Tugged from my thoughts, I turned to see a woman about my age approaching from the rear of the old house. She wore, no surprise, a white Yoga Garden tank, and light purple tights. Her chestnut hair was piled high on her head in a messy bun.
I swallowed. Now that I was in a position to ask questions, I had no idea where to start. Telling this woman that my friend was missing seemed way too weird.
“I-I was wondering if you could help me,” I stammered. I looked around as if the rolled yoga mats and cheery tea mugs could offer any assistance. “Um… do you have Sunday morning classes?”
The woman’s smile was both immediate and serene. “We do. We have an Easy Like Sunday Morning class from ten to eleven.” Moving with fluid grace, she crossed the counter and plucked a card from a tidy stack. “Here’s our regular schedule. We also have a Yin Yoga class on Sunday afternoons from 4:15 to 5:15.”
I took the card from her and passed my eye over it without seeing the words. A ten a.m. class would have let out long before our one o’clock lunch with Mama. I bit my bottom lip.
“You don’t have anything else on Sundays?”
The girl gave me a slight frown, a little crease appearing between her winged brows. “Well, not on the regular schedule. We do have a Yoga for Trauma Intensive workshop one Sunday a month, but you have to sign up in advan—”
The hairs on the back of my neck lifted. “I-I’m sorry,” I blurted. “Did you sayYoga for Trauma?”
She dipped her chin in a quick nod. “It’s a really powerful program,” she said, her voice both gentle and serious. “We use yoga and breath and mediation to do some intense work with the subconscious. It can be very healing.”
“Wh-when is your next class?”
Her expression became apologetic. “Oh, we had one yesterday, so it won’t be for another mon—”
“Oh, my God.” I clenched my hands into fists, the certainty in my gut almost unbearable. “I-I think my friend was talking about that class. D-do you know if she’s taken that one? Ava Whitehurst?”
A startled smile lit up her features. “You know Ava? Wow, she’s become one of our regulars. Yeah, she was in yesterday’s class.” Then her frown returned. “But she had to leave halfway through. She said she wasn’t feeling well. Do you know if she’s okay?”
My mouth fell open, and I no doubt looked like a goldfish as it worked silently. “I… I don’t know. I haven’t seen her.”
She pressed her lips together with an air of regret. “I was hoping she’d be in this morning’s Ashtanga Short Form, but I guess she’s still under the weather. If you see her, tell her I hope she’s doing better.”
I managed a nod. “I will.”
This seemed to please her because she smiled at me again. “Did you want to sign up for our next Yoga for Trauma class? It won’t be for another month, but there’s plenty of spots open.”
“Oh… I-I… I’ll just take the class schedule?” I floundered, waving the card she’d given me. “You know, to see what classes might work for me?”
Thanking her, I dashed out of there as fast as I could, pulling my phone out of my purse before I was even outside.
Cole’s number went straight to voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. Call me back. It’s about Ava.”
I hung up, fretted over my message, and called him again. “Me again. Sorry. I don’t know where she is or anything, but I… I guess… I mean, maybe I just learned something,” I blathered. “Sorry. Sorry. Just call me back.”
I hung up, wincing. Did what I’d just learned even matter? It might not help to find her, but Ava clearly hadn’t lied about going to yoga yesterday. And something had obviously happened to upset her. I understood why she’d signed up to take a class to heal trauma, but could it have been more than she could handle?
Ava, I knew, had witnessed and endured far too much trauma.
And she was fragile. Her sobriety was fragile. I felt a pang in my chest at the thought of what she must have been feeling yesterday. How badly she must have been hurting to go off the rails.
I started the car, headed north on Johnston Street, and just drove. We had to find her.
Clearly, she wasn’t ready to face her life sober. I remembered how Cole had describe the day she’d OD’d. When he thought she’d died. If he’d lost her then, it would have destroyed him.
If he lost her now, it still would. I knew this. And Cole knew it too.
The shadow of inevitability that had hovered like a cloak just out of sight began to drift down over me. I knew it. I’d known it all along.
Cole was not mine to keep. He might never be.
Hadn’t I known this forever? Certainly since that awful morning when he’d left me standing in his driveway. I’d probably known it before. On that night I’d wanted to claim him. I may have even known before I’d let myself understand that I’d wanted him.