a second chance.” I paused. “And maybe that’s just as well. Because I don’t think I could go through it again, Polly. I really don’t.”
I looked away and pressed my hand to my mouth. Polly bent down, ducking her head low so I had no choice but to look into her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean it like that. I know you’re hurting. But there’s something I have to tell you and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way.” She took in a big breath and let it out. “You know I love you, Celia Fairchild. But I swear, you are just about the dumbest smart person I’ve ever met.”
I swiped my eyes and frowned. I’m not sure what I’d expected her to say but it definitely wasn’t that.
“I mean it,” Polly said, rightly reading my confused expression. “I don’t understand how somebody who has such good insights into other people can be so incredibly clueless about herself. Do you ever go back and read some of your old columns? Because maybe you should. I found a bunch on the Internet this week and . . .” She shook her head and popped her brows. “Damn, girl! There was some really good stuff there.”
“That was Calpurnia,” I said, shaking off Polly’s undeserved praise. “I just wrote down what she would have said.”
Polly pursed her lips and moved her head from side to side. “Nope. Not buying it. I knew Calpurnia too, remember? She was a wonderful woman who loved you and gave you a good start in life—well, until she lost her mind. But you hadn’t seen her since you were twelve years old,” Polly reasoned. “After that, you were on your own.
“Calpurnia’s name was in the title,” she went on, “but what came after that was all you. Your voice, your experience, and especially your compassion. That’s the reason all those people were willing to share their problems and secrets with you, because they knew you cared.
“And that’s just who you are, ‘Just Celia,’” she said, smiling and making air quotes with her fingers. “Just a good, honest, open woman who cares about everybody. I know because I see it every day. You can’t help yourself from helping, Celia. That’s why everybody’s crazy about you. Including me.” Polly sat down next to me, shoulder to shoulder, with her back against the headboard and her knees pulled to her chest.
“You handed out a whole lot of good advice in your columns, Just Celia. Maybe it’s time you tried following some of it.” She leaned hard to one side, bumping into me purposely and hard enough that I had to put out my hand to keep my balance.
“You think?” I asked, smiling a little. “Starting with what?”
“Well. Let’s see . . .” Polly paused, made a sucking sound with her teeth. “I seem to recall a letter you wrote to somebody called Heartbroken in Hoboken, advising him to look at what he’d gained instead of all he’d lost. Basically, you told him to count his blessings. But you said it more eloquently than that.”
Did I?
Over the years, I’ve written thousands of letters. I doubt that any of them contained anything the recipients didn’t already know deep down; the only sense I’ve ever had to offer is the common variety. But I do care. Maybe caring is eloquent enough.
“You did good, Celia. For Peaches and Becca, for Teddy, for Pris, for me, for all of us. And you did good for you too.” My forehead creased as I tried to make sense of this last. Polly smiled.
“Don’t you see? You started out fixing up a house but ended up creating a home filled with people you love and who love you right back. No, you don’t have a baby. Maybe you never will. But you do have a family.”
Polly searched my eyes with her own. “Isn’t that what you always wanted? Wasn’t that your dream all along?”
Chapter Forty-Seven
I’m certainly not an expert knitter. At my current rate of productivity, I doubt I ever will be. But you don’t have to be an expert to understand what people see in it.
To begin with, there’s the whole “maker” aspect of knitting, the satisfaction that comes from creating something with your own hands, not to mention the even greater satisfaction that comes from gifting that creation to somebody you care about.
When I left my room, showered, and got dressed in real clothes the next morning, I hadn’t experienced that