A Vicarage Homecoming

by Kate Hewitt

  “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “I didn’t really think.”

  “About me?”

  “No. I was having to deal with so much, and I thought you were travelling the world… The last thing you wanted was a baby.”

  “But I still deserve to know that I’m having one,” he shot back, and Miriam hung her head.

  “Yes.” How had she not realised that? How had she managed not to think about Rory at all for the last eight months? It was a huge and glaring oversight, a massive blind spot. “Yes, you did,” she said. “Do.” She shook her head, stunned and shamed by her own wilful naiveté. “I’m sorry.”

  Rory sank onto a chair opposite with a gusty release of breath. “And your dad’s a vicar?”

  “Was. He’s a missionary in China now.”

  Rory just shook his head, his mind clearly blown by that revelation, among others. “And you’re… I mean obviously, I suppose, but you’re keeping the baby?”

  Miriam rested one hand on her bump, felt a reassuring kick. “Yes.”

  Rory shook his head again, despairing now. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with any of this.”

  “I don’t, either. I’m sorry, Rory.” Slowly, far too belatedly, Miriam was realising how having Rory sitting here meant he was, in some way and perhaps a big way, involved in her life. In their daughter’s life. Forever. And yet she’d been happy to cut him out completely from her life, without any effort on her part to find him. She felt a whole new sense of guilt and shame. How could she have been so blind, so selfish?

  “Do you know what you’re having? A boy, or…?”

  “A girl.”

  “A girl.” He repeated the words dazedly, with only a hint of the wonder Miriam had felt, yet she could hardly blame him for the lack of enthusiasm. It was incredible that he was here at all, that he’d had the courage and desire to come find her.

  He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  The question felt unexpected. “No,” Miriam said after a telling pause.

  “Because I realise we don’t know each other, basically at all, but in light of…this…” He gestured to her bump. “Maybe we should…”

  She stared at him in something close to alarm. “Maybe we should what?”

  “Get to know each other, at least. And maybe… I mean if…” He shrugged, blushing. “We could see if we can make a go of it, perhaps.”

  Make a go of it? It was the last thing Miriam had expected, and one of the last things she wanted. Her life was here in Thornthwaite, with her family and her two jobs and Dan. Yes, Dan.

  “I haven’t thought about that,” she said, clearly prevaricating. Rory gave her a rather withering look.

  “Obviously it didn’t even cross your mind, but I’m here now, Miriam.”

  “Yes, but…are you travelling again? Or…” She had no idea what he was doing with his life, what he wanted to do with his life. They’d chatted that night back on the beach in Australia, but she didn’t remember any details, only that she’d liked his blue eyes, which were not quite as piercing as she recalled.

  “I’m starting a graduate assistant scheme in London in two weeks,” Rory said. “Working for a consulting company.”

  “Right.” So, in other words, far from here. “So…” She stared at him helplessly. What were they supposed to do now?

  “Look, I drove up here with a couple days’ worth of stuff, just in case,” Rory said. “I can get a place in the village—I saw there was a B&B. And maybe we can figure this out, at least a little bit.”

  It was all so reasonable, and yet something contrary and frightened in Miriam resisted. She didn’t know this person. At all. And yet he had a right to be in her life, and in her daughter’s. She knew that, she accepted it. She had to.

  “Okay,” she whispered. “Thank you.” She felt as if she’d just hurled herself off a cliff, and she was still falling.

  A few minutes later, Rory was gone, without anyone else seeing him, thankfully. Miriam stood in the hallway of the vicarage, still reeling from the brief encounter, and utterly unwilling to face her family and their relentless barrage of questions.

  “Well.”

  Perfect, Esther must have clocked the sound of the door closing and had now come into the front hall, her hands planted on her hips. She must have seen the look on Miriam’s face—and Miriam didn’t even know what it was—because she softened, coming forward to give her an entirely unexpected hug.

  “Ah, Miriam. That was a turn-up for the books, wasn’t it?”

  “You can say that again.” Miriam’s voice was muffled against her sister’s shoulder, and she felt, quite suddenly, as if she could cry.

  Esther drew back a little. “Why is he here?”

  “Why do you think?” Miriam returned with a sniff.

  “Yes, but…does he want to be involved? He didn’t know about your bump, did he?” Miriam shook her head. “So was he…pleased?” Esther asked with un-Esther-like caution.

  “I think he was flabbergasted more than anything else. He’s going to stay in Thornthwaite for a few days, and we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

  Esther looked pleased. “That’s promising, isn’t it?”

  “Promising?” Miriam stared at her blankly. Promising was most definitely not the word she’d choose. It didn’t feel remotely promising. It felt…frightening. And complicated. And difficult. “Esther, I don’t know him. At all. I know that makes me sound like a—”

  “Don’t.”

  “But he is a complete and utter stranger. When I told you he was from Nottingham, I was telling you everything I knew.”

  “Surely you must have chatted a little,” Esther protested, and although Miriam knew she was trying hard not to sound disapproving, a tiny bit seeped through.

  “Yes, I’m sure we did, but it was a long time ago and I was a bit buzzed and I forgot what we said.”

  “All right, fine. So, you don’t know each other. But you have this bond now, an unbreakable bond, and you can get to know each other. And who knows? Maybe something will happen.”

  Something will happen. The happily-ever-after her whole family surely wanted for her. How neat it would be, how perfectly tidy, if Miriam swanned off into the sunset with the father of her child. Everything wrapped up with a big, bright bow.

  And why not? Miriam suddenly wondered. Why was she fighting against it? Rory could be a perfectly nice guy. He certainly seemed decent enough, coming all the way to Cumbria to find her, saying he wanted to make a go of…well, something. Not every bloke would do that. A lot of them wouldn’t.

  The least she could do was give Rory a chance. A proper one. So why did the thought fill her with fear and even a sort of revulsion?

  Esther was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her shyly hopeful agreement. “Yeah,” Miriam said, her voice a bit hollow. “Maybe.”

  She left soon after, running the gauntlet of her family’s interrogation with numb efficiency.

  “Miriam, was that…?”

  “Darling?”

  “Text me.” Rachel’s gaze bored into hers.

  Anna, at least, just gave her a hug.

  And then Miriam was thankfully outside, in the cold, clear stillness of a winter’s evening, when the sheep pasture was lost in darkness, the only sound the occasional mournful bleat.

  She lumbered up the high street, conscious that its steep ascent was more challenging now than it had been even a week ago. By the time she arrived at Dan’s place, her sides were aching and she was gasping for breath.

  His light was on, and as usual she peeked in the French windows, and saw him sitting on the sofa, watching telly. It felt like it would be the easiest and most natural thing in the world to tap once on the window, and then slip inside after Dan’s friendly beckoning. He’d offer her a drink, she’d accept some juice or water, and then she would curl up on the opposite side of the sofa and they would chat or watch telly for an hour or so before her eyes grew
heavy and she’d toddle off to bed.

  She loved their relaxed, stress-free evenings, and yet right now she felt she couldn’t do what she usually did, because she’d blurt out everything about Rory, and for some reason that was the last thing she wanted to talk about with Dan Taylor.

  And yet…how could she keep it from him? They were friends. He gave good advice. This was big.

  After another few seconds of dithering, Miriam knocked on the window, a little harder than usual. Just as she’d expected, Dan turned, smiled, and beckoned her in.

  “Elderflower cordial or orange juice?” he asked as he strolled towards the fridge.

  “Orange juice. I’ve had enough elderflower cordial to last a lifetime. I never even liked the stuff, really.”

  “How was dinner at the vicarage?”

  “Good.” Dan arched an eyebrow, clearly waiting for Miriam to explain her uncertain tone. Still she hesitated, taking a sip of her juice to gather her thoughts. “Something really odd happened,” she said finally, and Dan didn’t reply, just waited some more. “Rory showed up.”

  “Rory?” For a second he looked confused, and then the penny dropped with an almighty thud. “Oh. Wow. How…?”

  “He saw a photo of me at Anna and Simon’s wedding on Instagram. Apparently his sister is friends with one of Rachel’s friends or something.”

  “Wow.” Dan looked at her carefully. “That must have been…surprising.”

  “To say the least.”

  “He didn’t know?”

  “No.”

  “And now?”

  “I don’t know. He’s staying in Thornthwaite. We’re going to talk tomorrow.” Miriam’s breath came out in a rush. “I’m scared.”

  “Scared?” Dan looked surprised. Was he, like Esther and everyone else, expecting her to fall into her own personal fairy tale? The thought was crushing. “Why are you scared?”

  “Because I don’t know this guy,” Miriam burst out. “I’m not even sure I want to know him.” Although that felt a bit unfair. “And having him come here, to my village, my home…” She shook her head slowly. “It made me realise how complicated this is going to be. I’ve only just got my life together, and now this… I’m not sure I can handle it.”

  “It could be a good thing,” Dan said with a smile, and Miriam’s lips trembled. It was, she realised, just about the last thing she wanted him to say. She shouldn’t have come in here tonight. She was feeling too fragile to deal with Dan’s good wishes on top of everything else.

  “It could be,” she managed to agree, and even saying that much felt like a huge effort. “But you know, I’m really tired. I think I’ll head off to bed.” She struggled up from the sofa, only to realise her centre of gravity had shifted more than she’d expected, so she fell back against the cushions with an unladylike oomph.

  “Let me help you,” Dan said with a little laugh. He reached down and grasped her hand, pulling her up easily. She felt enormous, her bump sticking out, and as she came to her feet it actually nudged him. She closed her eyes briefly, embarrassed, emotional.

  “Hey.” To her shock Dan touched her chin with his finger; a mere brush of skin but it felt electric. She opened her eyes, conscious of how close he was; she could feel the warmth from his body, see the gold flecks in his hazel eyes. Her bump was still brushing his far more toned midriff. “This has really rattled you, hasn’t it?” he asked softly.

  Miriam nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  “Why? I mean…he’s a nice guy, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, I suppose so. He seems it.”

  “Then…isn’t it good, that he wants to be involved in some way? I mean, there’s nothing bad about that, is there?”

  When he put it like that, Miriam felt silly and overemotional for feeling as if there was. As if this was the end of everything, instead of perhaps the beginning. “No. I guess not.”

  “All you have to do is see where it leads. You don’t have to sign on any dotted lines just yet, Miriam. Just get to know him, without any pressure.”

  “Right.” She nodded slowly. Even though she wished it wasn’t Dan who was saying it, it seemed reasonable. Doable. Almost.

  “Let me know how it goes?” Dan put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. “And if you ever need to talk…”

  “Thanks.” Miriam stepped away, not a graceful move in her current state, but she didn’t think she could bear to have any more of Dan’s friendly sympathy. It was salt in the wound, even though he clearly had no idea—which was just more salt. She was the fricking Dead Sea here. “I appreciate it,” she added, hoping she sounded sincere. Then she hurried back to the quiet loneliness of her own home.

  She had a dozen texts from various sisters on her phone, all of which she ignored, because she could not cope with the endless demand for information. Not yet.

  Miriam stripped off her clothes and got into her comfiest pyjamas, and then made herself a huge hot chocolate with lashings of whipped cream, even though she knew she’d be weeing all night long because of it. But even a comfort drink and two episodes of Gilmore Girls could not see her through the dark haze of her feelings—a haze she was afraid to examine too closely, to figure out why she felt the way she did. Almost as if she was grieving.

  Eventually, ignoring the second wave of texts from her sisters that had her phone buzzing like an angry hornet, she went to bed, only to curl up, a pillow clutched to her chest, and cry bitterly, as if the world was ending, when in fact only a little while ago, it had felt as if everything was beginning at last.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Miriam had arranged to meet Rory at The Queen’s Sorrow for lunch, after her morning hours at the vicarage, but she’d never felt less like heading back to her former home than she did that morning, after a terrible night’s sleep, tossing and turning, tormented by fragmented dreams where she was back in Australia, but heavily pregnant, and wandering around, wondering how she was going to get home.

  Everything ached, her eyes felt gritty, and her pregnancy hormones were out of control. She was not in a good place to handle her family’s concerned, persistent questioning, which was inevitably what she got.

  “Not to press, darling,” Ruth said, “but Esther indicated that this Rory is…”

  “The father of my child. Yes.” Miriam clutched a cup of tea as she edged towards the door of the kitchen, longing only to escape to the study and the distraction of the church website she needed to update. The changes had gone live before Christmas, and she never tired of clicking through the fresh-looking pages with her photos on each one.

  “And he’s come to see you?” Her mother looked so hopeful.

  “Er. Yes.” Miriam took another step towards the door. “I really don’t know what’s going to happen, Mum. We’re meeting for lunch, but…” She shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know, Mum. I really don’t know anything.”

  “Well, I think it’s great news, Miriam. Really wonderful.”

  Which was, of course, part of the problem. Simon, thankfully, did not ask about Rory; in fact, he looked very much as if he did not want to talk about him, which Miriam appreciated. She had enough family members probing for details.

  She managed to work for a couple of hours without thinking too much about anything, but then the clock struck twelve, and just like Cinderella, her world started to feel as if it was about to fall apart. Plus, she was hyperventilating, which was never good when you were pregnant.

  “Right, I’m off,” she announced in a too-loud voice, and Simon, who had been working on his sermon at his desk, gave her a quick, sympathetic smile.

  “Hope it goes well.”

  So he’d heard about the lunch. “We’ll see.”

  Her parents and Anna were all out, so Miriam left without any more conversation, which was a relief. Yet with every step towards The Queen’s Sorrow, she felt herself becoming more and more nervous. What would they talk about? What would Rory say?

  She stepped into the dim interior of t
he upscale pub, breathing in the comforting scents of good food and drink mixed with the wood fire crackling merrily away. She scanned the mostly empty pub, half-hoping Rory had decided not to come, which was awful of her. Then she saw him, sitting in the back. He rose as she approached.

  “Miriam.”

  “Hi.”

  They stared at each other for an uncomfortable moment and then Rory let out a little laugh. “This is all a bit awkward, isn’t it?”

  “A bit.”

  “May I get you a drink?”

  “Just a Coke, please.”

  “Can you have caffeine, with the baby…?”

  She stared at him, trying not to show her unreasonable irritation. Really, he was going to give her advice, question her choices, after all of one day? “I think I’ll be fine.”

  Rory nodded, looking a little abashed, which was something, at least. He signalled to the waiter while Miriam sat down. When the waiter approached, Miriam opened her mouth to order but then Rory gave the order, which annoyed her the teeniest bit. He was taking control of the situation, acting like the man in charge. Perhaps he felt he had to, considering the circumstances. Perhaps it was his way of coping, while hers was…what? She still needed to figure that one out.

  “So.” He smiled at her, his gaze scanning her face. “I don’t even know where to begin. I was trying to recall what I knew about you, and I realised it wasn’t all that much.” He let out a little laugh, and Miriam wondered if she was supposed to join in. Did he think that it was funny? Because it wasn’t, not to her. It just felt almost unbearably sad.

  “Anyway…tell me something about you that I don’t know. Which should be easy.”

  Miriam stared at him helplessly. She knew she needed to give this a proper try, but it felt so…impossible. Like scaling a mountain in your bedroom slippers. “My dad’s a vicar, but I guess you know that now.”