Confessions from the Quilting Circle - Maisey Yates Page 0,52

game, conversation continuing lightly between moves.

“So,” Lillian said, her blue eyes sharp and cold, like fractured ice. “How are you, Wendy?”

The words didn’t sound light, or casual. And the fact of the matter was, she hadn’t asked them when Wendy had come in, so it was clear that this was a buildup to something.

The thing about small towns was that everybody wasn’t inherently nice. They were territorial, and the connections ran deep, like roots of old-growth trees into the soil. Or blackberry vines. You might see the plant on one side of the street, but the roots could extend all the way across, originating from another place entirely.

She had learned to navigate sticky situations over the years as a result of these realities.

And she could sense when words had more weight to them than they should.

“Well enough,” Wendy said. “The loss of Jacob has been hard. He was a good man. We all miss him. Rachel is doing as well as can be expected. And Emma has a job in town—I’m sure you’ve seen her.”

“I wasn’t even thinking of that,” Lillian said. “Of course, that’s been difficult. But after what Anna did... Honestly, Wendy, I think the way that you’ve been showing your face about town is brave. Poor Thomas.”

Lillian shook her head and clucked her tongue. The divide of reactions across the long table was sharp and stark, and would have been funny if it wasn’t Wendy at the other end of Lillian’s verbal sword.

The reactions were either total disapproval, interest, or a strange, squishy sympathy that Wendy didn’t like any more than she liked the interest.

“Anna’s life is her own business, and she’s my daughter whatever happened,” Wendy said, hoping that would put the matter to rest.

“I mean, we all know what happened to you, Wendy,” Lillian continued. “Your husband had an affair, that’s why you had to come here in the first place and start over. I can’t imagine that it’s been easy to watch Anna follow in his footsteps, after all the good work that you’ve done in this community, after the reputation that you’ve built. And after the way that you were hurt by behavior like that. It’s almost a crime against you.”

A chasm opened up inside of Wendy’s chest. No. This was not supposed to be what her fresh start had brought her girls.

Greater judgment? No, that had never been the idea behind coming here. It had never been the idea behind sharing the story of how she’d made it here.

It had been to prevent them from being judged. It had never been to bring extra judgment.

As a single mom, she had known that she had to get in there and build up sympathy for her circumstances early, otherwise they would think that her daughters were from an immoral background, and the judgment that would’ve been heaped on them for Wendy’s actions would have been...terrible.

So it had been important that everyone had known the story of her husband leaving her for another woman.

But it had never been for sympathy for Wendy. It had always been for freedom from baggage for her girls.

And here it was, an unexpected bag, being hurled through the air, aimed directly at Anna.

“I don’t see what my past has anything to do with what Anna’s done now. And I don’t see how her behavior is any of your business. Are you friends with Thomas?”

Wendy had avoided this very thing ever since she’d moved here. Judgment. She’d done her best to keep her head down and be a hard worker. She’d turned away from confrontation whenever she could.

But that had been for her.

This was her daughter.

And when it came to defending Anna, Wendy wouldn’t shy away.

“He’s my pastor,” the other woman said. “His pain matters to me.”

“But you don’t know him,” Wendy said. “And it hit me when he announced what my daughter had done in church—without warning me, without warning Rachel or Emma, when he exposed all of us to censure like that, not to mention the way that it immediately cast Anna as the villain in the story—that I didn’t know who he was. Because I would’ve told you that he would’ve never done that.”

“What else was he supposed to do?” Lillian asked. “He didn’t want there to be rumors.”

“What is this, if not gossip?” Wendy asked. “You know one side of the story. Don’t allow yourself to confuse someone being a pastor with being perfect. He was my son-in-law for fourteen years, and I can tell you that