Reinventing Rachel (30 page)

She grinned. “I’d be a fool to turn you down, wouldn’t I?”

Leah chuckled. “Well, I hate to pass that kind of judgment … but yes.”

Rachel laughed. “All right,” she said with a smile. “Let’s do it.” Her smile grew wider as Leah and Declan let out a cheer. “So when should we make the big move?”

“We can start sorting through things while the others are gone this afternoon,” Declan said. “Then once Jasmine and Mark come back with the boxes, we can all pitch in to get you packed. I’ll bet we can get you out of here in less than twenty-four hours if you want.”

Maybe it wouldn’t be so awkward being alone with Declan if we have a task to complete.
“Okay, that sounds good.”

Declan offered to pray before lunch, and without thinking Rachel bent her head and closed her eyes. She felt a warmth in her chest as Declan spoke that made her aware of the cold that had been there without her knowing. When they raised their heads he caught her eye and smiled. She quickly focused on her sandwich.

So we’re going to be alone, eh?
It was going to be an interesting afternoon.

o

Declan surveyed the living room, hands in his pockets. “So, how should we start?”

Rachel looked around. “Why don’t you start by throwing out the magazines in here and Daphne’s room. Heaven knows I have no need for
Cosmo
and
InStyle
. I’ll go around and make sure all my stuff is moved into my room so it doesn’t get mixed up with Daphne’s things.”

Declan nodded and began to gather the scattered back issues while Rachel took a slow tour of the room, looking carefully at every object to make sure it wasn’t hers.

She thought of a question she’d meant to ask earlier but had forgotten. “So what meeting was Jasmine talking about, do you know?”

“Oh, she goes to AA.”

Rachel stopped. “AA, like, Alcoholics Anonymous, that AA?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s an alcoholic?”

“You wouldn’t know it, looking at her, you’re right.” He placed a stack of magazines on the bar. “She’s very open about it, though—you should talk to her sometime. She really likes the meetings. I’m sure she’d be happy to bring you if you thought it would be helpful.”

“Oh, I don’t know …”

“I know she says those meetings are what kept her sober for the last few years. If nothing else you might find some people who can relate to what you’ve gone through.”

She nodded, then asked the question she’d be wondering about ever since that morning. “So … you didn’t tell anyone what happened, did you?”

“You mean how I completely took advantage of your emotional vulnerability?” His tone told her how disgusted he still was with himself. “Yes, actually, I did.”

She froze. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t going to share it with anyone, but when Leah told us what had happened and that she thought we should help, I realized I’d be making a mistake not to let them know what I’d done. If I hadn’t, then this—with you, right now—would be a lot more … difficult.”

He held her gaze with his earnest stare. “I want you to know too, that regardless of how I may feel, I won’t bring it up to you again. And if you feel uncomfortable around me, I won’t come ’round when you move in with the girls.”

“But—but you can’t just stop coming over. They’re your community.”

He ran his hand through his hair and shrugged. “Aye, but you’re part of that community too, even if you’re not an ‘official’ member. And it would be selfish of me to ignore your discomfort just so I could keep getting that fabulous cooking of Jasmine’s.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Rachel shook her head. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that, even if I was uncomfortable. Which … well, I’m not as uncomfortable as I thought I’d be.” She pulled at the hem of her sweater. “I just wish the timing was different.”

He chuckled. “So do I.”

“So … how
do
you feel?”

“About—about you?”

“Yeah.”

He was silent for a moment as he studied her, and she cringed inside. She should have known better.

But then his features softened and she thought she’d melt from the look he gave her. “I feel like if we were talking two months from now, I would probably stop talking and just kiss you again.”

Her breath caught in her lungs. “Oh.”

“Aye.” He gave her another smile, then went into Daphne’s room. Rachel resumed her tour, though her thoughts were somewhere else altogether. After a few moments she said, “I looked for the alcohol.”

“As I recall, Jasmine was the one who thought to take those out this morning.”

She sighed, feeling defeated. Maybe Declan was right. Maybe she’d talk to Jasmine about AA this evening.

Like father, like daughter—in more ways than I like to admit.

Chapter 22

It was Thanksgiving Eve when Rachel finally got up the courage to join Jasmine at AA. She’d been out of the hospital for over a week, and when she woke up that morning she noticed the clouds in her head had begun to disappear. She didn’t feel as fuzzy, as
down
has she had been. She was able to get out of bed without five minutes of psyching herself up.

She fixed herself some cereal and plunked down in the recliner that sat in the corner of the living room. From that spot she could see the doors that led to the other bedrooms. Leah’s was open; she was working first shift that morning and had left a couple hours ago. Anne’s was open as well; she had an early morning class on Wednesdays and Fridays. Jasmine’s was still closed, though Rachel thought she detected quiet music playing behind it. Besides being a talented cook, Jasmine was also an accomplished violinist, and the music she listened to most often tended to be classical pieces featuring her favorite instrument.

Two days ago Rachel had started back at All Together Now. Ruby Jean had gone easy on her, setting her up with busywork that didn’t require a lot of concentration. By the end of the day she’d accomplished much of what she’d been given, but had been exhausted in every possible way. Yesterday she’d had no choice but to work the front because two employees called in with the flu, so she and Jack had worked the lunch shift together. It was awkward at first, but thankfully the rush of customers had been so heavy they’d had no time to socialize until nearly two hours had passed. By then the ice had broken and they were able to chat amiably, albeit guardedly, until his shift ended. When she’d come home that evening she’d again been exhausted, though not as emotionally drained as she’d been the day before.

She spent the rest of her morning transcribing the notes she’d written in the hospital. She’d started them just after moving in with Leah and the others, and found that typing was therapeutic. She wasn’t sure what she’d do with them once she was finished, but she found that the more she typed, the more ideas came to her for stories and characters. Creative writing had been a favorite pastime during high school and college, but she’d stopped when life had gotten busy after graduation. Now she was writing down the ideas as they came, which slowed down the transcribing but also motivated her to keep with it.
Maybe coffee isn’t my only option in life.

She heard Jasmine in the kitchen around lunch time and decided to join her. Jasmine gave her a bright smile when she entered. “I’m making egg salad. Want some?”

“Absolutely. I’ll eat anything you make. Declan was right, you’re an amazing cook.”

Jasmine batted her eyes and smiled. “I just like to play around.”

“Uh huh,” Rachel said sarcastically.

Jasmine gave Rachel a sidelong look. “You seem just a smidge more … chipper today.”

“I
feel
a smidge more chipper.”

“Hey, that’s great!”

“Yeah, it is. It really is.”

“Work’s been all right for you the last couple days?”

“Better than it had been, yes. And today I am almost looking forward to work, if you can believe it.”

“Now that is a major improvement. Amen.”

Rachel smiled. “Thanks.”

Jasmine squirted mayonnaise and dijon into the bowl of mashed egg, then sliced off a ring of red onion and began to dice it. “So, you’re still coming to AA with me after lunch, right?”

Rachel bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah. Not sure how I feel about it, though.”

“Just remember you’re not committing to coming forever.”

Rachel poured them each a glass of water. “What was your mind-set when you went the first time? Did you anticipate going regularly or were you just checking it out?”

Jasmine smirked. “I didn’t have a choice, actually. My parents basically drove me there and walked me to the door. If I hadn’t agreed to go, they’d have stopped paying for college.”

“Ah, gotcha.”

“I was twenty and stupid and thought they were overreacting. I would go to the meetings and sit in the back listening to music on my phone. I didn’t participate or pay any attention at all, but they didn’t know that, so I figured we were all happy.” She rolled her eyes, dumping the diced onion into the bowl and then adding a dash of paprika. “I was still drinking—they just didn’t know it. But then I nearly got myself killed while driving drunk. Off I went to rehab, and then AA again, but this time I was listening. My mentor is the one who led me to Christ.”

“Wow. Heck of a story.” Questions filled her mind, but she didn’t want to intrude on Jasmine’s privacy. “So … how long have you been sober?”

“Um …” She stopped mixing and counted on her fingers for a moment. “Four years, three months, and seventeen days.”

Rachel laughed. “Wow, down to the day, huh?”

“It’s a big accomplishment for me. I started drinking when I was twelve.”

“Twelve?!”

“Alcohol was imbibed very freely in my family. It was easy to find and no one minded if I took a sip of their wine or beer or whatever, just to try it out. But no one else has an actual addiction. They can all take it or leave it—in fact, ever since I went into rehab, they’ve all stopped drinking when I’m home, and my mom told me she barely drinks at all anymore; it just doesn’t appeal to her.” She crumbled a strip of bacon into the mix and followed it with a spoonful of sour cream. “I, on the other hand, can’t even keep wine in the house to cook with, which makes some recipes a bit difficult. I’ve occasionally had Leah run down to a neighbor to beg off whatever amount I need for a dish. It’s that hard for me.”

“Even after four years?”

“Four years is less than half the time I spent drinking before going to rehab. I still get a pretty decent-sized craving once a week or so.”

“So what do you do then?” Rachel had had a pretty decent-sized craving, albeit only a mental one, nearly every day since coming home. The only thing that had stopped her from running for the liquor store had been the omnipresence of the house church gang. Once she’d started back at the café, it had been her fear of letting Ruby Jean down and losing her job. But she worried that she’d break one of these days.

“It depends. If I’m home, I try to go for a run, or pop in an exercise video, or play my violin for a while. Keeping myself busy helps get my mind off it. If I’m in class and I can’t stop thinking about it, I just start praying like a madwoman. Sometimes I’ll text my mentor, or call her if I can. She’s really good at talking me down.”

She pulled two rolls from the fridge and ripped them open, then placed them in the toaster oven. “The first meeting I went to after rehab, when I was actually in the right frame of mind about it all, I was so scared. I was afraid I would never stay sober, that no one would ever understand how hard it was for me, or that I’d never find a mentor because they’d all think I was a hopeless cause. But Nell—that’s my mentor—came up to me right away and took me under her wing. She told me later she recognized the fear on my face because she’d felt the same way when she’d first gone. She was ten years sober then and helping to run the meetings.”

“Will she be there today?”

Jasmine shook her head. “No—I moved out here last year from New York. She’s back in Floral Park, leading a women’s-only group.”

“Women’s only—is that what today’s meeting will be?”

“No, there isn’t one that meets at this time, but it’s not a big deal. My parents were more concerned about it being women’s only when I was younger. But everyone’s really friendly—either that or they just keep to themselves. You’ll see.”

They left after lunch, catching a bus and riding for ten minutes before disembarking at a Presbyterian church. Rachel followed Jasmine’s lead and served herself coffee before taking a seat in the circle of chairs and was relieved by how friendly most of the other attendees were. Many knew Jasmine by name and encouraged Rachel to start coming more often.

The meeting was not what she had expected. No smoke-filled room, no silly rituals. Just people talking about where they were on their journey, admitting when they’d fallen and offering support to each other.

The one element that really gripped her came during a testimonial. A woman not much older than Rachel had been sharing her story when she’d made a comment that flipped a switch in her mind. “I know not everyone here relies on the God I rely on as their higher power. I didn’t rely on him, either, for the first two years of my attempts at sobriety. But I kept falling off the wagon, or taking giant, willful leaps off the back of it, and I blamed the program because I thought it should work better than it did. But when I stopped praying to some nameless higher power and started praying to the one true God, that’s when things really began to change. That was three years, nine months, and twenty-eight days ago.”

The remark felt like yet another attempt by God to get her attention. She’d been mostly ignoring the spiritual discussions Leah and the others got into, trying not to think too hard about the conversation she and Leah had the day she’d come home from the hospital and generally shoving aside any thoughts about God. But it felt like each instance was another rock hurled at her fragile defenses. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold out.

The group had closed with the Serenity Prayer, recited on their feet with their heads bowed. Rachel didn’t know the words well enough to recite them, but she took a chance and took them to heart. “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change”—
I can’t change what happened, or the things I’ve gone through, or the fact that I’m apparently an alcoholic, so I’m going to stop whining about them—
“courage to change the things I can”—
I think I want to give it another shot with you, God. I’m not 100 percent sure, and I might go home and totally change my mind on this, but right now, anyway, I think I want to try—“
and wisdom to know the difference”—
There are things I can’t fix, so you’re going to have to help me let them go and give them to you, because I’ve really gotten used to trying to do it on my own, despite the lousy job I was doing of it.

When she’d pulled on her coat,
her eye caught the edge of her tattoo peeking out from beneath her sweater sleeve.
Freedom
.

Maybe.
She’d followed Jasmine from the church, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.
Maybe.

o

“So how was AA?” Leah tossed Rachel the bag of marshmallows and leaned her skewer toward the fireplace. “If you want to talk about it, that is. If you don’t, that’s cool.”

Rachel pushed a marshmallow onto her own skewer and dropped the bag beside her. “It was … interesting. I’m really glad I went.”

“That’s good. Think you’ll go back?”

Rachel knew from looking at the materials Jasmine had picked up for her that they recommended attending ninety meetings in ninety days. “I might. To do it like they say you should is a big commitment.”

“It’s a big addiction.”

“True.” Rachel slowly turned her skewer over the fire. “I didn’t know they talked so much about God there. It took me by surprise. I feel like, since I’ve been back from the hospital, God’s been following me like a lost puppy, nipping on my heels and trying to get me to pick him up.”

Leah laughed. “That’s an interesting metaphor.”

“Well, it’s true.” Rachel grinned. “Today was another example. This woman got up and talked about how she didn’t start to really improve until she stopped relying on a ‘higher power’ and started relying on God. I nearly wanted to just stand up and say, ‘Okay, point taken. Leave me alone now.’”

“He’s a persistent fellow when he wants to be.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

Rachel sighed, watching the shell of the marshmallow brown and bubble. “I don’t think I can
not
believe in him. Which means I have to figure out if I’m going to admit he’s there and just ignore him, or else give in and start trying to figure out how to follow him again. And given how he keeps popping up everywhere, I have a feeling ignoring him is going to be difficult.”

Leah chuckled. “Crazy puppy.”

“Seriously!” Rachel laughed, but sobered quickly. “Part of me feels … I don’t know, intruded upon. Like he wants me back so he thinks he can just bug me until I relent. How rude is that? But then I remember this is
God
I’m talking about, and if he is who the Bible says he is, then he pretty much has that right. And then I feel sort of flattered—like, God’s pestering me because he … he
loves
me?” She pulled off the marshmallow and thought as she chewed. She thought back to the last time she was in a worship service in California. She was amazed by God’s love then, too. But she couldn’t believe how differently she had viewed him. Somehow—thanks in part to Leah and, she hated to admit it, thanks in part to recent events—her perspective was taking a new shape. God’s love had once seemed to Rachel like a report card for a job well done. But she could no longer rest on her laurels, and yet now, God’s love seemed even bigger. Still, questions lingered.