“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.”
