Purling Road - the Complete Second Season: Episodes 1-10

by M. L. Gardner

  Dear Caleb, No, it was too soon for Dear.

  Caleb. Too informal.

  Husband who kicked my ass to the curb. Definitely too honest.

  She crumpled the paper, irritated, and started over.

  Caleb,

  I know I made you furiously angry. I wish you had given me the chance to explain.

  She crumpled yet another paper, keeping the first line and continued.

  I didn’t mean to hurt you. I know that seems to be all I’ve ever done. The night the kids were sick and you told me no more, I didn’t listen. I want to come home and take care of you and the children. I am safe, staying with Shannon and Patrick. I hope to hear from you soon.

  -Ahna

  Short, sweet and to the point. She held it out for Shannon to read. After drying her hands on a dishtowel, she sat down as she took it. Her eyes flew over the words and then up to Arianna.

  “This is it?” she asked.

  “Yes. What do you think?”

  “I think it’s terrible,” Shannon said, tossing it aside. Arianna’s face fell, and she swiped it up defensively.

  “What’s so terrible about it?”

  “Have you never written an honest love letter, Arianna?”

  “Well…” Arianna lifted a shoulder. “No, but I’ve had plenty written to me.”

  “And did they sound anything like this business like, sterile excuse for a letter?”

  Arianna’s eyes darted back to it. She read it again. “I said what I needed to say. It’s all true.”

  Shannon shook her head.

  “You didn’t even say you were sorry.”

  Arianna fluttered her hands.

  “Oh, I know you well enough, girl. Details, right? Your apology is cryptically written in between the lines, and it’s Caleb’s job to decipher it.”

  “You know that I don’t—”

  “Yes, I know,” Shannon said with a huff. “You’d rather die than apologize. Like I said, I know you.”

  She thought for a moment, swinging one leg over the other, patting her forehead and temples with the cloth.

  Dropping her hand in her lap, she looked at Arianna directly. “Do you love Caleb?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, Lord, that sounds convincing.”

  Arianna flustered, folded her arms. “Of course I do.”

  “That,” she said, pointing at the letter, “is not what you’d write to the man you love. Especially, if you’re trying to go back home.”

  Arianna glared. “What do you suggest, then?”

  “Well, you could write ‘I love you.’” She grinned. “Just a suggestion. In all seriousness, apologize for the drinking. Tell him how sorry you are that you neglected the needs of your family. Say he can throw out every drop of booze, and you’ll never touch it again—if only he’ll let you come home.”

  “Let,” Arianna whispered with irritation.

  Shannon slammed her hand on the table and leaned forward. “Yes, let! For the love of God, Arianna, you’re going to have to swallow your pride if you want to go back to your children! Like it or not, he’s the one calling the shots in this situation. He threw you out, he has to let you back in.”

  Arianna sulked, sliding down.

  “You are so stubborn,” Shannon whispered. She rose and walked out. “Well, are you coming?” she called.

  Arianna jumped up and followed.

  “Where are you going?”

  Shannon didn’t answer, but opened her bedroom window, pushing it up as far as it would go. Then she threw a leg out and disappeared. Arianna followed and the two women stood on a fenced metal grate overlooking the alley. Cramped buildings went as far as the eye could see. A few dogs barked, tied to posts.

  “This is where I come when I’m nervous or scared,” Shannon said. She sat on an overturned bucket and reached for a small box under the window ledge. “I also come here to think, pray, smoke, and listen to Patrick’s fights on the radio.”

  “An all-purpose fire escape.”

  She pulled out a box of cigarettes, lit one, and then tossed it to Arianna.

  “When did you start smoking?” Arianna asked.

  “A few months ago. I was out here listening to the radio and so were the neighbors,” she pointed, cigarette between her fingers to the escape next door. “They had money on the fight, you see, and they were all worked up over it because it looked like Patrick would lose.” Her eyes and voice dropped. “It was a hard one. His hardest fight yet. They could see I was a basket of nerves and offered me one. It became habit, I guess. Smoking, worrying, and listening.” She took a drag, and then smiled. “Patrick hates it. But I rarely smoke when he’s around. Only when we fight.”

  “It’s hard to picture you two fighting.”

  She smiled, winked. “We’re both Irish through and through. It’s hard to picture us not.”

  Arianna laughed.

  “Mostly, it’s during the lonely weeks when he’s training, and then during a fight, I puff like a chimney.”

  Arianna lit her cigarette and leaned her arms on the railing. The dingy alley was such a stark contrast to her white clapboard house, the large, green yard dotted with flowers. It didn’t smell as bad as the barn, but it was close.

  “If you love Caleb, you need to stop with this matter o’ fact horseshit and say so, Arianna. Tell him you love him and you’ll stop drinking. You’ll do anything you can to get him back. I’ll even write him a letter telling him you haven’t had a single drop since you’ve been here. I haven’t even seen you wanting it.”

  Arianna looked over her shoulder. She tried to smile and it showed more as a grimace. “It’s not that,” she said. “I’m not a drunk. I don’t struggle with it.”

  “But…” Shannon stood and moved next to her. “You told me that he made you leave for the drinking.”

  “It wasn’t for the drinking.” She dropped her eyes, flicking ashes onto the pavement below. “It was what I was doing while I was drinking.”

  She told Shannon everything. In one long, non-stop—and rather animated—explanation, giving every detail from the girl’s night that set the whole thing off to wandering around Rockport with her bag in hand, trying to figure out what to do. By the time she’d finished, her cigarette had burned down to a stub.

  Shannon dropped her head in her hand. “Jesus, Arianna.”

  “I know. I’m awful,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Why didn’t you tell me when you got here?”

  She lifted her shoulders. “I didn’t think you’d let me stay.”

  “Of course, I’d let you stay.”

  Though Patrick wasn’t home, Arianna glanced over her shoulder anyway. “Your husband is good friends with my husband. You don’t think he’d take sides and draw a red line? That’s why I couldn’t go to Claire or Ava.”

  “Patrick could draw lines until he created a Picasso. That wouldn’t stop me from taking you in.”

  Arianna smiled.

  “We’re really going to have to work on that letter,” Shannon said with an air of dread and Arianna’s smile dropped.

  “If you want me to be honest, I don’t have a lot of hope.” She found Shannon’s bucket and sat down on it with a thump. “And if you want me to be really honest, if it weren’t for my children, I might not even bother.”

  “You’ve fallen out of love then,” Shannon asked with an elbow on the rail.

  “No. Yes.” She sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “If you were able to go back, would you be willing to stop? The club, the man, everything?”

  “Yes.”

  “Again, you overwhelm me with your sincerity.”

  “I’m angry, Shannon.”

  “And what right do you have to be angry?” she asked. Reaching down, she swiped up her little box and plucked another cigarette. “I’m waiting,” she said as she lit it.

  “I guess I don’t have any right. But I am regardless.”

  “You’re angry you got caught. You
’re angry Caleb put his foot down and demanded more of you.”

  Arianna nodded in agreement. “And I’m angry that my children are all I have to go back to.”

  “A mother might think that was enough.”

  “It is.” Arianna growled. “No,” she said, looking over. “What if it’s not, Shannon? What if just my children aren’t enough to make me completely happy? Why am I a terrible person for feeling like I need more than babble and baby farts?”

  Shannon fought a smile. “I guess what I’m trying to say is it’s a place to start.”

  “All I’ve ever done is disappoint Caleb. Caused trouble. He’s done with that now. If you’d seen the look in his eyes, you’d know it, too.”

  Both women fell silent, listening to a heated exchange down the alley. Someone spent too much money and another someone was angry about it. The first someone was even more angry because the second someone didn’t make enough to begin with.

  “I don’t miss those,” Shannon said in a breath.

  “Fights over money?”

  She nodded. “We’re not ready to buy a mansion, but at least we’re not doing as bad as all that.”

  Arianna let her head fall back, resting it on the building. “I was taking money from savings to fund my nights out. He worked so hard for every cent,” she said with shame. “But that never came up with everything else that was going on.”

  Shannon tossed her cigarette over the railing. “All right, get in there and write a proper letter to your husband. I want to see sadness, regret, sorrow, and tears smudging every third word.” She pointed. “In you go.”

  “I don’t know how to do that, Shannon.” Arianna looked drained, hopeless.

  Shannon took her hand. “I’ll help you.”

  ***

  Claire, Ava, and Maura sat around the table, silently reading submissions for Hettie Helps. It was a warm Thursday morning, and Claire had opened all the windows for a breeze. She’d told Maura nothing of her dilemma, nothing of the anger that oozed from Aryl every time he looked at her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk about it. She did. She desperately needed to. But Maura had lost a pregnancy she had wanted so much, and Claire was burdened with one she didn’t. Ava had listened a few times but had no real solutions to offer. Between Arianna’s sudden departure and Jonathan insisting she quit singing, she was as grumpy as Claire was. Today, it seemed misery made good company.

  “Look fer ones that are bold,” Maura said. “Bordering scandalous. I’m afraid it will take something shocking to make up fer the drop in subscriptions.”

  “How many has she lost?” Claire asked.

  “I don’t know exactly, but enough to cause Muzzy to worry. The whole damn town thinks she’s a floozy.”

  Maura had taken her job of giving advice in the paper’s column seriously. She’d come to feel a part of it and its survival important.

  “What if we can’t find one?” Claire asked, tossing aside another letter on child rearing.

  “Then we’ll make one up,” Maura said, handing her another. “I heard a rumor in town,” Maura said, as she sorted the submissions. A smile crept up. “That Muzzy and Peter are engaged.”

  Claire clapped a hand over her mouth. Then she lowered it slowly. “Wait, that can’t be right.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she’s… Muzzy and he’s… Peter.”

  Maura scoffed. “He has been staying there. They’ve had a chance to get to know one another. Who knows what might have blossomed during that time. Opposites do attract, they say.”

  “I just can’t picture it,” Claire said, shaking her head. “Peter is the kind to go after the beautiful, dangerous type.”

  “Muzzy is not what society would call a beauty, but she has her own,” Maura said with a disapproving glance at Claire.

  “I didn’t mean anything by that. Muzzy is unique. And she is pretty. I’m just saying types like Peter don’t typically end up with types like Muzzy, that’s all.”

  “Perhaps it’s just a rumor.” Maura shrugged. “It seems unlikely to me as well. I just thought I’d pass along what I’d heard.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out when I drop off this week’s satire,” Claire said, happy for a distraction from her own worries.

  Maura folded her hands, her eyes on Ava. “Ye haven’t said a word all morning. Are ye still mad at me then?” she asked.

  Ava kept focus on the letter in front of her.

  “I did all I could to find her, Miss Ava.”

  Silence.

  “What am I supposed to do? Throw around some magic fairy dust, chant her name, and make her appear fer ye?”

  “You always help. No matter what we’ve been through, you are always there to make us stop and see things the right way. You did it for Claire, Aryl, Caleb, Jon, and me. But never for Arianna.”

  With pursed lips, Maura folded her hands. “I’ve not been as close to Arianna as I am to the rest of ye. But it doesn’t mean I don’t care. If she needed my help, I would give it.”

  “She needed it last Sunday,” Ava growled.

  “Aye, and had I found her, I’d have dragged her home—beating her arse the whole way and tried to help them set things straight. It isn’t as if I saw a need and turned my back.”

  Claire watched the exchange with growing discomfort. “She’s right, Ava. She tried.”

  Ava threw the letter down, folded her arms, and frowned. “I know she did. I just don’t like the idea of her wandering around alone. She has no money, no way to support herself, nowhere to go.”

  “You forget the one person who was there fer Arianna as I was there fer ye.”

  Claire looked up. “Shannon.”

  Maura nodded. “If I had to guess, I’d place money on that being the first place she thinks to go.”

  This did little to put Ava’s mind to ease. None of them knew for certain.

  “I wouldn’t worry about her. Miss Arianna is a survivor.”

  “She’s not in her right mind. It’s probably worse now. She’s lost everything and has no one to look out for her. When we lost everything, we had you.”

  Maura dared to reach across and put her hand over Ava’s had. “Maybe that’s what she needs, love. To stand on her own two feet and be responsible fer herself, to not have you, or me, or Caleb tempering her wild tendencies.”

  Ava couldn’t shake the worry that she could just as easily go too far, way too far. It was just as much a possibility as being forced to grow up.

  “I have been at Mr. Caleb’s house carin’ fer the babes while he works. If I hear anything, I’ll tell ye right away.”

  It was all they could ask.

  After several more potential letters, Claire excused herself to the bathroom. She was only gone a few moments when they heard a scream rip through the house.

  Maura and Ava threw back their chairs and ran. As they rounded the corner, Claire burst from the bathroom with a beaming smile and tears running down her face.

  “I got it!” she yelled, causing them to jump.

  “You got what?” Ava asked.

  Claire tore open the doors to the built in cupboards in the hallway and dug deep. With a sanitary napkin in each hand, she began jumping up and down, dancing into the living room.

  “Yes!” she cried, thrusting them in the air. “Thank you, God! Yes! I only skipped one!” She was crying, laughing, and twirling in circles.

  Maura looked on in utter shock while Ava smiled and clapped her hands.

  “I take it Miss Claire had a scare and is most relieved it was only that?” she asked with an eyebrow heavily cocked.

  ***

  That night, Aryl was late. Claire had paced the house for an hour waiting for him. She shoved as many cookies at Jac as he wanted just to keep him quiet so they could talk. He now sat in a slump on the sofa, a book laying on his lap, crumbs all over his cheeks and could barely keep his eyes open.

  Hmm, Claire thought as she paced. Something to think about in the futur
e. If cookies are my ticket to peace, I’ll bake all day long.

  When he walked in, she rushed up, his face hardened at her sudden approach. Everything she’d planned to say went right out the window. He put his hand out, keeping some distance between them. She wanted to throw her arms around him, hug and kiss him, cry with relief for an hour. His demeanor told her that wasn’t welcome.

  “I got it. I’m not pregnant,” she said, her eyes misting again as they had all day long, every time she realized she wasn’t faced with the horrible decision.

  He didn’t smile, didn’t frown. He just stared.

  “Did you hear me, Aryl? I’m not pregnant. There’s nothing to worry about now.”

  “I suppose,” he said quietly after a pause.

  “You suppose? I have been crying with joy and you just suppose…” Her arms flew into a tight knot. “I thought you’d be relieved that we don’t have to make this choice.”

  “It was only a choice for you,” he said and moved around her.

  She found him in the bedroom pulling off his boots. Arms still crossed, she leaned on the doorjamb.

  “Are you going to hate me forever now?” she asked, not looking at him.

  He grunted as he pulled off the second boot and tossed it into the closet with a thump.

  “After this, I don’t feel like I even know you.”

  First, she was surprised. Then she was angry. Then she was furious.

  “Sort of how I didn’t know you after you came home.”

  “That’s different,” he said.

  “Oh, it’s always different, isn’t it, Aryl. It’s always different for you… for men.”

  “My choices didn’t…” He started to say they didn’t affect the family, but they did. “I was able to…” He was going to say that he was able to back out of his troubles without forever changing the family, but that wasn’t quite true either. “I’m glad you aren’t,” he said in a snap, “because if you’d have gotten rid of it, I’d have never forgiven you. And if you’d kept it, you’d have never forgiven me. Either way, we would have been doomed.”