by Maisey Yates
“You don’t know what it means? I think you do,” Avery said. “It’s just how you are, Lark. You’re enthusiastic, but you don’t really commit to things. You... I don’t know. You coast. You drift. And the drift carries you to fortunate places. Look, it even brought you back to making out with the guy that you used to be in love with.”
“You don’t know me,” Lark said, suddenly filled with the kind of righteous indignation that she had not felt since she was eighteen years old. Since before.
“I have known you for thirty-four years.”
“No. You know exactly what I show you. Which is not everything. Because do you know what happens, Avery? Life kicks the shit out of you. And then you just quit being who you were before.”
“I am well aware of the fact that life kicks the shit out of you, Lark, thank you.”
“What, are you the same? Are you the same as from before?”
“No. But are you honestly comparing some guy you slept with forever ago with my abusive marriage?”
“No. You don’t know what I’m... You don’t know what I’m comparing. Because you don’t know me. Not really. Both of you. You write me off all the time. You talk about how I’m all these things, but you don’t actually know. And yes, I let you think so. But I have a successful career as an illustrator, and I’m running the Craft Café just fine, and you both still think that I’m...some kind of feckless wonder.”
Venting like this felt surprisingly therapeutic and she was ready to embrace it. Ready to let it all out.
“Well, what do you think about me?” Avery asked.
Lark narrowed her eyes. “I think that you’re boring. You were pretty and popular in high school and it made you feel good, but instead of growing up you just...decided to try and keep being that. Which is boring. And I think that you decided to get married and play it safe because you didn’t actually want to go for your dreams. Because you wanted to be a writer. But you didn’t think that you could actually do it.”
“Yeah, real safe. My life turned out real safe,” Avery said, taking another sip of wine.
“Great! Do me,” Hannah said, looking ready for a fight.
Lark rounded on her sister. “You try to pretend you don’t care about things because you’re consumed with angst. You have convinced yourself that you can’t love anything but your violin. But it doesn’t love you back. And you’re so consumed with your all-or-nothing attitude that you don’t even realize you’re already successful. Because it’s not the exact thing you want you don’t think you have anything. Also, you’re a slut.”
“You should be more of a slut,” Hannah said. “Then maybe you wouldn’t be tied up in knots over some guy you kissed. And there’s nothing wrong with having goals. And there’s nothing wrong with being a stay-at-home mom, either.”
“I didn’t say there was,” Lark said. “I said Avery specifically sold herself short. On purpose. Because she was too afraid to go after what she wanted.”
“So, Hannah is wrong for going after what she wanted,” Avery said. “And I’m wrong for not going after what I wanted. I just think you’re spoiled. Mom coddled you, because you were wild. And she was afraid that she would lose you. Because she was afraid that you would be like Gram. So she tried to give you everything that you wanted so that you would be happy and you would stay, and then you didn’t. And she’d never say it, but it broke her heart. I stayed, I stayed for both of you. And neither of you have given me any credit for that.”
“Get down off the cross,” Hannah said. “We need the wood.”
“Oh you’re both awful,” Avery said, standing up with the wine bottle and heading out toward the exit to the attic.
“Stop,” Lark said. “I didn’t want to be in a fight.” She stomped her foot. “I don’t want to be in a fight. I’m sorry. But I’m upset. And I’m a coward. And I don’t know how not to be. And you all think that I’m this one thing, and I’m not. I’m miserable. I have been for a long time, and it’s so ridiculous to feel this bad and to have everyone in my life think that... Like you just all think it’s going to be okay for me, and I don’t know that. I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s going to be okay for you, Avery. Or you, Hannah. I don’t know if we’re going to be okay. And we’ve been... Split apart for all these years, off doing our own things, and not... Not having this fight. We needed to have this fight.”
Hannah’s shoulders sagged. “Lark,” she said. “You’re not stupid, and we don’t think so. It’s just... You’re the baby. And I don’t mean that in a mean way. I mean... Of course Mom and Dad were easier on you. And of course we have kept a running tally of all the ways in which they were easier on you. That’s how that goes.”
“I don’t feel like I had it easier than the two of you. I felt incredible pressure to be good and to never disappoint them. And I was always living in hell not able to control my emotions and knowing it made Mom sad, always wanting to follow rules and finding it hard. I did not have it easy.”
“Of course you don’t think you did,” Avery said. “The baby never does.”
“I’m sorry,” Lark said. “I’m just... I’m sorry that I was off on my own, and that I wasn’t here to see you and the kids as much as I should have been. That I wasn’t in a place where you could tell me about David.”
Avery sighed. “It wasn’t your fault. I didn’t even want to know about it. Nobody could have been close enough to me to know about it.”
“I’m sorry, Hannah, because we could have known each other a lot better. And we could have supported each other. But we were both too busy trying to show that what we did was the most special.”
“It hasn’t been all bad. We haven’t been as close as we could have been,” Avery said. “But we’re here now. And without you... I never could have left him. I wouldn’t have gone to the police. You were both there when I needed you. Even when you were being a bitch, Hannah.”
“Some say it’s part of my charm.”
“It is. Because if you hadn’t been a mean bitch, if you had been nice to me instead, I think I just would have fallen apart. And I don’t think I ever could have faced it. It was the anger that got me through.”
“You know, this was Gram’s doing,” Hannah said. “She was always trying to make us talk.” She laughed. “Look at us now.”
“I wish she and Mom could’ve made up.”
“Me too,” Avery said.
They sat in silence for a moment, looking around their little circle at each other, each holding their wine and looking sad.
“That was like old times,” Lark said. “Me freaking out and being a brat.”
Except nothing bad had happened. They were just still here with her, and she felt better.
“We’re all brats,” Avery said. “Or, we all can be.”
“No, it was good. I need... I want him. And I need to be brave enough to take a chance.”
“You should be more of a slut like me,” Hannah said.
“I mean, the problem is it’s him. Right? It’s not sex. It’s that it’s Ben.”
Hannah made a disgusted sound. “Sadly, I relate to that.”
“Well, you came back here for a reason,” Avery said. “Maybe he’s part of it.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’ll get my heart broken again.”
“Maybe,” Avery said. “But in a few years, I hope that I need you to talk me into trying something again. And I hope that you’ll tell me it’s worth the risk.”
Lark nodded. “That’s fair.”
“Now,” Hannah said. “Are you ever going to choose fabric for your quilt square?”
“I don’t know.” She pulled the swatch book out of her bag, and turned to one of the back pages. There were a few swatches in there, but there was a yellow one, butter soft and pale, unlabeled. “I keep looking at this one. But it’s yellow, and I’m not sure.”
“Lar
k,” Hannah said. “Whatever you choose, you’ll make it into something beautiful. That’s what you do.”
“You really think that?”
“Yeah,” Hannah said. “It’s one of the very annoying things about you.”
“Well, thank you.”
“But also, know that I think you’re amazing,” Hannah said. “And that I think the Craft Café is brilliant. And that might be the wine talking, so don’t ask me tomorrow when I’m sober.”
“Oh I will. I’m going to make sure that I get all compliments from either of you in writing for posterity, forever.”
“I’ll give it to you gladly,” Hannah said. “If you take a chance with your guy.”
“Why does it matter to you?”
“Because,” Hannah said. “I’m out here dealing with some old drama. Avery is starting over. It seems fair.”
“Remember how Gram used to give us a candy bar, and have us divide it into three pieces. But whoever did the cutting had to pick last?”
“It had to be equal,” Avery said.
Lark looked around at her sisters. It was really too bad that life didn’t work like candy bars. Everything could never be equal. But they could be there together. And that was what mattered.
And with them, she could be brave enough to let her emotions go. To make it a little bit messy.
Maybe now, she would be brave enough to try with Ben.
There was no maybe. She would be.
Because life was too short to be this indecisive.
“I will. And I’ll use the yellow fabric. When I find it.” She kicked over a box, as if it might magically reveal the fabric, but it didn’t, just pictures. And an old, red leather book.
“What’s that?” Hannah asked, she swooped down and picked it up. “Ava Moore.” She flipped it open. “1923. I wonder... I wonder if this goes with my dress.”
“It might,” Avery said. “The 1860s diary went with my curtains.”
“Well, I’m going to keep it. Now, I say we raise a toast to Gram. For bringing us back here, for bringing us the quilt, and for bringing us together.”
“To crafting and togetherness,” Hannah agreed.
“And to red lipstick and spearmint gum.”
“Cheers.”
23
The love in my heart for my husband isn’t gone. But there is room now, beside the love, beside the grief. For bluebonnets and horse rides, and for the vast mountains that have replaced the endless prairies. And though I know it is wicked to even write it, John’s arms feel like home.
Anabeth Snow’s diary, 1864
Avery
She had gotten a job.
When Avery walked back into The Dowell House that evening with bags full of takeout hanging off of her arms she felt triumphant. She felt free. Her kids went upstairs, without saying more than three words to her. “You’re coming down for dinner,” she yelled at them. “Ten minutes. I’m not doing silent treatment.” The house was warm, the work that Josh was doing to fix the place up making it look inviting and absolutely perfect for a vacation rental. Though the idea made her a little bit sad now. Since it was beginning to feel like a haven in ways she hadn’t expected.
Of course, she hadn’t known what she would need.
Hannah passed the kids on her way down the stairs, and Avery was about to say something to her when her phone buzzed in her purse. She dug for it, maneuvering the bags on her arms as she did.
“Let me take that,” Hannah said, unburdening one side of Avery as she grabbed her phone and lifted it to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Grant. This is Officer Dempsey from Bear Creek Police Department. I’m calling to let you know that the DA has decided to press charges against your husband. There will be a court date to follow.” Everything went into white noise in Avery’s head. The officer was still talking, making suggestions about restraining orders, and what she should do if she didn’t feel safe. But Avery was finding it difficult to concentrate.
A court case.
“Okay,” she said. “Thank you.”
“You’ll probably be brought in to testify, and so will your children.”
“Okay,” Avery said, the word a whisper. She gave the officer her current address, and other information, before getting off the phone.
“Was that the police?” Hannah asked.
“Yes,” Avery said, walking past her sister, through the living room and into the kitchen. She set the takeout bags on the counter, and Hannah followed suit.
“This has been a very weird day.”
“What are they doing?”
“Prosecuting. And I think I’m supposed to be really happy about that? But I don’t feel anything. I actually don’t know which of the two options is worse. Because I hate all of it.”
“I’m sorry,” Hannah said, standing with her arms awkwardly at her sides. Hannah was not going to hug her. And that was actually fine with Avery. When Hannah graduated to hugging people, then Avery knew something was really wrong.
“I got a job. I was feeling really excited about that until a minute ago. Now I just feel gross.”
“Where did you get a job?”
“Oh at The Roaming Pika.” The quirky store sold furniture, clothing, candles and gifts. It was eclectic and bohemian, and really not traditionally Avery at all. But it was on Main Street in town, was extremely cute and was within walking distance of The Dowell House. They were also able to work with her kids’ school schedule. So it was perfect as far as Avery was concerned. Didn’t pay enough to help her afford a whole lot, but when they did the whole divorce thing...
Well, if he was in jail or didn’t have a job, she supposed she wouldn’t have child support.
There were no good options.
There’s the house.
Their house.
She could sell it. She could sell it to pay for the kids’ education. As long as they moved in with her parents.
“I’m thinking too far ahead,” she said. “I need to stop it.”
“Hey. Understandable.”
“But there’s nothing I can do about the future. I can’t fix it or foresee it or any of that. All I can do is just... I got a job. And I told my friends. And they were awful.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“What didn’t surprise you?” Lark came breezing into the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?”
“Tikka masala,” Avery said. “And rice and naan. David hates Indian food. And he doesn’t like me to get takeout too much. And screw that guy.”
“Hear hear,” Lark said.
Her kids finally came downstairs, and since Aunt Hannah and Aunt Lark were something of a novelty, she actually got a little bit of human interaction out of them. They liked Indian food. And they were happy with the choice.
Avery added it to her list of small wins.
She was going to take every win, no matter how small. Because there were some big unknowns looming. Her kids reacted strangely when she told them about the job, but she supposed they probably didn’t know quite what to think. She hadn’t done anything but be there for them since they were born. That they were going to have to share some of her time was likely not their favorite thing. But then, their whole world was full of change right now. And she was going to have to tell them that their dad was going to court. That they were going to have to tell a judge what they had seen and what they hadn’t.
But she was sitting here, at this unfamiliar kitchen table, eating food that she’d chosen, and her kids were there. Her sisters were there.
So maybe she couldn’t see into the future. But she could see this. And she felt... Safer than she had in a long time. Happy might be a stretch. But she did feel like maybe... Just maybe things would be okay. And as assurance went, she would take it.
Later that night she wen
t upstairs and took out Anabeth’s diary. Because she found courage in those little passages written by that woman so long ago. Courage in her strength to start over.
And for some reason, that connection with the past brought her a greater connection with the present than just about anything else.
24
The girls and I had a falling out because I got the part and Elsie didn’t. Sam says I can stay with him. It’ll be easier anyway. I’m sick of their complaining. They act like children. You can’t be a child here.
Ava Moore’s diary, 1924
Hannah
Hannah had been out buying groceries, which felt like a novelty experience. But now that Avery and her kids were living here, she did feel like maybe it would be best if there was actual food in the house. And it kind of felt nice to do a favor for her sister. She didn’t go grocery shopping. Sometimes, she got groceries delivered to her house, but mostly she just brought takeout home. She was busy.
Cooking and buying food didn’t really have a place in that. But she felt cheerful as she walked through the door of The Dowell House, and then a little bit confused when she saw that it was empty. It was evening, and she had expected everyone to be there. The Craft Café would be closed and Avery should have gotten the kids from school. She was used to walking into empty houses. She lived alone. And she liked it. And being in close proximity with the amount of people she had been with for the past few weeks really should make her feel claustrophobic. But instead, the lack of them felt strange.
She had felt separate from her family for a long time, but these past weeks, and their wine soaked shouting match had made her feel...
Part of them.
She liked it.
She walked through the living room, and stared through the kitchen to the back door that led out to the yard. And she saw lights. Curious, she moved forward. Rope lights. Strung from the rafters of the house, to a pole at the center of the yard. And underneath that was a table. Set for dinner.