Queen of Broken Hearts (56 page)

“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 You've symbolically acknowledged that your marriage is over, and your vows are no longer valid because you've taken a new set of vows.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—idolized 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!”

“If you're trying to say that I've coddled you long enough,” I say with a shaky smile, “then spit it out. Tell me how you really feel.”

“Very funny,” she says as she grabs my hand, hard. “Now, quit arguing and let's go. And all that stuff you told everybody about not doing it until you're ready? Don't listen to yourself. Because if you're not ready now, you won't ever be.”

Dory opens her mouth to question me when Haley drags me to the table, but when I pick up the taper, she doesn't say a word, just looks over at Haley in surprise. I fit the cardboard protector in place, and as with the first participant, my hand trembles when I light the taper from the wedding candle set on the spray of peacock feathers. Dory says, “I'm coming, too, Clare.” I start to protest, but after Haley's outburst, I think better of it and keep my mouth shut.

Cupping my hand around the taper, I start the walk, and with each turn of the circle, Dory and Haley stay a step or two behind me. When we reach the center, both of them move close enough to me so Haley can give me a push forward. I'm not really surprised that Haley and I are dry-eyed while Dory sobs loudly, having given up her brave front and leaned against Haley for support. Before Haley can give me another push, I step up to the flat stone in the center of the labyrinth and look down at all of the slender tapers with blackened wicks that are piled up there.

I've gotten this far, though not very willingly, so I force myself to shut out the noises of the woods and the participants and the lovely sound of the guitar music, and I tell myself that I've fought this long enough. Lex was right yesterday morning, and Dory's been right on target, too, though I wouldn't allow myself to listen to either of them. Lex … God, he was so right! I should stop the ceremony right now, wave my arms in the air, and tell the participants what a coward I've been. When I leave here, I ought to get out my Rolodex and call every one of my clients whom I've so piously given my little speech to, telling them they're not ready and they need to work harder before they can attend the retreats. I've been guiltier than any of them, and I've been the worst kind of hypocrite. It takes more courage to stand up here than I ever imagined, and so many of the women here, distraught and traumatized by things no one should ever have to endure, have bravely walked up and taken a new set of vows without flinching. Unlike me, the ones who've come up here have been willing to do whatever they have to in order to put the past behind them and start a new life. It hits me how much easier it is to cling to the past. No matter how miserable and wretched and heartbreaking it might be, at least it's familiar. It's the coward's way out, and even though I knew better, it's the one I took.

Funny, I had to get here before I was able to see why it took me so long. In saying goodbye to Mack, I'll not only be giving up the man whose memory I've clung to all these years; I'll be forced to give up some things about myself as well. Haley doesn't know that I've secretly cherished the notion of myself as strong and brave and together, but in truth, I'm none of those things. Since the day Mack died, I've tormented and tortured myself for letting him down, and for all the mistakes I made with him. How could I possibly save Mack when I couldn't even save myself? I saw so clearly that Mack's demons came from his regrets, his bitterness with his father, the way he shut his mother out of his life, and his guilt about Haley and her mother. But I wasn't able to see how I, too, have been paralyzed by my own regrets. I've come to the center of the labyrinth and face-to-face with the Minotaur; now the question is, am I strong enough to slay the monster and find the path that will take me in the right direction? There's only one way to find out.

I blow out the candle and place it on top of the others. Turning around, I nod at Dory and Haley. Both of them reach for me at the same time, and the three of us cling together. Hugging me, Haley whispers in my ear, “Way to go, Mom. I knew you could do it.”

In my other ear, Dory says, “Well, I sure as hell didn't! I'm still in a state of shock.”

“I'm glad you two came with me,” I say when we pull apart, smiling our watery smiles at each other. “You wouldn't believe how much harder that walk is than it looks! It's amazing to me that all these women have done it. It takes a lot of guts.”

Dory wipes her eyes and says, “Not only that, they're ready to dance now.”

With a nod, I say, “Then let's get out of here so they can, okay?”

“You and Haley go on,” Dory says. “I've got the basket on my arm, so I'm going to gather up the tapers while I'm here. Then no one will have to come back later and do it.”

Haley and I step back and wait for her until we realize she's purposefully stalling, taking forever to bundle up the stack of burned-out tapers and wadded-up papers on the rock and put them in the small basket hanging over her arm. She keeps glancing around, pretending to be casual, and Haley nudges me.

“What's Dory up to, Mom?”

“Damned if I know,” I mutter. The labyrinth paths have almost cleared, and some of the women are leaving the site, heading down the candlelit path in the woods. “Dory!” I say impatiently. “Leave those things alone and come on. We've got to get back and get everything set up for the dance.”