by Kate Hewitt
“And Mum and your sisters too?”
That was a little bit harder. “I don’t think they actually blame me,” she said slowly, “but I’ve... I’ve always felt different.” She let out a breath. “Left out.”
Roger stared at her hard. “Because of Jamie’s death?”
“Sort of.” She’d never been this remotely honest with her father before, and it was hard now, but a good kind of hard, like the stretching of sore muscles. “Because it felt like we were meant to have this perfect family and then there was me.”
Roger knit his brow. “A perfect family? Did you really think people thought of us that way?”
“Well, yes, basically.” She shrugged. “You know, the family in the vicarage, everyone watching us grow up...” She couldn’t count the number of times she’d had her cheek pinched or some virtual stranger recall an intimate detail of her life. But that was what growing up in the vicarage of a village meant. “And I was so...” She gulped. “Shy and quiet, I felt like I didn’t fit in.”
Her father’s frown deepened. “I’m so sorry you felt that way, Anna. I wish I’d known. I should have known, as your father.” He shook his head in regret. “I suppose I knew a bit, because of course I could see that you were shy, but I just thought that was who you were. I didn’t want to push you to be someone else.”
“It’s not just the sh-shyness,” Anna admitted in a whisper. “It’s that I-I s-s-s-stammer.” Her cheeks flushed. “When I’m nervous or with groups of people.”
Her father stared at her for a long moment. “Anna,” he said finally, “did you think I didn’t know you stammered?”
Her blush deepened as realization jolted her. “But you never said anything.”
“I suppose because it didn’t seem important. I thought you might grow out of it, and if you didn’t, then it was a part of you. A long time ago, your mother wondered if we should get you some kind of help for it, but we thought that would make you feel as if there was something wrong with you when there wasn’t.” Anna could only shake her head. All this time she’d held her big secret so close, and they’d known?
It was almost laughable, and totally surprising, and yet... some part of her recognized that it wasn’t surprising at all. Of course they’d known. Her parents were loving and observant, and it wasn’t something she’d been able to hide all that easily. Maybe it had simply been that she hadn’t wanted them to know. That she hadn’t wanted to be known.
“Should we have said something?” Roger asked seriously. “Would it have made you feel better, if we’d talked about it more?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.” If her parents had drawn attention to it, she might have simply retreated more. Perhaps it had taken this long to get to where she was now, able to talk, ready to heal. Hopefully.
“Anna, I feel like we failed you.” Roger stared at her directly, unflinching from the stark bluntness of his statement. “You’ve been holding so much in, hiding it from us, and we should have been the ones to comfort and help you. We should have addressed it. If I had any idea that was what was keeping you away for so long...” He shook his head, and then touched her cheek. “I’m so sorry, my darling.”
“I’m sorry, too. For-for being the way I am.”
“That,” Roger said firmly, “is not something you should ever be sorry for. No apology needed, ever. Your mother and I love you, have always loved you, for exactly who you are. Maybe we didn’t say it enough.”
“You did. I knew you loved me. I knew you would always love me. It’s just...” How to explain it. “I never felt good enough. And that was on me.”
“No, not just on you.” Roger’s expression became shadowed. “The truth is, Anna, that it isn’t simply a case of misunderstanding. After your brother died... your mum and I coped in different ways. I think we both shut down a little, emotionally, to all of you girls. I lost myself in work and caring for people who didn’t matter so much to me. It felt easier, safer. And your mother, God bless her, did what she always does when she’s worried or sad—she became very busy. But maybe in doing that we lost sight of you four, as well as of ourselves. Maybe we let some things slip that we shouldn’t have, and assumed everyone was all right simply because they seemed all right on the surface. I’m sorry it’s taken till now to find our way back.”
“That isn’t your fault,” Anna said. “At least not entirely. I don’t think I wanted to be found.”
“And now?”
“I suppose with you and Mum moving on and everything changing, I wanted to say something. Before it’s too late.”
“It’s never too late, Anna. That’s one of the wonderful tenets of our faith. There’s always time for a fresh start.” He smiled at her. “But it is late now, in terms of being in this church. The heating went off at one and it’s going to get very cold, very quickly. How about we head back to the vicarage for a late-night hot choc?”
A cup of tea cured her mother’s ill; it was hot chocolate for her daughter. Anna smiled and sniffed. “All right, Dad.”
When they stepped outside of the church, Simon was standing there, bringing them both up short.
“Simon!” Roger easily reverted to his usual affable self. “Sorry, have you been waiting?”
“Just wanted to make sure you locked up.” Simon sent a questioning glance to Anna; she realized she must look a fright, with her face blotchy and red, her eyes swollen. She’d cried more today than she had in years, and yet that wasn’t actually a bad thing. They were necessary tears, healing ones.
“Would you like to join us for a hot chocolate nightcap back at the vicarage?” Roger asked Simon, and he turned from Anna to smile at his boss.
“Thank you, but no. I need my beauty sleep, little good that it does me. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Bright and early for the nine a.m.,” Roger concurred cheerfully. “Come on, darling.”
Later, after a cup of hot chocolate in the cosy kitchen with her dad, Anna curled up in bed, her body and mind both exhausted. For so many years she’d been living a safe, dull life, going to work, meeting up with friends, but always keeping herself hidden and separate behind a wall of shy reserve. Today that wall had been well and truly shattered. Part of her was desperate to start reassembling it, brick by painful brick, and another part wanted to step over the rubble and walk free.
Which would she do? Which would she have the courage and conviction to do? Anna fell asleep before she could think too hard about that question, the memory of Simon’s kiss the last thing that flitted through her mind before sleep thankfully overtook her.
Chapter Twelve
“Happy Christmas!”
Anna looked up from her morning mug of coffee to see Dan standing in the doorway, dressed in jeans and a sweater and bearing a tray of cinnamon rolls, brandishing a big smile.
“Happy Christmas,” she replied, uncomfortably she was wearing fleece pyjamas, no bra, and she had a serious case of bedhead, with half her hair flattened on one side and sticking up in tufts on the other. It was seven-thirty in the morning, and she hadn’t expected visitors, but she supposed Dan was practically family now.
“I’ll put these here,” he murmured, and he set the tray on the counter. Anna took another sip of coffee, her heart sinking when Dan straightened and put his hands in his pockets as if he intended to stay awhile. She was still exhausted from being put through the emotional ringer yesterday more than once. She didn’t think she could handle a heart-to-heart with Dan, especially when she had a sneaking and uncomfortable feeling that he knew, or at least suspected, she’d had a crush on him back in school.
“So, Anna,” he asked as he rocked back on his heels. “How are you?” He kept her gaze in a way that made her realize he wanted a real answer, not a pat one.
“I’m okay,” she said, and that was the truth. “Tired but okay.”
“How do you feel about your dad’s news?”
“A little sad, but happy for him too. Congratulations, by the way. I d
on’t think I’ve actually said that to you since you and Rachel announced your engagement.” It was funny, but just a few days ago she’d felt gutted that Rachel was dating her secret crush, but now it seemed like nearly nothing. It paled utterly in light of what she and Simon had shared, new as their relationship was.
“Thanks. It’s all happened rather quickly.”
“How long have you been dating, then?”
“Three months.” Dan flashed her a quick, slightly abashed smile. “But when you know, you know, right?”
“Right.” Did she know with Simon? It was far too early to tell, of course, and yet Anna felt a peacefulness that had settled in her bones, a peacefulness she hadn’t felt in years, maybe even since before Jamie had died. She knew it was in large part to Simon, to his understanding and gentle kindness, and, yes, his kiss.
“I’m glad you’ve come back to Thornthwaite,” Dan said, his gaze searching hers. “It seemed like you were set to stay away for a while.”
“I was.” Anna debated whether to say more, whether she had it in her. “As m-m-m-much as I love it here, it holds s-s-s-some hard memories.” There. That hadn’t been so terrible, had it?
Dan nodded slowly. “We all miss Jamie.” He paused. “I remember you had a tough time at school with some mean girls.”
She simply nodded, deciding to save her speech. Yes, the mean girls had been tough to deal with, and she’d been such a lamentably obvious target, a shy, socially awkward stammerer. Easy pickings. She was still shy, still stammered, but for the first time in her life she could start to see past her shortcomings and imagine the kind of future for herself that so many others took for granted. The thought was thrilling and more than a little scary.
“There you are.” Rachel came into the kitchen, her hair, a shade lighter than Anna’s, pulled back into a ponytail, a frown bisecting her forehead. “We’re going to open the stockings before Dad heads to the first service.”
“Great.” Dan slid an arm around Rachel’s waist and Anna didn’t miss the way her sister tensed slightly before relaxing into the embrace. Something about it made Anna think her sister had had to force herself to relax. What was going on there? And if she asked Rachel, would her sister open up? As much as they all loved each other, she and her sisters hadn’t actually shared the hard and intimate details of their lives.
“We should go,” Rachel said, and slipped away from Dan’s arm. He let out a little sigh, a flash of sadness crossing his face, and Anna followed them both into the sitting room.
The next hour was one of happy chaos, with the ripping of tissue paper and the excited shrieks of three daughters who had, for the moment at least, turned into little girls. Ruth beamed at them all, her own stocking, filled by her husband, lying forgotten and unopened. As always, their mother preferred watching others open their gifts than opening hers.
Anna was touched at the thoughtfulness her mother put into each small gift in her stocking—an intensive hand cream since she suffered from eczema; the latest cosy mystery from the series she liked to read; a new set of headphones for her commute by train to work.
“It’s almost as if you’re in my mind,” Rachel remarked as she opened her own gifts. “How did you know I liked this shade of lipstick?”
Ruth shrugged, smiling. “It’s fun, trying to think of what you’d like or what you’d need.”
“You must have bought a few additions recently,” Esther remarked as she held up a bottle of prenatal vitamins. “Since you didn’t know I was pregnant until a few days ago.”
“Yes, well.” Ruth ducked her head. “I had to include the baby.”
Anna sat back after she’d finished opening her stocking presents, content and yet also touched with a bittersweet sorrow. It seemed nearly impossible to believe that in a few short months the vicarage would be empty, her parents’ belongings put in storage, and Ruth and Roger on the way to China. She felt a pang at the loss of connection to Thornthwaite and the vicarage; it felt a little bit like losing Jamie all over again. Did her parents feel that? Did her mother want to stay in the house where Jamie had been born, where he’d last slept? His room had been turned into a guest room years ago; there was no shrine, but there was still a remnant of connection, however fragile and ghostlike.
“I’ll get a bin bag for all the tissue paper,” Anna said, and headed to the kitchen, stopping short when she saw Simon there, making another pot of coffee.
“Anna.” He turned to her with a glad smile, and her heart tumbled in her chest. She loved his smile. She loved his glinting eyes. She loved—
No. She couldn’t think that way, didn’t want to let herself fall too fast or hard. They’d known each other days. Yes, they’d bared each other’s hearts and she’d kissed him in a way that she’d kissed no other man, but... days. Mere days. Plus she was still in her pyjamas, still had a severe case of bedhead.
“I didn’t realize you were here.” In her nervousness she sounded stiff, and Simon noticed.
“I came in while you were all opening your stockings. It seemed like a family moment, and I didn’t want to intrude.”
“I’m sure you would have been welcome.”
“Even so.” He turned back to the coffee, focusing on spooning granules into the cafetiere. “How are you?”
“Tired. Yesterday was... emotional.”
“Yes.” He paused to glance at her. “You had a good conversation with your father?”
“Yes, I think so. I did as you said.”
“You mean you told him—”
“Yes.” Her throat was going tight in the all too familiar way and so she decided not to say anything more. Simon, bless him, merely nodded, understanding.
“I’m glad.”
She nodded back, and then wordlessly he dropped the coffee scoop and pulled her into a hug. It felt like the best thing in the world, her safe haven, a place where she felt at home. Loved. Maybe she shouldn’t be thinking that way, but with her cheek against his chest, she was.
They didn’t speak as they remained in that silent embrace, needing no words. Anna wished everything in life could be this easy. This simple and straightforward, the purest form of communication, no need to stumble through syllables, just connect with truth and feeling.
Then Esther came into the kitchen and pulled herself up short. “Oh,” she said.
With a slightly sheepish smile Simon gave Anna one last comforting squeeze and then stepped back. “Happy Christmas, Esther.”
“Seems like it’s a happy Christmas for you two,” Esther returned tartly, but she smiled as she said it. Typical Esther.
“Is everyone done with the stockings?” Anna asked.
“They were done ages ago. We’ve been waiting for the bin bag.”
“Oh, right.” Anna rifled through the clutter of bottles under the sink and emerged with the required bag. “Here we are.”
“I’ll take it,” Esther said, and held out her hand for the bag. “You two seem otherwise occupied.” She left before Anna could muster a reply, not that she would have known what to say.
“I suppose we’ve been busted,” Simon remarked as he raked a hand through his hair. It went, rather adorably, every which way when he dropped his hand. “Do you mind?”
“I don’t know. It’s not you, it’s my family. They jump all over everything, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Especially...” She paused, biting her lip.
“Especially...” Simon prompted, his eyes narrowing a little.
“It’s just so new—and we live in different places. Like you said last night, there are a lot of obstacles.”
“Yes, there are,” Simon agreed steadily. “But we don’t need to tackle them all today, do we?”
“No.” A wave of relief washed over her. She didn’t want to tackle any of them today. She simply wanted to enjoy being with Simon... without having to think too hard about the future, or even at all.
The rest of the morning passed pleasantly; her father and Simon headed over to the churc
h while Anna showered and dressed and helped her mother and sisters get the Christmas dinner started. Then the men returned and they all decamped to the sitting room to open presents.
It felt remarkably relaxed and normal to have Simon among their group, along with Dan and Will. The teasing was good-natured, the conversation comfortable, and both Esther and Rachel seemed to have finally relaxed. Getting engaged or having a baby were both big things. Anna supposed it had taken her sisters some time to get used to the changes in their lives.
“Guess who I have here!” Roger announced when they’d taken a break from tearing open presents and scattering wrapping paper. He held his laptop aloft like it was a trophy. “Miriam!”
This was followed by a chorus of explanations, and then they were all crowding around the screen, peering at Miriam’s remarkably clear image. She was sitting on a pristine white sand beach with the sky an azure blue behind her.
“G’day,” she greeted them in a rather bad Australian accent.
“Happy Christmas, darling,” Ruth exclaimed.
“How do you have Wi-Fi on the beach?” Esther demanded.
Miriam laughed, and Anna couldn’t help but notice how happy and pretty her little sister looked. Her skin was tanned and freckly, her dark hair streaked with blond from the sun and dip-dyed blue for good measure.
“I’m sitting outside the hostel where I’m staying,” she explained, and moved her laptop so they could see the modest stucco building behind her.
“How are you, sweetheart?” Roger asked. “We miss having you here for Christmas.”
“I know, I’m sorry not to be there.” For a second Miriam looked serious. “Especially considering your news, Dad. Congratulations.” Her cheeky grin returned in full force. “Perhaps I’ll see you two in China.”
“I certainly hope so.”
“What are you up to now, anyway?” Esther asked. “For work, I mean?”
“Teaching English. It’s good fun.”
They continued to chat as Anna listened, amazed at the freewheeling lifestyle her sister enjoyed, without, it seemed, any plans to return home. But then this wasn’t going to be home for much longer. Miriam would most likely mind the least.
