Authors: Isabel Sharpe
Knit in Comfort (26 page)
“We're hoping for a good harvest this next season so we can get him a good deal. More and more people are growing truffles locally. I imagine the price will eventually come down.”
“Wonderful. Thank you!” Elizabeth bounced back to the car, waited impatiently for Megan to follow, then pulled away from the house, bumped to the five-mile stretch of road before
they reached the highway again, and pulled to a stop on the shoulder. “I can't wait to call Dominique, do you mind?”
“Not at all. I'll take a walk.”
“In this heat? I don't mind if you stay.”
“Whew. Thanks.” Megan fanned herself. “I'm not made for this climate. And thank you for pimping my lace.”
“I told you it would sell. Clair's daughter will get married in your veil,
everyone
will want to know where she got it, and you're on your way. You can get choosy and start charging thousands, especially for big-city customers.” Elizabeth opened her cell. “I'll hurry to make this call, and we can get you back to your kids.”
Megan's face fell, and Elizabeth wished she hadn't said anything. Lolly, Deena and Jeffrey would have to find out about their father's other family, about Megan leaving him. Rough times ahead.
Elizabeth dialed, feeling somewhat less fizzy. Dominique picked up on the second ring. “
Bonjour, ma chérie
.”
“You won't believe this. Guess where I am.”
“Where have you gotten to now, Elizabeth?” He sounded annoyed. “What about our koi?”
She rolled her eyes. “The doorman is feeding them. Since when are you so concerned about fish?”
“Since when are you all over the country?”
“I'm not all over the country, I'm still in North Carolina.” She shook her head woefully at Megan. When Dominique was like this she wanted to slug him. “And you still haven't guessed where Iâ”
“Elizabeth, it's late here, I am very tired.”
“Okay.” The bubbles in her fizzy mood were popping in bunches. “I'm right near a truffle farm.”
“Oh, yes?” Distracted, he wasn't listening.
“Black Perigord truffles, the real deal.”
“Elizabeth. The real Perigord is in France. It is not in North Carolina. I know there are people trying to grow them there, but they can'tâ”
“
Listen
to me. Just listen. Because I have something important to say.”
“Okay.”
She was so surprised at his backing down she nearly forgot how to continue. “They
are
growing them here. I met one of the farmers and bought one to try. Maybe these truffles are better than the summer ones in England, or better for your menu at least. The whole patriotic angle would work really well. I bet most people don't know truffles are grown in this country. They'd eat them up. Literally and figuratively.”
He forced a chuckle. “So what, you are going to run my business now?”
“That's not what I'm saying.”
“Sorry,
ma petite
. I am grumpy today. I'm sure your truffles are very nice. Buy me one and we can eat it together. When are you coming back to New York?”
She stared at the green hills surrounding her. The air in the car was becoming stifling. “When are you back?”
“Next week, Monday. The first of August.”
“Okay.” She twisted her lip. There was so much still to learn and do here. Megan would need her. “We have to talk.”
“About what? You'll be back by then, yes?”
She turned the ignition key, pushed the A/C fan up to high. Cool air started flowing again, but didn't stop her perspiring. “I'll come back for a while. I have a friend here who needs me.”
Megan looked up from the knitting she'd been doing to pretend she wasn't listening, and smiled warmly.
“
Elizabeth
.” Dominique sighed heavily. “We have a life together in New York. You have a business you're supposed to start. The fabrics, remember?”
“I'mâ¦not so sure about that now.” She winced, expecting the exasperated noise French people did better than anyone else on the planet. “You were right. I'm not much of a designer. And you're right, I've been trying to force myself into businesses I had no aptitude for. And I haven't built a life of my own, I just lived yours, you were right about that too. But I've figured it out now, for real. I love it here. This is where I belong. This is where I want toâ”
“How long are you going to do this running away?” His voice was so loud Elizabeth took the phone from her ear. Megan could probably hear him. “All your life you haven't been able to settle!”
“I know. I know. But I'm ready now, Dominique.” She wanted to scream at the irony. Girl who cried wolf asking him to believe her one more time. “I know what I want. This time I really do.”
“North Carolina.” His voice dropped, broke.
“And you, Dominique. I want you. I just don't want to live your life. I want our life. And part of âours' has to belong to me before I can buy into it. I can't live in New York anymore, not all year long. I need what I've found here.”
Silence while she prayed he wouldn't give up, hang up. Then the sound of a long patient exhale. “Okay. So now what?”
“I'll come back to New York and we can talk it out, find a compromise.”
“And marriage? Is that still on the table?”
“I thinkâ¦that can work, yes.” She made it through the sentence with only one nervous squeak.
“Elizabeth.” He pronounced it the French way,
eh-leez-a-bette
, and the surprised warmth in his voice steadied a large portion of her nerves. “I am actually speechless.”
She smiled, not scared, not wanting to back out, still ready to move forward. This was going to work. “Your part of the compromise is not spending all day trying to take over the food universe. You need time to help me raise our kids.”
“My God, whatever you're smoking down there, keep at it.” He laughed his big infectious Dominique laugh, which could cause an entire crowd to go silent looking for the source. “Okay,
ma chérie
. We'll talk. I want you to be happy. Come home soon.
Je t'aime beaucoup.
”
“I will. And, um.” Elizabeth glanced at Megan, who'd started humming politely. “â¦same here.”
She hung up, face hot, fizzy again with joy and, oddly, relief.
“You okay, Elizabeth?”
“Yes.” She exhaled hard. “I think I'm really fine.”
“You'll marry him?”
She turned, grinning, and pointed to Megan's lace. “Will you make me a wedding shawl? Cater the ceremony? Landscape my yard?”
Megan laughed, tears starting, and Elizabeth realized how strange it was for Megan to be ending a marriage and Elizabeth planning to begin one, all on the same day. Yin and yang.
She put the car in gear, moved out onto the road. “Let's go home.”
The second the words were out of her mouth, happy tears started. Not her home. No matter how long she stayed, how much she grew to love Megan and the kidsâand tolerate
Veraâthe house in Comfort would never be her home. The condo in New York was Dominique's. The apartment in Boston had been Alan's. The duplex in Milwaukee her mother's.
But the life she would build here with Dominique, the degree she earned, the career she started, the friends she made, all those would belong to her. And all those put together would be the comfort
Babcia
wanted her to find.
The next day the clouds have blown past, but the village of Eshaness is somber and still. Crofters wake to shame, to grim acknowledgment of what they've forced on Gillian, driven by sadness and anger and whiskey. Fiona goes through the long hours of sunshine numb with grief. At night she cannot sleep, finally gives up, wraps a thick woolen shawl around her and stokes the fire, takes up her knitting, trying to focus on anything but the nightmare images crowding her mind. After an hour, three hours, three minutes, she doesn't know, doesn't care, the door to the house opens so quietly Fiona can only tell someone is there by the sudden freshening of the air.
Alarmed, she turns, half expecting Calum, even knowing from having said her final wrenching good-byes earlier, that his body is laid to rest at home.
It is Gillian, still dressed in white trimmed with lace, a dress fit for a bride. She carries a small sheepskin bag, smiles at Fiona's shocked face, and comes closer to the fire, eyes haunted and dark. It's then Fiona notices she's shivering and damp. Can ghosts be cold?
Fiona starts to speak, but Gillian shakes her head, puts a finger to her lips and points to the enclosed beds where Fiona's family sleeps. She sits near the fire, opens the bag and passes over wool such as Fiona has never handled, soft like rabbit fur, exquisitely even in color, nearly white, a remarkable, impossibly delicate thread, thousands upon thousands of yards from a single ounce. In spite of her pain and misgivings, in spite of questions about how Gillian can have survived her leap off the cliff, or whether she did indeed survive, Fiona feels a thrill of pleasure.
Gillian nods, pleased by Fiona's reaction. She reaches into the bag again and pulls out two pairs of tiny silver needles, smooth and strong as steel. For the rest of that night and for many, many more nights after, Gillian appears and teaches Fiona to knit in a way Fiona never dreamed she could. Hours they spend, and though words are rarely spoken, a bond grows. Together they are knitting the most beautiful wedding shawl Fiona could ever imagine.
For a time after the night of tragedy, villagers claim to catch sight of Gillian back among them. The same rumors of her first weeks return. Some insist she still swims naked every morning by Eshaness's highest point where the lighthouse will stand, where Calum's body was found. Boys patrol its cruel dropâfor the safety of the town, they say. Wives pull equally defense-minded husbands
back home to their duties. Eric Manson reports seeing her late at night at the spot where she fled the mob. He called to her, but she shook her head and dived again from the cliff. All he saw below, though he waited several minutes, was a seal floating peacefully through black waters, eyes and sleek fur glinting in the moonlight.
Weeks go by and Fiona and Gillian's lace emerges, swirling with patterns of seas and sky, birds and flowersâShetland itself captured in the threads. Every night, all night long they knit, Fiona falling into bed just before dawn and waking refreshed mere hours later, as if she has spent the whole night sound asleep. Gillian has powerful magic indeed.
One stitch at a time, the work nears completion. When the shawl is finally finished, Gillian places it gently around Fiona's shoulders and embraces her, lays a soft hand against her cheek before she leaves as quietly as she came the first time and every time after. She never returns. Night after night Fiona waits, but the hours out of bed tell on her, she is no longer able to stay awake without suffering during the day. The full grief of the town's tragedies comes upon her, and she spends miserable months mourning Calum's death, mourning the loss of Gillian, her mysterious rival and friend.
Eventually, though winter is still upon them, though cold and winds whip the islands unmercifully, Fiona's heart knows the birds will soon return, signaling the renewal of springtime, and that spring will bring her a new life. She will leave Eshaness for another city, another island, another country, another world. Wherever she settles, she will meet a fine young man who will love
her best of all women. And on her wedding day she will wear the shawl she and Gillian have knitted here in Eshaness during long summer nights. Down the aisle, she will walk to her groom, thinking of a green-eyed, wild-haired, lovely witch named Gillian, who must still be swimming the blue water among the green, treeless islands of Shetland.
Elizabeth drove into Megan and Stanley's driveway, put the car in park, turned off the engine and leaned back against the head-rest. Megan sat, unable to move, listening to crickets chirping in the near-darkness. The trip was over. They were home. But getting out of the car meant facing what she'd done and all the pain she'd cause her children and Vera and herself.
She wished God would send down a flashing sign,
Megan, you did the right thing.
Throwing away a decent, peaceful life for what? Instability. Uncertainty. A whole assortment of devils she didn't know.
Door pushed open, she stepped thankfully into the cool air of Comfort, then back to the trunk to haul out her overnight bag. The kids were at friends' houses but Vera would wonder why Megan had come back with Elizabeth instead of staying in Reidsville with Stanley. There was no postponing the show.
“Megan? Who's there?” On cue, Vera's voice from the garden, sounding thick-throated and groggy. Had she been asleep so early?
“Yes, it's me.” She handed over Elizabeth's bag and hauled hers into the garden. “Hi, Vera.”
“I talked to Stanley.” Even in the dim glow reaching her from the back door light it was obvious her eyes were swollen with tears. “He says you left him.”
“Yes.” She had no idea what else to say, so she stood with her bag, feeling like a schoolgirl facing her headmistress, aware of Elizabeth hovering behind her.
“He wants me to go to him.”
“Will you?”
Vera nodded. “Yes. I'll go.”
“That's good.” Megan was suddenly and desperately tired; the adrenaline she'd summoned for this encounter had given up early. Or maybe she'd run out altogether. “He'll need you.”
“He was devastated. I've never heard him like that.” Her voice broke. “Is this for real, Megan?”
“Yes.” She made herself sound as gentle as she could. “I'm sorry.”
Vera took in a long, shuddering breath, let it out with practiced suffering. “John Foley is driving me over in the morning. Stanley asked him to. He's heading to Greensboro anyway.”
“Okay.”
“David's back, he came looking for you.” Vera lifted her soft chin with unmistakable disapproval. “I told him you were on a second honeymoon with Stanley.”
“Ah.” She couldn't summon excitement about David's being back or annoyance at Vera using irony as a weapon. The part of her brain controlling emotion must have blown a fuse.
“Is he getting back together with his wife?” Elizabeth finally spoke.
“I didn't ask.”
“Okay.” She sounded disappointed.
Megan wanted bed. Like she'd never wanted anything before.
“I'm leaving early in the morning,” Vera said.
“I'll get up and see you off.”
“I'd rather just
go
.” Her expression softened. “But thank you.”
“Anything you want me to put out for you, orâ”
“I'll be fine.” She turned to go into the house, then stopped. “I'm sorry for the pain Stanley caused you. You know that. Maybe there was something lacking for him here⦔
Megan gave a short laugh. If Vera wanted to preserve what remained of Stanley's perfect-boy image, she was welcome. Megan had spent years married to the idea that she was somehow at fault. Now she was divorcing that, too.
“Thoughâ¦it doesn't excuse what he did.”
“Thanks, Vera.”
“Well.” She stood uncertainly. “Good night.”
Megan walked forward and gave her mother-in-law a hug that lasted longer than she intended, felt more sincere than she expected. “I'm sorry for all this.”
“I can't bear what you're doing to your children. I stayed with Rocky for the sake of my son. You girls nowâ¦you want it all for yourselves.” Tears caught up with her, she shook her head and walked into the house.
“Kaboom.” Elizabeth stepped near and slung her arm over Megan's shoulders. “Don't listen to her. She just wanted the perfect exit line.”
“She found it.” Megan closed her eyes. “What if she's right?”
“
He
broke your vows,
he
violated your marriage. You stood it for fifteen years. That's more than most women would do.”
“Uh⦔ Megan opened her eyes. “That doesn't sound like a compliment.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth frowned. “Well, I meant it that way.”
“Hey.” David's voice out of the darkness over the fence. “I heard the car.”
Elizabeth tightened her arm around Megan's shoulders and leaned close. “I'll go upstairs. Come up if you need to talk later.”
“Good night, Elizabeth.” She hugged her back. Never in a million years could she have imagined that first day standing in the garden with this flaky, exuberant woman, that she'd come to lean on her so hard. “And thank you.”
“Don't thank me, thank
Babcia
. And Gillian.”
Megan kissed her cheek, watched her make her way over to the garage, then headed toward the fence, head aching, limbs shaky and tight. She didn't want to face David. Not tonight. “Welcome home.”
“Same to you.” His features were barely visible, but his grin caught the last of the evening light. “I came back to make sure you hadn't been torn apart by the Comfort vultures. Vera said you were with Stanley in Reidsville?”
“I left him.”
The grin disappeared. “Left him in Reidsvilleâ¦or left him?”
“I went to visit his other wife this morning.” She laughed wearily. “Feels like a week ago already.”
“My God, Megan.”
“It was Elizabeth's idea. All these years I assumed Genevieve gave him something I couldn't. But she turned out to be me.” She shrugged, knowing he'd understand.
“Jesus. The guy is an egomaniac.”
“Some of us are drawn to them.” She raised her eyebrows. “How are you getting along with yours?”
“Ha.” He shook his head. “The answer is we're talking, but I'm not packing up to move out west and she's not packing to move here.”
“So now what?”
“I'm here in Comfort for my sabbatical year. Then I go back to Boston. As it was.” He sidled closer and nudged her with his shoulder. “Congratulations, you're the one with the big decisions.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“None of which you have to make tonight.” His voice turned tender. “Get some sleep, Megan. We'll talk later. Whatever crap you have to go through, I'm here. Maybe I'll learn to knit and become a Purl.”
She giggled at the thought. “When you're not chasing squirrels.”
“You know.” He nudged her again, intimate in the darkness, bringing back a lot of memories of a lot of years ago. “I've decided to embrace my squirrels, Megan. They were driving me crazy, and I wasn't fazing them at all.”
Megan laughed in the darkness, astounded that she could feel at all happy. “That sounds very Zen and very smart.”
“Get some sleep.” He put his arm around her, pulled her in to him across the fence. She rested her head briefly on his shoulder, allowing herself a minute of his strength and familiar scent before she had to face the night alone. “Maybe in time we can both allow ourselves to believe in something better, Megan. Something really big and magical and lasting so we won't be alone. And maybe we'll have the courage to go after it. I think we're taking the right first steps.”
“I hope so.” She lifted her head, stepped reluctantly away from his arm, wishing it could be as easy as the two of them picking up where they left off, but knowing it wasn't what she wanted. Not now. She'd leave Comfort, maybe move east near Elizabeth and Sally, nearer to Genevieve and Stanley so he
could see the children often. If she was meant to be with David, that would happen in its own time. “Good night.”
“Sweet dreams, Megan.”
Back into the dark house she climbed the stairs feeling as if she had weights on her ankles. In her room, she flicked on the lights, stared at her and Stanley's bed for several minutes, then took her bag into Lolly and Deena's room to sleep there. Or try to sleep.
Most of the night she dozed fitfully, waking again and again, blinking through confusion for a second or two each time, before she remembered. She was leaving Stanley. Right or wrong, how would she support herself, what damage would the children suffer, could she really manage alone, and on and on and on.
The slam of a car door woke her a final time, an engine started and pulled away from their driveway. Megan dragged herself out of Lolly's bed, went to the window, pushed aside the curtain and peered out. Vera, gone already, on her way to Stanley's side, first in Reidsville, then who knew. Maybe she'd come back to live in Comfort. Maybe she'd move in with Stanley and Genevieve.
Megan needed to take this one hour at a time.
She crossed into her room, showered quickly, dressed in loose jeans and a yellow cotton sweater, and thudded downstairs.
Welcome to what was destined to be one of the hardest days of her life.
Yawning, she stepped into the kitchen and stopped dead. Balloons, streamers, glittering confetti stars, and a posterboard with huge letters drawn with markers.
CONGRATULATIONS! Love, the Purls.
Signed by each.
Megan stared, feeling sick. This was their idea of a celebra
tion? The dissolution of her marriage? Maybe someday she'd celebrate, but not this soon, and not in this way.
She strode forward, intending to sweep it all into the trash, then she noticed the blue ribbon, the shiny gold plaque, first prize, Comfort Craft fair, and an envelope with her name on it.