Healing Tides

by Katie Winters

  The horse shot through the trees. Elsa loved the immediate ease of the forest, the cool air as it rushed past her skin like water. Light filtered in through the tree-tops and cast strange shadows across the horse’s mane. Her shoulders hung loose as she experimented with her breathing: in, out. In, out. She’d heard Nancy’s instructions on breathing in her yoga classes and massage studio; perhaps there really was something to all that focused breathing. Perhaps the Lodge really did have a hand in all that “healing” she advertised, day-in and day-out.

  How had she become such a cynic? She thought then. She supposed it hadn’t been her original status. She’d once believed in so much magic. She’d once believed in—

  But suddenly, there was the flash of a small animal as it cut across the trail. What was it? A squirrel? Perhaps a chipmunk? The horse whinnied frantically and burst up from the trail. Elsa clung to the reins as best she could as her heart jumped into her throat. But the horse remained tossed back, and Elsa wasn’t the strong rider she’d once been. She was bucked from her saddle and landed against the pine-cone-laden soil off to the side. She cried out in pain. A sound echoed through the tops of the trees as her horse raced all the way back toward the estate.

  Elsa blinked up from the ground. The shock had overtaken her so that her eyes flashed with strange bolts of light, and her head rang like a bell. She’d never been tossed off a horse before, but the memory of her brother’s accident made her quake with terror.

  It hadn’t gone the right way with him.

  But then again, why had she been okay now, when he’d —

  Well, it did her no good to ask such things of the universe. Could she feel everything? Was she paralyzed? No, she could feel her fingers and she could wiggle her toes. She clenched her eyes tight and counted to ten, as though, once she reached it, she would have the bravery to stand again.

  Seven — eight — nine ...

  There was the rushing flash of something like feet across the brush, through the pines. “Hello? Is someone there?” A man’s voice rang out, brimming with fear. “I heard someone scream?”

  Elsa buzzed her lips with resentment. One saving grace in all of this had been that she was all right and nobody had witnessed such an embarrassment.

  “Hello?” the voice called out again.

  Elsa latched onto whatever strength she had left to emit the slightest of sounds. “I’m here.” She sounded pitiful.

  Suddenly, the man appeared on the path just beyond the crest of the hill. He was broad-shouldered, prominent, with dark hair and bright green eyes. He wore a white V-neck t-shirt, crisp and perhaps new, along with a pair of sweatpants and a Boston Red Soxs baseball cap. Elsa blinked at the sight of him as her stomach stirred with a mix of shame and — admittedly, attraction. Whoever that man was, he probably made some woman very, very happy.

  “Elsa?”

  He was no more than five feet away when he said it. Elsa scrunched her nose, placed her elbows against the soil, and drew herself up the slightest bit. Her helmet was crooked, and it had tipped over her right ear. She probably looked so silly. In a moment, her eyes found his.

  “Mr. Holland. Hello.”

  It was the handsome attorney from the law office of Susan Sheridan. Their eyes connected for a long moment as both took in the full sight of each other. Elsa’s nostrils flared as she allowed embarrassment to swallow her whole.

  “Are you okay?” Bruce asked. “I was running on the side of the road and I heard someone scream and well, I was terrified.”

  Elsa turned her head slowly, tenderly, to investigate the area of the forest where her horse had runoff. “There was a squirrel or something that spooked my horse. It’s my fault. I hadn’t taken him out in a long time. Probably, he just wasn’t used to it.”

  Bruce knelt down. He still looked enormous, even so low to the ground. It was clearly not a stance he often took, as it looked terribly uncomfortable.

  “You didn’t hurt your neck or your head?”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Promise? Because I can call an ambulance right this minute. Actually, I’d feel better about it.”

  Elsa groaned. “Please, don’t do that. I can’t bear any more hospital rooms.”

  Bruce nodded knowingly. Elsa remembered with a jolt that he’d lost his wife, too. And what was a hospital room if not space to reckon with the demise of those you loved or yourself?

  “Let’s just take it really slow,” Bruce said.

  Elsa longed to joke that he sounded like a scared man on a first date: let’s take this slow, okay? I like you, but I’m just not sure. She and Aiden, of course, hadn’t been like that; they’d jumped forward into life together as though the world behind them had been on fire.

  Bruce placed his hand on Elsa’s upper back and instructed her to stop if even one little pang of pain shot through her. Elsa lifted up higher so that she sat with her legs extended out.

  “I’m dusty,” she said lightly.

  “You’re a woman of the woods,” Bruce returned with a laugh.

  “I’m sure you mean that as a compliment.”

  “Absolutely.” Bruce’s eyes were electric, far brighter of green than they’d been back at the law office.

  When Elsa stood upright, Bruce made her wiggle her arms and legs and she stretched out her back for any signs of damage.

  “How old are you, exactly?” Bruce asked her.

  “Forty-five.”

  “And you seriously just got up from a horseback riding accident? Are you made of rubber?” Bruce asked. “If that had happened to me, I would be in about five pieces right now.”

  Elsa laughed. “When I was a girl, they taught us how to fall in our horseback riding lessons. I guess all the training kicked back in, and I just went loose.”

  “And your horse? Back where he came from?”

  “Probably,” Elsa returned. She glanced back across the trail, where Bruce had come from. “You run out on that main road? Sounds dangerous. You should really run in these woods.”

  Bruce shrugged. “It’s private property, isn’t it?”

  “It’s ours. My father’s.”

  “I know.”

  Elsa swallowed the lump in her throat. Why had she grown so jittery all of a sudden?

  “It was so wonderful that you were so close— saving me all over again.”

  “I don’t live that far from here. I’ve gotten addicted to running the past few weeks. I find it calms me down a little bit. It really takes my mind off of other things.”

  “That’s the game, isn’t it? Occupying your mind enough so you can continue to live,” Elsa returned.

  Again, they held one another’s gaze. Sea breeze fluttered through the tree-tops and cast the branches to and fro. It felt remarkable to be the only two souls in those woods, as though they’d been allowed a secret portal into another world, one for just the two of them.

  “Do you want to walk back to the house with me?” Elsa asked suddenly. The words were a surprise to her. They had flowed out of her mouth without even a thought. “I want to check on the horse and maybe grab you a glass of lemonade?”

  Bruce agreed to walk her back. They eased alongside one another and stepped through the trails. Their feet crunched across the previous fall’s dead leaves; sticks and branches clipped apart beneath them. A sparrow fluttered onto a nearby tree and peered at them earnestly, as though it demanded something of them.

  “I can’t believe I went so long without nature like this,” Bruce admitted. “All those years in Boston. I knew something was missing. I didn’t know it was the sea, the wind, animals and just nature in general.”

  “Ah, you turned into a city guy. You turned your back on us islanders and you went off and experienced all that culture,” Elsa teased. “Now you think you can just come back and enjoy our wildlife? Think again, sir.”

  He laughed outright at that. “I know. My wife was such a city girl. She always called me an island bumpkin.”

  “Bumpki
n! That’s quite a term of endearment,” Elsa teased.

  Bruce’s eyes seemed far away, perhaps latched to his memories. “I took her here a few times. I loved her to pieces, but she never had much to say about wildlife. I think one too many pigeons had pooped on her in her home of Boston, you know?”

  “Ah. Once nature turns on you, you can never go back.”

  “Is that how you feel about your horse?” Bruce asked.

  “Naw. He was spooked. I was spooked. We’re even.”

  Bruce contemplated this for a moment.

  “What?” Elsa asked. The look that brewed on his face captivated her.

  “Nothing. I just would think that most women — most people, I mean, would be terrified to get back on the horse after that.”

  Elsa felt the pressing weight of all her stories — of Colton’s death, of Carmella’s anger, of the hours and hours of conversation she’d had with her father while he had ridden on horseback beside her.

  “Riding horses is a part of my soul, I guess. It always has been,” Elsa breathed. “I guess it’s true what they say. Sometimes, the things that you love the most jump up and bite you. If you really love them — whether it’s riding horses or sailing boats or racing bulls through the streets of Spain, it’s something that stays with you forever.”

  “Nice reference,” Bruce affirmed.

  Whatever you love, you have to deal with it and love it for everything it is. Including faults and all. Right?”

  Bruce gave a light shrug. “I think you’re right. It’s almost poetic.”

  Elsa chuckled as her father’s house appeared through the trees. “I’m no poet. I’m just making everything up as I go along.”

  “Isn’t everyone?” Bruce’s grin widened as they stepped out from the last line of the trees to discover Elsa’s horse; he stood and kicked one of his front hooves against the grass and shook out his mane beautifully.

  It was almost as though he demanded, where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you.

  Chapter Fourteen

  MALLORY PROPPED ZACHERY up in his baby chair and cooed at him as Zachery buzzed his little pink lips. His eyes danced with excitement as his mother dropped the tiniest of spoons into pea mash and whispered, “Are you ready for the airplane, Zachery?”

  Elsa hovered near the bay window with a glass of water in hand. She was freshly showered, and her hair had curled beautifully down her back from the dense humidity the late July afternoon offered. Only an hour before, Bruce had departed and struck out again on his run. She had watched him for a bit too long as he had stretched his long legs toward the road and then disappeared from sight.

  “You look pretty, Mom,” Mallory said as Zachery clopped on his pea mash and smacked his palms across the top of the baby chair.

  “Oh? Thanks.” Elsa twirled a finger through her curl and shifted her weight. “Cole said he’s out sailing today. I thought I would head down to the docks later. Say hi.”

  Mallory’s smile faltered just the slightest bit. “That sounds fun.” Her eyes reflected a strange mix of curiosity and sadness. “Any reason why? You were never particularly fond of those sailor guys.”

  Elsa hadn’t yet explained Aiden’s predicament to her daughter. Elsa made sure that Cole only knew the bare minimum — that various members of the sailing community and otherwise had decided to drag his father’s name through the mud. This was the reason Elsa wanted to journey down there. She wanted to eavesdrop. She wanted to learn all she could. She couldn’t bear the thought that they could just guzzle beer after beer and throw around horrific rumors of Aiden that just weren’t true.

  She had to put up a fight.

  “I know, but that world means so much to Cole, and it would have meant so much to your dad,” Elsa offered Mallory now. “I’m sure you could come over if you’d like to. Maybe Nancy or Janine would babysit?”

  Mallory shook her head sadly. “I have too much to do, I think. I want to apply for a few more jobs. Get something more stable, like a nine-to-five.”

  Elsa tilted her head. “You didn’t mention that.”

  “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I think now, with Lucas out of the picture, it’s time for me to grow up.”

  “You know, we really need a secretary at the Lodge,” Elsa informed her. “And I would love to have you on staff. You’re reliable. And I know the Lodge already means a lot to you.”

  Mallory’s eyes brightened. This was a surprise to Elsa, as Mallory had traditionally all been about “forging her own path” and “striking out from her family.” Perhaps that’s what growing up was all about. Realizing that really, you couldn’t do it all on your own.

  “I’ll talk to Nancy about it when she gets home,” Mallory offered excitedly. “But I can’t imagine a better gig.”

  “It’s a family affair!” Elsa’s heart leaped into her throat. “Your grandfather would be so thrilled.”

  Elsa buzzed with this news as she drove over to Edgartown Harbor. It was nearly seven-thirty, and everywhere, the island resembled a painting. There was a soft orange light glowing across window panes with streaks of light clouds through the sky. Then she had a full view of the harbor, with its tilting sailboats and its reflecting water and its yonder Edgartown lighthouse, which had once drawn sailors and whalers home.

  Elsa parked a few blocks from the docks and then headed back. The breeze caught her black dress and whipped it around her knees. As she sauntered forward, several men marched past and actually dared to check her out! Their eyes scanned her chest, the cinch of her waist and the length of her calves. She felt remarkable, electric — nothing like the woman who’d fallen from horseback only that afternoon. Perhaps her luck was changing. Perhaps Bruce Holland was a part of that luck.

  Not that she cared for anyone beyond her husband, of course.

  But she did buzz with something. Expectation? New hope? She wasn’t entirely sure.

  She spotted Cole on the far end of one of the docks. He was bent down as he tied up his sailboat, which creaked against the wooden slats of the dock beneath him. When he stood, he placed his hand over his eyes to shield the sun. He then spotted his mother and waved a sturdy hand.

  “Hey, you.” When he approached, she hugged him tightly. She tried again to shove out all thought of his resemblance to his father. It wasn’t fair to him to drum up such sorrow. Not then. “How was it out there today?”

  “Not bad,” Cole said as he stepped back. “Although I’m glad you came down. I heard a few of the guys talking about Dad again this morning before I headed out and—” His nostrils flared, as though his anger disallowed him to say anything else.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Elsa told him.

  “They’ve all headed to the bar,” Cole said as he tilted his head. “A few of my buddies already have a table. Probably, those other idiots are already too drunk to even recognize you’re Aiden Steel’s wife.”

  “I take it they aren’t as committed to long days at sea as you are?”

  “I think they’re in the sailing game for a different reason.” Cole imitated drinking a large beer as he rolled his eyes back in his head.

  Elsa couldn’t help it. Despite the anger that permeated through her mind, she chuckled at Cole’s clownish behavior.

  “These idiots won’t be the ones to do this to your father. No way in hell,” Elsa affirmed.

  The bar was the traditional watering hole of many of Martha’s Vineyard sailors. As such, even now, at eight in the evening, it was already rowdy with red-faced and tanned men drinking countless pints of beers as fast as they could, flirting with the waitresses, and demanding specific songs to be played on the speaker system. The bar began in a little small building and then burst out onto the sands along the water. Electric lights were hung, and they glowed softly as the day’s sky faded into the evening around them.

  Elsa greeted Cole’s friends, most of whom she had known since Cole had been six or seven-years-old. That was typical of the Vineyard: people
stuck to one another for life.

  “Marty. Catherine. Wally. Good to see you,” Elsa said as Cole disappeared into the crowd to grab them both drinks. “Did you all sail today?”

  They all nodded, then chuckled a little. Of course, they’d sailed that day. Was there even anything else to do?

  Cole returned back and placed a glass of wine in front of Elsa. He then sat and pointed a finger low and leftward as he muttered, “They’re over there. The guys from the sailing race. They’re the same ones who were talking about Dad this morning, too.”

  Elsa recognized the salt-and-pepper-haired man and his friend, the blonde guy. They sat at one end of a long table, alongside three women who seemed to be in their early- to mid-twenties. One of them had long, flowing red hair, while the other two were blonde. Each seemed to have an extra six inches of leg than the rest of the female population and all of them had highlighted their cleavage in ways that weren’t exactly church friendly.

  “I see they brought their daughters,” Elsa said with a crooked smile.

  Cole rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, Mom. Really?”

  “I just — ugh. Guys like these. I never understood why your father even gave them the time of day,” Elsa returned.

  “They’re sailors. Dad was in it for the sport, not for them,” Cole pointed out. “Not like they have anything in common besides sailing, anyway.” Cole added, “And if you think for a minute Dad ever hung out with women like that while he was here...”

  Elsa’s cheeks grew warm. In truth, she had never imagined anything like that. She bit hard on the inside of her cheek as her eyes met Cole’s. “I know your father was a good, honest and upstanding man. It’s part of the reason I married him in the first place. It’s why I’m here right now. I want the world to remember him as he was, and not how these jerks want to pretend he was.”