by Sarah Morgan
No doubt Hannah had her own memories about that time, but when it came to removing things from her past that she didn’t like, Hannah was like a surgeon with a scalpel. She cut it out and sutured the wound.
Beth buried it and put up with the occasional ache, but she’d been younger than Hannah.
“I’m boring, Jason. I’m a boring person. Last time I saw my sister she was talking about flying here, there and everywhere—what did I contribute to the conversation?”
“Wait... This is because of Hannah? What has she been saying to you?”
“Nothing.” Beth sat down again. “This has nothing to do with Hannah.”
“If she’s made you feel inferior, then—”
“She hasn’t made me feel inferior. I manage that all by myself.”
“You want Hannah’s life?” A muscle flickered in his cheek. “You want her child-free, commitment-free life? A life, by the way, which you’ve previously said looks cold and lonely.”
“I do not want her life.” Although it was true that there were parts of Hannah’s life she’d like—the first-class flights and the interaction with adults, the fact that she was respected by her peers and could come and go without once thinking about babysitters.
But she didn’t envy the isolation of Hannah’s life.
Hannah had closed herself off. She didn’t want intimate connections.
She hadn’t always been that way, of course.
Once, she, Beth and Posy had been close. They’d been so close that their mother hadn’t bothered to invite friends over for them because the three of them occupied each other.
It was so long ago Beth could hardly remember those days. Occasionally her mind drifted there and along with the thoughts came memories of warmth and laughter, of games played, of inconsequential fights and making up. Childhood.
She felt a stab of guilt that she’d snapped at her sister earlier.
As soon as Hannah was back from her trip, Beth would call and make amends. She’d buy a gift for their mother from both of them. She’d meet in a restaurant, or wherever Hannah preferred to meet. Beth didn’t want to lose what little connection she had with her sister. Family counted.
But now wasn’t the time to be worrying about her sister. She had worries enough of her own.
“I was an only child,” Jason said. “And I never wanted that for our kids.”
“Which was why we had Ruby.”
She’d always known how badly Jason wanted children. The moment Melly started sleeping through the night, he’d raised the idea of having another one. He’d been determined that Melly was going to have someone to play with, and turn to later in life.
Having experienced ups and downs with Hannah, Beth wasn’t sure that a sibling came with a guarantee of support and friendship, but she also wanted more than one child, so she’d tried to put aside the memory of her traumatic birth—first deliveries were often the worst, weren’t they?—and by the time Melly was three, she’d been pregnant again.
Ruby had been delivered eight weeks early as a medical emergency, and the flurry of drama and high anxiety had convinced Beth that two was enough. Given that Jason hadn’t raised the topic of having more, she assumed he’d agreed.
She wasn’t good at having babies, and it wasn’t exactly something you could perfect with practice. The mere thought of going through it again filled her with dread.
“I can feel my confidence draining away, Jason. If I don’t go back to work soon, I’ll be unemployable.”
Maybe she already was. She wondered how hard it would be to morph back into work mode. Could she project confidence if she didn’t feel it? What if she wasn’t even offered the job? Was she emotionally robust enough to take rejection? “I want this and it’s a good time to do it. Melly is in first grade now and Ruby is in preschool three mornings a week.”
“But you take them and pick them up. You do activities with them. Who would do that?”
They’d reached the “juggling” part. “I thought maybe you could leave early a couple of days a week and I thought Alison might help.”
“I’m sure my mother would help, but I have a job. It makes no economic sense for me to give that up so that you can go back to work.”
“I’m not asking you to give it up. Maybe compromise a little. This isn’t about economics, it’s about my sanity. I’ve lost me, Jason. I have no idea who I am anymore. And I’m lonely.”
“You’re always complaining you never have five minutes to yourself. That you can’t even use the bathroom without Melly banging on the door or Ruby getting into trouble. You have the girls. How can you possibly be lonely?”
She felt a rush of despair followed by another emotion she didn’t recognize.
“I want to meet them, Jason. I want to find out more about the job.”
“Who is ‘them’? You haven’t given me the details.”
She took a deep breath. “Corinna has set up her own company.”
“Corinna?” The word exploded out of him. “This is the same Corinna who made your life a misery when you worked for her before?”
“She didn’t make my life a misery.”
“No? You were sick with stress. She fired three of the staff in the six months before you left.”
“It was a busy time in the company. We were all under pressure.”
“And Corinna was the source of that pressure. She used to call you up and scream at you at 3:00 a.m. There wasn’t a single moment of your day that she respected as private. If you’re looking for sisterhood, and women supporting other women, you’re not going to find it in any company she’s a part of. She’s not going to cut you any slack because you have kids, Beth.”
“I wouldn’t want her to.”
He studied her for a moment. “Fine. Go and meet them. Talk to Corinna. Let me know when and I’ll cover the childcare.”
She relaxed slightly. “You’d do that?”
“Yes. When you remember what Corinna is like, you’ll probably decide you’d rather be at home with the girls.”
He thought she wasn’t going to get the job.
Even her own husband thought she no longer had anything to offer.
What did that say about him?
And what did it say about her?
It said that she had to get the job, no matter what, if only to prove that she could.
6
Suzanne
“Can you hang those lights a little higher?” Suzanne narrowed her eyes. “They’re too low.”
Stewart took another step up the ladder and raised the rope of stars. “Here?”
“Too high.” The man was so patient, she thought. So patient.
He sighed. “Suzy—”
Maybe not so patient.
“A fraction lower.” She watched as he lowered them. “Perfect. Don’t you love them?”
“Fairy lights are right at the top of my Christmas list. If Santa doesn’t bring at least ten sets, I’m going to break down and cry like a baby.”
“Sarcasm is unattractive. On the other hand, now I know what you want, I’ll make sure Santa returns the perfect gift he bought you and buys fairy lights instead.”
“Don’t!” He gave her a look of wild-eyed panic. “I know you’re capable of it.”
“Are you going to hang those fairy lights without complaining?”
He secured the fairy lights with exaggerated care. “Have pity. I’m a man. I can’t get excited about fairy lights, whatever shape they are. They come under the same heading as throw cushions. In other words, something that serves no purpose.”
“You think?” Suzanne flicked the switch and the stars gleamed white. “They look good. Let’s hang another set over the hearth.” Creating comfort was at the heart of everything she did, from cooking good food in the café to knitting sweaters. It was as if par
t of her was determined to erase the cold and loneliness she’d felt in her early childhood. She’d had no one to nurture her, so she’d learned to nurture herself. She’d been afraid of the dark, but night-lights hadn’t been allowed, so now she made up for it. Warm lights, soft cushions, family—everything she’d never had, she had now in abundance.
“Another set?” Stewart climbed back down the ladder. “How many do you have?”
“Ten. I bought them for the café, and these were left over. On the other hand, maybe candles would be better on the hearth.” Suzanne folded a throw over the base of the bed and carefully added cushions. “Do not say anything.”
Stewart looked at the cushions. “My lips are sealed, but only because I’m shallow and care about my Christmas gift.”
“I asked Posy to fetch some extra logs for the basket so we can light a fire when she arrives. I don’t want Hannah to be cold.”
“She lives in New York. Do you have any idea how cold New York is in the winter?”
“There’s a difference between Manhattan and the Scottish Highlands.”
“That’s why we live in the Highlands.”
Suzanne straightened a lamp and surveyed the room. The curtains were the same deep green as the moss that clung to the side of the mountain in the summer. The fabric was rich and velvety and fell in a pool to the polished oak floor. They were heavy enough to keep out the cold wind that sneaked through cracks and rattled the windows in the winter months. The position of Glensay Lodge, idyllic in the summer, was exposed in the winter. For that reason, Suzanne made sure there was warmth in the furnishings. She’d made everything herself, from the curtains to the soft throw draped across the base of the bed.
She’d longed for a home of her own, and there was never a day when she wasn’t grateful for it.
Stewart took it for granted, but that was because he’d always had it. She knew he was equally content sleeping on a snowy ledge, thousands of feet up a mountain.
Thanks to Cheryl, she’d experienced that, too.
The first time her friend had dragged her climbing still stuck in her mind. Would she have done it without Cheryl? Probably not. To her surprise, she’d enjoyed the crunch of snow under her boots and the icy slap of the wind against her face. It was true that she hadn’t shared Cheryl’s single-minded passion for it, but she’d enjoyed the physical challenge and the beauty of watching the sun rise above snowcapped mountains. Most of all she’d enjoyed the friendship and the teamwork that came with climbing.
* * *
“This is all I want from life.” Cheryl lay on her back in her sleeping bag staring up at the stars. In the still of the night they could hear the glacier creak and groan. “Not a mansion in the Hollywood Hills, or a swanky apartment on Fifth Avenue. Who wants to be trapped between four walls when you can have this? It’s the best.”
Suzanne was cold and wished Cheryl hadn’t insisted on sleeping outside the tent. “Don’t you want a family one day?”
“I suppose so.” Cheryl shrugged. “I’ve never thought about it.”
Suzanne thought about it all the time. “You can’t raise a family in a sleeping bag. You’ll need a home.”
“No, I won’t. I’ll travel around. Buy a van. We can all sleep in the back, or camp out.”
It sounded exhausting and insecure to Suzanne. Before she’d met Cheryl, she’d been moved between so many different foster homes it had made her dizzy. Living out of a van didn’t sound any different, except perhaps colder in the winter months. “Is that fair on them?”
“Kids get used to whatever life they’re living. That’s their normal.”
Suzanne hadn’t got used to hers. “What if they’re not happy doing that?”
“They will be. I’ll teach them that you don’t need possessions to enjoy life.”
Suzanne frowned. “It’s not about possessions, it’s about security.”
“You mean predictability.”
Did she mean that? Suzanne didn’t think so. “Security isn’t the same as predictability. It would be nice to go out for the day and know that the things you love will be waiting for you when you get home.”
“If you get attached to things, it just hurts more when you lose them. Better to let all that go. I won’t need paintings for my wall because I’m going to be looking at views like this.”
“How is that practical? You’re going to need to make a living somehow. You still need to eat.”
“I’ve thought about that.” Cheryl sat up suddenly, as if she couldn’t possibly make an important announcement while lying flat. “I’m going to be a mountain guide. That way I can do what I love and be paid for it. How cool is that?”
It was the first Suzanne had heard of that plan. “Getting the training and qualifications will cost you a fortune.”
“I’ll find a way.” As usual, Cheryl dismissed the practicalities as nothing more than an inconvenience. “How about you? You’ll go to college and study law or something. You’ll have a house with a neat yard, a handsome husband, two point four polite children and a well-behaved dog.”
The laughter in her voice stopped Suzanne admitting that she would have been happy with all that, except perhaps the law part. But what would her life look like without Cheryl in it? Their friendship was the most important thing in her world. “I’m going to be a mountain guide, too.”
“You’re kidding.” Cheryl turned to look at her. “I thought you only did all this because I do it.”
“I love it, too.” Although until that moment she hadn’t considered being a mountain guide. But why not? She had to do something with her life. “We could do the training together. Get our qualifications together.”
“I’d love that.” Cheryl hugged her. “We’re going to be friends forever. Promise me we’ll be friends forever.”
“I promise.”
* * *
Suzanne glanced around the room again. “I’m not sure about the rug. Do you think we should give her the sheepskin from our bedroom?”
“What I think,” Stewart said, “is that you should stop.” He put the lights down and held out his arms to her. “Come here.”
“Why?”
“Do I need an excuse to hug my wife?” He lowered his head and kissed her and she forgot about Hannah. She was eighteen again, and in love with a man who wanted all the same things she did.
“Where do you want these?” Footsteps and the sound of Posy’s voice interrupted them.
She was carrying logs under one arm and used her other hand to shield her eyes. “Whoa. Sorry. If I’d known you were occupied, I would have sung loudly to announce my arrival.”
Stewart stopped kissing Suzanne. “Don’t sing. I beg you don’t sing.”
Posy pulled a face. “Maybe the two of you should get a room. I’m way too young to witness this.”
Suzanne eased out of Stewart’s arms. “Put them in the basket by the fire. Thank you, honey.” She watched as Posy dropped the logs into the basket. Two of her three daughters were settled and happy and she was grateful for that. Both Beth and Posy had found the life they wanted.
Posy straightened and glanced round the room. “It’s pretty, Mom. I almost want to move in myself. This turret bedroom is great. I bet we could rent it out on Airbnb and make a fortune.” She noticed the Christmas tree in the corner. “What’s Eric doing in here?”
“Eric?” Stewart adjusted the lights. “I can just about handle you naming the chickens, the sheep and the pigs, but since when have we started naming trees?”
“Trees are living things. At least, that one is. Meet Eric, the eco tree. He comes complete with roots. I repotted and nurtured him this year and look how he’s grown and flourished. Usually I put him in the barn when we have guests over Christmas.”
Suzanne added a couple of books to the nightstand. Hannah had always loved books. “Will Luke want
a tree? He doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who needs to be surrounded by glittery trappings.”
“Everyone has to have a tree at Christmas.” Posy unwrapped a nut bar and took a bite.
“Which is why Hannah should have one, too. Don’t drop crumbs in here. I just cleaned.” Suzanne eyed her youngest daughter, thinking once again how like Stewart she was, always on the go. It occasionally surprised her when she remembered Posy wasn’t his child.
But she might as well have been. Stewart was the only father she remembered.
“I was up at five and I haven’t had breakfast.” Posy took another large bite, catching the crumbs in her palm. “Hannah won’t remember to water him. Eric will die. And I bet she won’t even come to his funeral.”
Suzanne knew she was supposed to smile but couldn’t quite manage it.
Her stomach was in a knot. It had been two years since Hannah was home. Would it be difficult?
“I hope she doesn’t miss Manhattan. It’s wonderful during the holidays.” She walked to the window and stared at the jagged profile of the mountains in the distance. Already they’d had more snow than usual for the time of year. How would Hannah react? Would she get cabin fever? Would log fires and home baking be enough to keep her here, or would she be wishing she’d made an excuse as she had the year before?
Behind her back, Posy exchanged worried glances with her father. “You’ve never been to New York at Christmas.”
“Beth has told me all about it.” Suzanne turned. “She takes the girls skating in Central Park.”
Stewart cleared up the empty boxes. “That patch of ground in front of the henhouse often freezes over. It would work as a skating rink.”
“You’d have to pick up the chicken poo first.” Posy stuffed the empty wrapper into her pocket. “You think I should buy skates for Martha? She could be the world’s first skating chicken. Oh, and great news. She laid this morning! I’ve been over there this morning giving her love and attention. Why is the desk from the study up here?”
“Because Hannah may need to work. If something important comes up, I don’t want her to feel she has to leave.”
“She’s not the leader of the free world. I’m sure she can be spared for a few days without the economy plunging.” Posy smiled. “Relax. And now I have to go.”