Page 77 of Skipping Stones
“Thanks. I seem to be saying that a lot these day. But I really will try to have an open mind about therapy. There was someone in Germany and TCN would have insisted on me seeing someone if I had come back from an assignment. Mac still sees someone. I just never expected I would need it.”
Linney’s appointment with Dr. Aslan was a pleasant surprise. She hadn’t expected the therapist to be her age. She seemed friendly and had a faint accent that Linney couldn’t place. Dr. Aslan took the time to explain her approach and together they set up a schedule of weekly appointments through the end of the year.
“I think I’ll like her,” Linney told Kirsten. “I wasn’t expecting to.”
“I told you. Dr. Aslan has been in Silver Lake for a couple of years now and she’s built a great reputation. Now, I’m taking you out to dinner.”
Linney didn’t dissuade her. It had been a long afternoon, and she didn’t feel like cooking. While they waited for their order to arrive, they talked with a number of townspeople who stopped by to welcome Linney home and offer their help if she needed anything. She smiled and thanked them, but was determined to be as self-sufficient as possible.
Over pizza and iced tea—she didn’t want to drink while she was still on painkillers—Linney and Kirsten discussed the team who would be helping her. Kirsten talked about the various physiotherapists and agreed to call a couple in the morning to test how they’d work together. “Combined with the others, you’ll have a crack team,” Kirsten said. “You’re in good hands, Linney.”
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Linney worked hard and pushed herself as fast as she could. Her physical therapist was impressed but in therapy, Dr. Aslan kept cautioning her to go slowly and take the time to figure out what she wanted to do next,. Linney was itching to make plans and had been thinking about getting an apartment in Toronto and doing some freelance writing, or maybe consulting. “Don’t rush,” Dr. Aslan kept telling her. “You have the luxury of time. Make sure your next move is right for you.”
September turned into October, and Linney began to confidently walk without a cane, although she still limped when she was tired. To build back her muscles, Linney started making the two kilometre walk into town often. Suddenly she wasn’t completely reliant on Anna, who was taking her to the grocery store every week. She was taking the time to cook properly, and rediscovering, after years, how much she loved being in the kitchen. Derek and the kids were often the beneficiaries of this rediscovered passion, but she also loved having Kirsten and Anna over for dinner.
She sometimes dropped into Vi’s Café or the Doughnut Hut, and old school friends would stop and say hello. And from time to time, she visited Anna at her dance studio, amazed at how she and her teachers kept the little preschoolers in line.
To keep the rumour mill at bay, Linney joined KnitWorks, at least until she figured out what her next move was, she told them. It was a tough decision—she had always thought that while the group’s charitable activities were good, they also embodied all she disliked about small town life. And after the first week, she was sure she was right. They bombarded her with questions, many of which she didn’t feel like answering. But she went back the next week and as she made progress knitting a scarf for the charity box, and listened to conversations about how to shore up some of the poorer families in town, she found herself being drawn into this circle and wanting to help as well.
So when Avril, who had been a year ahead of her in school, and who now had four school-aged boys, asked for some last-minute volunteers for their booth at the Fall Festival, Linney found herself with her hand up. “I don’t know what came over me,” she told Dr. Aslan.
“What do you think it means?” asked the doctor.
Linney thought for a minute, now used to the doctor’s long pauses. “I guess I’m looking for some kind of community. I love Silver Lake, but I never expected to find that with KnitWorks.”
Dr. Aslan nodded. “Sometimes home appears where you least expected it. I certainly never thought I’d find a small town in Canada as my home. But I love it here.” It was rare for Dr. Aslan to share about her own life.
Linney sighed. “It’s just strange when you consider how much I wanted to leave as a kid. Derek too. But he’s found a home here with his kids.”
“Could you be happy here?”
There was another silence while Linney pondered the question. She knew by now that Dr. Aslan wouldn’t fill it, just as she hadn’t as a journalist. “Maybe. I think so. I just don’t know what I’d do here.”
“There are your grandmother’s books.” Linney had made her way up the stairs beyond the blue door to the office and had talked with Dr. Aslan about Gran’s drafts. “Or maybe you have a book you want to write about your experiences. You could go back to reporting. You could do something entirely different. Let’s make that your homework for this week. To think about all the ways you could earn a living in Silver Lake.” She closed her notebook. Their session was finished.
Linney nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Aslan.”
“Same time next week?”
“I’ll be here.”
* * *
Just before the Fall Festival, Linney stopped in at Page Turners. It was quiet in the store, but then again, it never seemed busy. She struck up a conversation with the owners.
“Honestly, we’re thinking of selling,” the woman said to Linney. “We jumped into this without thinking. We’ve given it a good go, but it’s just not a good fit for us.”
Her husband nodded in agreement and he sounded frustrated when he added, “I just hope we can find a buyer quickly. We’ve spent more than six years trying to make this work.”
“I’m sorry,” Linney said kindly, putting the book she’d just purchased into her purse, but thoughts were suddenly turning over in her head, and when she got home, instead of reading, she started scribbling notes.
The day of the Fall Festival dawned crisp and bright—the perfect autumn day. The trees were at their peak, and Silver Lake was all dressed up in its finest. Anna and Danny’s cottages were booked, and Kirsten was crossing her fingers that nothing bad would keep them busy at the hospital. It was one last weekend of high tourism before the cold of winter set in and Silver Lake families tightened their belts.
The festival grounds were crowded. Cottagers and visitors from other towns bought honey, cheese, and maple syrup, all produced by Silver Lake residents. They browsed at stalls that sold paintings, jewellery, and quilts. Linney did roaring business at the KnitWorks stall, selling mittens, gloves, and hats to raise money so the group could do even bigger things for the community. She was glad to finally be done with her cane. It would have been cumbersome with all the commotion. There were still people she hadn’t seen in the weeks that she’d been home so there was lots of chatting and catching up. In the middle of the afternoon, Ivy and Leo came running up to her booth. Behind them was their father.
“Can you take a break?” Derek asked. They were spending most evenings together now. Either she would walk across the lawn to join him and the kids—they still liked it when she read bedtime stories, or better yet made up new ones—or he would come to her place, monitor in hand, after they were in bed. Sometimes they would play card games, or talk, or watch TV. Often Derek brought over his laptop or a book and Linney would have music playing quietly in the background while she wrote or read. They were just comfortable together.