Confessions from the Quilting Circle - Maisey Yates Page 0,128

have in her life.

That was where her love was—it was where her life was.

The lessons from those letters, from finding forgiveness and acceptance in her own family.

And it was all she needed.

She drove home, her thoughts spinning. And when she pulled up to the inn, she froze. Because Michael was standing there at the front door.

34

We are coming home. These years away have been hard, but through these trials I have been given a gift. I know what life I want to lead. I know what manner of man I am, and I will stand firm in that. I will not allow those who would seek to destroy us decide how we are to live.

I have seen what hate brings to the world. I would choose love.

Dearest Robert, I cannot wait to see you again. Finally.

—FROM A LETTER WRITTEN BY STAFF SERGEANT RICHARD JOHNSON, SEPTEMBER 1945

ANNA

“What are you doing here?”

She stared at this man in the bright sunlight and had...the strangest response. There was memory in her body, of what it had felt like when he’d touched her, and that was real. Very real.

But she didn’t look at him and feel like he was the most interesting, exciting man on earth.

She was much more excited by Xavier’s phone number than by Michael’s presence now.

She felt like she was staring her own desperation full in the face. The desperation she’d felt at that point in her life. In her marriage.

“I miss you,” he said.

“It’s been months,” she responded.

“I know. I didn’t know how to handle that whole thing with your husband. I can’t say that I’ve ever had that happen before.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Me, either.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t handle it right. But I thought maybe we could start over.”

Anna realized with sudden clarity that she didn’t need him. To make her feel good about herself. To feel like a woman.

Just like she didn’t need Thomas to absolve her in front of the church.

She was so much stronger now. She wouldn’t have needed to use Michael to escape now. Her life stretched before her, full of endless possibilities.

She didn’t have to fall from one life to another, from one relationship to another. She didn’t have to shroud herself in shame and pain. She could have whatever life she chose.

She could call Xavier. She could find more places to sell her pastries to. She could open a bakery. Or she could stay working at the inn, living there with her mom and sister.

“I don’t want to,” she said. “I already started over. Here. By myself. I like where I’m headed.”

“Anna... I really cared about you.”

“I needed you to care. At that time I needed you more than I can express,” she said. “But I’ve been...dealing with myself. And I’ve changed. I need different things now. But...thank you. Thank you for caring for me when I was lonely.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then closed the distance between them, touching her face briefly. She felt warm, but not fluttery. Affection, but not love.

“If you change your mind...”

She smiled. “I don’t know what I’ll do. I have...so many choices and I don’t know where any of them will take me yet.”

He walked toward his car, got in and drove away. Toward what, she didn’t know. It suddenly seemed clear she hadn’t known him at all.

It hadn’t mattered who he was, since she hadn’t fully understood who she was.

Now she had some work to do. Work on her own. To figure out exactly what she wanted. What mattered to her.

And if she ever did get married again, when she did have another relationship, exactly what she wanted from it.

But today had brought home some very important facts.

She forgave herself. And she wasn’t bound to those two men anymore.

She was free.

And more than ready to stand on her own.

35

It’s a girl, El. She was so pretty. With red hair. I wish I could have kept her. I barely got to see her. I thought the most important thing was making sure Mom and Dad weren’t disappointed in me. But it’s not the most important thing. All I want is her happiness.

I wasn’t supposed to see, but I did. The family who adopted her is named McDonald.

—FROM A LETTER WRITTEN BY SUSAN BRIGHT TO HER SISTER, MAY 1962

WENDY

The mood in the kitchen that morning was subdued. Everyone was on hand to help. Well, Emma wasn’t helping so much as she was sitting in the corner, her chin in her hands. Anna had a straight