Confessions from the Quilting Circle

by Maisey Yates

  “So what if I just... Burn it all down,” Avery said, leaning back in her chair. “Quit every committee. Quit volunteering for anything.”

  “Yes,” Hannah said. “Do it. You’re nobody’s suburban sock bunny. You are a new woman. You are whatever you choose to be. And maybe it isn’t perfect. But none of us are perfect.” Hannah took a deep breath. “I didn’t get the principal position. And I wasn’t going to say anything because it’s nothing compared to what you’re going through. But... I’m really upset about it. But... I’m just... I’m going to figure out something else. I’m going to find a new thing.”

  “I’m sorry, Hannah,” Mary said. “I know how much that meant to you.”

  “Yeah,” Hannah said. “It did. It does. But... I’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out. Maybe it’s not perfect but it’s... But we’re still here. And we can make it what we need to make it.”

  “A new view,” Avery said. She didn’t look exactly triumphant or happy, but she didn’t look quite so crushed as she had before. “We can make a new view.”

  “We can,” Hannah said. “And we will.”

  “And I’m going to support you,” Mary said. “Whatever you need. It’s okay if we don’t know what we’re doing. We’ll just figure it out.”

  And Mary knew she needed to hear that as much as they did.

  20

  He let me ride with him today, though I said I shouldn’t. He said we are not in Boston society and won’t cause gossip in a wagon train. I don’t know what I’m doing. Right now sitting on his horse, with his strength behind me, feels like home.

  Anabeth Snow’s diary, 1864

  Avery

  The discussion she’d had with her mother last night had been surprisingly therapeutic. She had vented her guts, even though she couldn’t dump her need to deny anything was wrong completely on her mother. Because she should be worrying about practical things, like housing and money, and emotional things like her children’s well-being. And instead she was freaking out about having to tell her friends everything that was happening before it hit the paper.

  So she was committed to this coffee date. Where she was going to tell everybody, and she was going to take a step back from... Everything.

  It was perfection or destruction, as far as she could see. There wasn’t another option. If the secret was out, then why not destroy it all completely? Why not just lay it all out there?

  Another time, she might address this issue. This internal feeling that there was nothing between perfection and failure. But right now, it was propelling her forward, and she needed that.

  Karen, Alyssa and Sandra all walked in the same time, pushing their sunglasses up on their heads in tandem. Avery felt like she was watching a scene happen outside of her body.

  She curled her fingers around her coffee cup and tried to take some comfort. But it was limited. She felt like she was sitting there naked, or might as well have been. Because she was about to peel everything back and reveal all of who she was. She was trying. She was trying. But it was a lot of time of keeping all of these things protected. Hidden.

  At least, she had tried. She had tried so hard to protect her secrets. She had tried so hard to protect her children. She had tried so hard to protect herself.

  And here she was. Telling the key members of the PTA exactly what had been going on in her life. That she was getting divorced.

  Because of course that was where this was headed. She had left him, and it would be divorce.

  It would be court. It might even be a lot of court, if charges were brought up against him by the district attorney.

  She started humming to herself, softly, as she watched her friends wait to get their coffee. Then, her nervous energy became too much to bear and she reached into her bag and took out her quilting square. She looked at the place where she had left off, the crimson strip of fabric halfway tacked to its white background. She stabbed the needle through the fabric, making one neat, even stitch. Perhaps she couldn’t control this interaction, but she could control her stitches.

  That was something.

  Her stitches, at least, were in order.

  Her friends each retrieved their coffee, crossed the room, and sat down at the empty chairs at her table. As she looked across at them, she suddenly realized she had forgotten to put on makeup this morning.

  And that was the weirdest thing.

  She put it on every day. Like armor, like a shield, and she would have thought that she would want even more of it on a day like today. But it hadn’t even crossed her mind.

  She had gotten ready in a fog, pulling on her usual uniform of oversized sweater and black leggings and she had put her hair up, but then she had...walked away from the mirror. And she hadn’t done the rest. She had taken the kids to school, but she’d been lost in her thoughts. Rehearsing an interaction that she had no guidebook for. No script.

  “Are you okay?” Alyssa asked.

  “I...” She really didn’t know how to answer that. She was sitting there. She was upright. She had been dry eyed for days, and generally functional. She had endured the humiliation of having her mostly naked body photographed in a police station. She had revealed to her family that her husband of so many years had been hurting her. She had found out that she had failed at protecting her children, that her son had been hit by the same man who had used his fists on her and that her protection had only enabled that, and not shielded them from anything.

  She had no idea what her future looked like. She wasn’t even really sure what her present looked like, considering that she hadn’t even completed her typical morning routine—and she hadn’t even noticed.

  So she decided not to answer the question. Because to say no would make it seem like she’d crumbled—and she hadn’t. Of all the miracles that had come out of this, it was that she was here. Sitting right there, completely un-crumbled. It almost didn’t even seem possible.

  But she couldn’t say yes either, because that implied a certainty that she didn’t know if she would ever have again.

  “I need to talk to all of you.” She looked down at her hands, down at her wedding ring. She didn’t know why she was putting that on every day. Maybe because somehow she hadn’t quite accepted until she had been sitting here in the coffee shop the divorce was the next step.

  Divorce.

  She didn’t like that word. Not at all. On her wedding day, she had been so certain that it would never be a word used in her life. In her marriage.

  She had spoken vows that she had meant as she had looked into those beautiful blue eyes. But the man behind those eyes had changed. And he was not a man she could be with anymore. And divorce still felt like the wrong word, because she had not made vows to that man. She hadn’t made vows to the man who hit her.

  To the man who would strike their son.

  No. This was a death.

  And that had been in their vows.

  Till death do us part.

  Their love had died.

  The man she believed him to be, was dead.

  And she needed to take that ring off.

  “I’ve been... I’ve been keeping something from everyone. I... I had David arrested. And... It’s going to come out. It might go to trial.”

  She felt like the dorky girl who’d shown up at school in a seasonal denim vest her mom had gotten from Goodwill, not understanding how important fitting in was to Avery. Not understanding that would make her stand out.

  Bet you wish it was a denim vest with a snowman on it now...

  “David was arrested?” Sandra asked. Her unlined face didn’t move, only her tone expressing shock.

  “Yes. I... I really don’t know how to say this. I really don’t. But I’ve been pretending for so long and I can’t anymore. I can’t. When he gets angry he’s started being physically violent with me. And a few days ago he hit my face.
That’s where my bruise came from. And my mother and sisters confronted me about it. I thought... I thought it would get better. I thought that it would stop. Or at least that it wouldn’t escalate. But it did. And I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do except... I can’t be with him anymore. I can’t be with him.”

  There was utter silence around the table. And all at once Avery wished for Hannah’s rage. Or even Lark’s tears. Both things that had made her uncomfortable at the time, but they were genuine. This silence wasn’t about shock, it was as if they were trying to come to a consensus with their eyes. As if they were afraid of giving an answer that didn’t line up with each other’s.

  “Have you...have you been to counseling?”

  It was Karen who asked that question.

  “No,” Avery said.

  “I’m not saying it’s easy but he’s a...he’s a good man, isn’t he? It’s...maybe he’s going through something and he needs to see a doctor or a counselor.”

  “I’m sorry, Avery,” Sandra said, but she looked wooden as Karen. Like there was a shield up. Like they wanted to draw back from her and not lean in. Like she might be contagious. “I really don’t know what to say.”

  “Counseling?” Avery asked. “Like you think counseling will fix it?”

  “I’m not saying that,” Karen said. “I just think maybe there are things you should try, that’s all. I mean, the kids and...and...you know?”

  “Is that what you think?” she asked Alyssa. “That we should go to counseling or something?”

  “Marriage is hard,” Alyssa said slowly. “I mean, being with someone forever is never going to be easy. You have to make the decision that works best for you. I’ve forgiven Micah a lot. But you know, he is a doctor like David. And it’s a stressful job. Truth be told, I haven’t always been there for him like I should’ve been.”

  “Does he hit you?” she asked.

  “No. He’s... He’s gotten close to one of the administrative assistants. I mean, it’s over. But... I didn’t talk about it because I feel like people are very judgmental when you don’t leave. But, sometimes the only thing you can do is stand by him. And that’s a choice that only you can make.”

  Avery felt like maybe she should get angry. Like Hannah had. Because Alyssa was right about that kind of subtle blame that women put onto themselves for all of the flaws in their marriage. But she had never hit David. And she never would.

  Here Alyssa was blaming herself for her husband’s affair, and Avery didn’t know anything about their marriage, but she knew enough to know that it was entirely possible to talk to your spouse without first sleeping with another person.

  You could be angry without hitting. You could be unhappy without betrayal.

  She waited for rage to build inside her. For her anger to sweep in like a tide. But it didn’t. Because when she looked around the table she just saw herself. Smooth, made-up perfection.

  Three beautiful women. Who had poured themselves into their husbands. Into their marriages. Their children. Who had made the successes of the man they were linked to their own. She knew what that was like. How futile it made everything feel, how she felt untethered. Like there was nothing holding her to the earth, because what he was she was. And if he was no longer a well-respected doctor, but just a disgraced wife beater, then what was she?

  And she supposed that went for Alyssa too. He was an adulterer, then what did that make her? If he was a bad husband, then how could she be a perfect wife? And how could her life be enviable?

  That ugly, unspoken component to all of this bloomed in her chest just then, and she couldn’t ignore it or deny it.

  She wanted to be envied. She wanted people to look at her and think Avery Grant had it all.

  That she was a good wife, and a good mother. That she was selfless and sacrificing and did all these things for all these other people, that she was beautiful and fit and looked so good for her age. And why? She had put so much focus on the facade of the house that she had ignored all the drywall crumbling inside.

  And the problem with that was, when the facade was compromise, then there was nothing left. Nothing. The outside of the house wasn’t where you lived. No matter how beautiful it looked, no matter the curb appeal, if it was falling apart inside then who could call it a home?

  And that was her.

  So perfect on the outside. With this enviable marriage, and so desperately broken inside.

  And her friends couldn’t deal with the fracture in her marriage, because they might have to look deeper at their own. She was breaking rank.

  She was the thing they feared the most. The revelation of emptiness, the degradation of that artifice.

  They weren’t her real friends. Not because they hadn’t told her what she wanted to hear. Not that at all. But how could they be? They didn’t know each other. Everything between them was based on the lies they told the world, and the lies they told themselves.

  She didn’t want to fit in anymore.

  Not with them.

  Not in their world.

  “I am really fucking miserable,” Avery said. Four heads turned at the table next to her. And her friends’ eyes widened. “I hate all of this. It’s awful. You know what, I hate trivia night. I hate it. I hate that I spent the last two years sleeping beside a man who hits me. He hits me. I hate the plastic robot that I’ve become. I used to be interesting. And I used to want things. For myself. Now... All I want is for people to look at me and wish they had what they think I have, which isn’t even what I have. It’s bullshit.”

  Alyssa startled. “People are looking at us.”

  “Fine. You know what, I don’t care. Because I’m not perfect. And I can’t be perfect. I can’t hold it together anymore. I’m falling apart and that’s got to be okay, because holding it together was going to kill me. And maybe... Maybe I’ll just try to be happy instead.” She stuffed her square back into her bag. “You have anything else to say?”

  “I think you maybe are having a psychotic episode,” Sandra said slowly. “I have a Xanax in my bag if you want it.”

  “I don’t want a Xanax,” Avery said. “What I would like is a life that doesn’t require a low level of self-medication to get through the day. And I don’t know how far away I am from that. I really don’t. But I’m going to get there someday. Because this isn’t what I want. Not anymore. It’s not what I want to be. I’m quitting all the committees.”

  “You can’t do that,” Karen said. “We have a lot to do.”

  “I have to go earn a living. And I’m not going to be able to do that. Everything is so messed up. I may have to take the kids out of school. They might have to go to public school. I don’t know. I don’t know. But I... I am a mess.” A bubble of hysteria welled up in her chest. “I’m a mess. I’m not perfect. I’m not even close.”

  “Where you going?” Alyssa asked as Avery stood and began to head toward the door.

  “I think I have to go get a job.”

  She walked out the door, and into the sunshine, and she looked around at the very familiar view of Bear Creek’s Main Street.

  And suddenly, it felt new. And since everything around her was the same, she knew that the change had to be coming from inside of her.

  21

  It didn’t feel right, what happened at the audition. Sam says it’s normal for a director to need to see more of an actress. He says so many girls would be thrilled at the opportunity and he was mad at me for my lack of gratitude. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I just need to be tougher. This isn’t a small town. Things are different here.

  Ava Moore’s diary, 1924

  Hannah

  She’d been out in the back having a sneaky cigarette and in general trying to avoid him after the horror that was three nights ago. And while she’d been standing out in the back, with the breeze rustling through the trees she’d found there
wasn’t anything, nicotine or the vanilla perfume she put on her wrists, that smelled like Gram.

  They’d gone back to his place.

  They’d kissed. And oh...it had been amazing.

  But it had hurt. The moment his lips had touched hers she’d been seventeen and thirty-six at the same time and she’d never felt anything like it.

  She’d turned the casual hookup into an art form over the years. But where he’d touched her with his hands had burned like fire and her chest had felt like it was splitting in two.

  And she’d run.

  Literally had run away from him when his hand was halfway up her shirt because she’d been overcome by feelings. And she’d sneaked back into her bedroom, running from sex with Josh Anderson like she’d once sneaked out to have it with him.

  And that was ridiculous.

  Now she was trying to strike the balance between hiding from him like the coward she was and acting like that night hadn’t rocked her to her core.

  She supposed facing him was the only option.

  She looked around the backyard and then turned, slinking back into the sitting room, and then walking into the kitchen, where Josh was working.

  He stopped what he was doing and looked at her, his blue gaze absolutely scalding.

  “Hi,” she said, the word a stammer, which ruined everything.

  One syllable had completely destroyed her intent at being cool. The cigarette was pointless now.

  “Are we going to talk about what happened the other night?”

  “Oh, wow. Read a room, Josh. I was clearly avoiding that.”

  “Did I hurt you?” His expression was flat, focused and she had to look away from him.

  “No! No. You kissed me, you didn’t... It’s just that...” She cleared her throat. “It’s...” Then something caught in her throat and she started coughing.