Distant Shores Read Online Free PDF Page B

smiling brightly. “Welcome to the meeting.”
    Elizabeth couldn’t manage a smile. “I’m Elizabeth.”
    Sarah touched her shoulder, gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Everyone’s nervous at first.” She turned to the other women. “Charlotte, why don’t you welcome our newest member?”
    Elizabeth panicked. She wasn’t really a member, was she?
    Charlotte—a large woman wearing black velour sweats and green rubber gardening clogs—was already moving toward her. “Hey,” Charlotte said simply. “Welcome to the group. Come on in.” She took hold of Elizabeth’s elbow and guided her toward the circle of chairs.
    Elizabeth sat down.
    Beside her was a tiny, bright-eyed young woman dressed in a denim jumpsuit and scuffed cowboy boots. “I’m Joey,” she said, smiling brightly. “My husband left me to join a rock band. He plays the harmonica. Can you believe it?” She laughed. “They call themselves Dog Boys. I call ’em Dog Shits, but not in front of the kids.”
    Elizabeth nodded stiffly. Joey kept talking, smiling all the while. All around the circle, women chatted with one another about ordinary things. Kids’ school schedules, loser ex-husbands, dead-end jobs, and child-support checks. The voices blended into a steady, blurring drone. More women drifted into the room, took seats in the semicircle. Some joined in the conversation. Others, like Elizabeth, sat quietly.
    Finally, Sarah closed the door and took a seat in the middle of the group. “Welcome, ladies. It’s nice to see so many new faces tonight. This is the Women’s Passion Support Group.” She smiled. “Don’t worry, we’re not as erotic as that sounds.”
    Laughter followed that remark, some of it nervous.
    â€œOur objective here is to help each other. Simple Simon. We have something in common, and that something is a sense of loss. We’ve reached a certain age and discovered that we’ve misplaced a vital part of ourselves. For lack of a better word, I call the missing element passion. Our goal is simply to share our feelings with women who understand. Together we can be strong. To begin, let’s go around the circle and share one dream each.” She turned to the woman seated beside her. “You’ve been here before, Mina. Why don’t you begin?”
    Mina, a plump, red-haired older woman dressed in a flowery, polyester housedress, seemed entirely at ease. “I started coming to these meetings about six months ago, when my husband—Bill—was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.” She shook her head, made a
tsk
ing sound. “It’s a horrible thing, losing someone you love by inches.… Anyway, I promised my daughter that I’d come to the meetings. I couldn’t imagine finding passion, but now, I’m taking driving lessons. It doesn’t sound like much to you young gals, but it’s given me a new freedom. Next week I’ll be going in for my final test. Hopefully I’ll drive here on my own next time.”
    The group applauded, and Mina giggled.
    When the room quieted, the next woman began to speak. “My name is Fran. My husband ran off with his secretary. His
male
secretary. The only passion I have lately seems to center around buying a handgun. Unfortunately, I can’t decide which one of us to shoot.” She smiled nervously. “That was a joke.”
    Sarah leaned forward. “What do you love doing, Fran?”
    â€œI loved being a wife.” She paused, shrugged. “My friends act like I have a terminal disease. This is the first time I’ve left the house in weeks. My divorce attorney recommended it, but I don’t see how you can help.”
    â€œWe can all relate to that,” Joey said. There was a murmur of assent.
    â€œThink about it, Fran,” Sarah said. “What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail?