Just making the decision steadies something inside me. I finish my coffee, set the cup down, and head inside to get changed for yoga.
“How are you settling in?” Bertha had seemed genuinely delighted when I asked her to go for a walk, and we’d agreed to meet by the front door after getting changed. Now we’re making our way uphill along one of the winding trails that crisscross the property, Bertha setting a brisk pace that has me working harder than I expected just to keep up, despite being at least ten years younger. “Very well, thank you, Bertha.” “I was very surprised when I saw you here,” she continues with a bright smile. “Just between you and me, I had you down as one of those rather cynical types. You know—the sort who think all this healing business is nonsense, and that everyone involved is just out to make as much money as possible.”
She lets out a delighted little laugh at her own description. I manage a faint smile in return, even though she’s not entirely wrong. “It was rather satisfying to think you’d taken in what I said about how much better I felt after coming here the first time—and actually decided to come and see for yourself.” I nod, about to respond, but she continues without missing a beat.“And apparently you already knew one of the men here. Small world, isn’t it?”
For a moment, I wonder who told her that. Then I remember how places like this work—information travels fast, carried on whispers and casual conversations.
“Tell me, Sierra,” she says, turning her head slightly, her sharp gray eyes catching mine. “Why did you come here?” The question lands more directly than I expect. Standing beside her—bright, composed, completely at ease in her surroundings—I feel something shift.
I’d come here worried about her. Now I’m not so sure that made any sense at all. If anything, she seems entirely in control. For the first time, it occurs to me that I may have been getting more than a few things wrong.
I stammer out something I hope sounds believable about the importance of being open-minded and my commitment to ongoing professional development. I’m not sure she buys it. Her expression gives nothing away—no doubt the result of years spent negotiating in high-powered boardrooms. I remind myself that Bertha is not some timid, inexperienced housewife. Far from it.
“And what about you?” I ask, finally steering the conversation back on track. “Do you still feel the same way about this place as you did when you first told me about it? Back in my treatment rooms in downtown Denver?”
“Oh yes.” She smiles broadly, flicking her hair back before gathering it neatly with a scrunchie. “That’s better,” she says, fanning her neck. “It does get warm once the sun’s been up for a while. Now, what was your question? Ah yes—the retreat.” She beams. “I love it. In fact, when I get back to Denver, I’m planning to offer free weekend trips up here as performance incentives for my staff. It’ll cost a bit, of course, but I expect I’ll make it back in increased productivity. It’s remarkable what even a short staycan do.” She glances at me. “Don’t you agree, Sierra? Now that you’ve experienced it for yourself?”
I hesitate, just for a fraction of a second too long. “Yes,” I say finally. “It’s… been interesting.”
“Mm.” Bertha hums softly, as if filing that away. We walk on for a few moments in comfortable silence, the crunch of gravel underfoot and the distant rustle of trees filling the space between us. Then, lightly, almost as an afterthought, she says, “You didn’t come here for the reasons you just gave me, did you?” The question catches me off guard.
I let out a small, awkward laugh. “What makes you say that?”
She glances at me, one brow lifting in quiet amusement. “Because I’ve spent the better part of my life listening to people explain things they don’t quite believe themselves.” I open my mouth to deny it, then close it again. There doesn’t seem to be much point.
“I was… concerned,” I admit, the words feeling clumsy now. “About you. I thought maybe—” I trail off, suddenly aware of how ridiculous it sounds.
“That I was being taken advantage of?” she supplies gently. Heat creeps up my neck.
“Something like that.” Bertha lets out a soft chuckle, not unkind, and shakes her head.
“Oh, my dear.” We walk a few more steps before she continues, her tone light but steady. “I do appreciate the concern. Truly. But I assure you, I’m quite capable of making my own decisions. Always have been.”
“I can see that,” I mutter.
“Yes, I rather think you can.” She glances at me again, her expression warm but perceptive. “What I can’t quite decide is whether you’re disappointed to find there’s nothing to rescue me from… or relieved.” I blink, thrown.
“I—neither. I mean…” She smiles, sparing me from finishing the thought.
“It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? Wanting to fix things for other people. Sometimes it’s not really about them at all.” The words settle somewhere deep, uncomfortably so. She doesn’t press it. Just looks ahead, breathing in the mountain air as if that’s the only thing that matters.
“I will say this, though,” she adds after a moment. “You seem far more unsettled now than when you first arrived here.” I let out a quiet breath, unsure whether to laugh or protest. “And from what I’ve seen,” she continues mildly, “you seem to have rather a lot going on around you at the moment. Three very different men, all orbiting in their own way.”
My face heats instantly. “It’s not?—”
“Mm,” she murmurs, clearly unconvinced, but not unkind. “Just an observation.” She glances at me, her expression softening slightly. “From an older woman who’s lived a full life of her own. Not to mention three daughters, and now grandchildren.” She looks ahead again, unhurried, as if she has all the time in the world. “I hope you don’t mind, me interfering my dear,” she adds lightly, “but my advice is simply this… follow your heart, not your head. But first, make sure you truly know which is which.” We walk on in silence after that, companionable enough, but it’s no longer the easy, empty kind. Her words linger, turning over in my mind, unsettling in a way I can’t quite explain.
Back in my room, I take another shower, change into a fresh pair of jeans and a simple red halter top, and step out onto the balcony. I lean against the railing, looking out at the mountainsas I think about my walk with Bertha—and, more generally, my stay here in this little piece of heaven hidden high up in the mountains.
Complications aside, it really is lovely here, and I could get very used to it. But, of course, I’m not going to. I only managed to carve out a few weeks away from my private practice for this, and I don’t plan on staying any longer than that. I know some of my clients and employees are already looking for me, and this quiet break from real life will be over soon.
Thinking of leaving sets a dull ache in my chest.
I’ve only been here a few days, but it feels like I’ve already settled in.
“I would totally get caught up in the cult if this were one,” I murmur to myself, taking another sip.
But even as I say it, Bertha’s words drift back into my mind.