by Amy DeMeritt
“I won’t give up hope on Lana. I’ll give her another chance.”
Maggie smiles at the quiet hopeful declaration from Elli and eases her arms around her shoulders to give her a quick motherly embrace. “I love you, Buttercup.”
“I love you too, Mum. Tell me about your day.”
“Your father woke up this morning with a craving for roast and gravy, so we went to the market after breakfast. Then we went to visit with Ethel and Charles for a bit.”
“How is Ethel’s hip? Has she been back for a follow-up since the operation?”
“She went yesterday. Things are looking good. She’s not getting around like she used to just yet. She’s still stiff and walks with a twitchy limp, but she said the pain has subsided a great deal.”
“Sounds like she’s making good progress. The big flower festival will be taking over the city soon. Is she going to feel up to walking about?”
“We talked about that. She’s looking forward to it, so I think we ought to make it a plan.”
“Absolutely.”
Elli dumps the piles of cut vegetables into a large bowl of lettuce and gently tosses the salad with her hands.
“You set the table and I’ll pull the potatoes and roast out and make the gravy.”
Elli nods and turns to grab plates and flatware. She sets the table, then helps Maggie bring the food and wine out to the table. Maggie calls out to her husband that dinner is ready and he promptly joins them
“Well, look at this feast. Everything looks delicious.”
Maggie smiles with pride from Hudson’s words and the drooling expression on his face. She serves up the roast, potatoes, and gravy on everyone’s plates, then they pass the salad between each other.
“How you keeping up with the work at the shop? Do you need any help?”
“Aye, if I get too many more projects, I’ll need some help. Got a heavy load in today. The bride’s grown and those ten bridesmaid dresses are going to be at least a week’s worth of work. I’ll let you know after tomorrow.”
“Buttercup, you don’t have to try to manage it all on your own. Your father and I are still capable of handling some jobs. How about we come in tomorrow and you set us to work? You don’t want to work your weekend away. You never know what might come up.”
Maggie gives her daughter a meaningful look and Elli understands she’s referring to the possibility of a date with Lana. She nods as she takes a sip of wine to wash down a bite of food.
“Okay, if you don’t have anything on your schedule tomorrow, I would appreciate the help.”
“Good. We’ll see you at eight.”
“It’s a date. I’ll have coffee ready.”
“We’ll bring scones.”
Elli’s chest fills with warmth from the promise of having her parents in the shop and sharing a cup of coffee and scones together before they get to work. Elli tries to manage the shop all on her own so her parents can actually retire. But most days, it’s pretty lonely work and she really misses working as a family on the family trade.
The plan had been that when she was ready to return stateside to take over the shop for her parents that Isabell and Elli would run the shop together and eventually teach their own children the trade. Those dreams died with Isabell. And every day she works alone in the shop is a reminder that she doesn’t have any children to pass the shop to and won’t unless she adopts. Losing Isabell was so devastating that the stress sent her straight into menopause, so she’ll never be able to bear any children. There’s a possibility of meeting a younger woman who could bear children for them, but at the rate she’s going, the idea seems as likely as scientists discovering a thriving vegetable garden on Mars.
The possibility that the family business will die with Elli is a constant stress for her and another burden that makes the hunt for a partner even more disheartening. She feels like she’s letting her family down, even though it’s not something she can control. Their craft is a dying one, even among their own family. Only a few of her cousins still living in England have taken up the craft, but they work in the shops there and will inherit them when her grandparents and uncles and aunts retire or pass away. It is possible that their children may be able to take over this shop when Elli is too old to work, but she has no guarantee, and it really would be preferred to follow family tradition and be able to pass the shop onto her own children.
Elli and Isabell thought they had all the time in the world. They had planned to live out their adult lives as fully as they could as a couple madly in love. Then just before the change, they would have a couple of children and experience being a madly in love couple growing a family. They wanted to experience every stage of life to the fullest. One of them dying was never part of the plan. The plan was to grow old and fall asleep together and never wake up. They wanted to go out together after living a rich and rewarding life together.
Despite her positive attitude and easy smile that she exudes every day, Elli is a bundle of nerves and fears on the inside. She fears being alone the most.
Chapter Four
It’s just after 2pm and Elli is just finishing her lunch break. As she’s turning the closed sign to show she’s open and she unlocks the door, she notices Lana standing across the street. She’s watching traffic and hasn’t seen Elli, so Elli quickly moves to stand behind a display of shoe cleaners and polishes to watch to see if perhaps Lana is going to make an appearance.
It has been three days and Lana hasn’t called. Elli is just about finished with fixing her shoe, but she hasn’t called Lana yet to let her know when she can pick it up. If Lana walks through the door, it will be because she wants to, and not because she has to – unless of course she is bringing more work for Elli to do.
Elli’s stomach is in knots and her cheeks are red with shame and embarrassment from spying on Lana, but her anxiety over this situation has been making her feel very jittery. She needs to know if Lana is really interested in her or not.
She watches for five whole minutes. Lana remains standing on the opposite side of the street looking at the shop and passing sideways glances as if she’s embarrassed to be standing there. Elli just can’t watch this anymore. It feels like she’s staring down fate, just waiting for it to blink so Lana can be unfrozen from the spot and walk into the shop to soothe Elli’s insecurities. It’s debilitating to see someone struggle so much with the decision to just have a cup of coffee with her, as if she’s unworthy of such a simple thing. Feeling her anxiety growing to an almost paralyzing level, Elli walks back to the work studio and gets back to work on a tuxedo jacket she is putting a new silk lining into.
While she works, she glances up at the door a few times, hoping to see Lana approaching, but she never shows. After an hour, her nerves get the better of her, and Elli returns to the window to see if Lana is still standing outside, as unlikely as it is after such a long period. She’s not.
Elli checks her watch – it’s only 3pm – too early to close up shop. She exhales hard, trying to expel the bitter twinge prickling in her chest, but it doesn’t work. To distract her mind from her disappointment, Elli throws herself into her work.
Her parents have been into the shop for the past two days to help her get caught up, so her workload is very manageable right now. Earlier, she had been wishing they were here again today, against her insistence that she would be okay and wanted them to take the day off. But now, after seeing Lana out there appearing to be debating if she should come here or not, Elli is glad they weren’t here to witness her being stood up again by Lana.
She told her mom she would give Lana another chance. In Elli’s book, this was her second chance. Lana brought herself nearly to Elli’s doorstep and still didn’t walk through the figurative door Elli left open for her.
The bell above the door chimes, and Elli quickly jumps up and looks out front. Her hammering heart skips a beat in disappointment, and Elli quickly walks to the front counter to greet the new customer.
“Hello. What ca
n I do for you?”
The man pulls out a very old leather-bound book and places it on the counter with care.
“I know your specialty is shoes and clothes, but I was wondering if you’re able to rebind a book?” Elli slips on a pair of soft white cloth gloves and carefully lifts the book to examine it. “It was my grandfather’s journal. The pages are still in good condition, but the binding and leather are falling apart. I just really want to be able to read the journal without it crumbling to pieces in my hands. I tried taking it to an art curator, but since it’s not a published work, they wouldn’t take the project.”
“I’m sure. They can be a bit uppity with the private commission work they accept. When are you looking to have this completed by and do you know the style of binding you want?”
“Does that mean you can do it?”
“Aye, I could, in theory, depending on your timeline and the depth of your request. How about you tell me the binding you want, and I can give you a quote on the price and a completion date.”
The man pulls another book from his briefcase and sets it on the counter. “I would like the binding to look similar to this. And if possible, have the gold embossed lettering on the spine indicating it’s my grandfather’s journal from his time in Germany during World War II.”
Elli picks up the second book to inspect the style and nods in agreement. “I can accept this project. I will need about two weeks to complete it. Will I be able to hold onto this book as a reference?”
“Yes, please do. I would like it to match as closely as possible.”
“Okay, great. My leather-binding rates start at $50. Due to the complexity of the type of binding you want and the gold leaf embossing, I would need to charge you $125 for this project.”
“That’s fine. I will pay just about anything to be able to preserve this.”
Elli nods and begins writing up the work order. She has him write out what he wants on the spine, then she runs his credit card and gives him a copy of the receipt.
“Okay, Mr. Markle, I’ll give you a ring when the journal is ready to be picked up.”
“Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me.”
“I assure you that I understand the worth and value in those things passed down from our families. I live it every day.”
She motions around the shop and the man smiles warmly.
“I guess you do. Thank you again.”
After he leaves, Elli carefully picks up the old journal and turns it over in her hands. A sense of emptiness and longing suddenly hits her hard. This book is yet another reminder of her parents’ branch on the family tree ending with her. After she passes, there will be no children and grandchildren fretting over the preservation of her belongings, her journals, or her skills. Everything ends with her.
Elli doesn’t normally close the shop till 4:30pm, but the day has taken its toll and she just doesn’t have the stamina to push through. She pulls the security gate down and locks the door. After carefully stowing the journal and the second book she will use as a guide, she walks upstairs to her apartment.
After filling a tumbler with Irish whiskey, she trudges to her bathroom. She turns the faucet on as hot as she can stand, and when the tub is half full, she pours a sizable amount of bubbles into the rushing current. She sheds her clothes and eases into the hot water with hissing shrieks and groans from the excessive heat. Her brain’s instincts for self-preservation attempt to make her retract her feet, but she pushes through the pain and submerges up to the center of her waist. Her pale skin has taken on a bright red hue, as if she has just baked in the summer sun for hours without any protection from the elements. After a few minutes of extreme discomfort, the pain numbs and the water feels almost tepid, as if she’s one with the water. She sighs in relief and leans against the back of the tub.
Taking a searing hot bath is one Elli’s self-prescribed cures for overwhelming emotions. The heat helps to numb her body and has a calming effect on her brain. It makes her feel detached and right on the edge of falling asleep and floating.
She takes a few gulps of whisky that burn her throat, further adding to the numbing effect, and she closes her eyes, just trying to enjoy the ability to feel slowly melting away.
Just as she’s about to drift off to sleep, her cellphone rings. She grumbles in agitation and quickly dries her hands to dig her phone out of her pile of clothes. The caller-ID shows it’s her mother. She smiles in a sad way and accepts the call.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Buttercup. How’s your day going?”
“I’m taking a bath.”
“That bad, huh? Tell me what happened.”
Elli takes a gulp of whiskey, then begins telling her mom about Lana standing across the street, then about the journal and the hard reality check both events gave her.
“Get out of the tub, Elli.”
“I’m comfortable in here.”
“Now.”
Her mother’s tone is firm but not aggressive. Elli groans in agitation and sits up. “Hang on.”
She sets the phone on the top of the clothes hamper, then bitterly pulls the drain plug and watches her numbing relief sink. After quickly drying off, she grabs her glass of whiskey and phone and treads to her bedroom to get dressed.
“There, I’m out.”
“Good. Now, I want you to open your baby photo album and one of your albums from when you were with Isabell. I want you to…”
“No, I’m not doing that. It hurts too much. I’m not…”
“Just trust me, Elli. Get the albums.”
With tears already filling her eyes, Elli begrudgingly obliges her mother’s instruction. She sits down on her bed, and while taking a deep shaky breath, she flips both albums open to the first two pages of photos. Tears immediately rush down her cheeks and her chest heaves with a sob. Elli places her first two fingers on Isabell’s smiling cheek and longingly strokes it, wishing she could feel her smooth skin and the way her cheek used to pucker from her angelic smile.
“Elli, I know your heart broke when Isabell died and a part of you died with her, but the best parts of you are still intact. You have courageously fought to heal and learn to live again as an individual, as I know Isabell would want you to do, and I am so proud of you for it, my love. I want you to look at these pictures, not as relics of things lost and unattainable, rather look at them as promises of what is still yet to come. You are capable of loving and being loved again by another woman. There is still plenty of time for you to raise children. Even if Lana is not the one, you will find another. About today – about Lana standing on the street and not walking into the shop – I want you to view this as a promising development. Just give her another chance. You don’t know her story – you don’t know what struggles she may be battling inside. The fact that she attempted to walk in that door shows she wants to talk to you and get to know you. Please show her patience and forgiveness. Give her a chance to come around. Don’t write her off just yet.”
Elli digs at her eyes with the corner of her towel, trying to sop up the unending tears. She holds her breath, then releases a hard exhale to push the heaviness out of her chest that’s restricting her lungs and throat. She begins to flip the pages of both albums, causing rushes of longing, sadness, happiness from the memories, and a small barely noticeable smidgeon of hope that she can have this again – that she can find a lover and soulmate to complement her as well as Isabell had. The pictures of her childhood cause a tug of emptiness in her core and an itch in her hands and arms – a need to have an infant cradled against her.
“I don’t want to be alone.”
“Good. Remember that every time those pesky insecurities try to drag you down. I love you, Buttercup.”
“I love you too, Mum.”
“Get dressed and go out and do something. Get dinner out or window shop.”
“I’m not feeling up to that.”
“You have to take a step if you want to walk again.”
Elli exhales hard with bitter frustration beginning to grate on her fragile mood.
“Mum, I know you mean well, but I’m not in a state to be around people. I cannot bear seeing happy couples and families out and about enjoying their lives together. I will give Lana another chance and I’ll keep trying to find someone, but I just need to heal tonight or I won’t be fit to give Lana a chance at all.”
“Okay, Buttercup. If you need me, you just call, or you come visit with us, okay?”
“Aye. Thanks, Mum.”
“Talk to you later, sweetie.”
After hanging up with her mother, Elli picks up the album of happy beautiful moments with Isabell. Her trembling lips twitch up into a smile of longing as she flips through each page, remembering each moment as clearly as if it was yesterday.
Isabell was a beautiful woman with a zest for life that was intoxicating. Isabell had brown hair the color of shiny chestnuts, green eyes the color of fresh tarragon, full red lips, skin the color of hand stretched caramel, and a figure like a Greek goddess. Isabell was Elli’s heaven – her joy, hopes, dreams, and her life.
Elli stares down at a picture of them on vacation in Barcelona standing on an old stone bridge. Isabell is wrapped around Elli from behind and they’re both smiling like they’re in ecstasy – they couldn’t look happier if they tried. The wind is blowing through their hair, making them look a bit wild and carefree. Elli had longer hair then – just past her shoulders.
She runs her fingers through her short hair and stands up to look in the mirror. She compares herself to the picture, noting the many differences in her appearance, but most notably is the deep sadness in her eyes now and the pure bliss in her eyes then. Even if she fakes a smile in the mirror, she cannot match the look of happiness in the photo taken over eight years ago.