Queen of Broken Hearts (35 page)

Unperturbed, Zoe said, “The world looks different from up here.”

And it did. Not daring to look down, I held my breath as I pulled myself up, ignoring Zoe and Dory's laughter at my leg-trembling fear. When I got to a place where their feet were swinging above me, I grabbed a sturdy-looking branch in a death grip and lowered myself onto it. Straddling it like a horse, I gripped a small limb sprouting from it, my saddle horn. Eyes closed, I took several deep breaths as I got up my courage to look down, and when I did, I let out a whoop of delight.

“Hey, this is amazing!” I cried, and Dory laughed.

“Told you,” she said smugly, and Zoe, who was squatting even higher up the tree than Dory, let out a raunchy rebel yell.

What had appeared from the ground to be nothing but trenches dug in concentric circles took on a remarkable shape from the advantage of the tree. “Dory,” I gasped, “it's the logo you designed!” The promotional material was almost ready, with the logo on everything: handouts and brochures and website and name tags. To see a forty-foot-wide version of a two-inch design was even more dizzying than climbing a tree. It seemed unimaginable that Dory could have envisioned such a thing, and I called up to her, “Isadora Shaw Rodgers, you're a genius.”

“Guess that means you like it.” Dory's voice floated down like the yellow leaves of the oak, which flitted and twirled past me like sunbeams. “But this is nothing compared to how it's going to look with the rocks in place. Just wait till you see it then.”

“Hey, when it's finished, let's bring a bottle of champagne up here to celebrate,” Zoe Catherine suggested.

“Only way I'll be here is to stay on this branch till then,” I said with a shaky laugh. “Once I get down, I won't ever get the nerve to climb back.”

But I do. After the crowd of volunteers departs and the rock-edged pathways are completed, Zoe Catherine takes a bottle of champagne and climbs one-handed to her perch in the oak tree. Dory sits where she was last time, beneath Zoe in a place where two branches form a Y, and I'm a few feet farther down, hanging on to my saddle horn.

“I'll take a swig, then pass it down to y'all,” Zoe tells us as she pops the cork. Holding the bottle high, she shouts, “To Wayfarer's Landing!” then turns up the bottle and chugs it. After wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and burping lustily, she scoots on her belly like a cat stalking a bird and hands the bottle to Dory.

Dory holds up the bottle in a salute before drinking from it. Like Zoe, she lies low on the branch as she leans down to pass the bottle to me. “Watch out, it's slippery,” she warns.

My hands shake like the leaves fluttering in the breeze when I have to let go of the branch. After grabbing the bottle by its wet, cold neck, I straighten up and press it against my chest, my heart hammering and my legs tightening on the branch I'm straddling. Once I've settled back into my perch, I ask Dory, “Think anyone ever had communion in a tree before?”

“Only if they were really, really lucky,” Dory says with a grin as I hold up the bottle in a salute to her, then to Zoe.

“To the two people who made it all possible,” I offer as my toast, and unexpectedly, my eyes fill with tears. Blinking them away, I chug the champagne, then wipe my mouth with the back of my hand like Zoe did.

“Hand it to me now,” Dory commands.

I shake my head. “If you want it, you'll have to come get it. No way I can climb up there carrying a bottle.”

Dory sighs in exasperation, but before either of us moves, Zoe calls down, her voice lowered to a hush. “Look who's coming. Shhh! Don't tell him we're here. Let's watch and see what he does.”

“Oh, no, that's an awful thing to do to him,” I cry in protest, but both Zoe and Dory tell me to shut my mouth. I watch guiltily as poor Lex enters the clearing, striding purposefully toward the labyrinth. He promised to come out this afternoon to see it; he's probably been looking for me. One thing for sure, he'll never expect to find me where I am. If I were a true friend, I'd warn him he's being watched; I'd kill him if he did this to me. Zoe Catherine smothers a giggle when Lex takes off his Red Sox cap and scratches his head. “Thought for a minute he was fixing to pray,” she says under her breath.

“That does it—I'm telling him we're here,” I say indignantly, but again, both Zoe and Dory shush me.

“Wait, please,” Dory begs. “It's too good an opportunity to see the effect the labyrinth has on somebody. We're like angels on high, watching a pilgrim.”

“Angels, my ass,” I hiss. “That's more ludicrous than Lex being a pilgrim. God, he's going to murder me for this!”

“Then you'd better shut up so he doesn't find out.” Dory smirks when I throw her a dirty look, but like a fool, I keep my silence. By that time Lex has walked over to the labyrinth and is studying it curiously.

Watching Lex pick up one of the river rocks and test the weight of it, I realize that he's surprised me in a way I hadn't thought I could still be in my business. When Elinor decided she wanted him back, I figured it was a done deal; I'd seen it happen so often. Women who are the ones to initiate a divorce have no idea how readily the men they leave will take them back. Can't recall the statistics, though I have them filed away somewhere. Lex, however, hesitated. On his own, without the usual advice I'd give to a client in the same situation, he's been playing it cool with her. Even after Elinor enlisted the help of Alexia, he held back. He's paid for his reticence because his daughter barely speaks to him now, claiming he's hurting and humiliating her mother. Although he and Elinor are seeing a lot of each other, Lex is still at the marina and she at her house. No doubt Elinor blames me, but I haven't influenced him in his decision. Unusual for a man who claims to still love his ex, he is proceeding with commendable caution.

“Is he going to walk the thing or just look at it?” Dory leans down and whispers to me when Lex replaces his cap, pulls his glasses out of his pocket, then squats to read the sign she made at the entrance to explain the mythic story behind the labyrinth and how it relates to the retreat participants.

“Not a chance in hell he'll walk it,” I whisper back. “If he does, I'll bring you the champagne bottle.”

“You're on,” she says, and Zoe squawks, “Hush up, you two—he'll hear us and spoil our fun.”

Yet again Lex surprises me. When he removes his cap this time, he holds it over his heart in what appears to be reverence, and he walks the labyrinth paths slowly and deliberately, taking his time. As Dory's sign explains, there are traditionally seven circles around the center, since seven has always been considered a sacred and magical number. Once you've walked the seven paths and entered the center, the return path becomes the eighth one. According to Dory, the number eight, made up of two circles, is a symbol of new beginnings: Complete seven days, and the eighth one is a new start.

Dory also swears that the way people approach labyrinths says a lot about their attitude toward life. On their trip to Europe this summer, she visited the famous labyrinth laid out on the floor of the cathedral in Chartres. After walking it herself, Dory stood aside and watched the various ways others walked it, which fascinated her. Some people took to the path with great joy, and some ponderously. Many walked it as though on a holy pilgrimage, while others cavorted through playfully. She watched a young man in punk attire arguing on his cell phone as he walked, gesturing wildly; and a frail, elderly couple who had to hold each other up as they inched their way to the center. One of her favorites was the businessman who entered the cathedral purposefully, walked directly to the center of the labyrinth without bothering to wind through the paths, stood there a moment, then walked out the same way, a satisfied smile on his face. She was also intrigued by what people did in the center. Some danced or whirled; others bowed their heads or prayed or lifted their arms high to the cathedral ceiling, and many laughed. What interested her most was that everyone did
something.
As bad as I feel for spying on Lex, I'm so curious to see what he does that, against my better judgment, I keep my silence.

I'm so surprised by what he does when he reaches the center that I look up at Dory, who appears to be as taken aback as I am. When her eyes meet mine, she grimaces and mouths, “I'm sorry, hon.” Tilting my head to glare at Zoe, I am gratified when she too looks shamefaced. Nothing can be done now but stay put, and make the two of them swear they will never tell Lex we witnessed this.

In the center of the labyrinth, Lex gets down on one knee, his head bowed low. Then he buries his face in his hands as his shoulders shake mightily with huge, racking sobs. I feel so bad for him that I want to jump down from my perch and comfort him, but there's no way without revealing my shameful spying. I'm caught in a trap of my own making, like the Minotaur of legend. Except the poor Minotaur didn't do anything except have the misfortune to be born a monster. I feel like a monster and want to place my hands over my ears when Lex crosses himself and begins praying. I don't want to hear his prayer, but if I let go of the branch to cover my ears, I'm bound to lose my balance and fall. The only thing I can do is turn my head away and try to shut out the sound of his anguished voice. “Oh, Lord,” he prays, “I come to you with a heavy heart, full of guilt and shame, and I ask for your forgiveness.” Because Lex is always acting the fool to cover his pain, I should've realized the torment he's been going through with Elinor and Alexia. He's been a much better friend to me than I have to him.

“I have committed a mortal sin,” Lex continues. “I've broken one of your sacred commandments by looking at a woman with lust in my heart. Actually, it was more than one woman. It was those three sitting in that oak tree.” Jumping to his feet, he grins and points to us, yelling, “Gotcha!”

Zoe Catherine lets out a squawk; Dory howls with laughter, and I come close to falling out of the tree. The bottle slips from my hand as I lose my balance and lurch sideways dizzily, but I manage to grab the branch with both hands before what could be a disastrous plunge ten feet down. Leaping over the rock-edged pathways with surprising agility, Lex runs to the foot of the tree, crying, “Hang on, m'lady—your knight in shining armor to the rescue!” Before he arrives, though, I jump down and land fairly gracefully instead of sprawled out on all fours. Fortunately the champagne bottle didn't break when it landed with a thud on the mossy floor beneath the oak, or my landing could've been different. I'm too embarrassed to face Lex, so I keep my eyes lowered while I nonchalantly brush dirt and leaves off my jeans.

“Hey, Yankee man,” Zoe Catherine calls down, “get yourself up this tree! You've got to see the labyrinth from here.”

“Yeah, right,” Lex hoots. “I can see me climbing my fat ass up there.”

“Aw, come on, Lex,” Dory says from her perch, her face high with color and her eyes bright. “It'll be your penance for pulling our legs like that. You had me in tears, I was so moved.”

“Serves you right for spying on me.” Hands on his hips, Lex glares at me as I struggle to keep a straight face while muttering, “Sorry.”

I link my hands together, forming a stirrup, and hold them out. “Put your foot here and hoist yourself up, Lex, then Dory can pull you the rest of the way.”

Dory scoots down to the branch where I was and leans forward, extending her hand. With his hands on his hips, Lex looks first at me, then up to Dory in disbelief. “Have you two lost what little minds you have? You'd have better luck getting a moose up that tree than me.”

“Bull hockey,” Zoe snorts. “Cooter climbs trees with me all the time. C'mon, Man of Maine—if Cooter can climb a tree, as bad as his arthritis is, I guaran-damn-tee that you can.”

Lex's eyes twinkle with mischief as he looks up at Zoe. “Speaking of that most fortunate of men, allow me to offer my congratulations to the future Mrs. Poulette.”

“
What!”
Dory and I shriek at the same time, and Dory leaves her perch to climb down. When she gets close enough, she holds out her arms to Lex before jumping down. To my amazement, he catches her as easily as if she were Abbie or Zach, and they laugh together.

Zoe begins her descent, and I tilt my head to call up to her, “Zoe Catherine Gaillard, I'm going to kill you if you've accepted Cooter's proposal without telling me first.”

Landing on the ground next to us as easily as one of her doves, Zoe lets out a mighty sigh. Although Zoe and Cooter have been companions and lovers for years, with both of them seemingly content with their relationship, recently Cooter put in for Zoe to marry him. Zoe pooh-poohed the idea, telling Cooter she had no intentions of marrying him or anyone.

Instead of responding to me, Zoe pounces on Lex. “What did that fool Cooter tell you?” she cries.

Lex grins, enjoying this. “Not just me, Swamp Woman. He's telling everybody in town that you're going to marry him.”

“Really? Did he actually say Zoe had accepted his proposal?” Dory questions.

Lex shrugs. “I assumed he wouldn't be telling it if she hadn't.” He winks at me, but I reach out my hand for Zoe's. All joking aside, I know her well enough to know she's furious.