The Memory of Us: A Novel

by Camille Di Maio

  Lucille’s face reflected the same exuberance as the others, but every time we caught each other’s eye, she pursed her lips and appeared anxious. It looked as if she wanted to tell me something, but it was impossible to get away and talk privately.

  After assurances to everyone that we would get together often over the break, Father and Mother pulled the car up while a porter helped me with my bags.

  Father got out to open my door and kissed my head. “It’s good to have you home again, Princess.”

  It was odd to return to Liverpool after being in London for just a few months. It was like slipping on a pair of old comfortable shoes—but I also liked the shiny new heels. They each fit in their own way. I was looking forward to this time, though. No studying, and lots of well-prepared meals by Betty. Mother was pleased by my growing relationship with Roger, and I didn’t disabuse her of her enthusiasm. But the separation of a few weeks was going to give me a chance to evaluate what, if anything, was going to happen between us.

  Fate, that teasing nymph, was prepared to answer that question.

  I had anticipated a barrage of questions about school, but Mother had her mind set on filling me in on recent happenings in Liverpool.

  “Julianne, it’s so distressing. We had the heaviest rains last week, and the cold turned some of it into ice. The trees are all sagging under the pressure, and the Merseyside Ladies’ Auxiliary Benefit Lunch was canceled. We could barely drive anywhere. It was so inconvenient.”

  My father interjected. “Beatrice—the church!”

  “I was getting to that, Richard. There’s just so much to say, I don’t know where to start. Julianne—Saint Mary’s roof collapsed in all of the rain, and the church flooded.”

  “Oh no! What about John and Maude’s wedding?”

  “That’s exactly the point. It’s uncertain if the church will be cleaned up in time for Christmas, but definitely not by next week. They looked into other ones around the city, but they are already booked. So your father and I have offered for them to use Westcott Manor.”

  “Really? That’s wonderful! I mean, that’s terrible news about the church, but how exciting that it will be at our house!”

  “Yes. They were so relieved when I—all right, Richard, we—suggested it. It is going to mean a lot of work, but I thought that you would enjoy helping out.”

  “Of course I will.”

  “Mrs. Parker already has so much to oversee at the church, so she has asked Maude and her mother to work out the details with me. The menu was already planned, so they will just be preparing it in our kitchen with Betty’s help. However, they had already delivered some of the decorations to the church, and they got ruined in the flood.”

  “Oh, poor Maude!”

  “Well, Lucille, Lotte, Blythe, and I have been working feverishly on that, and we have made a lot of progress. However, I think that it would be nice to bring a touch of Christmas to the house in time for the wedding. Plus, we need to add some flower arrangements. We’ve hired some men to take care of things. A father and son. The McConways or McCarols or something like that. I’ve asked the son to take you to the nursery and help you pick out some wreaths and sprigs and other things for the inside.”

  “The McCarthys?” Surely, it couldn’t be.

  “Yes, I believe that’s it. They came highly recommended by Audrey Whitehall. They fixed up her gardens for her daughter’s wedding in April. Of course, that was the springtime, and that’s impossible now.” She went on, but I didn’t hear anything else.

  Kyle was assisting with the wedding decorations? And Mother had assigned us to work together?

  “Anyway, they’ve been such a help, especially the son. All that I asked him to do was to pick up flowers and evergreens, but he surprised me with a sketch of the different rooms with ideas for arrangements. They were really quite good. He should consider working in that field.”

  Casually, I said, “Mother, I think he’s going to be a priest.”

  “What? You know him?”

  I brushed off my mistake. I wasn’t supposed to know about him. Or Bootle. “Oh, I think Elizabeth Whitehall told me something about it a few months ago—a father-and-son gardening team, I mean. It has to be the same two.”

  “Well, you’re right. He is in the seminary. What a shame—such wasted talent.”

  I didn’t like her talking about him that way. I had accepted his choice, and I thought that it should be defended. “Don’t say that, Mother. You’ve never said that it was a waste that John Parker was following in his father’s footsteps in becoming a minister.”

  “Yes, well, I think it’s different with Catholics. Anyway, dear. We have a lot of things to go over. The McCarthy boy will be picking you up tomorrow morning at nine when he drops his father off. He said that the nursery plants were hit hard as well, so he’s going to take you to a tree farm in Wallasey. Your father didn’t like the idea of you two going out there alone, but I assured him he was worrying needlessly. The boy is studying for the priesthood, after all.”

  In her wildest dreams, she couldn’t have imagined that Kyle might be someone that I could fall in love with. So of course I would be safe with him.

  She prattled on about details that I should have been listening to. But I couldn’t concentrate, thinking only of the fact that I would be seeing Kyle tomorrow. And spending the day with him. I couldn’t deny that the thought stirred up feelings that I had spent months repressing. But I was happy in London now and had a new life. Kyle was the old life, a girlish attachment, and he had barely owned a whole scene on that stage. I was considering a future with Roger.

  Lucille came over for dinner and to spend the night so that we could catch up. Betty prepared a feast worthy of Christmas itself with asparagus, gravy, cranberry sauce, and sausages wrapped in bacon. Scraping the last of the sweet pudding from the bowls, Lucille and I said our good nights to Mother and Father. Pajamas on, teeth scrubbed, and huddled by the fireplace in my bedroom, we were anxious to finally visit alone. But before we settled in, she clearly wanted to say something.

  “Jul, I tried to warn you at the train station, but I just couldn’t get a word in edgeways with everyone around. I didn’t know how you’d feel about working with Kyle. I tried to bring it up with your mother—carefully, of course—and even volunteered to go out to the farm myself with him. But she wants me working on the menu with Betty.”

  “Thanks, Luce. I wish we could have talked then, but at least I found out during the ride home. It gave me a chance to prepare. Although I’m not even sure what there is to prepare for. I’ve moved on, and I hope that it’s evident that I have done so.”

  “Evident to whom—you or Kyle?”

  “Well, certainly evident to him. It would be humiliating if he knew that I had harbored those kinds of feelings for him. But I hope that it is also clear to me that everything is as it should be and that I have put it to rest once and for all. Besides, there’s someone else to consider.” Lucille had already received several letters from me about Roger and the tentative feelings that were developing.

  “I hope so, too, for your sake.” She didn’t seem convinced and looked at me with worried eyes.

  “I don’t want to talk about that right now, though. I learned how to play backgammon at school, and I’ve been dying to teach you so that we could play together.”

  I taught her in which direction to move her checkers, how to get my singles out, and how to bear off from her inner board, but often she persisted in moving her pieces the wrong way. I laughed at her, and she threw a pillow at my face, which set off a full-scale battle. We fell into a fit of giggles so loud that Mother came in to see what all the commotion was about.

  It was so good to be with Lucille again. I felt like I was twelve years old, with no cares in the world.

  I can’t say that I woke up at dawn, because I had barely slept. As much as I wanted to convince myself that today was meaningless, the possibilities of what the morning might bring kept me tossing an
d turning. It is no wonder that some people are afraid of the dark, fearing what might be hiding in the shadows. My own monsters were self-concocted fits of overthinking.

  “I couldn’t risk falling for you any more than I already have.”

  Kyle’s last words in the barn provoked a hundred unanswerable questions. No resolution, no finality—only the whisper of what I longed to hear.

  By full sunrise, I had a headache. It was a much more manageable injury than heartache, and I was planning to avoid that pain with all my might. I tried to burn Roger’s image into my brain, but he quickly floated away and Kyle took his place. That was not a good sign.

  Of one thing I was certain. It was going to be impossible to hide from Kyle during Christmas break, so I might as well face him head-on.

  I nudged Lucille around eight. She waved me away, so I gave her an extra ten minutes. By then I could smell breakfast coming from downstairs, so I tried harder, and she opened her eyes.

  “You are a bad influence on me, Julianne Westcott! I stayed up way too late!”

  “And you hated every minute, didn’t you?”

  She flashed a grin. “I thought your mother was going to have us committed! I can’t remember laughing so hard—ever!”

  She threw one of my robes on over her pajamas, and we trudged down, letting our noses lead us to the scent, as our eyes were not yet fully functional.

  I half-feared that Kyle would arrive early and see me in such disarray, but then again maybe that would have solved all of my problems. Although the last time he saw me, I was soaking wet, wearing his herringbone jacket, and tottering on a broken heel. This morning would likely be an improvement on that image.

  Betty had outdone herself with breakfast, placing before us scrambled eggs, baked beans, mushrooms and tomatoes, and black pudding. Instead of the hot tea provided, I opted for a cup of coffee. Lucille lifted her eyebrows. Abigail had hooked me on it during late nights of studying. It was just the boost that I needed.

  Father and Mother had breakfast with us, too, but only briefly. Father had an appointment with a contractor to repair part of one of the warehouses. It had sustained minor damage in the rain. Mother was already impatient to continue with the wedding planning, and her obvious anxiety made Lucille cringe.

  “Jul,” she whispered to me as we went back upstairs. “I love your mother, but really. You would think that this was your wedding.”

  “Oh Lord,” I said, shaking my head. “I shudder to think what grand plans she’ll dream up for that occasion.”

  “I think that tonight in my prayers, I will thank God that my family are simple folk. Besides, I have you for all the fancy stuff. Speaking of which,” she said, “let’s go see what you’re going to wear for your big date today.”

  “Lucille, it’s not a date!”

  “I know, Grumpy. I’m only teasing.”

  We searched through my closet for just the right thing. Usually, it was easy to decide what to wear, since the purpose of an event was obvious. Today’s outing with Kyle posed an unfamiliar challenge. Should I dress as I would on any other day, accentuating the positive? Or should I wear something unflattering so as to remind myself that this was, in fact, not romantic? What would be appropriate for traipsing around a tree farm? I had purchased a trouser suit in London, but it was just barely acceptable for women to wear trousers, and Lucille resoundingly ruled it out when I tried it on for her. Liverpool had not yet journeyed to the horizons of fashion.

  We decided on something simple. A pleated dark-blue skirt, with a fitted gray sweater. A platter-shaped black hat with creamy silk flowers. Lucille selected small silver loops from my jewelry box and a silver brooch in the shape of a peacock—my little nod to vanity, since I had chosen such a basic and sensible outfit.

  I brushed my hair, with perhaps just a few more strokes than were strictly necessary. Lucille’s gaze pressed upon me as she noted the care with which I applied my makeup. Her expression was solemn as she pulled the curtains open and saturated the room with light. “Jul,” she said, “I know you’ll keep your head about you today. You know what’s right.” She must have read the worry in my face. Giving me a quick hug, she looked at the clock and said, “It’s nine fifteen!”

  Scrambling down the stairs, all of my senses were suddenly drawn to the parlor doorway where, waiting for me, was Kyle.

  My body felt conflicted, like trying to press together the positive sides of two magnets. Every fiber in me was drawn to him. It took all of my willpower to not run toward him and instead walk gracefully across the room like the mature young lady I was at least pretending to be.

  With the perceptive eyes of someone in love, I noticed that the muscles of his neck tightened and released, and he took in a sharp breath. In a second, our eyes told each other everything that we would guard our lips from saying. We each looked away quickly, only to return again with our masks on.

  “Good morning, Miss Westcott,” he said starchily. But he didn’t fool me. I saw the corners of his mouth holding back a smile.

  “Good morning, Mr. McCarthy.” And my mouth fought the same battle. I looked at Mother and remembered that I wasn’t supposed to know him. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “It’s good of you to accompany me today. I’ll appreciate your input on the flower and evergreen arrangements for your home.”

  “You’re too generous. We appreciate all of your help with the wedding.”

  I hoped that all of this stiffness was for the benefit of my mother, who was standing next to him. I didn’t think that I could manage a whole day of stilted conversation with someone who evoked such passionate reactions in me by his mere presence. Lucille stood behind her, arms folded, watching me like a guardian angel.

  Mother broke in, clearly oblivious to the currents running beneath our exchange. “Well, you two run along. And, Kyle, when you get back, I’ll make sure that Betty saves a plate of dinner for you. It is the least we can do to say thank you for your help.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Westcott, but my father is feeling unwell today and I should sit with him tonight.”

  “Very well. Julianne, your brooch is upside down.” Twisting it upright, she patted my back and sent us on our way. As soon as the door was closed, I could hear her calling, “Lucille, let’s get to work!”

  Poor Lucille. I was definitely getting the better end of the deal today.

  Chapter Ten

  Kyle’s truck was faded and worn, but it looked like a fairy-tale carriage to me. He opened my door, but he needn’t have because I could have floated in. As he walked around to the driver’s side, I pinched my arm tightly in order to bring myself out of the clouds. This was going to be harder than I thought. Mind over matter, head over heart. I repeated it to myself, hoping I could believe it.

  He slid in and slammed his door.

  I was glad to see that he hadn’t dressed up for the occasion. That made it easier to focus on the task at hand and not envision this as anything more than an extended errand. He wore cuffed canvas trousers, a white shirt, and a brown leather jacket. A winter cap covered his hair. While I missed his boyish, wavy locks, I could see his face more clearly now. He was still so handsome, with a strong jawline and the shadow of a beard. Not that three months away was going to change any of that. I had just tried to forget.

  I was keenly attuned to his every movement. Igniting the engine. Shifting the gears. I had read that when a person loses a sense, the others overcompensate. I wondered which sense of mine was impaired, because my sight, hearing, and sense of smell were all very acute at this moment. There was something so essentially masculine about seeing him drive the truck, and at once I realized my preference for this over the suited, moneyed crowd of men that I was used to associating with.

  We made our way down the winding path of the estate until we reached the edge of Newsham Park. A few dedicated souls were already out walking its grounds, bundled in their winter clothes. The twin lakes had not yet frozen over, but the geese had already left
for the southern part of the continent. A vacuum of silence covered the land. I made a move to step out and open the iron gate that separated our home from the public grounds, but Kyle put his hand on my arm and stopped me. Our eyes met, and we lingered in the unspoken chasm that lay between us, lovers denied. At least, that was how I saw it.

  “Please stay,” he said. “I’ll get the gate.”

  He stepped out to pull it back, and the creaking of the metal disrupted the magical feeling of the morning. Father said that as soon as electricity could be brought to the perimeter, he was going to install an automatic gate that would open on its own. I wished it were already in place. Then Kyle would not have had to leave my side even for a second.

  He hopped back in and pulled through the gate, then ran back to close it after us. On his return he blew on his hands to warm them, then released the brake and sealed his eyes to the road. We drove in silence for a few minutes, passing shops darkened for another hour and homes lit as breakfast simmered. I wished I knew what was going on in his head. Either it didn’t matter to him that I was achingly close, or he was very disciplined. I hoped it was the latter.

  I got the small talk started. “I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me today. Mother has these elaborate plans sometimes. I don’t know that I’ll be any more help than an extra set of arms to carry out what we buy.”

  “Don’t apologize. And don’t sell yourself short,” he said, flashing a grin that made me feel even weaker, if it was possible. “Your arms will be useful. There will be lots to carry.”

  And with that, the wooden masquerade we’d maintained since leaving the house fell away.

  “So why Wallasey?” I needed to keep to a topic that provided me better footing.

  “There’s a great farm there with a wide variety of Christmas trees. I thought it would add something special to decorate with different kinds of boughs.”