Page 34 of Stay With Me

Annette just stares at me over the rim of her turquoise glasses.

I shrug. “What? That’s it.”

Annette lifts her eyebrows and asks, “Is it?”

Jesus, does this woman have a sixth sense or what?

I drop my eyes to my lap, not sure what she’ll think of me if I tell her the rest. “I don’t know if this really matters for him being on my resource team, so I probably don’t need to tell you about it. Plus, you’ll probably think less of me for it.”

“I will not,” she says, matter-of-factly. Her affect is neutral, almost flat.

“Well, I sort of had a crush on Charlie when I was younger. Even when I was with Teddy. It wasn’t anything serious, but I would be lying if I said that there was never a time I wondered what it would be like to be in a relationship with Charlie. He’s so honorable and protective and… steady. Plus, he’s very easy on the eyes”—I chuckle, trying to lighten the mood—“so there’s that, too. I’m nowhere near ready to consider getting back out there, obviously, and as much as he hurt me with his actions, I loved Teddy. But knowing Charlie and the kind of man he is gives me hope that maybe there’s someone out there who could love me again, make me feel safe enough to give love another chance someday. Someone I could let myself trust. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life never trusting another man because of what happened with Teddy. But I think it would have to be a man like Charlie for me to trust again, to love.”

“Emily, there’s nothing you said there that would even remotely make me think less of you. And you don’t need to feel bad for having any of those feelings. It doesn’t mean that you didn’t love your husband. It’s actually a good sign because it means you’re not entirely closed off to the possibility of loving again. And there’s no timeline for this. You’ll know when it’s the right time and the right person.”

I look up at her, tears stinging my eyes. “ButwillI know when it’s the right person? I trusted myself for that before and look what happened.”

Annette nods. “You will. Because we are going to work on that negative core belief you have, the one you just inadvertently voiced—that you can’t trust your own judgment—and through that work, we’re going to get you to a place where you believe in your ability to make positive choices. Where you know that other people’s shortcomings or issues are not your responsibility or your fault.”

I swipe at the tears streaming down my cheeks and sniffle, managing to only squeak out a simple, “Okay.”

“I think that we’ll save the third strategy for the next session. For this week, I’d like you to practice going to your peaceful place in your mind, or imagining whoever you need from your resource team anytime a difficult memory assaults you. If you just need to change your focus, close your eyes and imagine yourself in the water, thinking about how it affects each of your senses. If you need to feel loved, or safe, or bright, imagine yourself with your resource team and how you feel when you’re with them. Do you think you can do that?”

I nod. “I-I think so. I’ll try.”

When I step outside after my appointment with Annette, a cool autumn breeze hits my face and the earthy, almost musky scent of the fallen leaves fills the air around me. At my car, I stop before opening the door. Then, I close my eyes and inhale deeply, loving the sensation of the fresh air on my face and the smells of fall. I smile, genuine hope filling me for the first time in weeks. Hope that maybe my work with Annette will be like the seasons. I’ll shed the old “leaves” of the hard events or relationships in my life, and I’ll have to do the work to get through the winter of my grief, but from that, new life can spring forth followed by days of warmth and sunshine.

And my heart swells with happiness when I think of sunshine, because it reminds me of Charlie, and his sweet nickname for me.

CHAPTER15

EMILY

“Screw you, Mother Nature,” I hiss. Just three and a half weeks ago I was reveling in the sights and smells of fall weather and now I have to dig out from the sixteen inches of snow that dumped on northeast Ohio last night—even though it’s stilltechnicallyautumn.

To make matters worse, the wind is so wicked and cold it’s burning my face. And this damn snowblower won’t start. I glare down at the clunky machine and get more pissed off. So, I do the mature thing and kick it with the heel of my boot.

I would love to just say screw it, snuggle under a blanket in front of the gas fireplace with a book and a glass of wine, and leave the snow. But Trina is coming over tonight for dinner as my taste tester for the beer cheese soup I’m making. It’s a recipe I’m trying to perfect for the PTA fundraiser at school. I don’t expect her to trudge through a foot of snow to get to the front door.

I grab a shovel and walk out of the garage, plodding through the snow to the walkway that leads to the front door. Diving in, I begin to carve a small path so Trina can walk it when she arrives. After about five shovelfuls, my triceps are aching from the effort of heaving the loads of heavy snow off to the side. I force myself to continue, but I hate it. Every second. I despise being cold. Like, absolutely loathe it.

Without warning, I’m slammed with overwhelming anger at Teddy.

This was hisjob,not mine. It was part of our deal. He was terrified of spiders. So, anytime one of the eight-legged insects got in the house, I had to take care of it. And he handled the snow removal because he knew how much I hated it. It was our tit for tat. The memory of us shaking hands to “seal the deal,” as he put it,and of him making me swear I wouldn’t tell anyone about his spider phobia assaults me.

Only now, I have to dispatch all the spidersandfreeze my ass off in the snow because of everything that happened. And maybe it’s irrational, but I’m furious at him for it.

I can’t stand how I’m feeling right now, and I don’t want to allow it to continue, so I set down the shovel, close my eyes, and imagine my peaceful place in the ocean. It takes several attempts to refocus my thoughts, but, finally, I can picture myself floating in the crystal-clear water in Hawaii and I work hard on replacing the upsetting memory with details about my special spot.

I don’t know how much time passes, but I’m jolted back to the cold Ohio afternoon when firm hands gently shake my shoulders. I open my eyes to find Charlie standing in front of me, knees bent so his face is level with mine, his eyebrows drawn together in concern.

“Em? What are you doing standing out here in this cold?”

“Huh? Just clearing a path.” I pick up my shovel and start digging at the snow, as if nothing happened. I glance back over my shoulder at him. “What are you doing here?”

He watches me, his wary eyes narrowed, and his head cocked as if he’s not sure what to make of me right now.

“I’m here to do your snow. I was at my mom’s helping with hers and thought I’d come clear yours, too.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.

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