Chapter 9
Reva glanced at her Escalade’s dashboard clock, noting she was a full fifteen minutes early for her meeting. Her girlfriends called her penchant for punctuality quirky. Perhaps, but her habit of arriving early was practical and afforded her precious time she used to tick tasks off her ever-present list.
Among today’s priorities was reaching out to Carlene Baker, a valued member of her community facing health concerns. Delving into her bag, Reva retrieved her phone to send Carlene a message, kindly offering a ride for Carlene’s doctor’s appointment the next day.
Carlene’s response was immediate, tinged with polite refusal. “Oh, that’s not necessary. You’re far too busy. I can drive.”
Reva knew better. Carlene, with her white hair and petite frame, struggled to peer over the steering wheel due to severe osteoporosis, which had further diminished her already small stature.
With a smile, Riva quickly tapped out a firm reply. “Nonsense, I’ll be there at eleven.”
Turning off her phone, Reva’s mind shifted to her schedule, mentally calculating the time needed to return from her morning hearing to fulfill her promise to Carlene.
A tap on her window drew her attention. She pressed the button and waited for the glass to lower. “Hey, Van. What’s up?”
“The doors are locked. You have a key, right?”
“Yeah.” She frowned, puzzled. “It’s usually open.”
Just as she said it, a blue pickup pulled into the gravel parking lot. George Argyle scrambled out and held up a set of keys. “Sorry, everyone. Got held up with some bears crossing the highway. Damn tourists stopped, got out of their cars with cameras and phones, and stood right in the middle of the road, blocking it.”
He murmured a quiet curse, his footsteps leading him toward the entrance of Moose Chapel. Reva trailed behind Van, her curiosity piqued by his grouchy nature. “How’s the week been treating you, Van?”
Adjusting his John Deere cap, Van shared his plight. “My lawnmower’s given up on me. Had to order parts, and they won’t arrive till next week. The missus is keen on having the lawn trimmed, but it seems she’ll have to be patient a bit longer.” A shadow of frustration flickered across his face as he spoke.
Reva smiled. Van’s relationship with his wife was legendary. He would move the Tetons into the sea to make her happy.
She plucked her phone back out of her purse. “Tell you what, I’ll make a quick call,” she said decisively. Not pausing for his response, she swiftly dialed a number and pressed the phone to her ear, anticipating the voice that would soon greet her from the other end.
“Hey, Reva. What’s up?”
“Hey, Merck. Is your kid still mowing lawns to raise money for his football camp?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Tell him to show up at Van Bennett’s tomorrow with his lawnmower and trimmer. I’ll pay him extra if he does a good job.”
“You bet,” Merck said. “I’ll send him over. Thanks, Reva.”
Reva clicked off the call and turned to Van, smiling. “You tell that sweet wife she doesn’t have to wait.”
Van shook his head. “You didn’t have to do that, Reva. And to make things clear, I can pay for my own lawn to be mowed.”
“Yes, I know. This is my gift.” She drew him into a shoulder hug as they made their way inside and down the stairs to the basement. “If my offer still bothers you, simply pay the favor forward to someone else.”
The room was lined with folding chairs. Against the back wall stood a long table covered with a disposable tablecloth topped with a large box filled with donuts and maple bars on one end. On the other end, paper coffee cups and a basket filled with packets of sugar and creamer were neatly arranged next to a stainless-steel coffee urn.
Dick Jacobs, Capri’s stepfather, scanned the donut box and lifted a chocolate-covered one onto a napkin. He turned. “Can I get you a maple bar, Reva?”
She smiled back at him. “No thanks, Dick.” She pointed to her hips. “Watching my figure.”
That brought a smile to his face. “Me, too.” He followed up the statement with a bite of donut.
Dick had lost a tremendous amount of weight during his recent cancer treatments when he was unable to eat. She was glad to see his appetite had returned.
Reva made her way past a row of empty chairs and sat next to Dorothy Montgomery, who proudly held her one-year coin in her hands.
“Well, look at that,” Reva remarked, pointing to it.
Dot beamed. “You work the program, and the program works for you.” The phrase underscored the idea that active participation and commitment to the Alcoholics Anonymous program’s principles and steps were crucial for achieving and maintaining sobriety.
Reva reached and squeezed her hand. “Yes, every one of us in here knows that to be true.”
Minutes later, the meeting began. Reva grabbed her well-worn and dog-eared copy of the Big Book from her purse and headed for the podium. “Hey, everyone…let’s take our seats.”
The small assembly at the back quietly settled into their chairs.
Reva opened her book and began to read aloud the evening’s presentation, focusing on the theme of surrendering control and acknowledging that not everything is within one’s power to manage.
As her voice filled the room, the words resonated inside her. These principles felt particularly poignant tonight as she had been wrestling with her feelings over Merritt’s surprise revelations earlier this week.
While she was no longer in love with Merritt, Reva’s instinct was to steer herself clear of the emotional storm of his choices. But her desire to manage the outcome of Merritt’s decisions was an exercise in futility. The only power truly hers was in how she chose to respond—an insight she illuminated during open sharing time.
As the last of the personal stories and reflections tapered off, the room grew quiet. Reva’s voice, steady and clear, broke the silence. “God, grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, the courage to change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
A unified “Amen” filled the room.
The Serenity Prayer, a personal anchor for Reva, resonated deeply within her. How often had these words served as a balm for her soul, especially during the challenging early stages of her journey toward sobriety? And how often did they continue to provide comfort?
As the room slowly emptied, the sound of laughter and snippets of conversations lingered, a testament to the strength and support found within these walls.
The next morning, Reva set out for a hike around Jenny Lake, continuing to embrace the peace that the prayer instilled in her. The serene beauty of the surroundings, coupled with the early morning calm, provided a perfect backdrop for reflection.
As she meandered along the path lined with towering pine trees, Reva found the words of the Serenity Prayer reverberating in her consciousness, a soothing testament to her inner fortitude and personal evolution. Each stride brought with it a wave of gratitude for the path she had chosen, one paved with resilience and transformative growth—fortified over years of brave introspection and healing.
The recent upheaval brought by Merritt’s visit and his startling revelations might have once shattered her. She, no doubt, would have sought refuge in the numbing embrace of vodka, drowning her escalating vulnerability in a sea of alcohol until consciousness slipped away.
But that was a chapter of her life she closed long ago. That Reva, who cowered from the reality of her limitations, who believed she could mend every fracture in her world, was no more.
Today, she stood as a woman who, while still instinctively nurturing others, prioritized her own well-being above all. She made a solemn vow to herself—she would never revert to the days of drowning her insecurities in drink, steadfast in her journey of sobriety and self-care.
Despite her resolve, the sight of Merritt’s face plastered across every magazine at every newsstand still cut deep. Reva couldn’t help but feel a pang of deep sorrow for his choices and the inevitable repercussions that he and his family would face. The constant media exposure was a harsh reminder of the complex tapestry of human character—a paradox of virtue and vice, all coexisting in the same soul.
Reva continued her walk along the serene shore, taking in the gentle lapping of the lake’s waters against the pebbled shore and the soft rustle of quaking aspen leaves in the gentle breeze. The air was crisp and invigorating, carrying the fresh, earthy scent of pine and the subtle, sweet fragrance of balm weed and balsamroot that speckled the nearby meadows.
Each breath filled her lungs with a sense of renewal as she sat on a large lava rock, taking in the way the majestic Teton Range reflected in the lake’s mirror-like surface. Sunlight dappled through the canopy of tall pines, adding to the tranquil ambiance.
This was her place—a haven for her soul.
Reva’s interlude was interrupted by a sudden rustle of leaves and the soft thud of paws on earth. A golden retriever, its coat shimmering in the sunlight, bounded into view and ran towards her with unbridled enthusiasm.
“Max, heel!” called a voice, rich and slightly amused.
A man emerged from the dappled shade of the trees, his approach marked by the crunch of pine needles and leaves underfoot. He wasn’t the kind of man who’d turn heads with his striking looks, but there was an undeniable allure in his unassuming presence. His eyes, clear and honest, met hers with an intensity that seemed to acknowledge her in a way words couldn’t.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said, as the dog’s leash tangled around Reva’s legs and he pounced onto her lap, licking her face. “Max, get down!”
“It’s okay.” Reva laughed. “He’s quite friendly, isn’t he?”
“Too friendly sometimes,” the man admitted, carefully untangling the leash. His hands brushed against hers. “I hope he didn’t startle you.”
“Not at all, I love dogs. He’s beautiful.” Her hands stroked the dog’s furry back as its tail wagged wildly.
“I’m guessing he’s made a new friend,” the man said, smiling softly.
“I’m Reva,” she stood and introduced herself, extending a hand.
“Nice to meet you, Reva. I’m Kellen Moore.” His voice was friendly yet firm and held a note of something unspoken, an undercurrent of connection she couldn’t quite define.
Hating to be caught in an awkward stare, she diverted her gaze to his dog. “So, Max…do you live in these parts, or are you just visiting?” She surprised herself by holding her breath, waiting for the answer she hoped to hear as she looked back up at him.
He rubbed the side of his trimmed goatee. “We live just outside Jackson Hole, on a little place in Wilson.”
“Wilson? That’s where they are filming that new television show, Bear Country. My girlfriend is dating the production designer,” she explained.
“Yeah, it’s quite the deal.”
The way he said it left her wondering how he felt about the situation.
A chipmunk, tiny and agile, suddenly darted across the path, its quick movements a blur of brown and gray. It scampered with lightning speed, tiny paws skittering over the hard-packed earth as it navigated the terrain with ease.
Max perked up at the sight. With a burst of canine enthusiasm, he lunged forward, his golden fur rippling in the sunlight as he gave chase. The chipmunk zigzagged with incredible agility, disappearing into the underbrush, leaving Max to pause and look around, his tail wagging in the excitement of the brief and spirited pursuit.
Reva and Kellen both laughed.
“Well, we should be heading on,” Kellen said, tucking the leash under his arm and calling Max to his side.
“Yes, Kellen and Max, it was lovely meeting you both,” Reva said as they prepared to part ways.
“Likewise,” Kellen replied, a hint of reluctance in his tone. “Take care, Reva.”
As Kellen and Max walked away, Reva stood for a moment, watching them go. The encounter had been brief, but it left an impression. There was something about Kellen, in the way his eyes held hers, in the timbre of his voice, that resonated with her.
With a thoughtful smile, she continued her walk, the memory of their meeting lingering.