A Vicarage Homecoming

by Kate Hewitt

  “Have you let out the flat?” she asked Sam, who nodded.

  “Yes, luckily. A nurse at Whitehaven just moved into the area and wants to let it for at least a year.”

  “That’s great news.”

  “Your place is working out?” Sam asked a bit gruffly. He was a man of few words, but his words counted.

  “Yes, it’s brill.” Miriam injected a note of slightly manic enthusiasm into her voice. “Oodles of space.” Which was true, but the reality was she felt lonely and at a loose end most evenings, unused to spending time by herself. When she’d been travelling the world, she’d always lived with other people—in hostels or bedsits or dodgy flats, rooms overflowing, parties most nights. Then she’d moved back to the vicarage, and in with Rachel. This was, she’d realised, the first time she’d ever lived alone, and she wasn’t entirely sure she liked it.

  She’d been half hoping Dan might invite her over for another kitchen supper, but he hadn’t, and she hadn’t been brave or bold enough to invite herself.

  In any case, she’d hardly had the opportunity; they’d barely chatted at work, mainly because he was busy with appointments, so Miriam told herself not to act as if it was a slight. She was busy too, anyway, getting on top of the filing as well as learning to do invoices and accounts. Dan had said he’d make her title office manager instead of receptionist, which had made Miriam smile.

  Now Rachel was moving into her own place, and Anna and her parents were due back in just over a week. It was all happening, and Miriam still hadn’t made any decisions about anything.

  “That dress looks cute on you, Miriam,” Rachel said with a nod to the maroon tunic dress and thick black tights Miriam had chosen. “You finally got your hands on some maternity clothes, I suppose?”

  “Yes, someone from church gave them to me.” Miriam suppressed a guilty pang—she had so many of those—because she hadn’t gone to church to thank Dorothy yet, and she knew she should have.

  “That was kind.” Rachel looked pleased. “They suit you.”

  “Pregnancy suits her,” Esther said in her blunt way. “Your hair is looking decent for once.”

  “Wow, thanks.” Miriam rolled her eyes, even though she knew her sister spoke, as usual, the blistering truth. Her hair had thickened along with her waist, and the weird wave in the middle had turned into more of a natural bounce. One small perk of her unfortunate situation.

  “Right, well, since we’re all moved in, should we go out for a celebratory drink?” Rachel glanced at Sam. “On the house?”

  “Sure.” He gave an expansive shrug, and Will laughed.

  “I can see the advantages of this.” He put his arm around Esther, and Rachel and Sam held hands as they left the house, Rachel closing Bailey in the kitchen with a biscuit and a chew toy.

  “I feel guilty, leaving her when it’s the weekend,” she confessed to Miriam. “I need to take her out more.”

  “I’m always happy to.” She missed Bailey, and the walks that had got her out on the fells, breathing deep.

  “Would you? I shouldn’t load you with more responsibility, but—”

  “Why not?” Miriam cut across her, trying to sound light but knowing it came out a little bit curtly. “Can’t I handle it?”

  “I didn’t mean that,” Rachel answered, startled. “Just that it’s not fair to you. Of course you can handle it, Miri. You’ve been handling it all along.” She gave her a kindly smile, which Miriam returned, wishing she wasn’t so defensive.

  “Sorry,” she said, abashed. “I shouldn’t have been so prickly. I know it’s me, not you.”

  “You have lots to be prickly about,” Rachel answered with a small smile. “A lot going on, and we’re a bunch of interfering busybodies.”

  “Busybodies who love me, though,” Miriam returned, wanting to be fair.

  “To bits,” Rachel agreed, smiling, and Miriam smiled back.

  Back at The Bell, things were quiet at three o’clock in the afternoon, and Sam went behind the counter, relieving his part-time staff, to bring out a bottle of champagne.

  “To new beginnings,” he said, giving everyone—including Miriam—a friendly smile. She rested one hand on her ever-growing bump. New beginnings, indeed.

  As he poured the champagne, Esther placed her hand over her glass. “None for me, thanks, Sam,” she said lightly, but she might as well have hurled a conversational grenade into the centre of the table.

  “What?” Rachel stared at her sister hard. “Esther, you’re not…?”

  Esther actually blushed. Miriam didn’t think she’d ever seen her older sister pink-cheeked with embarrassment, or perhaps just excitement. “I wasn’t going to say anything until Anna and Mum and Dad were all here, but…I am. Only just, though. Very early days.” She bit her lip as she glanced nervously at Will. She’d had a miscarriage a year ago, and it had thrown both her and Will for a difficult loop. So difficult, in fact, that they’d separated for a few months, even though now they were stronger than ever.

  “That’s wonderful news.” Rachel gave her sister a big hug, and Miriam followed suit, laughing awkwardly as her bump got in the way.

  “Congratulations, Esther. Will. I’m so pleased for you.”

  “Yes.” Esther gave her a little, uncertain smile. “Cousins.”

  A startled silence followed, and Rachel gave Esther a quelling look. “Ether,” she said finally, “you know Miriam hasn’t…”

  “Oh come on, she has,” Esther said, and Miriam looked at her in surprise.

  “What…? Do you know something I don’t?”

  “It’s obvious you want to keep this baby,” Esther stated baldly. “You’re just scared to.”

  “Honestly, Esther,” Rachel half-mumbled, “I really think…”

  Miriam stared at her, too curious to be irritated, or at least not much. “It’s obvious?” she repeated. “How so?”

  “Because you haven’t done anything about it yet—”

  “Actually,” Miriam cut across her, “I went to an adoption agency in Carlisle last week.”

  This was met with one of those thunderclaps of silence that made everyone feel uneasy. Tension twanged in the air and Sam and Will exchanged looks, clearly not wanting to be part of this.

  “As much as I love champagne, mate,” Will said, “how about a beer?”

  Sam nodded and the two men excused themselves, leaving the three sisters to stare it out.

  “All right,” Esther said after a moment. “And what did you do at this agency?”

  “I filled out the paperwork. I looked at some profiles.” And I had a panic attack. No, she wasn’t going to mention that, and give her older sister ammunition, and yet…that’s exactly what it was. Ammunition, because why would she have had a panic attack if she wasn’t having second thoughts?

  “Oh, Miriam,” Rachel said softly. “Why didn’t you tell us? We would have come with you.”

  “I wanted to do it by myself.”

  “I wish you’d let us help—”

  “You have helped. You are helping. But some things I need to do on my own.”

  “That’s true,” Esther said. “But you don’t have to raise this baby on your own, Miriam. And I wouldn’t keep pushing it if I didn’t think that in your heart you want to keep it. Her. Look, no one’s going to judge you if you decide to—”

  “Really?” Miriam interjected bitterly. “Everyone’s been judging me all along.”

  Esther stared at her for a long moment. “Maybe you’ve been judging yourself.”

  “Dad’s disappointed in me.” It hurt so much to say it, and yet she knew it had to be said.

  “Miriam…” Rachel’s face crumpled with that admission.

  “There’s a difference between disappointment and judgement,” Esther answered. “Yes, we’re all disappointed. Not in you, but in the circumstances. They’re not what anyone would have wished, you included. But good can come out of it, Miriam—don’t make a second mistake on top of the first.”
/>   “So you think adoption would be a mistake.” Her words vibrated with hurt. She was afraid she might cry.

  “Not necessarily, not always, but in this case? For you? For us, as a family? Yes.” Esther met her gaze steadily. “Maybe that’s not the kind of support you feel you want right now, but it’s what I think. It’s what I believe. Truly.”

  A tense silence stretched on, to snapping point. Miriam stared at her sister, willing herself not to blink, because then the tears would fall and she would start sobbing.

  “I’m saying this because I love you,” Esther said, her voice choking a little although she kept Miriam’s gaze. “And I care about what happens to you.”

  Miriam nodded slowly. She knew Esther meant it. Tentatively Rachel put her hand on Miriam’s arm. “We’re all here for you, Miriam, honestly…”

  “I know.” It was hard to squeeze out those two words. Painful. Unsteadily Miriam rose to her feet. “I do know that. But…I need to go.”

  “Miri…” Rachel sounded upset.

  “It’s okay.” Miriam forced the words out. “I just need…to go.” She walked blindly out of the pub without looking back, and then, because she couldn’t stomach seeing anyone or going anywhere, she started towards the track that led up to the fells, to pure air and endless space. A place to think.

  She walked with her head tucked low, her feet moving one after the other, like an automaton. The sky was a fragile blue, wispy clouds scudding across it, the air clear and cold. As Miriam headed up the steep path that cut through the fells, she saw the tufty grass was tipped with frost.

  It didn’t take her long to realise that at over six months pregnant, hiking up a fell was not the wisest idea she’d ever had. She hadn’t been up one in over a month, and it showed. She showed, her bump protruding in front of her like the prow of a ship. Still, she kept walking, because she felt she needed to go somewhere.

  Esther’s words pounded through her brain. It’s obvious you want to keep this baby. You’re just scared to. There’s a difference between disappointment and judgement. I’m saying this because I love you.

  Miriam let out a choked sound, her voice torn from her. She didn’t know whether to scream or cry or even laugh wildly, because Esther had been as blunt as only she could be, and the amazing, awful thing was, Miriam thought she might be right. About everything.

  At the top of the hill, sides heaving, breath coming in ragged gasps, Miriam tottered to a bench thoughtfully placed at a lookout point and sank down. The air was colder up here, the wind possessing a sharp bite. Her muscles ached along with her lungs. She closed her eyes, thoughts washing through her in a never-ending tide.

  “Fancy seeing you up here!”

  Miriam’s eyes snapped open and she stared in shocked disbelief at one of the last people she’d expected to see on top of a windy fell—Abigail Cribbs. She was like a bad penny, or perhaps a fairy godmother. Maybe both.

  “Hello,” she managed, trying to smile although everything in her felt both frozen and weird.

  “I’ve been gathering mushrooms,” Abigail said in the voice of someone intent on having a cosy chat. She sat next to Miriam on the bench, forcing her to sidle over a bit. “Have you ever had a wild mushroom?”

  “Er, no.”

  “They’re delicious. Of course, you’ve got to be careful. There are some that could have you drop dead within hours. Death cap, of course, and destroying angels.”

  “Goodness.” Miriam stared at her dazedly, unsure how they’d come to be talking about toxic mushrooms.

  “But I find it’s worth the risk. If you’re careful, and you know what you’re doing, you should be all right.” Abigail gazed at her shrewdly, and Miriam wondered if she was meant to pick up some life lesson there. She felt too overwhelmed to think of what it could be. Don’t eat mushrooms, maybe.

  “So,” Abigail said, settling herself more comfortably on the bench. “How is that bairn of yours? Not long now.”

  “Three more months.”

  “I was thinking,” Abigail said in that chatty way of hers. “This baby would be the first baby born in the vicarage since you were. And you were the first vicarage baby for nearly a hundred years.”

  “Was I?” Miriam hadn’t realised.

  Abigail nodded solemnly. “Your parents moved here right after your brother was born, God rest his soul.”

  “I don’t remember him, actually,” Miriam said. She didn’t know why she said it. Only that she was the only one in the family who didn’t remember him, who didn’t have a Jamie-sized hole in her heart, and somehow that had always made her feel…different. And sad, in a different way from the sorrow she knew her sisters and parents felt.

  “No, you wouldn’t, would you?” Abigail said. “You were only two when he died, poor boy. Lovely lad, he was. Full of mischief.”

  Miriam nodded; she’d heard it before, and over the years she’d constructed a mental image of her brother that was half paragon, half troublemaker. All angel.

  “Anyway, this baby wouldn’t actually be a vicarage baby,” she felt compelled to point out.

  Abigail’s eyes gleamed as she nodded towards her bump. “Oh, Miriam,” she said. “Yes, she would.”

  Miriam looked away, afraid she was going to cry. Again. “I don’t actually know if I’m keeping the baby,” she said, but even to her own ears she sounded uncertain.

  “Not keeping her? You mean adoption?” Abigail sounded surprised but not censorious. Miriam nodded. “Well, understandable, of course. But I must say, my dear, when you came out of that scan and said you were having a little girl…you didn’t look like a woman intent on giving her baby up.”

  Miriam swallowed hard. “Maybe not,” she allowed in a shaky voice. “But…”

  “But what?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. It felt like a big confession, the biggest she’d ever made. I don’t know.

  “Well, dear,” Abigail said as she patted her arm. “If you don’t mind me saying so, it actually sounds as if you do.”

  Miriam walked back home in a daze. She barely remembered climbing down the fell, although she did slip once on a muddy bit and felt a lurch of fear, her hand cradling her bump protectively. My daughter. Then up the high street, barely aware of people she passed, the small crowd drinking outside The Bell, two dogs tied up by the little post office shop. Finally she arrived at Dan’s house, and as she walked towards the annexe she felt as if she couldn’t bear being alone with her own thoughts anymore.

  She turned around suddenly, intending to knock on Dan’s back door, but she hesitated because she’d imposed on him quite a bit and they hadn’t talked properly since dinner a week ago. Maybe they weren’t as close friends as she’d thought they’d been becoming.

  She was still standing in the middle of the garden like a gormless idiot when Dan opened the back door and peered out.

  “Miriam? Everything okay?”

  “Um. Yes. Sort of. I think.”

  Dan frowned, clearly sensing something was amiss. “Would you like to come in for a cuppa?”

  “All right.” With relief Miriam started forward. In the kitchen paperwork was spread all over the table. “I’m interrupting you…”

  “A needed distraction.” He switched on the kettle. “How are you?”

  “Okay, I think.”

  “You think?”

  She stared at him, from his glinting hazel eyes shadowed with concern to his ready, easy smile. He was so easy to talk to, and he’d been so kind.

  “Well.” She drew a shuddery breath, feeling near tears for the umpteenth time. “Actually…” Still she hesitated.

  “Miriam?” Dan took a step towards her, his frown deepening as he looked at her. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” Just terrifying. “But, the truth is, I think… I think…” Why was she having trouble saying the words? They’d been pounding through her brain all afternoon, since that confrontation with Esther. And yet to say them out loud�
�to make them real…

  “Miriam?”

  Time to go for it. Miriam’s breath came out in a rush. “I think I’m going to keep my baby.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “They’re here!”

  Miriam stood up from the sofa in the vicarage living room to move into the foyer, along with Rachel, Esther, and Will. They’d been waiting for the last half hour for Anna and Simon to arrive from Manchester with her parents. They’d landed that afternoon, and Anna and Simon had met them at the airport before driving them back to Thornthwaite, along with all of Anna’s stuff. She was officially moving back to the village, with just three weeks to go before her wedding.

  Miriam hadn’t told anyone yet that she was keeping her baby. Thinking about it, at least. Seriously. After she’d told Dan, she’d seen the surprise and then the pleasure cross his face, and he’d spontaneously pulled her into a quick, warm hug.

  “Miriam, I’m so pleased for you.” He’d released her quite quickly, but Miriam still felt the aftershocks of his arms around her, her cheek pressed against his chest, and tried not to react. “That is, if you really do feel this is the right decision?”

  “I think I do,” Miriam said, and it felt like taking a flying leap into the unknown.

  In the three weeks since then, she hadn’t felt brave enough to tell anyone of her plans, although she’d done loads of research online. She’d ordered several baby books off Amazon, and read them from cover to cover, appalled and fascinated in turn by all the detail. The chapter on giving birth she skipped completely, because it was simply too gruesome.

  Yet instead of her nerves feeding her doubts, they were giving iron to her determination, steel to her soul. Yes, it was going to be hard. Yes, it was incredibly terrifying. But maybe, just maybe, she could actually do it. She’d felt sure enough to call Janice at the adoption agency and tell her that, at least for the time being, she didn’t want to proceed with an adoption. Janice had not sounded surprised.

  Her sisters, thankfully, hadn’t pushed her any more, more because Anna’s wedding and their parents’ return were taking over, and Esther was also suffering from debilitating morning sickness. They all had their own stuff going on, which was good.