by Maisey Yates
And Keira loomed large. Because fundamentally, she had been the person to mop up his heartbreak before. And it just hadn’t worked. She needed to be sure. She needed to be damn sure that she wasn’t just a sexual surrogate, not again.
“How many women have you been with?”
“What kind of a question is that?”
“A valid one, I think. How many women have you been with?”
“Two. You know them both.”
“So, nobody since her?”
“No,” he said. “But that doesn’t matter.”
“What if it does? What if this is just the same as last time?”
“It isn’t,” he said. “Because I’m not eighteen. I’m not eighteen, and I know what I want. And I’m brave enough to fight for it. I don’t need to be with anyone else to know that I want you right now.”
“Can we... Wait?”
“I might not want to wait, but I will. For you. I’ve waited sixteen years. Now you’re here. I’ll wait some more.”
“You didn’t, though. Wait. You married someone else.”
“I did. And I have a daughter that I can never regret. Ever. But there were other things I did regret, and you’re just going to have to believe me. You’re just going to have to believe that I know what I want now.”
“Time.”
“Like I said. You’ve got it.”
“Okay.”
He touched her chin, her cheek, and then he turned and walked back out of the Craft Café. Leaving her standing there, shaking, aroused and bruised. Her heart hurt. Because she wanted to jump in with both feet. And it just seemed... Impossible and ridiculous and unfair.
That in order to do that, she needed to get back to who she’d been.
But she wasn’t that girl anymore.
And it was because of him.
19
I said I was a widow. People in this town believe me. There are too many widows. Too many wives who will never hold their husbands again. Too many children who will never know their fathers. My child may not even know his mother.
Dot’s diary, October 1944
Mary
It was quilting night.
Mary and Joe had handled picking up Hayden and Peyton from school in the days since Avery had moved out of her house. Had eaten dinner with the grandkids every night before taking them back home. Avery had joined them three times, and each time had been quiet.
Neither she or Joe wanted to bring the subject of David up in front of the kids. But he loomed there like a ghost.
She’d only gotten a small window of time to talk to her daughter without the kids around and they’d only had a brief exchange about Avery’s decision to press charges.
It was obvious Avery didn’t want much more than a brief exchange, and Mary wasn’t sure if Avery would come tonight, all things considered.
But right on time, she saw Avery walking toward The Miner’s House at the same time she was, a large, full bag slung over her shoulder.
Mary said nothing, she just walked quickly toward her oldest daughter and pulled her in for a hug. Avery was stiff for a moment, and then went pliant. She didn’t return the hug, but she received it. And for now, Mary would take that.
“Let’s sit out here for a moment,” Mary said, nodding toward the wooden rocking chairs that were just outside the front door. She watched as Avery hesitated.
Mary sat, and Avery finally followed suit.
The bruise on her cheek was fading, even with the makeup over the top of it, Mary could tell. But the circles under her eyes were darker than usual, and grooves around her mouth looked deeper.
Avery looked straight ahead, and Mary looked at her daughter’s profile. Mary wanted to fix this. Wanted to find the right thing to do. She wanted to carry it for her, and she knew that she couldn’t. Knew that it was impossible.
She was fractured inside, but Avery looked determined to hold herself together. And that made Mary feel even more broken.
“I’m sure that Lark wants to get started quilting,” Avery said, clutching her bag close to her chest and moving to stand.
“I wish you had told me,” Mary said. “I understand why you didn’t know if you could go to the police. And I understand that... I just... I thought if it was really important you’d tell me. I know I’ve never been good at chitchat and talking about boys or...manicures. I know I’m not like you are with Peyton. I know. But I was sure that if you ever needed me you’d tell me.”
The corners of Avery’s mouth turned downward. “I don’t tell you things, Mom.”
And how could she? Mary didn’t know how to talk. She didn’t know how to share. She’d kept her own feelings bottled up inside her all growing up. The only person she’d ever figured out how to open up to was Joe and even that was hard.
Even with Joe she didn’t like being too vulnerable. It was why it was so hard to just go off and try new things with him.
“But why not?” Mary asked, knowing she wouldn’t like the answer.
“Mom, you always taught us to pick up and carry on. Sitting around and moping doesn’t fix anything. You have to do things and be active. I’ve done that. I’ve tried so hard to do that and I didn’t know how to tell you nothing I did was...fixing anything. That my life was out of my control. How could I tell you that when you always told us we were the ones with the power to make things better or worse?”
Mary had never wanted to hurt her kids by telling them that. She’d wanted them to feel in control. Because for all of Mary’s childhood she hadn’t felt she’d had any. She hadn’t chosen to be abandoned by her mother and sadness hadn’t helped.
Her dad had taught her to pick up and carry on and she had.
It had been the best thing for her.
She’d wanted to give her daughters that same sense of strength, of control in a life they couldn’t control. But she hadn’t known how to balance that.
With sensitivity Avery clearly needed.
That she hadn’t believed she could get from Mary.
And maybe she’d been right.
“Avery, I don’t know how to do this, you’re right. But it’s not because I didn’t want to hear it, or because I thought you shouldn’t have struggles. It’s because it was the only way I learned to deal with mine.”
Avery nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “I guess I’m the same. I guess... I just wanted to be able to act okay and to have it be okay. But it’s not. I’m a mess. I wasn’t there for the kids. I didn’t mean to be distant from them, but it was easier to get...wrapped up in schedules and doing things because it helped me not focus on what was happening with David. I was too tired to see what was right in front of me. I just... I just wanted everything to stay the way that it was supposed to. Because I can’t... I can’t see a way forward here. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know if I’m going to be okay. I don’t know if I can go on without all this and if I can’t stay strong and move on, I don’t know how to face you when I’m broken apart like this.”
Mary felt like she was barely holding herself together. Like she had cracked into a thousand pieces and only her indrawn breath was keeping her from disintegrating right there. Because there weren’t words. She could tell Avery that it wasn’t what she wanted, that it wasn’t what she had intended for her to feel, but it didn’t matter. Avery felt it. She felt it now. Mary could see it. In the anger and hopelessness radiating from her.
“All I want is for you to be safe. All I want is for you to be happy someday and you don’t have to be strong now for me to think you’re...you’re doing a good job, Avery.”
“That doesn’t mean anything when I don’t know who I am,” Avery said. “I’m like superwife and supermom. And the person who volunteers for every committee. And now I don’t have any of that.”
“Avery, none of that is w
hat makes you special. It’s not what makes you, you. Did you think I wouldn’t love you anymore?”
“It isn’t that I think that,” Avery said. “I just didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“I’m sad, Avery. I’m heartbroken for you. I’m not disappointed in you.”
“I’m sorry. About what I said. I... I shouldn’t have said all that to you. I was angry and I was embarrassed.”
“Avery, I obviously made mistakes I didn’t mean to make.” She shook her head. “I wanted to be there for you. But that you didn’t feel you could come to me...it makes me feel like I just being here hasn’t been enough.”
“I could have told you what I needed,” Avery said. “The fact is, I didn’t know what I needed. I still don’t know.”
She sucked in a breath and forced her lips into a smile. “We should go quilt, Lark will start making flower gowns for us to wear if we wait too long.”
Mary reached out and stopped Avery’s movements. Then pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I let...feeling like I didn’t know how to do this keep us more distant than we should be. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” Avery said, her voice muffled against Mary’s shoulder.
“I want to make it okay,” she said.
They looked at each other, and she felt a heaviness there because she knew neither of them could name promises.
So they just walked into the Craft Café together, where Hannah and Lark were whispering in the corner.
“You better not be whispering about me,” Avery said.
“We’re not,” Hannah said. “You know, we have lives.”
Avery looked chagrined.
“Be nice to your sister,” Mary said.
“No,” Avery said. “Don’t be nice to me. Don’t treat me like I’m broken. I am broken. I’m... I think I might actually be broken. But if you go treating me like I am I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to... I will never be able to get past it. And I would like to not be broken forever. I would like for that to not be the end of who I am. I want to believe that there’s something after broken. I need to believe it. So don’t be nice to me. Just be... Just be yourselves with me.”
Avery laughed suddenly, hollow. “Be yourselves. I don’t know what that even means. I don’t know how to be myself. I don’t know who that is.”
Hannah softened. “You do. Of course you do. You’re the person who’s giving me crap right back when I dish it out to you even though things are hard. You’re tough, Avery.”
“I don’t feel tough. I don’t know what I’m going to do. Very seriously. What if he loses his medical license? I know I’m not qualified to do anything that makes that kind of money. And I haven’t had a job in... It has been a long time.”
“What kind of job would you want?” Lark asked.
She looked blank. “I don’t know.”
“You could work at the furniture store, or a bookstore. That place down the road that sells candles,” Lark said.
“I said I don’t know,” Avery said, sounding frustrated. “This isn’t like an era of great new beginnings for me. I just feel lost.”
None of them said anything for a while. They got out their quilt squares, and Mary stared down at hers, at the white lace, brushing her fingertips over it. Perfection. That was her problem with this, wasn’t it? And she had always felt like it was only to do with her. The fact that she wanted to do the right thing for her girls. It’d been directed at her, never them.
She sometimes felt paralyzed by her fear she might look like she didn’t know what she was doing. She had never wanted her daughters to feel that way. It was why she couldn’t make a real stitch on this thing. She was just so afraid that she would make a mistake. And she...she had. Not on something as mundane as a quilt square. But with her daughter.
Her daughter.
Who hadn’t believed that she could tell her that she was being abused because somehow that would make her less than perfect, and if she were less than perfect then Mary might not feel the same about her.
“Do you know that I love you?” Mary said, looking from Hannah to Lark, to Avery. “Do you know that I didn’t need you to be strong all the time? To brush everything off and move on?”
“I don’t mind,” Hannah said, her tone flippant. But in it, Mary could sense the weight of pain. “There’s no point dwelling on crap anyway.”
Avery and Lark said nothing. “I don’t need you to be strong all the time,” Mary repeated. “I want you to be happy. I want you to be...yourselves. And I know that...”
“You had definite ideas about what happy was,” Lark said. “That wasn’t a bad thing. But... We know what’s important to you. And what you wished we would do.”
“I...”
“You definitely didn’t want us to end up like Gram,” Hannah said. “She was too emotional and thought only of herself. You wanted us to be stronger than that.”
“I only meant,” Mary said, “I didn’t want you to leave your children after you already had them.”
Hannah looked slightly stricken. “Well, sure. It’s just also, you had definite ideas about behavior and things like that. Anything that you thought seemed too much like Gram.”
“To protect you,” Mary said. “My mom’s life was not smooth. And I know that she came back here and made a relationship with you, but this was the best part of her life. All those years that she spent away from us... She wasn’t happy. She would come into town sometimes, and she was frazzled and upset over some man, or she was drinking too much. Her emotions were all over the place.”
“That doesn’t even sound like her,” Lark said.
“No. Because you don’t really know. I do. I know what it was like to have a mother who didn’t care at all. Who only cared about herself, and who came to visit only when she needed things. So no, I didn’t want you to be like her. And I know that you think you know what that means because you think you knew her. But you didn’t. I remember her... Just leaving me home alone all day. Going out to drink at the Gold Pan while my dad was at work. Forgetting to feed me. My brothers used to have to fix my hair for school because my mom would still be asleep. No, I didn’t want you to be like her. But that didn’t mean I needed you to feel nothing. To be strong all the time and keep everything bad and hard inside you.”
They were all staring at her like she had grown another head. “I’m sorry,” Mary said. “I’m sorry if you thought that. I was scared, but more for me than for you. Scared to lose you, scared... I was so scared maybe I had that in me. I don’t know why she left. To this day I don’t, and I can never ask. I was afraid it might creep up on me someday and I was vigilant to make sure it didn’t. On either of us. I wanted to be perfect, and wanting that so much, being so afraid of mistakes... I made it worse.”
It didn’t matter, did it? How much she had wanted to be a good mother. Because in the end, she had messed up. In the end, Avery felt lost, and she hadn’t been able to go to her when she needed her most.
“We didn’t know, Mom,” Lark said, softly. “I didn’t know that side of Gram.”
“I know. She changed when she came back and stayed. She stayed for the three of you.”
Not for Mary. Never for Mary.
But that didn’t matter. Not now.
“Avery,” Mary said. “We talk now. What do you need?”
“I need a plan,” Avery said. “The only plan that I’ve had for the last two years is to just... Hold everything together. And now it’s blown apart. Completely. So now I need to fix it. I need to do something.”
“Have you told your friends yet?”
“No. But his arrest is going to show up in the news. You know it is. It’ll be in that column under arrests.”
“Yeah,” Lark said. “So what will you do?”
“What can I do? I’m going to
have to tell everybody.” Avery looked down at her square. “I just kept thinking maybe I would find a way around this. Some magic solution. I started reading a diary that I found in Gram’s attic. The woman who brought these curtains. And I thought that maybe I would find something there. But I haven’t yet. I just kept thinking about how brave she was. Coming to Oregon from Boston. Changing everything. She was a widow.” A tear tracked down Avery’s face. “At least if I was a widow there wouldn’t be a choice. At least I wouldn’t feel like it was my fault.” She shook her head. “I need... I need to get to the place where I want to have something new. Where I’m excited about it. But I don’t know how to get from here to there.”
Mary curved her hands around her quilt square, balling it up in her hands. “Avery, I know that I’ve made mistakes. And I’m so sorry about that. I think some of it is that I didn’t share with you... I didn’t share with any of you some of what happened in my life. I didn’t know how.” She swallowed hard.
She knew how to express anger about her mother and she’d done that. She knew she’d made plenty of tight comments over the years too. But she hadn’t shared. Not really. And it gave her that same feeling as trying to figure out how to quilt.
A naked, sort of exposed sense that all her flaws and deficiencies were revealed by what she couldn’t do.
“Your grandfather was a good man,” she said. “I loved him very much. But he was so hurt by your gram leaving. And he couldn’t bear my hurt on top of it. I had to be strong. And I thought being strong helped me. It did help. But I never meant for you to keep your heads down and tough it out through hardships without seeking help.”
She cleared her throat. “I’m not great at this. At sharing. But I know a little bit about before and after. Even though Gram clearly didn’t want to be my mother, I was so sad when she left. And I didn’t think I could ever enjoy anything again. But I found a new way to live. And it doesn’t mean that I didn’t miss her. I did. If I hadn’t missed her I don’t think I would have been half so angry. But no matter what happens, you find a way to live your new life. Even when you have to start again because someone else failed you. Even when it’s not fair.”