A Reflections Story
How Elspeth Gillis Discovered the Truth about Her Reflection
A Reflections Story can offer insight, but we must beware of false images, distortions, and fragments of our true selves posturing as identity.
Elspeth Gillis leaned over the side of the kayak and tried to find her reflection in the tranquil water. But as the sun shone brightly overhead on the early October day, ripples of light nearly blinded her instead. A shiver ran over her spine. She sat back, careful not to unsettle the small craft she had borrowed from her cousin.
Dillion, a high-powered lawyer who lived in exalted circles, owned property beside a small lake in upper Wisconsin and kept an open invitation for her to come and visit “any time.” Since she had a three-day weekend, and his family was visiting in-laws in Chicago (so she wouldn’t be a bother), she sped home from work on Friday afternoon, wiggled into a comfy wool sweater over her warmest dress, packed a small bag, slipped the cabin key into her pocket, and drove five hours to her first get-away in years.
Saturday morning, she was standing on the front porch overlooking the lake with a strong cup of coffee in one hand and a cream cheese bagel in the other. She ought to have felt at peace. Happiness should have transported her to the heavenly spheres.
But memories haunted her. Unwelcome and embarrassing images stung her mind like a plague of wasps. If only I could get out on the lake, maybe they would leave me alone. The tranquil surface appeared solid, yet she knew as well as anyone that it harbored a secret world underneath. Still, the shimmering glory called to her, a tranquil vision offering escape, freedom, the peace she couldn’t find anywhere else.
The paddle lay angled at her side, ready to propel her back to shore. It hadn’t been hard to direct the agile kayak toward an island of tall, dead grasses and fluttering birds. Some teetered on stems, ignoring her, while others screamed at her intrusive presence. Autumn chill worked over her. She shivered again and tugged her heavy sweater tight around her middle. Sparking light shimmered all around her. There was no use looking for her reflection now. She wasn’t sure why she had even wanted to see it.
She knew what she looked like, of course – a petite woman with a long narrow face, brown hair, gray eyes, and almost always dressed in a long modest dress with heels. No heels today. Her thick hiking boots served much better on the rugged landscape, though she did miss the height that heels gave her. Why do I want to be tall, anyway?
She didn’t understand how others saw her. And why she was so often misunderstood. Am I walking around in a costume invisible to myself?
Memories galloped back, running over the fragile peace she had found in the middle of the tranquil lake.
How could I have been so stupid?
She shrugged. She knew perfectly well that since her parents had died, leaving her an only child with one cousin— a kind man but hardly a best friend she could share the intimate details of her life—she was lonely.
Doesn’t everyone get lonely? Can’t excuse a lack of common sense on loneliness. I was a fool and fell for a stupid lie.
Heat flooded her face as memories of her online romance surfaced. I was being so careful! His profile had lots of people – real people – on it. I asked so many questions. He even called me on the phone, and his voice was so warm.
Nausea threatened to do unfortunate things to her morning bagel. I wanted to believe him. That’s why I didn’t tell anyone at work.
Except Kristie, who gushed like a schoolgirl. The woman’s too-wide smile spoke of desperation, the same desperation she had felt inside. She wanted it to be true, too. Not just for me but for her. Maybe she would “land” her own guy someday.
She could have told Jennifer Solins, the no-nonsense science teacher, but Jennifer would have asked questions. Smart questions. Probing questions. Questions I couldn’t answer.
A light wind picked up, and ripples gathered strength, rolling across the lake. Elspeth considered the dark clouds amassing on the horizon and grabbed the paddle. I’ve been foolish enough for a lifetime. No use getting stuck in a storm in the middle of a lake.
Once back in the cabin, the kayak safely stowed in the shed, and wearing a fresh sweater, she made herself a hot cup of tea and was prepared to settle on the couch with a good book, but the rattle of the door latch turning locked her feet to the floor.
Dillon entered with a large black bag swung over one shoulder. His expression was as gloomy as anything she had ever seen at the bottom of a totem pole. She swallowed and waited, trying frantically to remember if she had texted that she was coming this weekend. I’ve been such a muddlehead!
Making eye contact, Dillon halted mid-step. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t know you were planning to be here today.” He offered a tight grin. “I thought I’d be alone.”
Prepared to launch herself into the bedroom, pack her bag, and be out the door in record speed, Elspeth started forward, apologies trailing after her. “It’s my fault. Sorry! I thought I sent word, but I can’t remember what I did lately. I’ll be out of here—”
“Stop!” Dillon stepped in the way, huffed a long breath, and dropped his bag on the floor. “There are two bedrooms, and you’re not unwelcome.” He tried a soft shoulder pat. “When I said I wanted to be alone, I didn’t mean you.” One hand waved toward the window, gesturing to the universe at large. “I mean work and family, and everyone who…” He snorted. “Never mind.” A glance around took in the quiet scene, the steam rising from the cup she had left on the end table and the book waiting on the couch. “Is that tea or cocoa? Because I could really use something hot and comforting.”
“It’s tea, but I can make some cocoa. The cupboards are well stocked.” She squinted in the dimming light as dark rain clouds marshaled their forces around the lake.
A shrug and he tried to explain his ignorance. “Hannah does the shopping. I never know what we have.”
A glance at the door and Elspeth perked her ears for approaching footsteps. “Is she coming?”
Dillion started for the open kitchen area. “No, she and the kids are staying with her mom and dad for the weekend and maybe a little longer…” He huffed again and swung the refrigerator door open. “I’ll make a gallon of hot cocoa and if you could scrounge up something to eat, I’d appreciate it. I drove from work, dropped Hannah and the kids off, and then headed here right after. I feel like I’ve been driving forever. My head is spinning.”
With the intention of making a grilled cheese and tuna sandwich for lunch still in her mind, Elspeth retrieved the ingredients, and they each began their culinary projects.
By the time heavy drops of rain splashed against the windows, she and her cousin were ensconced in the living room with hot drinks, sandwiches, and chips, and a warm fire flickering in the fireplace.
Elspeth knew better than to ask probing questions. She didn’t like them. It was a family trait Dillon shared. He’d talk when he was in the mood. After a filling lunch and stretching out on the couch, he was in the right frame of mind.
She might as well have been assigned an analyst’s position, sitting in the armchair beside the couch, listening to him list the annoyances at work, his wife’s obsession with details that left him cold, and his son’s incessant whining. He just needed a little break. He’d go back and deal with it all in a couple of days. “Once I’m refreshed, I’ll be as good as new.” He smiled as he looked over at her. Waiting.
My turn? Elspeth wasn’t used to sharing her life with anyone, and Dillon had never seemed interested. She looked out the window and commented on the storm.
Dillon just nodded. And waited.
What on earth? Finally, setting her cold cup on top of her empty plate, Elspeth braced herself for the ultimate embarrassment, confessing her foolishness. She began with the hardest part first. “Everyone thinks I am so sensible. I dress conservatively, show up at work on time every day, and do my job without drama—I’m the secretary of Restful Glen Cemetery, for Heaven’s sake. I am a very sensible person!”
Dillon sat up, his hands clasped, his face attentive. He really seemed interested.
“I got scammed.” She waved her hands in surrender. “An online romance that ended with him asking for money for some stupid thing that didn’t even make sense.” She glared at her cousin as if to clarify her position as the stupidest person on the planet. “I’m an idiot and ought to be shot.”
Dillon burst out laughing.
Elspeth’s mouth dropped open. If she was a violent person, she would have crossed the room and smacked him. Hard. Luckily, she was a pacifist at heart. But her hand twitched.
His hands up in a conciliatory gesture, Dillon had to work to regain control of himself. “I got scammed at work. That’s part of the reason I needed a break. A co-worker said it was a trustworthy site, and I could use it with perfect anonymity. I just wanted to find out some information on the side, without going through regular channels…Big bloody mistake!”
“Are you in trouble?”
“My boss wants my hide, and I may get fined by the company to teach me a lesson. But I don’t think I’ll lose my job. Though Hannah is so mad she said I really ought to. That’s why she went home, to complain to her parents about me and my bad judgment.”
“So, all that stuff you talked about earlier…?”
“Diversions. It never occurred to me that you ever made a mistake.” His eyebrows rose to surprising heights. “I thought you were perfect.” A smile ghosted over his face. “Thank God, you’re human. I need a human right now. One who understands and won’t yell at me.”
Elspeth gaze roamed to the window and the glazed glass where raindrops obscured the lake. It had been a tranquil surface and was now a frothing cauldron. No reflections now.
She turned back to her cousin and found her reflection there.
A. K. Frailey is the author of 18 books, a teacher for 35 years, and a homeschooling mother.
Make the most of life’s journey.
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