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.
