Taming Kate

Six years earlier… Kate Rossi woke on her wedding day with a sense that something was wrong. She sat up and looked out the window, barely noticing the gloriously blue June morning blazing through her curtains. Her stomach fluttered. Trevor would be here for breakfast before disappearing until the ceremony. He had reminded her about the old superstition about seeing the bride just before the wedding, but on her insistence had agreed to sneak in breakfast. She knew that for good luck’s sake, she should go the whole day without seeing him, but she just could not wait. The first day of their life together could not start too soon for her. So why did she feel that something was wrong? She ran over all the wedding details in her mind as she put on her wrap. Flowers, caterers, musicians. As she scanned each item, she felt it fall into place. No, she’d taken care of everything in her typically methodical, bordering-on-anal-retentive way. She had been even more meticulous than usual because today had to be perfect, not only for herself, but for the man she loved. Being in love was the most glorious thing she’d ever felt. Trevor was handsome and smart, and she looked forward to their life together. She hadn’t experienced so much joy in years, since long before Mom had died. The only blemish on this otherwise perfect day was that the person she had loved most in the world couldn’t be there to watch her take her vows. Kate hurried out of her room. Trevor was due in ten minutes, and she hadn’t even put on the coffee. On her way to the kitchen, she stopped at the front door to peer out the long stained-glass window that trimmed the doorway. She stared as if she could will his sports car to appear in the driveway. The clock on her fireplace mantel chimed eight. Trevor was a punctual person, and Kate kept her gaze trained on punctual person, and Kate kept her gaze trained on the expanse of tree-lined driveway, trying to ignore the creepy feeling slithering inside her. She waited one more minute at the door. Still no Trevor. “That clock is ahead,” she murmured. Her heart quickened as she tore her gaze from the window and strode through the ranch house living room into the kitchen. Her gaze fell on an envelope on the table. Her name was scrawled across the front. She caught her breath when she recognized Trevor’s handwriting. A sensation like a fist closing in her chest gripped her as she picked up the envelope and pulled out the folded paper. Disbelief mingled in her quickening heartbeat as she realized Trevor had come and gone before she woke up, using his key to her house. They were supposed to spend some time together. Why hadn’t he woken her up? The contents of the letter answered her question. She collapsed into a chair as she read it over and over. The shock of his words took several readings to sift into her conscious. It’s not going to work between us, Katy. Blah, blah, blah. He wasn’t ready for marriage. Blah, blah, blah. She crumpled the note and threw it to the floor, then sat with her face in her hands. Her mind and heart went numb with grief. She wanted to tell someone, but there was no one to tell. Mom would have been the one she’d have told first, and she wasn’t here. Dad --well, he had been so busy with the ranch and his investments ever since Mom had died that Kate was surprised he was able to put aside time to come to her wedding at all. Her sister, Blanche, was a ditz, and Cindy, her best friend since third grade, was busy falling in love. If she spoke to Cindy, all she would be able to think of was how happy her friend was with her man. The thought of talking to someone happy with a man was unbearably painful. Kate sat alone at the table, unmoving. Her heart hurt so badly she couldn’t even feel the tears rolling down her cheeks. Trevor was the first person she’d had of her own since losing her mother, and now he was gone. Why? Why had this happened? Like a flash of lightning, she suddenly knew the answer. Another stab of pain seared her as she realized why he’d left. She should have seen it last night, but her mind had been completely absorbed with the wedding. Trevor had asked her about combining their finances in a joint account. He’d clarified his question to mean all her holdings and his. He’d invest everything they had, including her inheritance. An unusual question for the evening before the wedding, but one she’d managed to justify. When she’d told him how her father had made her inheritance irrevocably hers, no matter whether she was married or not, Trevor’s face had fallen. She’d been too happy about her wedding day to even notice his reaction. Replaying the conversation in her mind, she saw it. To think, she had been dating him for almost three years, and he had been gold-digging her this whole time! Kate launched from her chair and started back toward her bedroom. She stopped at the fireplace in the living room long enough to swipe a box of matches from the mantel. Yanking her wedding dress from its hanger on the closet door, she marched to her bathroom and stuffed the layers of lace and satin in the bathtub. “Goodbye,” she mumbled, striking a match and setting fire to one of the sleeves. She stood and watched as flames began to devour the dress. Only when there was almost nothing left and the smoke alarm blared did she turn on the shower and douse the flames. She sank down onto the closed toilet seat and burst into fresh tears. In the midst of her tears, one thought rang over and over in her mind. She’d be damned if she’d ever let another man near her. Ever. * * * * * The time had come to go home. Sadness enveloped Peter Manning as he mounted the steps to the platform where his master sat cross-legged, waiting for him. The smoky aroma of incense filled his nostrils, and the immaculately sanded wooden floor was smooth under his bare feet. Behind Kenjo Roshi, the master of the zendo, loomed a golden statue of the Buddha, the symbol of enlightenment and compassion. Peter bowed to the older man and knelt before him on the tatami. When he raised his eyes to his teacher, he saw that Kenjo watched him. The roshi’s dark, almondshaped eyes reflected a compelling blend of compassion, mischief, sadness, and joy. Tiny lines appeared on his smooth gold skin. “You are leaving us.” His tone was neither a question nor statement. “Yes, Teacher.” Peter’s heart ached to be leaving the man who had been his spiritual teacher of the past three years. Unfortunately, the zendo, where he had come to find answers for his grief after Tori’s death, was too far from his family’s ranch. His brother-in-law, who had been running the place, had just taken off, abandoning Peter’s sister and five-year-old nephew. His parents were both gone. There was no one else. “I have a sister and nephew who need me.” The roshi nodded. “Tell me what you have learned.” “I have learned I do not meditate to overcome emotions, but to accept them. A river must flow freely, or else it will flood the land and drown all life.” Several heartbeats passed before the roshi responded. “I will miss you, Peter.” His voice was smooth and deep. “You have been a good student. One in ten million learns such a lesson.” Peter bowed his head. “Thank you, Teacher.” “Take what you have learned and deepen it. Help others to find the same. Only then can you ease suffering.” Peter nodded. “I’ll work hard. I promise.” “I know you will. You are a man of your word. A rare thing in these times.” Peter looked up. “I’ll miss you, too, Teacher. I’m sorry I have to leave.” 4 Sedonia Guillone “As am I. Go in peace, Peter.” Peter bowed one last time and rose to his feet. His six-foot-three frame had always made the five-foot-five roshi look tiny next to him, but the roshi’s discipline and inner strength made him a giant whose spirit filled an entire room. Peter gazed at his teacher for a final moment. The two men smiled at each other as if sharing a private, silent joke. They had grown close in the last three years, and Peter’s determination and persistence in his practice of Zen had won the master’s respect. At the door, Peter paused and looked back. Kenjo Roshi waved at him in a Western manner, juxtaposed to his image of a Japanese statue. Peter chuckled and walked out, beginning his journey to reclaim his ranch and the life he had left behind the expanse of tree-lined driveway, trying to ignore the creepy feeling slithering inside her. She waited one more minute at the door. Still no Trevor. “That clock is ahead,” she murmured. Her heart quickened as she tore her gaze from the window and strode through the ranch house living room into the kitchen. Her gaze fell on an envelope on the table. Her name was scrawled across the front. She caught her breath when she recognized Trevor’s handwriting. A sensation like a fist closing in her chest gripped her as she picked up the envelope and pulled out the folded paper. Disbelief mingled in her quickening heartbeat as she realized Trevor had come and gone before she woke up, using his key to her house. They were supposed to spend some time together. Why hadn’t he woken her up? The contents of the letter answered her question. She collapsed into a chair as she read it over and over. The shock of his words took several readings to sift into her conscious. It’s not going to work between us, Katy. Blah, blah, blah. He wasn’t ready for marriage. Blah, blah, blah. She crumpled the note and threw it to the floor, then sat with her face in her hands. Her mind and heart went numb with grief. She wanted to tell someone, but there was no one to tell. Mom would have been the one she’d have told first, and she wasn’t here. Dad --well, he had been so busy with the ranch and his investments ever since Mom had died that Kate was surprised he was able to put aside time to come to her wedding at all. Her sister, Blanche, was a ditz, and Cindy, her best friend since third grade, was busy falling in love. If she spoke to Cindy, all she would be able to think of was how happy her friend was with her man. The thought of talking to someone happy with a man was unbearably painful. Kate sat alone at the table, unmoving. Her heart hurt so badly she couldn’t even feel the tears rolling down her cheeks. Trevor was the first person she’d had of her own since losing her mother, and now he was gone. Why? Why had this happened? Like a flash of lightning, she suddenly knew the answer. Another stab of pain seared her as she realized why he’d left. She should have seen it last night, but her mind had been completely absorbed with the wedding. Trevor had asked her about combining their finances in a joint account. He’d clarified his question to mean all her holdings and his. He’d invest everything they had, including her inheritance. An unusual question for the evening before the wedding, but one she’d managed to justify. When she’d told him how her father had made her inheritance irrevocably hers, no matter whether she was married or not, Trevor’s face had fallen. She’d been too happy about her wedding day to even notice his reaction. Replaying the conversation in her mind, she saw it. To think, she had been dating him for almost three years, and he had been gold-digging her this whole time! Kate launched from her chair and started back toward her bedroom. She stopped at the fireplace in the living room long enough to swipe a box of matches from the mantel. Yanking her wedding dress from its hanger on the closet door, she marched to her bathroom and Taming Kate 3 stuffed the layers of lace and satin in the bathtub. “Goodbye,” she mumbled, striking a match and setting fire to one of the sleeves. She stood and watched as flames began to devour the dress. Only when there was almost nothing left and the smoke alarm blared did she turn on the shower and douse the flames. She sank down onto the closed toilet seat and burst into fresh tears. In the midst of her tears, one thought rang over and over in her mind. She’d be damned if she’d ever let another man near her. Ever. * * * * * The time had come to go home. Sadness enveloped Peter Manning as he mounted the steps to the platform where his master sat cross-legged, waiting for him. The smoky aroma of incense filled his nostrils, and the immaculately sanded wooden floor was smooth under his bare feet. Behind Kenjo Roshi, the master of the zendo, loomed a golden statue of the Buddha, the symbol of enlightenment and compassion. Peter bowed to the older man and knelt before him on the tatami. When he raised his eyes to his teacher, he saw that Kenjo watched him. The roshi’s dark, almond-shaped eyes reflected a compelling blend of compassion, mischief, sadness, and joy. Tiny lines appeared on his smooth gold skin. “You are leaving us.” His tone was neither a question nor statement. “Yes, Teacher.” Peter’s heart ached to be leaving the man who had been his spiritual teacher of the past three years. Unfortunately, the zendo, where he had come to find answers for his grief after Tori’s death, was too far from his family’s ranch. His brother-in-law, who had been running the place, had just taken off, abandoning Peter’s sister and five-year-old nephew. His parents were both gone. There was no one else. “I have a sister and nephew who need me.” The roshi nodded. “Tell me what you have learned.” “I have learned I do not meditate to overcome emotions, but to accept them. A river must flow freely, or else it will flood the land and drown all life.” Several heartbeats passed before the roshi responded. “I will miss you, Peter.” His voice was smooth and deep. “You have been a good student. One in ten million learns such a lesson.” Peter bowed his head. “Thank you, Teacher.” “Take what you have learned and deepen it. Help others to find the same. Only then can you ease suffering.” Peter nodded. “I’ll work hard. I promise.” “I know you will. You are a man of your word. A rare thing in these times.” Peter looked up. “I’ll miss you, too, Teacher. I’m sorry I have to leave.” “As am I. Go in peace, Peter.” Peter bowed one last time and rose to his feet. His six-foot-three frame had always made the five-foot-five roshi look tiny next to him, but the roshi’s discipline and inner strength made him a giant whose spirit filled an entire room. Peter gazed at his teacher for a final moment. The two men smiled at each other as if sharing a private, silent joke. They had grown close in the last three years, and Peter’s determination and persistence in his practice of Zen had won the master’s respect. At the door, Peter paused and looked back. Kenjo Roshi waved at him in a Western manner, juxtaposed to his image of a Japanese statue. Peter chuckled and walked out, beginning his journey to reclaim his ranch and the life he had left behind.