Dawn of Change

by Gerri Hill

  “And did you?”

  “Let’s say I had a lot of friends back then,” Shawn said and turned to grin at Susan.

  “Lady friends?”

  “Oh, yeah. Lots of lady friends.” Shawn could laugh about it now. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She stopped and faced Susan. “Drugs, booze and . . . women,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s a wonder I survived.”

  “Tell me,” Susan encouraged, sensing Shawn’s need to talk about this time in her life.

  “If I could even remember half of it, I would.” She turned her head and stared into the trees and spoke quietly. “I woke up one morning and I was staring at the sky. I was in a field . . . a pasture of some kind, and there was this cow standing there watching me. When I sat up, I had no idea where I was. I found my car about a hundred yards down the road, off on the side and locked, keys in my pocket.” She turned to Susan then. “To this day, I don’t have a clue about that night. I went back to the only place that had ever helped me. The shelter, as you call it. They set me up with a counselor and then a therapist and I probably owe them my life,” she said.

  “I think of Lisa,” Susan said. “She’s nineteen now and I can’t imagine her having to go through all that you did.”

  “It was . . . very difficult, especially at that age,” Shawn said. “I became very self-destructive, as if I was trying to kill myself without actually pulling the trigger.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Susan said, the mother in her taking over as she reached out a comforting hand to Shawn’s shoulder.

  Shawn’s smile was genuine and she continued on the trail, leaving Susan to follow.

  “That was another life,” she said. “Almost as if I became someone else,” she said quietly. “After about six months of counseling, I enrolled in college again. I had spent nearly every penny of my father’s life insurance, but I still had his business and the house. I had not touched Bobby’s or my mother’s money. I didn’t want it. My counselor convinced me to invest it, told me that years down the road I might be able to accept it. I sold the business and the house and found a very aggressive broker who told me the computer industry was going to explode,” Shawn laughed, thinking what a young fool she had been.

  “What?”

  “Five years later, after therapy and college, I checked on the investments. I was suddenly becoming wealthy,” she said. “I worked for a year in the real world, at a real job,” she said. “But I didn’t need to work. I wasn’t ever going to have kids and I had more than enough money. My broker convinced me to sell most of my stock and put it in mutual funds, where it would be safe. So I quit my paying job and volunteered at the center and I have been there ever since.”

  “And volunteering all these years?” Susan asked.

  “They tried to put me on staff years ago,” Shawn said, “but I didn’t see the point.”

  “That’s very admirable of you to . . .” Susan started, but Shawn stopped her.

  “Oh, please. I didn’t do it to get any pats on the back,” Shawn said. “I didn’t need or want a paycheck and I owed that place my life. I just wanted to give something back.”

  “I wasn’t trying to give you a pat on the back,” Susan said. “I just think that, the way people live today, it would have been easier to donate money. Most people would, anyway.” Susan saw Shawn’s eyes shift away and she smiled. “But you give money, too,” she stated.

  Shawn shrugged. “I’ve got enough,” she said simply.

  “You know, all those women that lived in my neighborhood, none of them with jobs—me included,” she said. “I don’t know of a single one of them who volunteered their time for a real cause.” She nodded sadly. “Me included.”

  Shawn studied her for a moment, surprised at the genuine regret she saw in her eyes.

  “I’ve found that people who volunteer only out of a sense of duty aren’t doing anyone a service.” She smiled to soften her words. “It’s got to come from the heart, be something you care about. Something you believe in.”

  “Maybe I just haven’t been touched by reality enough, huh?”

  “I didn’t mean for you to take it personality.” Shawn grabbed her arm as Susan moved to walk past. “Volunteering is not something most people think about doing.”

  “It’s not you I’m angry with.” She waved her arms as she spoke, tossing Shawn’s hand aside. “It’s my whole life. I feel like I’ve wasted twenty years. I was more concerned with what was going on at the country club than in real life. Amazingly, I thought that was real life.” She turned her back to Shawn and stared into the trees. “Giving dinner parties for David’s clients once a month. Oh, what joy,” she said sarcastically. “Tennis three days a week with the other wives. Wine tasting parties for the girls.” She turned back to Shawn, her eyes flashing with anger. “All those times with just the wives. I wonder what all the men were doing?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Do you think he’s had affairs all along?”

  Shawn shook her head. “Don’t put that question to me. That’s not fair.”

  “I think he was,” Susan said quietly.

  “Don’t do this. It’s not going to help.”

  Susan walked on, disregarding Shawn’s words. She was suddenly so angry with Dave. And with herself. She spun around.

  “Do you think I look old?” she demanded.

  “Old?”

  “I looked in the mirror the other day and I thought, my God, I’ve turned into Ruth. Old and frumpy.”

  Shawn grinned. “You’re not frumpy. You just look, you know . . . married.”

  “Thanks a lot. But I don’t feel old. I mean, thirty-nine’s not old, is it?”

  Shawn opened her mouth to speak, but Susan had continued.

  “Thirty-nine’s old when you’re married, but when you’re single, thirty-nine’s still young. Right?”

  Shawn laughed. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to get my hair cut.”

  Shawn stared, perplexed at the turn this conversation had taken.

  Susan reached out and fingered Shawn’s hair. “Not that short. On you, it looks great, but that would be too drastic for me.” She fingered her own hair, cut shoulder length, as it had been for the last twenty years. “Just something different,” she murmured.

  “Change can be good.”

  “I suppose.”

  Chapter Six

  Susan watched from the kitchen as Shawn settled in one of the lawn chairs on the deck. Alex found an old mangled tennis ball and dropped it expectantly in Shawn’s lap. When she tossed the ball into the woods behind the cabin, Alex bounded off the deck in one leap, dodging pine trees as he ran.

  She turned the temperature down on the oven. The chicken would be ready all too soon and she wanted to enjoy the approach of evening without worrying about dinner.

  “Come on out. I’ve got you a beer.”

  Susan smiled. Such an unexpected friendship had formed with this woman in such a short time. For her, anyway. She wondered what Shawn was getting out of it. It seemed all she did was listen and offer encouragement whenever Susan went off on one of her tangents about Dave. Shawn never pushed, but would only offer suggestions.

  “Enough of that,” she said out loud. “I’m sick of talking about him.”

  Shawn was lighting cigarettes when Susan walked out and she handed Susan one without breaking stride with Alex.

  “He’s not at all spoiled,” Susan commented.

  “Not at all.” Shawn wiped her wet hand on her jeans and waited for Alex to drop the tennis ball in her lap again.

  After several trips into the forest, Alex tired and lay at the bottom of the steps, tennis ball wedged importantly between his front paws.

  They sat quietly as dusk descended upon them, then Susan asked the question that had been bothering her the most.

  “Shawn?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you ever wonder why you’re . . . the way you are?”

  “The way I a
m?”

  “I mean, do you think you’re gay because of your father? Or Bobby?”

  Shawn shrugged. “That would be the easy answer, I guess. But honestly, I’ve never been attracted to guys.”

  “Never?”

  “Nope.”

  “How old were you when . . . you know.”

  Shawn laughed. “Sixteen.”

  “Sixteen?”

  “She was twenty and I was madly in love,” Shawn explained. “For all of two weeks. Then she left and went back to college and I had my first broken heart.”

  “But still. Sixteen?”

  “Yeah, well, I grew up fast,” Shawn said dryly.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . .”

  Shawn lifted a hand to stop Susan’s apology. “It’s okay. By the time I was twenty, I felt like I’d already lived a lifetime.”

  Susan let the silence settle between them again, disturbing it only with the tip of her beer bottle. Shawn clearly didn’t like talking about her life. What little Susan had learned, she had come across only in bits and pieces. But the memories were obviously painful for Shawn and she had kept them long buried. Perhaps that’s where they belonged.

  “I don’t mean to be abrupt, Susan.”

  “I have no right to ask the personal questions that I do. I’m sorry.”

  Shawn stared out into the woods, part of her wanting to share so much with this woman. But the practice of hiding herself and her life from others had a secure hold on her. She didn’t make friends easily. She seldom let anyone get that close. But Susan was different. She had bared her soul to Shawn and Shawn felt like she owed Susan something in return.

  “I’ve told you more things about my life than I’ve ever told anyone. It’s just painful,” Shawn explained.

  Susan met eyes that were shrouded in sadness and she reached out and squeezed Shawn’s hand in comfort.

  “Let’s eat, huh?”

  “Thanks.”

  Shawn smiled with relief and let Susan pull her to her feet. She had found over the years that if she didn’t dwell on her past, she could keep the depression that threatened at bay. Sometimes it hovered over her so thickly, she was certain that she wouldn’t be able to fight it. But then, something would happen, someone would come to the women’s center for help, someone Shawn could focus on and the pain would retreat again.

  “Come on, Alex,” Susan called.

  “You spoil him worse than I do,” Shawn chided.

  “Nonsense. The damage was done long ago.”

  “Right. Then why does he only beg from you?”

  Susan smiled sweetly as Alex brushed by her. “Because I’m a softie.”

  When Shawn went back for seconds, her plate nearly as full as the first time, Susan laughed.

  “Let me guess. You don’t cook?”

  “I know how to use the microwave.”

  “Frozen dinners?”

  “Mmm. These potatoes are great,” Shawn said around a forkful. “I eat out,” she explained. “Lunch and dinner. Skip breakfast.”

  Susan shook her head disapprovingly. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” she quoted.

  “But I’m not hungry in the mornings. By lunch, I’m starving.”

  “I wonder why?” Susan handed Alex the last of the rolls and ignored Shawn’s gasp.

  “I was going to eat that!”

  “How can you possibly eat another thing?”

  “How could he? That was the third roll I saw you give him.”

  “Well, he’s practically starving,” Susan muttered as she carried their plates to the sink.

  “Susan, he waddles when he walks.” But Shawn grinned. She wasn’t used to such light banter with anyone. She had thoroughly enjoyed dinner and Susan’s company. Her dark mood of earlier had disappeared. She walked to the sink and shoved Susan out of the way with a bump of her hip.

  “Let me.”

  “You’re the guest,” Susan protested.

  “No, I’m not. Now, sit down.”

  Susan refilled their wineglasses and watched as Shawn washed their few dinner dishes and put the leftovers in the refrigerator. It was nice to see Shawn smiling again. Susan mentally vowed she would not ask Shawn any more questions about her past. If Shawn felt like sharing with her, she would. And it didn’t really matter. What was past was past.

  “Why don’t you come over for dinner next Friday when you’re up?”

  “I can’t keep eating your food.”

  “Of course you can. I cook anyway, you might as well eat with me.” When Shawn didn’t answer, Susan continued. “By the time you set up your tent, I doubt you even take the time for dinner.”

  Shawn didn’t turn to face Susan as she dried the last of the dishes and Susan missed the amused expression on Shawn’s face. Cheese and crackers were her normal dinner on Friday nights.

  “So you cook dinner every night?”

  “No. Only when I’m having company.”

  Shawn turned with eyebrow raised, but grinned when she met Susan’s eyes. They were bright and nearly danced with pleasure and Shawn didn’t dare refuse the invitation.

  Chapter Seven

  Susan was just putting the casserole in the oven when she heard the car door slam. She glanced at the clock, then smiled with pleasure. Shawn was early. Good. Maybe she could talk her into a quick walk. Relieved that her week of forced silence was over, she grabbed a dishtowel and went to the front door to meet Shawn.

  But it was not Shawn who stared back at her through the window. It was Ruth, with Mother in tow.

  “My God, what have you done?”

  Susan stared blankly at Ruth, then Mother.

  “Your hair,” Ruth pointed. “What have you done?”

  “Oh.” Susan fingered her now short locks. She self-consciously tucked a stray curl behind her ear and forced herself to smile at Ruth. “I felt like a change.”

  “Change? You look eighteen,” Ruth snapped.

  “Why thank you very much. I was only aiming for twenty-five,” Susan shot back.

  “Girls,” Mother warned.

  She brushed past Ruth and grasped both of Susan’s arms. “I think your hair looks very nice, dear. It reminds me of when you were young.”

  “Thanks,” she murmured.

  “Of course, if you used a blow dryer and curling iron, you could get rid of those childish curls.”

  “If I wanted to use a blow dryer and curling iron, I could have left it the way it was.” Susan wasn’t going to let her mother get in the last word and was rewarded with a curt nod from her.

  “Well, I’ll have a scotch, dear,” her mother said, ending their conversation on the haircut.

  Susan started to walk toward the kitchen then stopped and turned, hands on hips.

  “Wait a minute. What are you doing here?” she finally asked.

  “We came to talk some sense into you, of course,” Ruth explained. She tossed her sweater onto the sofa and settled down on one end. “I’ll have wine.”

  “Look, I’m not really in the mood for company yet. I’ve been enjoying my time,” Susan said weakly. “And I really don’t want to talk about Dave.”

  “Of course you need to talk about it.”

  “Ruth, I didn’t invite you here.” She raised her hands and shrugged. “I’m okay, really,” she said, trying to soften her words.

  “Okay? You call this okay? You’re getting so thin, you don’t even look healthy. And you’ve abandoned your husband, ignored your friends and family, and you say . . .”

  “Abandoned?” Susan’s voice raised an octave as she cut Ruth off. “I escaped,” she hissed.

  “Don’t you think you’ve punished him enough?”

  “Oh, Ruth, don’t start with that.” Susan shook her head, heading into the kitchen for their drinks. She wanted something much stronger than wine. She stood in the kitchen, her hands shaking with anger. How dare they come here and speak to her like that? As if she was the one in the wrong. Where were their consoling w
ords? Their compassion for a wife who had been cheated on?

  She wanted to scream in frustration and pound the counter top with her fists. But instead, she walked to the back door and stared into the forest, counting silently to ten as she calmed herself. This was so like them. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. In fact, both Ruth and Mother had made a habit of popping over unannounced several times a week. She didn’t know why it surprised her that they had driven up the mountain now.

  She took out the bottle of wine she had chilling for dinner and poured two glasses. She sighed. She had so been looking forward to a quiet evening with Shawn. She was anxious to see her reaction to her haircut and Susan wanted to show off the new clothes she had bought. She had splurged on a couple pairs of new jeans and two sweaters and even dared to buy a pair of hiking boots, much like Shawn wore.

  “Susan?”

  “I’m coming, Mother.” Susan motioned with her head to the bottle of scotch. “Help yourself.”

  Susan silently handed Ruth the wine, then drank nearly all of hers in one gulp.

  “Do you know what the wives are saying at the country club?”

  “I don’t really care, Ruth.”

  “Obviously you don’t. But they’re saying that you’re having your own affair. Why else would you stay away?”

  “Yes, why indeed?”

  “What is wrong with you?” Ruth demanded. “Are you having an affair?”

  “Of course not!” Susan spat. “I was angry, Ruth. I wanted to get away from him. I wanted to be by myself.”

  “Well, you’ve had time. You need to get back, get on with your life.”

  “I’m not ready to go back, Ruth.”

  Susan walked to the window and stared out, wishing she had the nerve to tell Ruth to mind her own business, wishing she had the nerve to send them right back down the mountain.

  “Susan, men do this sort of thing,” Ruth said quietly. “What do we really know about it? Men are different.”

  Susan twirled around, her blue eyes piercing Ruth. “How dare you take up for him! I walked into my house, into my bedroom and found them in my bed,” she whispered, her fingers pounding her chest with each word. “I didn’t just find them in bed, Ruth. I found them . . . in the act.” She turned away from Ruth, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “In my bed,” she repeated.