ate in a day to what they did for exercise, to what their relationship was like with their parents and children and siblings, to how they saw themselves as individuals.
It was this way that Janine came to understand that many, many of the women who stayed at the lodge were in the middle of seriously tumultuous times.
“We just can’t get pregnant,” one woman told her somberly, her eyes toward her clasped hands. “We’ve been trying for five years. Jimmy said that maybe, we should adopt? I feel like such a failure. I keep thinking, if only I eat something different, or exercise more, or think differently, or even pray better, we’ll be given the gift of a baby. But that baby isn’t coming, and it’s like, every day that passes, I feel Jimmy moving further and further away from me.”
“My husband started having an affair when I was pregnant with our third child,” another woman said. “I knew it was happening, and a part of me didn’t even care since I had these two babies to take care of, on top of my pregnant self. But when I looked in his eyes, I saw nothing there. None of the love I thought I’d married into.”
“My father died last year. We were never close, but I found that the news hit me so hard, as though a bomb had gone off in my heart. I couldn’t eat properly for a while. Then, I couldn’t sleep without dreaming of him and all the regrets I had around our time together, or lack of it.”
Hour by hour, day after day, the women at the Katama Lodge began to reveal themselves to Janine, and Janine answered in turn — using diagnostic tests to understand their health conditions, prescribing them acupuncture and various holistic medicines, and asking that they treat themselves to a number of spa treatments and massages, there at the lodge and spa.
Every woman revealed the density and beauty of their inner souls.
Every woman seemed to have so much they still wanted to give the world, yet struggled, as they still carried around so much pain.
On July 12th, Janine walked toward her mother’s yoga studio within the lodge itself. She stood at the doorway and peered inside as her mother finished up her class of only five women, all of whom had wrapped themselves into the child’s pose. Nancy stood at the head of the room, close to the windows, and placed her palms together.
“Here, you feel calm. Reunite yourselves with your inner child. Remember where you felt safest, most at-peace, and go there in your mind. Breathe. Breathe.”
Nancy’s eyes found Janine’s. She bowed her head and smiled, just the slightest bit.
When Nancy dismissed the women for dinner, Janine and Nancy stood together near the far end of the room and gazed out toward the water. Both of them seemed speechless. Janine, who’d had back-to-back appointments with clients, was exhausted yet completely thrilled.
“This has really been beyond my wildest dreams,” Janine finally said.
Nancy cleared her throat as though she wanted to say something, but nothing came out.
“Are you done for today?” Janine asked.
“I am,” Nancy said.
“Can I show you something?”
Nancy followed Janine downstairs, where they gathered in front of the office computer. There, Janine slipped the USB from Henry into the side of the machine.
“What is this?” Nancy asked as the first woman appeared on-screen.
“Oh, goodness. I first met Neal and Nancy about seven years ago,” the woman said. “I was going through a horrible divorce and child custody battle, and my body was on the verge of collapse. Neal and Nancy’s kindness was the kind of thing you read about in books. It didn’t even seem real. But I can genuinely say that it saved my life.”
Nancy’s eyes welled up almost immediately. She drew a hand around Janine’s elbow and squeezed lightly as the next woman came on-screen.
“Neal was a funny guy. I can remember that,” she began. “At the time, I thought maybe, I would never laugh again, you know? My body was exhausted, caved in. And I ran into Neal on my way to acupuncture — this was before Carmella began to do the acupuncture at the lodge and spa — and he cracked a joke. I don’t even remember what it was he said. But I burst into laughter. They always say that laughter is the best medicine, and dammit if I didn’t feel like I was floating after that.”
The interviews went on as Janine’s heart swelled. Nancy allowed several tears to fall before she collapsed on the office chair and draped her hand across her cheeks.
“I can’t believe this,” she whispered. “It’s the perfect testament to all the good Neal did while he was alive.”
“I wish I could have met him,” Janine said. “He seems like the most extraordinary man.” She paused for a moment and then added, “But there’s no way he could have done any of this without you, Mom. He loved you to pieces. And I truly believe love gives us a strength we didn’t know we had before.”
Nancy’s eyes glowed. She then dropped down and grabbed the box below the desk, the one Janine had found weeks ago. The one in which Nancy had kept the letters and the photographs. The one that was proof that Nancy had never forgotten her love for her daughter. Not really.
“Look at you,” Nancy whispered as she placed the photographs out, one after another. “You were such a bright and beautiful little thing. I was mesmerized with you. Look — you wouldn’t let go of that doll. Not for anything. You slept with her in your arms every single night.”
Janine remembered the doll. But more than that, she remembered the day her mother had bought the doll for her. She’d been four years old and terribly alone.
“I wanted us to have a perfect life together,” Nancy said then, as she cornered the edge of the photo absent-mindedly. “Your father died when you were three — right in the middle of me trying to get him back. I guess I was nineteen years old, and he was twenty. It was such a horrible time. I was so void of meaning. I felt that I would never dig my way out of my sadness. And as you know, I guess, I turned to some of the worst things a mother can. Oh,
but I loved you. And I wanted you to know it. I still want you to know it.”
Janine’s throat tightened. Slowly, she reached for the photo and placed it again on the desk before her. She then turned around and wrapped her arms around her mother and held her tightly while she shook against her.
“We’ve both lost so much,” Nancy whispered over Janine’s shoulder. “But I don’t want to lose you. Never again. Not if I can help it.”
“Ditto, Mom. Never again,” Janine returned.
When their hug broke, Nancy swiped her fingers beneath her eyes and said, with a soft laugh, “I don’t know what I did to deserve this second chance, but I won’t screw it up.”
“Me neither, Mom. I promise.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Janine stood at the front desk of the Katama Lodge and Wellness Spa as a middle-aged woman with dark hair stood with her credit card extended. Janine hadn’t worked with her that day and apparently, she’d just had a massage and a round of acupuncture. The woman was flushed and smiling. Janine took the credit card and asked the necessary question, which was, “Did you enjoy your stay with us?”
“Oh, I really did,” the woman, whose name was Kate, said. “My brother convinced me to come over here. It’s been a really hard time in recent months.”
“Your brother?” Janine glanced at the name on the credit card as a shiver rushed up and down her spine. “Ah. Your brother isn’t Henry, is he?”
“That’s the guy!” Kate said brightly. “Of course, I’d always heard of this place. But I come from a family where you don’t necessarily treat yourself. Mental and physical health kind of go off the wayside, if that makes sense.”
“It does,” Janine affirmed. “I kind of grew up that way myself. It took me a long time to get to where I appreciate it more than anything else.”
“That’s surprising. Isn’t your mother one of the owners?”
“She is,” Janine said. “We just took a round-about way to get here. That’s all.”
“That makes sense, I think. Well. We lost my mother recently. It’s not been an easy time. But—” Kate placed her hand on her shoulder and shrugged slightly. “I feel so much lighter and free. I know I’ll be back.”
When Kate padded out of the little foyer, Janine crossed and uncrossed her arms as her heart raced wildly. She hadn’t seen Henry since the Fourth of July, but she’d thought of him frequently. It was like he raced around the back of her mind, ever-present in her thoughts. Now, he had sent his sister this way. It felt like some kind of sign.
That evening, as Janine walked back toward the house, she shared with her mother and Elsa that she was going to call Henry.
“Henry, hey,” she said when he answered. She was overcome with the warmth of his voice. She immediately pictured his face, a face she’d grown so accustomed to, even in the brief amount of time she had gotten to know him better. “I um. I met your sister today.”
“Did you? I hoped she would go over there.” Henry paused for a moment. Something in the background sped past loudly.
“Are you out on your bike?” Janine asked.
“I am,” Henry affirmed.
“Sounds busy. I hope you’re careful. Not like that first time.”
Henry chuckled. “I am. I’m almost finished, actually.”
“I see.” Janine felt her heart perform a tap-dance across her diaphragm. “Big plans tonight?”
“I planned to do some more editing. I think the first thirty minutes of the documentary is pretty finalized, though, which sounds crazy.”
“Impressive. How do you feel about it?”
“Better than I have about any project, actually. However, I don’t know if the likes of Jack Potter would want to put any funds behind my project. It’s built on nostalgia, you know.”
Janine chuckled lightly, surprised that the mention of Jack didn’t tear her in half. “He was never so focused on nostalgia.”
“He’s an idiot for that. Nostalgia is a powerful thing.”
Janine held the silence for a moment.
“Maybe we could meet for a glass of wine?” she finally asked. “I’d love to see what you have of the documentary so far. It sounds like such a special project.”
JANINE AND HENRY MET at a little wine bar on the edge of Edgartown a little after eight. Janine was surprised, yet again, at how handsome he was, and that, as she approached his table, several women eyed her with hints of jealousy. Janine recognized the signs, as this was the same way women had eyed her all the way back in the early days when Jack Potter had courted her and she’d then gotten pregnant with Maggie almost immediately.
But back then, she’d been a “gold digger.” And now, she was just a woman, meeting a man for a drink, at a bar by the sea.
“Hey there,” he said. He stood and hugged her for just a split-second longer than a friend might. They then dropped down in their chairs and held one another’s gaze.
“My sister says the lodge was a wonderful experience,” Henry said finally. “She seems totally renewed.”
“Thank my mother and Carmella for that,” Janine said.
Henry ordered them a bottle of wine, and they sipped slowly, as he told her what elements he’d filmed in recent weeks for the documentary.
“I found a lot of footage with my mother,” he said thoughtfully, his eyes cast out toward the horizon. “She looks so beautiful, so young. And in one of them, she’s carrying me while we’re out on this boat, and the sun is shining. I’m sure she thought, in those moments, that I would be little forever—that we would have our little family life for the rest of time.”
Janine swallowed. “I remember feeling that way with my girls. They were just so little, for so long. I remember the conversations about Maggie’s spelling bees and Alyssa’s mathematic equations. Jack didn’t take much of an interest in any of that stuff, but I was so sure that they needed to have the very best of everything. And then, one day — they knew how to spell. And they knew how to do their math problems. And now, Maggie is preparing to be married, and Alyssa has graduated from Yale, and it’s sometimes difficult to understand if they still need me at all.”
“I think it’s pretty obvious that they do,” Henry said softly.
Janine blushed. “They’re headed back to the Vineyard already this week. They can’t get enough. Nancy — I mean, my mom has planned this whole spa day for all five of us. Me, Mom, Alyssa, Maggie, and Elsa. Carmella still won’t play nice with Elsa. I still remember what you said about all of that. About what happened when they were young. I wonder if there’s a way to resolve any of it.”
Henry lowered his chin toward his chest. “They have to want it.”
“I know. I know,” Janine said.
Janine then went on to tell Henry that she’d received the divorce papers from Jack a while ago. “They feel so foreign to me. I hired a lawyer here on the island, Susan Sheridan— that women we interviewed together and she’s helping me look through them and make sure everything’s kosher. Since I was married to him for so long and helped raise the children, some funds are probably available to me.”
“You deserve them,” Henry said somberly. “You didn’t ask for the pain he caused you.”
“And yet, because of all that pain, I might never have to deal with any of those Manhattan socialites again,” Janine said with a shrug.
“Me neither,” Henry said. “Maybe I’ve sworn off the whole scene.”
Later, as Janine and Henry walked along the water, they both commented on how much they felt they’d changed since they’d left Manhattan for good.
“I feel like I used to have this constant voice in my head, criticizing myself,” Janine explained, just as the tips of her fingers flicked against the bottom of Henry’s. “I always had to try a new diet, or make sure I avoided carbs, or hit the gym, or made sure to attend some party, thrown by some woman, whose husband was important, in some way, to Jack’s career. Looking back, I looked at everything as my duty. Now, I’m just disgusted with i
t all.”
“And I was just this washed-up guy struggling in the film industry,” Henry said. “I just jumped from relationship to relationship, always complaining about my art and my projects and what it all means. Now, especially that my mother is gone, I want to take things slower. I want to think about what I really want to make and how it will make me a better person, somehow. I don’t even know if that makes sense.”
Janine’s heart swelled. “No. It does. It really does.”
The moon had strung out from beneath the clouds, just a sliver of it, and it cast a ghoulish light across Henry’s eyes. For a soft, strange moment of silence, Janine thought that maybe, he would lean down to kiss her. But instead, they just held the silence.
Within this moment, she felt it. Hope.
A beautiful, simmering kind of hope — something that told her good times were ahead.
Maybe even good times with Henry, if she allowed it.
But that would be a topic for another day.
“Thank you for a beautiful evening, Henry,” Janine whispered. She leaned into him and allowed him to wrap his sturdy arms around her. He held her like that for a long, beautiful moment and she listened to the sturdy pounding of his heart.
When she drew back, she said, “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for you.”
“Me too,” he said softly. “I can’t explain it. But I feel we were meant to have this second chance, out here on this island. Far from anything we ever knew back in the city.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Janine watched her mother drop slices of cucumbers over her daughter’s eyes as both Maggie and Alyssa stretched themselves back on massive porch chairs there outside of Nancy’s home. Beside Maggie and Alyssa, ice cubes melted in gin and tonics, and books were propped up after long days of reading and lounging. Soft music played on the radio, and Nancy hummed along with it — a song they’d all heard a million times before, yet couldn’t even remember the name of.
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