Page 91 of Heartless
“Because if it’s not him, then it could be anyone else.”
“So, what do you think you need to do about that?”
Sighing, I bend down and pick up a pearly white with faint traces of peach translucent shell. I hold it up to my eye and stare through it at the sun above.
“If your future could be as bright as the sun overhead, and if you could have a guarantee that it could be that bright, would you take a risk and pursue it?”
“Well, no one can make those guarantees. The only thing that can happen is that I do my best to procure it.”
“That’s the same thing with your safety. No one can guarantee that, MJ. You have to take steps to make sure that you’re safe. Whether that’s through martial arts classes, purchasing a guard dog, getting an expensive security system or even a gun, you can take measures to ensure your safety. However, peace of mind will only come at the hands of you choosing to believe that nothing can harm you.”
I scoff. “That’s a bunch of bull.”
“Oh sure, physical harm can come your way, but mental damage is all subjective. You can maintain your sense of security, mental well-being and health by choosing not to let anything steal your peace. Life happens. How you maneuver through it will determine if you remain healthy and well.”
“You don’t think that I want to get better?”
“I think you don’t realize that it’s a choice. You don’t realize that you own the power, MJ. You still believe that he has the power, so you continue to yield to the torment that he subjected you to. The power is yours. You simply have to take it back and own it.”
We turn around and walk back towards our cottages. The ten-minute walk back is steeped in silence.
I have no idea what Claire’s mind is on, but mine is on Onyx. When we arrive at her cottage, she goes inside and returns with a pitcher of sweet peach tea and some muffins. She sets the tray holding the muffins, tea carafe, and two glasses on a table between us.
I pick up a muffin and take a bite.
“Mm, these cranberry orange muffins are delicious,” I say.
“My grandmother’s recipe. She used to make them while I stood on a step stool by her side when I was a little girl. That’s one of the things that my husband used to love about me.”
“Your grandmother’s recipe?” I ask curiously, licking the crumbs from my fingers.
“No. My ability to bake everything from scratch.”
I laugh and bask in the sound of her husky laughter along with me.
“Claire, I know that it might seem like I may not receive everything that you say, but I do. Your words of wisdom aren’t falling on deaf ears.”
“Oh, I know,” she says, reaching over and patting my knee. “I just hope that you find the healing and the answers that you need during your temporary stay here.”
“Temporary?”
She nods. “Oh, I suspect you’ll be returning home soon. MJ, you have all the answers. Just unlock that treasure trove inside of you and allow yourself enough grace to do what you must do.”
“What is that, though?”
“I think you already know.”
“You know what hurts more than him cheating on me?”
“No. What?”
“That he cheated on me after he’d introduced me to the woman. Maybe if I’d never seen her, it wouldn’t bother me so much. But I know what she looks like. I know the sound of her voice and the way she smiles. I repeatedly torment myself over every little iota of our conversations. I wonder if she was giving me cues then, but I missed them all.”
“Maybe and maybe not. Here’s what I know. Cheating hurts. No matter who it’s with. Those little details that you keep dredging up again are just a way of ensuring that the wound remains raw. That’s how you prevent your healing and staysteeped in the pain. Let that go because it serves you no good but to keep you angry and bitter.”
“Spoken like a woman who knows,” I say.
Chuckling, she says, “I didn’t tell you who my ex cheated with.”