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She smiled guiltily. How well her aunt knew her. “The latter?”
Ange laughed. “I’m going to Pilates over at the resort. Are you interested in joining me?”
She loved spending time with Ange. And the therapist had wanted her to do some form of regular stretching. “Will there be coffee and cake later?”
“You know the point of exercise is to get healthier, Blue.”
“I know that nobody in Australia calls redheads Blue or Bluey anymore, Ange. I also know if I’m to leave the hallowed halls of Pemberley, I’ll be needing coffee and cake.”
“You’re incorrigible.” But her aunt’s eyes held warm affection.
Sarah smiled. These past few days had been so good. No counseling, no deep and meaningful conversations, no doctor’s appointments or visits from the do-gooders in her father’s congregation. Nothing but the quiet ease of family.
She swung her legs over the side of the hammock, the momentum propelling her upright but without the fall factor of last week’s embarrassment. Why did the spirit of clumsy always attack in front of new people? So much for good first impressions. Not that she wanted to make a good impress—
“Sar?”
“Oh! So, um, how fancy is this resort?” She gestured to her leggings and T-shirt, a long-ago gift from her older sister, Rebekah. “Do I need to change?”
“I think you’ll be fine. Just grab some shoes. I can sign you in as my guest.”
A half hour later they were in the gym studio of Muskoka Shores—one of the largest resorts on the lake, so Ange had informed her when Sarah had exclaimed on its size.
Sarah glanced around from her position near the back next to a wall. Most of the attendees were older women with squishy bits that suggested they’d be none too flexible. But classes back home had proved her wrong before. She unrolled her mat and covered it with a towel, then slipped off her sneakers and socks. Ange introduced her to some of her friends, the interaction easy—nothing like the awkwardness of dinner with Daniel. She cringed again at how she’d behaved. That standoffish girl wasn’t her. Not really.
Once upon a time she’d known how to be friendly, known how to recognize social cues and not blurt out awkward stuff that dismayed. Her father used to say how Sarah could talk to anyone, that she was as comfortable chatting with people who were homeless as she was standing out the front of her classroom inspiring rambunctious teens. Now, playing nice was just exhausting. She’d much prefer to hide in her bubble of denial and pretend Mr. Darcy or his equivalent could come riding on his white stallion and rescue her from this life.
“Good morning, class,” the perky instructor said. “I see we have a few new faces today. Welcome!”
There came a buzz of greetings from those so inclined.
“Now, before we begin, let’s shuffle those mats forward just a bit. Great! Now, I have to ask, is everyone feeling well?”
“Yes!”
“Is anyone expecting a baby?”
Pain flashed. No.
“Are we ready to get limber?”
“Yes!”
The Pilates cheerleader led the class through a series of stretches, most of which Sarah was used to, even if some had different names. She leaned to her right, careful not to go too far as she stretched her left arm above her head. Maybe this was helping. She had spent a lot of time lying around in the hammock lately, and if Pilates helped prevent another hip spasm, well, good.
Back to the other side, then it was down to the floor, knees under her shoulders. Floor work tended to be trickier. The therapist had warned her to be careful, so she took her time, gauging her back muscles as she did a cat stretch, then released. Another cat stretch and release, then it was down with arms outstretched in a resting child’s pose. So far, pretty good.
“Well done! Now, let’s go on our sides. That’s it. Don’t forget to go at your own pace and take a break if necessary. You know your body better than anyone, and we don’t want to push it. We want gain, not pain, okay?”
A cheerleaderanda poet, Sarah thought, following the instructor’s movements as she raised her left leg. Still, gaining movement, not creating pain, was exactly what her therapist had advised. She gritted her teeth as she held her leg in the correct position. Her core shook, and she clenched her fingers, exhaling with a rush as the instructor bade them.
Ange looked across and mouthedokay?
Sarah nodded, taking a moment to sip her water bottle before tackling the next move, one that required the right leg to extend behind.
“Good. Now, hold. Hold. Hold!”
Who was Perky Pilates Instructor yelling at? Sarah glanced up. Judging from the death stare being levelled in her direction, she knew who. Wait. Hadn’t she just said to go at your own pace?
