Chapter 6
On the way back to the hotel, flushed from several successful climbs, Emily decided she might as well add a yoga class to her day’s accomplishments.
Soon after moving back to GraceTown, Chloe had raved about discovering Vital Yoga. Emily recalled thinking at the time that the recently opened business must be pretty special to provoke such accolades.
Emily had never set foot in a yoga class. Though yoga had been around for thousands of years, she didn’t recall it being “a thing” until the 1960s.
While enjoying a protein smoothie at GraceTown Juice, Emily pulled up the studio’s website on her phone and found the class times.
It still surprised her how easy it had been to set up her phone and watch. She had considered herself to be relatively computer savvy for a ninety-two-year-old, but her new body appeared to have been blessed with mad tech skills.
Finishing off the smoothie, she glanced at her new watch and smiled. If she hurried, she’d have just enough time to make the next class.
When Emily stepped into Vital Yoga thirty minutes later, the studio’s welcoming feel began with the tall woman at the door.
The woman, her body lean and muscular, wore a midriff-baring tank top and yoga pants. Curly dark hair, styled in what Emily recognized as double Dutch box braids, suited her strikingly beautiful face.
“Welcome to Vital Yoga. I’m Tibby Washington.” She offered a friendly smile. “How may I help you?”
“Hi, I’m Emily Curtis.” Emily glanced around this outer area of the studio that appeared to sell everything from vitamins and supplements to cute pants and tops. “I thought I’d take in a class. Though I have to warn you, I’ve never done yoga before and don’t have a clue what to do.”
“No worries. The classes here are for all levels. I’m the instructor today. I’ll be offering guidance throughout the practice to you and the other students.”
“Any feedback will be appreciated.” Emily wondered if she would find the poses easy or difficult. She had so much to learn about her new body.
“If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I do have a quick one. Who do I pay for the class?”
“This first one is free.” Tibby stepped back from the door, allowing other students to enter. “After that, it’s up to you. Some prefer to pay class by class, although buying ten sessions or paying by the month ends up being the most cost-effective options.”
“I don’t know…” Emily tapped two fingers against her lips.
“Take the class. See what you think. No need to decide now.” Tibby gestured. “There’s a sheet on the table over there detailing the various pricing options. The information is also on the website.”
“Thanks.” As students continued to stream through the door, Emily noticed most had mats tucked under their arms.
She turned back to Tibby. “I didn’t bring a mat.”
The instructor offered a reassuring smile. “We have some at the back of the studio. While some students prefer to bring their own, it isn’t necessary.”
“Great.”
“Also,” Tibby gestured to the tiny purse Emily had brought with her and then to her shoes, “we have shoe trays and shelves at the back of the room where you can store your bag and shoes. I encourage you to bring only essentials into the practice area. We like to maintain a clutter-free and calming environment.”
“So much to learn,” Emily murmured. She wasn’t complaining, simply thinking of all she was now free to experience.
“Class will start in a few minutes.” Tibby smiled and greeted several students, then turned back to Emily. “As I said, you’ll find mats at the back of the studio. Grab one and set it wherever you feel comfortable.”
“Thanks, Ms. Washington?—”
“Please, call me Tibby.” The woman smiled. “We’re not overly formal here.”
“Well, Tibby,” Emily smiled, “I think this is going to be quite an adventure.”
“Seriously, any questions, let me know.”
Emily nodded, but knew she wouldn’t disrupt the session with a bunch of newbie questions. Inside the studio, she noticed most seemed to prefer the front or the middle of the room.
Settling the mat in what she hoped was the back row, Emily felt her heart rate quicken. She could do this. She had youth and vigor and desire.
If she liked it, she would come back and learn more. If she didn’t, she’d find another new activity to explore. The thought of the endless possibilities had blood racing through her veins.
Three minutes before the class was scheduled to start, two men strolled in. Both wore athletic shorts and T-shirts. The blond one appeared to know what to do, grabbing a mat, then motioning to his friend to do the same.
It took Emily a second to make the connection. The blond man was Joe Wexman. Folklore studies professor at Collister. Married to Sophie, great-granddaughter of Beulah Jessup—now deceased—a classmate of Til’s.
In high school, long, long ago, her closest friends had been Beulah and Irene Anderson. After Irene’s passing, she and Beulah had grown even closer.
All her classmates were gone now. She’d been the last woman standing.
The men set their mats beside Emily, making a row of the three of them. She offered the two a smile, then turned her gaze to the front and gave Tibby her full attention.
The soft instrumental music filling the studio relaxed and soothed. When Tibby began speaking, Emily found her voice as calming as the music.
“Namaste, everyone.” Tibby glanced around the class. “I’m very glad to see all of you. I invite you to set an intention for your practice today. During the session, focus on something specific you wish to bring into your life. This could be peace, gratitude or anything personally meaningful.”
Emily considered what should be her focus. Gratitude, she decided, for being given this opportunity to experience life in a new and different way.
“We’ll begin with a brief centering exercise.”
The dark-haired guy, the one closest to her, murmured something to his friend that Emily couldn’t make out.
Joe kept his attention firmly fixed on Tibby even as his lips quirked upward.
“Please find a comfortable seated position on your mat, either cross-legged, kneeling or sitting on a bolster or block for support.” Tibby’s soft tone was as smooth as melted butter.
Emily chose the cross-legged pose. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed both men following her lead.
“Now, gently close your eyes.”
Everything around Emily faded except for Tibby and her voice.
As the session progressed, Emily continued to follow Tibby’s directions to the best of her ability. Sometimes she hit the mark and found the pose relatively easy to master. Other times, she fell far short.
“May I show you how to deepen that stretch ever so slightly?”
Startled, Emily looked up into Tibby’s dark eyes. “Please.”
“Proper alignment is essential. Since you have that, this is a way to deepen the stretch.”
Emily followed Tibby’s instructions and immediately felt the difference. She glanced at Tibby and smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” Tibby moved on to Joe.
“Joe, for Warrior II, you need to ensure your front knee is directly above your ankle, and it tracks in line with your second toe.”
Tibby then turned her attention to the dark-haired guy. “Keep your arms parallel to the ground. Good. That’s good. Now find stability in your stance by pressing the outer edge of your back foot firmly into the mat. Yes, just like that.”
As if satisfied, Tibby moved on.
The hour went by quickly, concluding with Tibby leading the class through a series of cool-down poses, culminating with a Corpse pose. Emily thought this one especially appropriate, considering what had recently happened to her.
As she lay on the mat, her arms and legs comfortably apart, palms facing up and eyes closed, Emily found herself letting go of any remaining tension.
The final breathing exercise, involving deep inhales and exhales, brought the class to a close.
“Thank you for your practice and dedication. I encourage you to carry the benefits of your practice with you into your daily life.” Tibby brought her palms together and bowed her head. “Namaste.”
“Namaste,” the class echoed.
Reaching down to pick up her mat, Emily couldn’t help but smile. Yoga definitely had a place in her new life.
“How did you enjoy the class?”
Emily already had her shoes on and bag over her shoulder when Tibby approached her.
“I loved it. I would have told you, but you were busy with other students.” Emily glanced at her watch. “I don’t have time now, but I’ll definitely be looking to purchase a package of ten sessions to start.”
“Fabulous. Keep in mind we also have monthly rates that are even more affordable.”
While Emily knew that she wanted to return and knew she could come again next week, after that she didn’t know what she’d be doing.
Endless possibilities.
The world was, as her good friend Irene Anderson used to say, her oyster.
“I’m always available to answer any questions you might have.” The warmth in Tibby’s eyes was reflected in her voice. “I hope to see you back very soon.”
Emily had turned toward the door when she heard Tibby greet Joe Wexman.
“Joe, it’s good to see you again. And you brought a friend.”
“I lost a bet.”
Emily recognized that voice as belonging to the dark-haired guy.
Tibby laughed. “Well, I hope you enjoyed yourself anyway.”
“Joe tells me I need to chill.” The man chuckled. “He’s probably right.”
Emily was out the door before she could hear Tibby’s response. Once on the sidewalk, she turned in the direction of the River Walk.
Near the entrance, a twentysomething woman played a keyboard and sang. A portable amplification system did a nice job of projecting her voice while a video setup recorded.
The emotional song, with its powerful melody and heartfelt lyrics, clearly captivated the small audience that stood nearby.
Emily understood. The lyrics, about being true to yourself, were something everyone could relate to.
In her head, Emily imagined how a violin would add to the listener’s enjoyment. As the last note of the song ended, Emily not only clapped with the rest of the crowd, she reached into her bag, pulled out a ten-dollar bill and dropped it into the hat.
For a second, her eyes met those of the girl with the mass of curly brown hair, and something passed between them—musician to musician.
Musician? Seriously, where had that thought even come from? Yet, as Emily stood there, her fingers itched to pick up the violin and give life to the sweet music running through her head.
She suddenly wanted nothing more than to go to her hotel room, take the violin out of its case and play.
Something, maybe it was that stirring deep inside her soul, said that it was time.
Turning on her heel, Emily headed in the direction of the hotel and her instrument.
Once in her room, Emily focused on the case atop the dresser. Ready to embrace possibilities, she opened it. Her breath caught at the luxurious velvet interior and the glossy instrument nestled in the purple softness.
Without thought, as if she’d performed the action a thousand times before, she lifted a shoulder pad out of the case and attached it to the back of the instrument.
Then she applied rosin to the bow hair, somehow knowing that the sticky material was what helped the strings to vibrate and produce sound. Emily wasn’t sure how she knew this step was necessary any more than she knew—just knew—that she could play this instrument.
This was her opportunity, Emily thought, to see if that intuition held true. She was on the top floor of the hotel, and most everyone staying here were likely out of their rooms at this time of day. If she played softly, she shouldn’t disturb anyone still around.
There was sheet music in the case, but Emily didn’t take it out. Instead, she closed her eyes and began with the tune the girl on the street had been playing yesterday.
The sweet sounds emanating from the instrument touched something deep inside her. By the time she finished, Emily had to blink away tears.
At that moment, she realized that Serena had not only given her the gift of youth, she’d given her the gift of music. Had that been deliberate?
Emily found herself seized with a sudden desire, a need to play more, but she knew this wasn’t the place for that.
Packing up the violin, Emily slung the case over her back and decided to see what playing on the street was like.
Just one more new adventure on a day filled with them.
The River Walk was so close that Emily reached the entrance in a matter of minutes. The girl with the gorgeous voice was still there.
At the sound of Emily’s footsteps, the girl stopped what she was doing and turned. “Something I can help you with?”
Emily lifted the case. “I wondered if we could play a few songs together?”
The girl didn’t hesitate. She immediately shook her head. “I work alone.”
“I heard you play. You’re good.”
“Thanks, but as I said, I?—”
“I’m good, too. My instrument would add, not take away.”
“Look.” The girl met Emily’s gaze head on. “I’m not interested. I’m a solo act, and this is my spot. You need to find your own.”
“I don’t want to compete with you,” Emily assured her. “I just want to?—”
“Like I said, not interested.” With that comment, the girl turned back to the camera setup.
Emily considered her options. She could walk back to the hotel, but why? Surely there were dozens of places where she could play and enjoy the gorgeous sunshine.
Her lips slowly lifted. She knew the perfect spot.
In the shadow of the Angel of GraceTown, Emily slipped the violin from its case. Anticipation coursed through her veins like an awakened river. Emily wasn’t sure what melodies would call to her once she began to play. There were so many clamoring inside her head right now it seemed impossible to just pick one.
Under the benevolent smile of the statue, Emily began to play. She didn’t have an amplification system or any backing tracks, though she could see both in her future. Today, it was simply her, a violin and a world of life’s experiences.
She thought about Papa and what losing him had been like. The mournful tune that rose up and spilled out had those passing by stopping to listen.
She thought of the friends who were no longer with her. She remembered Vincent.
Emily wrung every bit of emotion out of “Danny Boy” with her bow, her heart swelling and expanding with the music. By the time she finished, her eyes were damp.
She wasn’t alone. Several in the audience that had gathered also wiped away tears.
Emily lightened up on the next rendition, playing an acoustic version of an Adele hit, one that Chloe had particularly loved during her teen years, then going folksy with a melody that had people swaying where they stood.
She hadn’t left her case open, so she was surprised when men and women came up and placed bills and coins on top of the case, along with sharing smiles and words of thanks with her.
Emily played for what felt like hours, until the tangled emotions inside her quieted and a sense of peace stole over her.
The crowd thinned as dinnertime approached. Emily couldn’t believe how much money people had left for her. She smiled as she packed up and considered the endless food options nearby. But when she began walking, instead of strolling to the River Walk and its plethora of eateries, she found herself heading in the direction of her house. Or rather, Til’s house.
Knowing her body had been found in the park had her wondering what had been happening since. Would there be an investigation? A funeral? She had a plot next to her parents in the GraceTown cemetery, but had always told friends that when she passed, she didn’t want any fuss.
Would they honor her request?
When she reached the block where her house sat, she noticed several cars parked out front. One she recognized as belonging to Beverly and Geraldine.
Emily spotted them on the porch. Though she couldn’t be positive, because their bodies blocked her view, it appeared Lisa and Rosemary were with them.
The four women stood, arms wrapped around one another, heads bowed and shoulders shaking. Emily realized they were crying, grieving for her.
For a second, a longing rose up in her, a yearning to go back to the way things had been. These were her friends, women she’d trusted with her life.
When she’d drunk the liquid, she had done it hoping she would be able to rekindle her friendship with them eventually, only in a different way.
That was still possible, she assured herself. She simply had to find a way to reconnect. Finding solace in the possibility, she turned and began walking away from her old home and toward her future.