Page 20 of The Quiet Rebuild

Later, after Candice walked Lindsey back to her apartment, she tried again to get information out of her. “Costa Rica? Scuba diving? And now, a date with Jake?” Candice put her hands on her hips, and her eyes were illuminated with the moonlight.

“None of it’s a big deal,” Lindsey said, reaching to hug her sister good night. “I’ll see you tomorrow, all right? Promise you’ll keep working on your book?”

Candice laughed. “You’re an expert at hiding your secrets, Sis. You’re Mom’s daughter, all right.” But with that, she let Lindsey go, turned on her heel, and walked back to her car.

10

It was hours after the group therapy session, nearly nine at night, and Taylor was packed up and ready to leave. Her finger was poised over the screen, prepared to call a taxi to pick her up and take her away from here. She’d decided that she’d get a hotel in town, then take a ferry to the mainland. Maybe she’d spend a little time in New York City. Maybe she’d fly across the Atlantic after that—head to Spain or something. It wasn’t that Jason and his new girlfriend owned Spain. She could go there. She could go anywhere! But she couldn’t stay at the Harbor House a moment more.

She’d been stupid to think she could come here. For the first couple of days, she’d hidden herself away, trying and failing to draw up the strength to join the others. She’d taken her meals in her room. She’d written line after line in a journal that Gwen had given her. Mostly, she’d written: It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. But she didn’t know what she meant by that.

Finally, when she’d entered that group therapy session and sat down, she’d found herself falling gently into the other women’s stories. She’d found herself relearning to breathe. She’d actually thought, Maybe there is something to this group therapy thing. Maybe it’ll heal me.

Until Casey had looked at her and said, “That one over there, that famous one, she could never understand.”

Taylor had felt it like a terrible smack.

Already this evening, Gwen had come to her room to beg her to stay. But Taylor had told her there was no use. She needed to leave, to fix herself elsewhere. Gwen had apologized, telling her, “I wanted the Harbor House to be different. Stella wanted it to be a place of comfort. A safe place.”

“It is. Probably, for most women, this will work,” Taylor had told her.

But it couldn’t be that for Taylor.

Suddenly, right before she called the taxi, right before she exited the Harbor House forever, there was a knock on the door. Taylor sighed, sensing it was Gwen, back with another reason for her to stay. She cracked the door, ready to tell Gwen she was heading out. She would put on her bravest and best actress face and move on. But instead, standing in the hallway shadows was Winona, one of the women from the group.

“Can I come in?” Winona asked, her eyes big and soulful in the dark.

Taylor was so taken aback that she just looked at her. Was she dreaming this?

“I want to say something,” Winona said, raising her chin. Her voice wavered. Taylor remembered that Winona had spoken at group therapy. She’d described, briefly, the devastation of losing her entire family to a house fire. Did she want to tell Taylor that her grief was nothing compared to Winona’s? Maybe she was right, Taylor thought. Taylor couldn’t fathom it.

“I want to say that it wasn’t right, what Casey said,” Winona offered. “You have every right to be here. Stella’s team selected us for a reason.”

Winona’s eyes flickered, and Taylor realized that she’d seen the suitcases, packed up and lined in front of the bed. “Oh, no,” Winona said, shaking her head. “You can’t go.”

“It’s for the best,” Taylor said.

Winona cupped her elbows. “Can I come in?”

Taylor didn’t know what else to do. She stepped back, allowing Winona into her space. Exhaustion took hold of her, and she collapsed on the edge of the bed. Winona sat, too. They studied the suitcases and listened to the spring winds across the white sands outside. Taylor couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat in silence like this with another woman.

“Can I ask?” Winona began. “Why did you come here?”

Taylor closed her eyes. “I had a terrible winter,” she said. “A terrible year. I hid myself away. I thought only about all the things I’d done wrong. I thought the Harbor House would give me a new backdrop, a place to start over. But I should have known better than that. Someone like me can’t start over.”

Winona nodded. “I think the idea of ‘starting over’ is a fiction anyway. It’s not like I want to start over, really. I don’t want to forget what happened. I don’t want to forget my children or my husband. But I want to find a way to live with my memories while making new ones.”

“You want new memories?” Taylor asked, sounding naive.

Winona looked at her. “If we’re going to live, we have to live. You know what I mean? We have to eat well. We have to celebrate the little things.”

Taylor was mystified at this woman’s strength. “Maybe I’m not ready. Maybe I’m not strong enough,” she said.

“You have to be,” Winona said, clenching her jaw.

Taylor let her gaze drop. She thought of her empty, dark future, the future that awaited her. It felt better to charge into that rather than ever seeing Casey again.

“Casey feels bad about it,” Winona said finally, as though she’d read her mind. “I heard her talking to Michelle about it. She says that she always struggles with this. She always speaks out of turn.” Winona raised her shoulders. “Nobody wants you to go, Taylor. We’re in this together.”