by Kate Hewitt
“I’m sure I’ll find something,” she murmured, although she wasn’t sure at all.
Esther nodded and Rachel gazed out at the shimmering pool, wishing she could just stay in the lovely sun-soaked and surreal beauty of Aix-en-Provence. She had three more weeks of summer holiday before she had to start teaching Year Three again. Maybe she could rent a place here, hide out for another few weeks…
As tempting a prospect as that seemed, Rachel knew she couldn’t afford it, and it wasn’t realistic anyway. She needed to face up to her life—or what was left of it—back in Thornthwaite. And somehow, amidst all the wreckage and rubble, she needed to figure out how she was going to go forward.
“Rachel,” Esther asked abruptly, startling her out of her thoughts, “do you ever think about Jamie?”
Rachel stiffened automatically. “Jamie…?” She gazed at her sister in wary surprise. “Why are you asking about him?”
“He was our brother.”
“I know that.” She couldn’t keep from bristling, despite her best attempts to sound calm and reasonable. “Of course I think about him, Esther. Like you said, he was our brother.”
He’d been her brother. She and Jamie had been only sixteen months apart, the closest of all the siblings both in age and spirit. They’d shared a room until a year before he’d died. The day he’d died… But she didn’t want to think about that. She never thought about that morning, even if she often thought about him.
“Don’t you think it was a big thing in our lives?” Esther asked quietly. “His death?”
“Don’t I think?” Rachel stared at her sister in disbelief. She knew Esther was blunt and brusque at the best of times, even callous, but this was cruel. “Of course I think it was a big thing, Esther,” she said in a carefully controlled voice. “It was the biggest thing. Our brother died. I saw him die.” But no, she didn’t want to go there. “I was in counselling all through high school. Don’t you remember that?”
Esther had the grace to blush. “I remember that,” she said, but Rachel could tell that she hadn’t, not until she’d reminded her.
“I’m sorry, this is coming out all wrong,” Esther tried again. “I’m not trying to sound insensitive, even for me.”
“You’re doing a good imitation, then.”
“It’s just…when Will and I had our…issues…” Each word came with painful slowness, the verbal equivalent to mountain climbing. “I realised that a lot of my feelings…my fear and anxiety and stuff like that…they came from Jamie’s death, and how I handled it. Or rather, how I didn’t handle it.”
Rachel stared at her sister for a long moment. She knew this was a big confession for Esther, who of all four Holley girls was the most emotionally closed off. Rachel was probably the least. She’d worked her way through Jamie’s death through years of counselling—the grief, the guilt, the sorrow, the loss. She’d felt it all, over and over again, in an all too familiar cycle. And she’d finally come to a place, some time in her early twenties, where she’d felt at peace with it all, at least as much as she could.
She still missed Jamie; she still thought about him nearly every day, and she made a birthday cake on his birthday every year. She’d got to a point where she could talk about the fun times with a smile and recount funny stories about him with a laugh. Really, she’d done all she could. And if Esther thought Dan calling off her wedding had anything to do with her brother’s death…
Well, she was crazy, that was all. Just plain crazy.
“Look, Esther,” Rachel said after a long moment. “I appreciate your honesty. But we’re different people and we have different issues to deal with. And right now, mine is facing up to the fact that my life just collapsed all around me, as well as figuring out where I am going to live, and how I’m going to face two thousand people back in Thornthwaite, all of whom know I’ve been jilted.”
A funny look came on Esther’s face, making Rachel’s skin prickle. “What?” she demanded when the silence stretched on and her sister’s expression didn’t change.
“It’s just…your issue to deal with isn’t Dan leaving you? Or mending your broken heart?” There was a gleam in Esther’s eye that made Rachel feel as if she’d just stepped into a neatly set trap and sprung it.
“Of course I meant that too,” she snapped, but her sister didn’t look convinced.
Chapter Four
AS THE TRAIN pulled into Thornthwaite’s tiny station, Rachel felt a very real sense of dread swirl in her stomach. It had been easy, or at least easier, to put aside all the pressing worries and concerns when she’d been sunbathing in the south of France, with a seemingly limitless supply of escapist novels and frothy cocktails to lose herself in, but now that she was back home, surrounded by the familiar grey-green fells, the church and vicarage looming in the distance, reality was impossible to avoid.
She and Esther hadn’t spoken much on the train; in fact, they hadn’t spoken much since that unfortunate conversation about Jamie two days ago. Rachel felt she might have been a bit snappish, and she was sorry for it, but Esther never knew when to stop. Still, she felt a needling of uneasy guilt as she stepped off the train and onto the platform, a brisk Cumbrian wind buffeting her the instant her feet touched the pavement. They weren’t in the South of France anymore; that was for certain.
It was only a five-minute walk from the train station to the vicarage, and so they both lugged their suitcases towards their family home, where Esther had left her car and Rachel had left her life. Even in that short distance they managed to walk by half a dozen people Rachel either knew or recognised, and every one of them gave her an all too sympathetic smile, pity visible in their eyes. When was that going to let up?
“Hello?” Rachel called as she stepped into the cool, dim entry hall of the vicarage, with its floor of inlaid Victorian tile in a range of reds and yellows. She took a deep breath, but instead of the usual comforting scents of home baking and furniture polish, she inhaled the musty, dusty smell of emptiness, and it shocked her.
In the week she’d been gone her parents had obviously done the last of the clearing out, getting ready for Simon to move in. Although they were leaving the bigger pieces of furniture for him, there could be no doubt the house looked emptier; there were bare patches on the walls where there had once been pictures, the paint underneath several shades brighter than the rest of the wall.
“Rachel!” Her mother Ruth rounded the hall from the kitchen, her lovely, familiar face breaking into a wide smile as she came towards Rachel with her arms outstretched. “How lovely to see you, and Esther, too.” She hugged them both in turn, putting her hands on their shoulders one after the other to inspect them, just as she used to when they were little, on a Sunday morning before church, to check for toast crumbs on their chins or tangles in their hair.
“You’re both looking remarkably well. So tanned!”
“It was very relaxing.” Rachel put her carry-on bag down with a thud. “How have things been here?”
“Oh, fine. Busy. Last-minute preparations and all that.”
“You’re all ready?”
“Just about,” Ruth said brightly, but her smile faltered a little bit. Rachel wondered if her mother was having cold feet about their move to China, which seemed to be far more her father’s dream than hers.
“Hey, guys.” Miriam came down the stairs, dressed in yoga pants and a faded T-shirt, her hair in a tangle. Esther’s eyebrows rose.
“Did you just get up, you lazy cow?”
Miriam yawned and stretched. “So I did.”
“Tell me you’re not still jet-lagged?”
“It takes a long time to get over.”
“Right, I’d better get back home.” Esther kissed her mother’s cheek. “I’ll come by tomorrow for a cuppa, okay? Got to get them in while we can.”
“Yes, lovely.” Ruth’s lips trembled only slightly as she smiled. “Thank you, darling. Rachel? Cup of tea?”
“I could murder one,” Rachel admitted
, and Ruth turned to her youngest daughter.
“Miriam?”
“No, I need to have a shower.” Miriam turned back upstairs and Rachel followed her mother into the kitchen, stopping short when she saw the beloved old oak table and mismatched chairs were gone, replaced by a pine table with four matched chairs, that looked as if it was straight out of an IKEA flat pack. “What happened to the table?”
“It was too big for Simon,” Ruth explained. “With just him rattling around in here.”
“He asked for it to be moved?” Rachel couldn’t keep the indignation from her voice.
“Rachel, it’s about to be his house now,” Ruth said gently. “But no, he didn’t ask. He’s been so gracious about everything, offering to keep anything we wanted. You know he’s keeping Charlie?”
“Yes, I know.” Their poor old dog had known no home but this one. Even now he was stretched out in front of the Aga, snoring quietly. Rachel bent to fondle his ears and he snuffled in his sleep.
“Simon’s been the soul of consideration,” Ruth said as she put on the kettle. “Don’t be cross with him.”
“I’m not.” It was just about impossible to be cross with Simon, because he was so kind and good-natured. “But where’s the table?” Rachel pulled out one of the flimsy chairs and sat down on it with a little moue of distaste. Definitely not the same.
“It’s in storage, in one of Will and Esther’s barns. Anna was adamant that we not give it away. You’re not the only one who is sentimental about these things.”
“And you’re not, Mum? That table must mean something to you. It has teeth marks on one end from when Miriam was teething, and a dab of green paint from Jamie’s Incredible Hulk costume in Year Four.” Her voice caught and after a second she continued more steadily, “You and Dad bought it in a car boot sale when you’d only just got married.”
“I know.” Ruth’s back was to her as she got out cups so Rachel couldn’t see her expression. “That table has a lot of wonderful memories. But people matter more than things, Rachel. You know that.”
“Yes, of course I do, but things matter too. They hold memories. They remind us of the people we love, the life we’ve had.” Her voice trembled with the force of her emotion. Wasn’t that what all the trappings Dan seemed to think were materialistic had meant to her?
“Yes, that’s true.” Ruth’s voice wavered and she turned to give Rachel a sad smile. “You’re right, of course, but at the end of the day, they’re still just things, and you can’t take them with you the way you can take the memories. Now Earl Grey or English Breakfast? I know you like them both.”
“English Breakfast, please,” Rachel answered after a moment. She considered dropping the whole subject, but something made her ask, “Why are you going to China, Mum? You and Dad?”
“This again?” Ruth said, raising her eyebrows.
“I haven’t talked to you about it before, not really.”
“Your sisters have checked and double-checked that I’m happy to go, and I am. Please believe me.”
“Yes, all right, but why are you going? I mean, Dad has thirty years of experience in rural ministry in the UK, and he’s always saying how China is sending missionaries to us these days. Why is he going over there?”
Ruth smiled faintly as she passed Rachel her mug. “That’s a refreshing question, actually. I think all of you girls have been so gobsmacked by our move that you haven’t really asked why we’re doing it, or even what we’ll be doing, exactly.”
“Sorry,” Rachel murmured, chastened. It was a big move for her parents, different and exciting, and she had a feeling that she and her sisters had been far more concerned with how it affected them than why her parents were going in the first place, which was really rather self-centred of them.
“As it happens,” Ruth said as she sat opposite Rachel at the table that really felt far too small, “your father was asked to teach a course to training pastors on the challenges and opportunities of rural ministry. You might think it would look very different in China compared to here, but some things are the same.”
“But I thought you were moving to the city? Jinan?” Her parents had shown her pictures of the tiny flat in an enormous high-rise where they would be living, the exact opposite of their home now.
“Yes, because the theological college is in Jinan. Although I expect we’ll be travelling out to the rural areas fairly often, and perhaps we’ll even move to one of the outlying villages one day.”
“Wow.” Rachel shook her head slowly as she considered her mother’s reality; in less than a week, she’d be living in Jinan, in an area and home that was about as far from this rambling old vicarage tucked among the fells as was possible. “I’m really going to miss you.”
“And I’m going to miss you all terribly. But we will be back for Christmas, you know, and after that, as well.”
“Yes.” Although that seemed ages away. But maybe by Christmas her life would be on a more even keel. Which brought Rachel to the questions she knew she needed to ask. “Have you seen Dan?”
“Yes, he stopped by the day after—the day after you left.” The day after her wedding, as was. “To apologise. He was very contrite, very gracious.”
“Did he explain…?”
“Only that you’d both agreed to call it off.” Ruth frowned at her in worry. “Is there something more you want to tell me, Rachel? Because I must admit, I was terribly surprised by the whole thing.”
Rachel sighed. “So was I, really.”
“So it was Dan—”
“Yes, but I suppose it ended up being a mutual decision, sort of.” And sort of not. She paused, debating whether to confide in her mother about what Dan said. It’s because you don’t love me. It sounded so awful, so damning, as if she was some heartless mercenary, and she wasn’t.
She’d wanted to build a life with Dan, one based on shared beliefs and values and affection. And yes, she’d wanted a lovely house to raise her family, and a big wedding to celebrate the start of it, but were those things so bad? So wrong?
While Rachel knew absolutely that her mum would be sympathetic, she still didn’t want to admit to what Dan had said—and she didn’t want to worry her mother more than she already was. “Although it was his idea,” she said finally, “in the end, I agreed.” Because what had been the alternative?
“Why, though? You both seemed so happy.”
“Did we? Because Esther doesn’t seem to think so.”
“Oh, you know Esther. Prickly as anything.”
“Yes, but…” Rachel took a sip of tea, her thoughts all jumbled, and in truth she didn’t know whether she wanted to sort them out. “I thought we were happy,” she said. “Happy enough, anyway.”
“Happy enough?”
“That sounds worse than I meant it to. I mean, no one is happy all the time, are they? All I’m trying to say is, I wanted to marry him. I was planning on spending the rest of my life with him.”
“But…” Ruth looked troubled. “Did you love him, Rachel?” The question was quiet and sad, and Rachel had to look away. Her mother, in typical fashion, had got right to the heart of the matter, and with characteristic gentleness. Rachel knew she would have to tell the truth.
“Yes, I did,” she said after an endless moment. Her throat felt almost too tight to get the words out. “But it seems Dan didn’t think so.” Hurt spiked her words. What had he wanted from her? “Maybe I don’t know what real love is. Romantic love, anyway. Whatever I felt wasn’t enough for Dan.”
“You’ve had a few boyfriends through the years…”
“No one serious, though.” She’d been happy enough to lose herself in a relationship, become over-the-top obsessed even, but it had always felt like a game, the chase rather than the catch, and each relationship had run its course after a couple of months if not weeks. When they’d ended, she’d never been more than melodramatically broken-hearted for a few days, simply because it had always felt rather luxurious to indulge in those kin
ds of theatrics for a little while, like something out of a rom-com—permission to have a tub of Ben and Jerry’s and a whole evening of Netflix for a few weeks, at the very least, before someone else caught her eye. If she was honest, which she had to be now, her heart had never been involved. But it had been with Dan.
“But Dan was serious?” Ruth asked.
“Yes, of course he was.” They’d only dated for three months before getting engaged, but Rachel had felt certain. Dan was everything she’d wanted in a husband—kind, attractive, gentle. Someone with good humour as well as faith, who wanted to have loads of children, just like she did. And she’d loved him…even if Dan hadn’t thought she had.
Although Rachel was honest enough to admit now that after they’d become engaged, planning the wedding had taken up far more of her time than actually maintaining their still-new relationship, never mind deepening it. “I don’t know, Mum,” she said restively. “When he said he wanted to call it off, it blindsided me, but in some weird way I wasn’t surprised, either. I was horrified and hurt and completely shocked, but not totally…surprised. Which doesn’t make any sense, I know.”
“Relationships are complicated,” Ruth murmured. “And so are our emotions.”
Or lack of them? Rachel propped her chin on her fist. “Complicated or not complicated enough? Dan wanted something from me that I’m not sure I even have to give.” Which was a terrifying thought. What if she just didn’t have it in her to love someone the way you needed to in a marriage? Or could she find someone who was happy with her happy-enough?
“Perhaps that’s just a sign he wasn’t the right person,” Ruth said gently.
“He seemed like the right person.”
“Yes, but our hearts don’t believe in box-ticking. A person can have all the right traits and characteristics, but something fundamental might still be missing.”
“But you and Dad always say how love can grow,” Rachel returned. “Dad always says he loves you more with every year. What if Dan and I had been like that?” A lump formed in her throat at the thought. “Maybe I didn’t feel what he wanted me to feel now—I can admit that. But what if I felt it later? What if what we’d had would have been enough, after all?”