“Etta!” I screech. “Are these people who I think they are?” Evidently the arriving cars belong to the former participants whom Dory talked me into allowing to attend the Asunder Ceremony, and they’re arriving in droves.
Etta nods, beaming. “Yep. Told you everybody would want to be here for this.”
“And I told you and Dory it’d be okay for a few of them to return, but we couldn’t handle this kind of crowd! What are we going to do?” Fighting a rising panic, I try to keep my voice from sounding so shrill, but not very successfully.
“It’s all taken care of.” Etta is calm as a clam. “Look, if you don’t believe me.”
Following the direction of her pointing finger, I see that someone is directing traffic, instructing the drivers to park along the road leading into the Landing, since the parking area around our building has filled up. Shading my eyes, I ask, “Who is that?”
She laughs and rolls her eyes. “Put your glasses on, Clare. It’s Son Rodgers.”
“Son! But where is Dory?” Yesterday the White Rings spent hours filling hundreds of brown paper sacks with sand and candles, which will be used to line the pathway through the woods leading to the labyrinth. Since all of the White Rings have assigned chores at the retreat, Dory brought in Son for the task of placing the sacks on the path, which has taken him all afternoon. And now she has him directing traffic. Laughing, I told her if she’s not careful, she’ll turn Son into a decent human being yet.
Again Etta points, and I see a slim figure in the distance whom I assume is Dory. “We have it all worked out,” Etta says serenely. “We figured the former participants would start arriving about this time, and what would we do with them while we were finishing our supper? Well, since Zoe Catherine wasn’t able to, Dory’s taking them through the nature preserve while we’re getting set up here. Then everyone will join us on the porch for the cider. After that, time for the ceremony.”
I nod, recalling that Dory had told me the plan already. She’d finally gotten Zoe involved by agreeing to show the participants around the nature preserve, but since the death of Genghis, Zoe has disappeared. She’ll probably stay hidden away in her cabin or on the creek until the retreat is over tomorrow. None of us has seen her, at the nature preserve or anywhere else.
“Okay, okay!” I cry, throwing my hands up. “You women are phenomenal as usual, and I’m properly chastised.” Glancing at my watch to avoid Etta’s gloating look, I say, “Let’s ring the bell—time for the cider!”
The plan is, I’m to meet Dory at the labyrinth right after the cider-and-sunset hour while Etta and the White Rings are assembling everyone in preparation for the ceremony. I make my way anxiously, barely glancing at the candles burning in their paper sacks and lining the pathway through the woods. Except from a distance, I haven’t seen Dory all day; everything has been so hectic. I’m not sure why Dory and the White Rings insisted on having the ceremony at dusk, and I don’t dare ask, afraid it might have something to do with the equinox or the goddess or the bird with the frozen wings.
When I arrive at the labyrinth, Dory is placing a little twig chair of Zoe’s under one of the oak trees, and I assume it’s where she’s seating Margo. A classical guitarist, Margo Slaton plays background music for the Asunder Ceremony. Hearing me approach, Dory puts down the chair, then heads my way. Seeing her outfit, I cry, “Dory! What on earth do you have on?”
Holding her arms out, she prances around and models the long white tunic of loosely woven material that she’s wearing over her jeans and T-shirt. “It’s my equinox ceremonial dress,” she says, eyes glittering. “I made one for each of the White Rings.”
“Oh, no.” I groan. “Please tell me you didn’t! You look like an extra in The Lord of the Rings.”
Dory throws her arms around me and kisses my cheek, hugging me hard. “And you look like you’re going to your execution! I swear, you’ll never change, will you? Still the same uptight nerd you’ve always been.”
“And you’re the same weirdo,” I say, “with your crazy magic circles and symbols and crap. Did you see how many folks we have? How are we going to handle this?”
Repeating Etta’s speech about having everything under control, Dory takes my arm and drags me to a low twig table that came from Zoe’s yard, which she’s placed near the opening of the labyrinth. “Okay,” she commands, standing me in place as though I’m a mannequin. “You and I will be here. You stand by the table, and I’m gonna sit on this little stool, see? Sorry you’ll have to stand the whole time, but no one will be able to hear you otherwise.”
When I see the arrangement on the table, my hand goes to my throat, and I feel the unexpected sting of tears behind my eyes. “Well, we know where those came from, don’t we?” I say, and Dory nods. The wedding candle we use is a huge white pillar, and Dory usually surrounds it with flowers from her gardens. Today, though, she’s woven a small strand of ivy around it, which is all it needs because it’s centered on a spectacular spray of peacock feathers.
“I’ve never seen anything so lovely,” she says, “but looks like it will be Zoe’s only contribution to the retreat. She’d worked so hard to present something else, but she’s hidden herself away grieving for Genghis.”
“This is more than enough.”
“I know, but Zoe had her heart set on the other thing because it was to be her gift to you. Oh, well,” she adds with a shrug. “I told her that Genghis’s donation would be more than enough. Now, wait here. I’ll go to the porch and tell everyone we’re ready, okay?”
I nod, nervous and jumpy again, and Dory gives me an encouraging hug before heading down the pathway to fetch the others. Too fidgety to stand by the table and wait for her, I step to the opening of the labyrinth and bend down to read Dory’s sign. In her welcoming remarks, Dory has told the participants that the myth of Theseus, Ariadne, and the Minotaur is so much a part of the labyrinth walk that it’s impossible to separate them. Reading it again, I see that she’s right.
Startled out of my thoughts by the sound of voices in the woods, I return to take my place by the table as the participants enter. When the hushed whispers of the crowd have died down and the women stand grouped together in front of my table, I hold a hand high to get their attention. Looking over the group of about fifty women, I smile in recognition when I spot the previous attendees Dory invited back. So many stories within this crowd! My eyes linger on Helen Murray, the woman from my Saturday-morning group whom I’ve worried about for almost a year and never expected to see here. The histories of the participants are as different as they are alike, but all of them share a desperate longing to leave their heartbreak behind them and move toward recovery, and that’s why they are here.
“If you’re participating in the Asunder Ceremony and have asked someone to walk the labyrinth with you, that’s fine,” I say in a loud voice. “We couldn’t have made it this far without the support of others, and it’s the major idea behind the retreats. But I do ask that you enter the center on your own. Some things we have to do by ourselves, and this is one of them. Is everyone ready?”
After murmurs of assent and much head nodding, a hushed expectancy falls over the group. “Okay!” I begin with what I hope is a reassuring smile. “Let me tell you how this will work. On the table here, Dory and I have placed the Asunder vows, if you want to take a copy with you. In addition, we have the wedding candle and a basket of tapers.” At her cue, Dory lights the giant white candle in the center, a replica of the pillar candles popular at many weddings nowadays, usually sitting on a satin-draped table and used by the bride and groom as part of the ceremony.
I pause when I spot Haley in the crowd but standing at the edge, away from everyone. When her eyes meet mine, she gives me a weak smile and a wave, and I smile back at her. Just being here is an important step for her. When she’s ready, I tell myself, then turn my attention back to the participants. Scattered among them are several of the White Rings in their white tunics, with the necklaces Dory made th
em hanging around their necks. Even Etta is sporting a tunic, and I suppress a smile at the strange sight. How Dory talked her into wearing one, I can only imagine.
I go on, “The wedding candle represents the vows you and your spouse made the day you married. Please take one of the tapers and light it from the wedding candle. You might have done something similar on your wedding day, maybe taking a taper to your parents. But for our purposes, I want you to think of the lit taper as a symbol of the two of you after your wedding vows, when you were joined together and became one.” I hold one of the tapers high so everyone can see it.
“With the taper in hand, start your journey into the labyrinth. As you walk the circling paths, take the time to reflect on your married life. Don’t think only of the bad times; remember the good ones as well. Sometimes the good ones can be more painful because they make us realize what we’ve lost. Once you reach the center, please hold on to your candle until you’re able to say goodbye to your marriage partner. Do this in whatever way feels right to you; the vows I’ve provided are only a guide, and some of you have brought farewell letters. Once again, let me remind you that if you’re not ready to take this step, please don’t force it. Do it only if it feels right for you at this time, okay?
“When you’ve said what you needed to say, blow out the candle and leave it on the center stone. If you brought a letter, leave it with the candle. You’ve symbolically acknowledged that your marriage is over, and your vows are no longer valid because you’ve taken a new set of vows. You’ve vowed not to look back and not to mourn or grieve again. Your old life is over, and you’re ready to put it behind you.”
I pause to hold up the pieces of paper with the vows on them. “If you’ll look on the front of the Asunder vows, you’ll read the familiar words of Wordsworth: ‘What although the radiance which was once so bright / Be now for ever taken from my sight … We will grieve not, rather find / Strength in what remains behind.’ Here’s what I want you to take from these words: You are the strength that remains behind. You’ve been through a lot of pain, but you’ve come away a stronger person. You’ve walked through the fire, and it has left scars, but you came out on the other side. You can’t go back to where you were, and most of us wouldn’t even if we could. But we can find our strength in what remains behind. Once you acknowledge that—once you really believe it—you’re free to walk out of the labyrinth and into a new life.”
After a hushed pause, they start coming forward. The first ones to step boldly up to the table are the women from the previous retreats, and I touch their hands in greeting as they take a copy of the vows and reach for a taper. The first woman is shaking so badly that Dory has to hold her hand steady as she lights her taper, but she gives a satisfied nod when it flares, and Dory releases her. Hesitating for a brief moment, she straightens her shoulders with resolution, then steps onto the path of the labyrinth. Once she has entered, the others begin to flow into it, one by one. A few walk in pairs, but most of them make the journey alone, holding the slender, glowing tapers in front of them.
Once the paths of the labyrinth fill up with participants, some coming in, others going out, the whispered vows and sobs of those in the center become lost in the soft guitar music playing in the background, and the shuffle of feet against the dirt path. Hearing them is almost more than I can bear, and Dory turns her head to swipe furiously at her eyes, trying not to let the ones who are waiting to enter the labyrinth see her tears. We’ve discovered from the previous ceremonies how devastating they are to witness, and those ceremonies have been on a much smaller scale, in a sterile rented conference room. It hits me that this might be too much for Haley, and I lean over to whisper to Dory, “That seems to be the last one, so hold down the fort until I get back, okay? I’d better go see about Haley.”
Pushing through the group of women left standing outside the labyrinth, I make my way to the spot where I saw Haley. She’s moved farther away, standing under one of the five oaks, her back to me and her hand against the trunk as though to hold it up. I come behind her and place my hands on her shoulders, and she whirls around, her eyes stricken. “You were right, Mom,” she says, and her voice catches in a sob. “Guess I shouldn’t have come.”
I pull her close and stroke her silken hair. “I thought the only problem about having the ceremony out here would be the logistics,” I tell her. “It’s always the most difficult part of the retreats, but in this setting, it’s pretty hard to watch.”
Haley hugs herself, shivering as though an icy wind has blown through the oaks. “My God! I can’t imagine myself ever going through with it. Most of the time I hate Austin’s guts, but still … It’s like a funeral service, isn’t it, held for a love who’s dead and gone?”
“You’re nowhere near ready, honey. After you’ve been divorced for a while, and when you attend one of the retreats in a few months, I imagine you’ll see it differently.”
She studies me for a long moment, then says, “You know, I can see how it can be a good thing, hard as it is. To have a way of saying goodbye and to move on with your life—that’s the right thing to do, isn’t it? Or maybe I should say it’s the only thing to do. I’m proud of you for coming up with this. It’s a good thing you’ve done, and I’ll be glad when I get to the point where I can do it.”
“Me, too.” I reach for her again, hugging her close. “I’ve got to get back now, but I hope you’ll stay for the dancing. You’ll be surprised at how the mood changes. It’s a catharsis, after the sadness of the ceremony.”
Haley inclines her head toward the table where Dory sits perched on her stool. “Oh, I am. I promised Dory I’d stay and dance. And I’ll try to bring Gramma Zoe. She might not dance, but she can watch, and it’ll help get her mind off Genghis. Matter of fact, I need to go look for her again. I haven’t seen her since I got here, and I can’t find her anywhere.”
“I hope you find her. If she’s on the creek, she’ll be back when it gets dark, so maybe you should go to the dock and wait for her. So I’ll see you, and hopefully Zoe, at the dance.”
I’ve taken a few steps back to where the ceremony still goes on when Haley stops me. “Mom?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I raise my eyebrows. “Yes?”
She regards me quizzically. “You’ve never done the ceremony, have you?”
I turn back to face her and shake my head. “No, of course not, honey. It’s not intended for women like me, who lost someone like I did your father. That’s what a funeral service is for. You said the Asunder Ceremony was like a funeral, and it is, in a way, because it offers a ritualistic way to say goodbye to a marriage that’s ended. That’s the idea behind it.” I shrug and add, “The Asunder Ceremony isn’t for everybody, and I never intended it to be. But a lot of the participants like the idea because it helps provide them with closure in a way that nothing else has been able to do.”
Haley nods, then says thoughtfully, “Yeah, but maybe that’s what you need. Some kind of closure. Even though there was a funeral service, I don’t think you’ve let go of Daddy, have you?”
I stare at her for such a long moment that she tilts her head to the side and says, “Mom?”
“No, you’re right,” I say faintly. “Dory, and Rye, and Lex—they’ve all tried to tell me that, but I haven’t wanted to hear it.”
Haley regards me with compassion, and her eyes shine with tears. “I can’t blame you for not wanting to let go of Daddy, the way you loved him. I don’t want to let go of him, either.”
“Of course you don’t, and you shouldn’t. Both of us have wonderful memories of him and of our time together.” Staring off into the darkening woods, I add, “But the truth is, it’s not those memories I want, or need, to let go of.” Shaking my head, I admit, “Oh, Haley, it’s the guilt I’ve carried all these years that I haven’t been able to turn loose of, not your daddy! I’ve felt so responsible for his death—”
“You know better than that, Mom,” she says sharply. “I loved Daddy—idoliz
ed him, really—but he was the most self-destructive man I’ve ever known. I didn’t know it at the time, but I can see it now that I’m older. Daddy and my biological mother both, they were beautiful and lovable and charming, but they were also needy and constantly looking for someone, or something, to lean on, whether it was drugs or booze or other people. You’ve never liked me saying this, but it’s the truth: Daddy got his strength from you because he didn’t have much of his own. When he used yours up, you ended up feeling guilty because you didn’t have any more to give him. Am I right?”
We regard each other for a long moment, and finally I nod. “That shows a lot of perception on your part, sweetheart, and yeah, you’re right about most of it. I just haven’t been able to face it.”
Haley moves to stand beside me and reaches for my hand. “Come on, Mom. Take a dose of your own medicine and do the ceremony. I’ll come with you.”
“Absolutely not. I won’t have you getting upset—”
The blaze of her eyes stops me in midsentence. “You’ve got to stop treating me like I’m going to fall apart the minute you let go of me,” she cries. “You’ve been a big help, and I appreciate it, I really do, but Jesus H. Christ! You act like I’m so fragile, I can’t do anything on my own, and it drives me crazy. You’re going to do this, and I’m coming with you!”
Queen of Broken Hearts Page 41
