Emilie Richards - No River Too Wide

She told herself the kind of panic she had felt back then was finished. She told herself there was no reason to transfer those feelings to a simple shopping excursion. Unfortunately nobody knew better than she that telling herself something helped very little. Because for too many years at the beginning of her marriage she had told herself if she just learned to be a better wife, she would have a happy life.

She needed to sit down. Taylor had said something about a park. She saw a green space to her right and started in that direction.

The little triangular wedge was picturesque, with rocks that mimicked the surrounding mountains and a waterfall running over them. Cantilevered steps, or possibly seats, led to a flat area near the center. People were playing chess at one end, and not far from her a disheveled old man on one of the benches strummed a banjo. In between bursts of discordant music he fed a pointy-eared boxer bites of a sub sandwich.

Had she been snatched by aliens and deposited on Mars, she couldn’t have felt more like a stranger in a strange land.

She headed for a bench without an occupant and gratefully sat before her knees gave way. She closed her eyes. She knew fear. She understood fear. What she didn’t understand was why, now that the person she feared most was hundreds of miles away, she was still trembling.

“Got room here?”

The voice startled her, and her eyes flew open. A young man with dark hair covered by a colorful baseball cap didn’t wait for her reply. He sat on the other end of the bench and stuck his legs out in front of him.

“This is my favorite bench because of the sun,” he said.

She hadn’t chosen the bench for any reason except proximity, but now Jan noticed that she was sitting in a puddle of sunshine.

She wanted to move away. Her stomach was rebelling, and talking to a stranger seemed impossible. She had enough problems thinking of things to say to Taylor and Maddie. So many years had passed when simple conversation had been denied her that sometimes in Topeka, in the hours when she was home alone, she had pretended to be two people.

Nice to meet you, Janine. Tell me about yourself.

Well, thanks for asking. There’s not much to tell except that I hate my life and I can’t figure out how to have a better one and live to tell the story.

“Do you come here often?” the young man asked.

She ventured another glance. He was still sitting exactly where he’d flopped down, his face turned toward the sun and his eyes hidden by sunglasses. He had a strong profile with a nose like a hawk’s beak. Even seated he seemed tall and muscular.

“No,” she said.

“Been to the drum circle?”

“No.”

“You ought to give it a try. Crowd-watching’s a big part of the fun. Lots of different kinds of people come. Tourists... Are you just visiting?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s a good place to live if you’re looking for one.”

“Why?”

He opened his eyes and lifted an eyebrow. “Why is it a good place to live?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Not too many places where so many different kinds of people get along. Nobody stands out much here. You can be whoever you want to be, and nobody thinks you’re strange. At least most people don’t think so.”

“How do you figure out who you want to be?” she asked before she thought better of it.

He looked surprised. “Isn’t that the easy part?”

“No.”

“I guess you figure out who you admire, and you try to be like that.”

She admired people with courage, people who’d had dreams they’d pursued despite obstacles. People who had been able to protect their children.

She blinked back tears. “And if you fail?”

“Aren’t you too young to write off life that way?”

She wondered.

He stretched and stood, long arms reaching out as if to embrace the world. “I say go for whatever it is you haven’t done yet. You’ve got time right up until you draw your last breath.” He gave a quick, final wave, almost a salute, and strolled off.

She asked herself what she hadn’t done yet, and the answer was so overwhelming she could hardly breathe. If she took his advice, where would she start?

She gazed around the park, searching for a clue. Minutes passed and finally her heart rate began to slow. Then she saw the answer was simple.

“Blue jeans.”

It didn’t matter if she was frightened by everyday things that others took for granted. It didn’t matter if she felt alone in the world, something Rex had repeatedly warned her would happen if she ever tried to leave him. It didn’t matter that she no longer knew what a woman like her could actually achieve. Perhaps it didn’t even matter that she had failed at the things she had most hoped to accomplish and was still seeking forgiveness.

What mattered now were jeans. From what she could tell, she was the only person in Asheville who didn’t own a pair. If she didn’t want to stand out in the crowd, now was the time to remedy that.

She got to her feet, and her knees still trembled, but life was going to be like this. A pair of blue jeans. An afternoon alone in a strange—in more ways than one—city. Participating in a short conversation with someone she’d never met and wasn’t likely to see again.

Life. One step at a time with nobody blocking the way.

And if, for one moment after Taylor had dropped her off, she had yearned for Rex—who had all the answers as well as all the questions—then she supposed she could seek forgiveness for that, as well.

But first, one small thing. A pair of jeans.

This she could do.

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