Confessions from the Quilting Circle - Maisey Yates Page 0,55
she’d had a child. Since before she had lines in her forehead that didn’t go away even when her expression was relaxed. Since before she had a stomach that wasn’t flat, and back when she’d had boobs that held themselves up even when she didn’t have a bra on.
And she’d imagined that as beautiful as Jacob found her, he found her beautiful because he knew the whole her. That they had that history together that stretched back.
She’d seen all the Jacobs she’d known when she’d looked at him. The young, vibrant boy, the athletic teenager, the handsome man, the sick man. They’d all been there, all part of the person she loved.
So she’d believed him when he’d called her beautiful. But when he’d called her beautiful he’d seen all the Rachels she’d ever been.
Having a man who didn’t look at her and see years of history, having a man who had no real emotional attachment to her at all look at her and think it would be good to go out with her... It did something to her that she didn’t expect. And she liked it in a way that she didn’t expect.
It had woken up something inside of her. Invigorated something.
But she could not go out with him now. The interest was sure nice, though.
She hadn’t realized she had wanted it. Not when the thought of intimacy with another man scared her so much. But a dinner date...
She pondered that, on the drive to the house, through the tunnel that cut through the side of the mountain, and carried her over the bridge, to the winding private drive that led to the Lighthouse Inn. And all the way through her mundane plumbing project.
She made sure to push aside the thoughts, shook them away when she went into the kitchen.
It wasn’t that it was a state secret that she’d been asked out, but she wanted to hold it close to herself for a while. She wasn’t going to do anything with it, anyway.
But her grief belonged to everyone. And this was just hers. Like her conversations with Adam in J’s. It was nice to have something that just belonged to her.
She breezed into the kitchen and greeted her mother and sister, then paused when she noticed that Emma wasn’t there.
“Where’s Emma?”
As if her daughter had sensed her concern floating over the airwaves, her phone buzzed. She took it out of her pocket and looked at the message she’d received.
Can I have dinner with Catherine?
She sent the return quickly. We have our dinner tonight.
I know. But Catherine’s mom is making lasagna, and she invited me. And I haven’t been over there since...
Okay, Rachel texted back, because she certainly didn’t have the energy to argue with Emma about that. Emma deserved a break.
A chance to be happy.
Rachel did, too. A chance to move forward. Take a new step.
Maybe with Mark, maybe not.
But she held on to his number.
15
Things feel calmer now, and though we are watchful, high above the water like this, with the great blue waves below and the mountains behind us, it is easy to simply take joy in the splendor.
—FROM A LETTER WRITTEN BY STAFF SERGEANT RICHARD JOHNSON, OCTOBER 15, 1943
ANNA
Preparing dinner had gone off without a hitch, and even though Anna missed the ally she’d found in her niece, things were all right with Rachel and her mother.
Things with Rachel had actually been smoother than they’d been for years. Their talk while they were making croissants had shifted something between them. When Rachel said it was up to them how close they were going to be, she hadn’t been lying.
She also hadn’t been promising a miracle.
It was slow going sometimes, learning to confide in and trust someone you hadn’t for so long. But over pastry dough, ladybugs and dusting, they were slowly starting to build a bridge between them.
Anna hadn’t confided in or trusted anyone all that much in a long time.
Michael had been a notable exception. She had trusted him.
With deep, dark secrets, with her body, with her soul.
A horrifying reality now that he had quit speaking to her so completely.
Ghosting. That’s what Emma said it was. Him completely vanishing.
Slowly, but surely, she was beginning to feel heartbroken by the loss of him.
Like part of her heart that had been numb was beginning to thaw out.
She didn’t know how she would talk to Rachel about that. It had been one thing to announce her affair and talk about the issues in her marriage.