Lavender Blue

by Donna Kauffman

  “Thank you,” Hannah said, having not thought that part through, and grateful for the suggestion. “That would probably be a good idea.” Hannah set her supplies back in the Jeep and closed up the back, then marveled a bit longer over her brand-new walking stick, before turning and gesturing for Addie Pearl to lead the way on their little stroll. She was very curious to find out what the older woman was about.

  They set out and had walked just a short distance when Addie Pearl sent her a knowing look and said, “I’d hazard a guess you could probably get the help of a certain young man I know to help you lug your equipment down my hill.”

  Hannah grinned. “Jake is a sweetheart, but I could probably manage. I know his time is tied up with rehearsals and working for Seth.”

  “Yes, that is true, but I wasn’t talking about the younger McCall.”

  Caught off guard, Hannah almost tripped over her new stick. “Oh,” she said, wondering what Addie Pearl knew about her and Will McCall. Of course, what didn’t the whole town know about everything? Not that there’s apparently anything to know in this particular case, she thought.

  “Will’s mother and I were lifelong friends,” she told Hannah.

  “You were?” Hannah said, her curiosity sparked. “That’s lovely.”

  “She was a delight, Dottie was. We told each other everything. She’s been gone a number of years now, but I still miss her every day.”

  Hannah nodded. “It’s hard, losing people we care about.” She said it easily enough, her thoughts naturally going to Liam, but not in a hard way. “I try to think about their importance to me in a way that honors how much they meant to me. I think about the laughter we shared, those inconsequential moments that otherwise had no real importance, but sum up everything that made that person special to me.” She smiled at Addie Pearl. “Like we still share those personal things that only the two of us understood or laughed about, you know?”

  Addie Pearl nodded and seemed to regard Hannah with a new light in her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve thought of it in quite that way.” Her eyes shone when she looked at Hannah. “But I will from now on. Thank you for that.”

  “My pleasure,” Hannah said.

  “I won’t ask,” Addie Pearl said as they continued their walk, and Hannah understood what she meant and appreciated her tact. “That’s your story to share, and we don’t know each other that well as yet. But I am aware you know of Will’s loss.” She glanced at Hannah, then back at the trail. “It’s common enough knowledge around here.”

  “I do, yes,” Hannah said, a little warier now as she realized that Addie Pearl wasn’t just making small talk. This was all somehow connected to what she’d come to talk about. She’d thought it likely had something to do with her new guild membership, and that Addie was going to ask her to give a seminar or something. Apparently not. “In fact, Will and I have spoken about it directly.”

  Addie Pearl looked up at her, her gaze searching Hannah’s briefly, but then she looked back at the trail, and Hannah was left wondering what it was she’d been hoping to see.

  “That’s good,” Addie said, almost as much to herself as to Hannah. “I’m glad to know it. He’s had a lot to shoulder.”

  “He has,” Hannah agreed. A thought struck her—that maybe Addie had come to warn her away from Will. Not for her sake, necessarily, but because she was protective of him. She could ease Addie’s mind and tell her that Will had already distanced himself, so she needn’t worry. “I know it’s still something he’s struggling with,” Hannah said.

  “He doesn’t talk about it much,” Addie Pearl said, glancing up again, just enough to keep Hannah in her peripheral view, keeping her attention mostly on the rutted path through the woods in front of them. “If he’s talked about it with you, he must trust you. Or trust that you’d understand. And I can see now why he might feel that way.” She surprised Hannah by stopping and looking directly at her. “That’s a good thing for him. You’ve done some hard work in that area, I can see, and I’m sure he’d benefit from your wisdom, as I have in just the short time we’ve spoken.”

  “Thank you,” Hannah said, a little taken aback, but not in a bad way. “That’s very kind of you to say.”

  Addie Pearl didn’t say anything else right away, and Hannah felt compelled to add, “I don’t mind, if that’s what’s worrying you. It’s okay, that we’re talking about this.”

  “He knows your story then,” she asked.

  Hannah nodded. “He does. And I’ll be honest and say it’s not something I share lightly. Nor do I spend time discussing the past. But . . . regarding where I am now?” She smiled then, as she most often did when she thought of her son these days. “That I’m happy to share if it helps. Sometimes we just need a different perspective, a new way to look at an old thing. I know that approach helped me so much. So if I can help someone else find their own path through grief, I’m happy to do it.”

  “It does help,” Addie said readily, reaching out to lay her free hand on Hannah’s arm. She squeezed lightly, then let go. “And you have.”

  “Good,” Hannah said, and they were walking again.

  Addie didn’t say anything for a few minutes, but the silence was more comfortable now. They were nearing Big Stone Creek and the sound of rushing water complemented the chatter of the birds flitting between the branches overhead, and the drone of the summer locusts. It was cooler in the shade of the trees. Hannah tried to let her surroundings soothe her as they always did, but she couldn’t seem to tamp down the sense of trepidation she felt about what Addie wanted from her, or wanted to tell her. Warn her?

  She didn’t know, and was just about to come out and ask when Addie pointed to a wooden bench that had been carved into a fallen tree trunk, probably by one of the guild crafters. It was situated in a little clearing, facing an opening in the foliage that lined the boulder strewn banks of the big creek beyond. “Wow, that’s gorgeous,” she said, gesturing to the bench. “And what a view.”

  “Care to sit for a few minutes?”

  “Sure,” Hannah said, her heart rate picking up as it seemed they were about to get to the point of it all. She was probably being silly, worrying about nothing, especially since it was likely going to be moot when she explained to Addie that Will wasn’t as interested in her as she and the rest of the town apparently thought he was. Then another thought struck her. What if Will had sent Addie Pearl to break that news to her, to explain his reasons for backing away? But that didn’t ring true to her, either. Will might have dug himself into a hole of grief that he hadn’t managed to climb out of until now, but he didn’t strike her as the type to ask others to do the hard work for him. Far from. On the other hand, he’d been silent for going on three days, so . . . what did that say about him? Maybe she really didn’t know the man she was getting involved with. Or had started to get involved with. Maybe he was doing her a favor after all. And maybe you’re really not as ready for any of this, with any man, as you’d hoped, her little voice added.

  Hannah had let herself get all worked up. Yes, she’d spent intimate time with Will, something she hadn’t done since long before her divorce, long before she’d lost Liam. So of course, to her, that was a very big deal. But to a great many people, what she and Will had shared could simply have been considered a spontaneous moment of giving in to immediate desires and wants. Nothing more, nothing less. It was just . . . she hadn’t wanted to believe it could be that for Will. It had been a long time for him, too. Even longer than for her. And what they’d shared had had a far more direct connection to his own loss than to hers. She’d been the first woman he’d been intimate with since he’d lost his wife. He hadn’t come out and said that, but it had been intimated in all the little jokes they’d made about how rusty they were. Surely that had meant something. Surely she’d meant . . . something.

  Hannah had been staring silently at the rushing waters of the creek and came out of her thoughts to see that Addie was looking at her with kind regard.

&n
bsp; “Sorry,” Hannah said. “I always feel reflective when I’m in the woods.” She looked back to the creek again, hoping that her expression hadn’t been broadcasting the turmoil she was really feeling. “Actually,” she continued, “I feel that way most of the time here in the Falls. Living out here, up in these mountains, it’s been very . . . grounding for me. I feel settled in a way I haven’t before.” She smiled at Addie then. “I’m truly grateful for that. I don’t think I’ll ever take it for granted. The view from my own porch makes my heart swell.” Just thinking about that calmed her. “I think that’s why I’ve been so excited to paint again. I’m grateful for that, too.”

  Addie Pearl nodded. Then they both settled back on the bench, leaning their sticks against the curved back of the fallen tree and relaxing as they let their surroundings lull them a bit. The silence this time was more relaxed, and Hannah decided whatever it was Addie needed to say, she’d let it wash over her like the water was washing over the rocks in the stream in front of her. Let it flow, let it go.

  “I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to you about this,” Addie Pearl said at length, her tone easy, gentle. Kind. She let out a little chuckle. “That’s unusual for me. I tend to be a pretty bullheaded sort, charging ahead when I think I know what’s best.” She glanced briefly at Hannah. “Which is pretty much all the time.”

  Hannah let out a short laugh. “I admire your confidence. I often wish I had more of it. I don’t dither, exactly, but I do tend to spend far too much time weighing options and analyzing things.”

  Addie’s smile broadened. “And see, I could probably stand to do a bit more of that.”

  “To future goals,” Hannah said, and they both shared a chuckle.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve alarmed you or made you worry,” Addie Pearl said. “That was not my intent at all. I thought maybe if we talked a bit first I could get a better sense of you, and whether or not my idea held merit.”

  Hannah looked surprised. “Okay.” She smiled then. “So, did I pass muster?”

  Now Addie looked surprised and delighted at the same time. “Surpassed it,” she said, nodding and looking quite pleased. “I should have trusted that you were something quite special when Will took such a keen interest in you.”

  Concern shadowed Hannah’s face once again. “That’s very kind of you to say,” she said. “But I should tell you that though Will and I have shared some things, I’m not sure if I’m the right person to help with . . . whatever it is you need me to do.” She lifted a hand. “Not that I’m not willing, I’m just not sure I’m the woman for the job.” She held Addie Pearl’s gaze. “I haven’t heard from him in a few days, so we’re not in any kind of constant contact. I’m not sure . . . what we are.” She hadn’t intended to say that last part aloud. It had just sort of slipped in there with the rest of it. Even she had heard the hint of a plaintive note in her words, so no doubt Addie Pearl had, too.

  “Oh,” Addie said, then nodded contemplatively. “I see.”

  “I’ll be happy to try,” Hannah said, not wanting to disappoint Addie after all she’d done to help launch Lavender Blue’s first community event and also because she liked and admired the woman.

  “Why don’t you tell me what it’s about, and I’ll let you know if I think I can be of any help.” She placed a hand to her heart. “I wouldn’t say anything to anyone.”

  Addie reached out and patted Hannah’s arm again. “I didn’t think you would,” she said. “You’re too thoughtful for that.” She took in a long, slow breath; then, decision apparently reached, she said, “As you know, Jake is playing the fiddle, and he’s singing, and he’s quite something.”

  “He is that,” Hannah agreed, thoroughly confused now. This was about Jake?

  Addie Pearl took her gaze from the creek, shifting to look at Hannah directly. “You might not know this, but Will’s grandfather taught him how to play, and how to make his own instruments by hand. Will was named for him, actually, though everyone around here called him Mack. And oh my, Mack was a gifted crafter. Turned out his grandson was a chip off that old block.”

  “I knew Will had played once upon a time, but I didn’t know about his grandfather, or that they’d handcrafted their own instruments. Was Will’s mother his only child?”

  Addie nodded. “She was. Went and married a military man she met when she was off at college, traveled the world, had a wonderful son, and was blessed with a remarkable life. Only came back to the Falls after her husband was killed in the line of duty. He rose to the rank of colonel and that’s what everybody called him. Will used to come spend summers at the Falls with Dottie’s folks when he was school age, but we didn’t see him around here again after that until Dottie moved back full time. He enlisted in the marines just out of school, just like his daddy did, and was off on his own adventures by then.”

  “I see,” Hannah said, admittedly interested in having some of the holes in Will’s story filled in for her. But she still had no idea where Addie was going with this.

  “I’m going to share this because I think it’s important, and I think the timing is as well.”

  “Okay,” Hannah replied, equal parts curious and wary now. “It will stay in my confidence, I promise.” She wasn’t at all certain she was ready to hear what Addie was about to share, especially if it was some new piece of Will McCall’s life story that she’d be better off not knowing. She was already turned around and half upside-down because of the man as it was.

  “Last summer, Jake played the fiddle for the first time. Sang, too. With Pippa, when she resumed her singing career. Right over yonder at our very own mill. It was a big night, I can tell you that.”

  “Yes,” Hannah said. “I’ve had the chance to hear her sing and play. I’m not surprised she’s reached the level of success she has. She’s supremely talented, and I happen to like her a lot, too.”

  Addie grinned. “She’s quite a bright presence and has been a welcome addition to our little community. She’s also been a dear to teach Jake personally as she has.” She looked to Hannah. “When Jake expressed an interest in wanting to follow in his father’s footsteps with the fiddle, and his mother’s footsteps with his singing, Pippa approached Will and asked if he’d be willing to join her on the road back to the stage and performing. She’d been overcoming the effects of surgery and he’d been a long time away from his passion for music, due to his wife’s passing, but . . . he wasn’t ready for that yet.”

  She’d said it matter-of-factly, but Hannah could see the reflected pain and sorrow Addie felt at Will’s reluctance to find a way past his grief. “It’s such a challenging thing,” Hannah said, feeling comfortable enough now to speak her mind even more directly. “Everyone processes grief in their own way, and sometimes that way is to bury it so you don’t feel like you’re being just bludgeoned by it every day. It’s an exhausting thing to contend with, and not as easy as all that to get on top of. I don’t hold it against him, how he decided to get through it. He had a child to raise and a whole life to reconfigure. And if he was in the service at the time, then he had that responsibility, too.” She looked at Addie. “After all, if you’re not actively suffering every day, why ask to bring that kind of pain into your life on a regular basis?”

  Addie had been nodding in agreement the entire time, and Hannah wondered if she were preaching her hard won wisdom to the choir. She had no idea what kind of personal losses Addie might have suffered. She’d lost her good friend when Will’s mother had passed away, but it seemed to Hannah that her understanding ran deeper than that.

  “And yet he was still suffering all the same,” Addie Pearl said. “He’d just made it manageable.”

  “I would agree. Nothing about grief is ever easy, though. Even when you do find perhaps a healthier way of coping, of moving your life forward, it’s something that requires ongoing attention. There will always be things that will remind you of that time, or of that particular event, or person. So . . . you have to give it the necessary thought, ma
ke sure you’re truly finding a productive way to handle it, even when it’s inconvenient.” She smiled. “Because those moments never happen when it’s convenient.”

  Addie nodded thoughtfully. “I see Will trying to do the work now,” she said. “He’s been coming to Jake’s rehearsals, and we’ve talked about it a time or two. I know he wants to handle his reactions better, be a part of this new phase in his son’s life. I commend him for it.”

  “We’ve talked about it, too,” Hannah said. “I feel the same as you. I’ve let him know I’m here to talk if he needs to. The same as I would for anyone,” she added, lest she give Addie Pearl the wrong idea. Although she wasn’t even sure what the right idea was at this point.

  “He made a fiddle for his late wife,” Addie told her, and Hannah’s full attention went right back to her. “The last one he ever made. He’d been teaching her how to play. It was to have been her Christmas present from him.”

  Hannah gasped. “And she—her accident happened on Christmas Eve. Oh, that’s . . . that’s even harder. No wonder Jake’s music is so hard for Will to hear. He told me Jake sounds like his mom, too.” She shook her head, her heart going out to Will all over again, despite his leaving things hanging between them.

  Addie nodded. “She was coming back from a local holiday performance on base. Jake was with a sitter. Will was on a mission with a unit of special operatives.” She waved a hand. “I don’t know those details, as they are not up for public consumption, but suffice it to say he wasn’t sitting in a tent in the desert somewhere. Despite the tragic circumstances, it took some time to extract him and get him home. I think that added to his pain a great deal, that he hadn’t been there for her, or for his son. Mercifully, she didn’t suffer. It happened in an instant. . . .” She looked to Hannah. “He never played again. Never worked on another fiddle. Understandable, even so many years later. But now, Jake is growing up. And he wants to connect to his mom, and to his dad, in this very particular way.”