would definitely, certainly, be the month it would happen.
God knows she needed something in her life. Now that the glamor of an English husband had worn off, Richard had revealed himself to be somewhat less charming than he first appeared. He was, in fact, controlling and rather bullying, she thought in her darker moments, wondering if it was just the culture clash, that it was because he was English and English women were, perhaps, more passive. She did not like being told what to wear, what to cook, how to act, but she was getting used to it, was trying so hard to be a good wife, to be the wife he wanted.
He did love her, of that she was certain. Or at least, he loved who he thought she was, who she had turned herself into in order to be the wife she thought he wanted. He told her how beautiful she was, how lucky he was to have her. He showed her off like an exotic trophy, knowing he had won the game of attractive wives.
But wasn’t every marriage like this? Audrey looked around her, searching for validation, searching for hope that she wasn’t alone. And she wasn’t alone. Her newfound friends rolled their eyes about their husbands during their coffee mornings, tittered about their idiosyncrasies.
Audrey used to feel like one of them, until the babies started coming, and she lost her new friends to Babyville, leaving her more alone than ever before.
The letter from Aunt Judith could not have come at a more welcome time. Aunt Judith had always been more like a mother to Audrey, particularly after her own parents died, one after the other, when she was in her early teens. Aunt Judith’s children were older, had moved, one to California, one to Michigan, had families of their own that kept them busy, too busy to look after their mother, leaving Audrey as the sole responsible child.
I miss you, dear child, Aunt Judith had written. I’m thinking of selling the house in Nantucket. It has been a long, hard decision, but with all you children now gone, it seems pointless to have this big old house just for me. Abigail said she’d fly in from Michigan to help me, but of course now her children need her, and Michael’s much too busy to leave his job in California. I know how busy you are, but if you felt in need of some Massachusetts sunshine, I could use the help! I’m planning on going out right before Memorial Day, and I’ll be there, packing up, for the summer. You could come anytime, with Richard or without. Dearest girl, it would be so lovely to see you.
Audrey had handed the letter to Richard over dinner that night, her heart pounding with anticipation as he read it distractedly, then put the paper down.
“Well?” she said. “Should we go?”
“I can’t possibly go,” he said. “I’ve got that huge deal on the car factory, which is likely to keep me tied up all summer.” He looked down and took another bite of his steak Diane.
“Well, should I go?”
“Do you want to go?”
Audrey thought for a few seconds. She wanted to go more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. While her parents were alive, they always visited Aunt Judith for a couple of weeks in the summer, and after they died, Audrey would go for the entire summer. Nantucket was the place she had always felt most at peace, a place she now found herself thinking about, missing, as she went about her life in the pretty green suburbs of England.
She wanted to smell the ocean air and walk along Main Street, stopping for the papers at the Hub. She wanted to have coffee at Cy’s Green Coffee Pot and wander the aisles of the hardware store next door. She wanted to step back to a time in her life when she felt happy, joyous, and free.
“I don’t know,” she lied, nervous that obvious enthusiasm would make him suspicious, nervous he would say no. “I don’t want to leave you, but I feel like I ought to go. It’s going to be a lot of work—she’s a terrible old hoarder—but she doesn’t have anyone else, her kids are disasters, and I owe her so much. I do think it’s the right thing to do.”
“I suppose you should go,” Richard said. “I don’t really want you to, but it won’t be for long, yes?”