I felt some resistance from the little thistle flower as I peeled it off the paper and held it up to the light. It was flattened and its pretty lilac colour had faded.
A wee little plant that knows how to defend itself, that stands for courage and deep conviction, Finola had said. And Aidan had told me I was like this thistle . . .
I snuffled and shut my eyes until I could master the lump in my throat. Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I looked up. My organiser slipped to the floor.
“Hallo, cousin!” Charlie shouted, drumming her turquoise nails against the window. “Are you going to bawl all over the taxi much longer or are you coming in? Bri has brought up a bottle of Dom Pérignon from the cellar to celebrate.”
“Charlie! What . . . ?”
Stunned, I watched Charlie skip to the boot and help the taxi driver with my luggage. I gathered all the scraps of paper and cards and discovered that even a dry thistle has thorns. When I finally got out of the car, I stood there with the organiser pressed to my chest, trying to control my frustration. I’d told everyone that I hadn’t found Charlie so they’d leave her alone with Ian. I had even made Bri and Li promise not to tell. And here she was, acting like she’d never been away.
“Is this all?” Charlie pressed a twenty-euro bill into the driver’s hand and turned to me. “Two suitcases and two measly duffel bags? Who are you? What have you done with my cousin?”
“What . . . are you . . . doing here?”
The voice didn’t sound like mine, but I was happy to at least have made some sound. A strange mixture of guilt and pity appeared on Charlie’s still somewhat sickly face.
“I actually wanted to surprise you. After all, I promised to be your maid of honour.”
“I’m afraid you made the trip for nothing,” I whispered and had to fight tears again.
“Not at all. You need me now more than ever.” With an anxious smile, Charlie said, “That is, I mean, if you want me to be . . . there for you. I guess I have to make amends for some stuff.”
She shoved her hands into her jeans pockets, obviously wanting . . . a hug? I was moved and shocked at the same time. So it had come to this—my own cousin was afraid of consoling me.
“I’m happy you’re here,” I said.
“Really?”
Her look of relief was followed by the most sparkling and vulnerable smile anyone had given me in a while. I nodded and did something that even a short time ago I wouldn’t have dreamt of—I pulled Charlie into my arms.
We stayed that way for some time without saying anything, even though there was a lot I wanted to tell her. I needed to apologise for all the times I’d been mean or even spiteful to her, when I was green with envy that the little monster was once again the centre of the family’s attention, and for how I had always pushed her and her admiring love for me away. Apologies were especially due for the bitterness that was inside me because I couldn’t be more like her—more carefree, more cheerful, more open, more thirsty for life.
There was so much to say, but words would have robbed the moment of its magic. So I was silent and just held Charlie tightly until she started to giggle and squirm.
“Honestly, Jo, you’re better off without that moron.”
“Justus is no moron.”
“He isn’t?”
“He’s a stupid moron.”
“Right,” she said seriously.
“In a way . . . I’m actually . . . glad.”
I opened my eyes wide in pretend shock and covered my mouth with my hand. Charlie grinned and then we both burst into laughter, like two silly little girls.
“We’d appreciate it very much if the young ladies came inside sometime today. The bubbly is getting warm,” someone called impatiently from the staircase.
Bri was leaning against one of the entrance columns, Marlene Dietrich style, her legs elegantly crossed below her pencil skirt. I could hardly believe my eyes—my great-aunt was wearing stilettos.
“Well, move it. I’m not only dying to hear what’s got into our dear Josefine, but last night, your grandmother announced she had some news she’d only share once Miss Solicitor and her luggage had arrived. So get in here already. Li’s driving me nuts. She’s more curious than a three-year-old in front of a monkey cage, but I bet it’s just going to be another creepy ring story.”
She puffed on her cigarette, blew some smoke rings into the air, and stubbed out the butt in Grandmother’s precious rose bed.
“Sir, yes, sir!”
Charlie saluted, winked at me, and then dragged my two rolling bags towards the house. I picked up my duffel bags and wished I could obey Bri’s command just as enthusiastically, but my legs moved as if through molasses.
These past two weeks, I had experienced more and felt more than in my entire life. I was worn out, and my chest hurt as if I’d been crying for days, not just hours. And yet, more cracks still formed in the crumbling façade of my self-awareness. Bri’s offhand remark was another blow, showing me that others knew me far better than I knew myself. How else could my grandmother have already known last night that I would leave Justus so soon?
“I don’t quite follow, Adele. Did you just say that the bride’s ring . . . actually isn’t the bride’s ring?” Li lowered her teacup and stared at her sister.
Bri finally stopped circling the kitchen table, her stilettos clacking nervously. She shut the window and drew the lace curtains as if making sure the secret didn’t escape.
“What’s so difficult to understand, Li? Adele wanted to marry Gustav, the ring fell into the Main, and our big sister was resourceful.” She nodded to Grandmother. “The replicas idea was brilliant. You should have let me in on it.”
“You were eleven at the time, Brigitte,” my grandmother replied.
“So what? I was a sharp cookie even as a child, not like some others.”
Bri peered at Li, who was still clutching her teacup and throwing bewildered glances around the table. Nobody had touched the cake.
“But that means . . . The pawnbroker gave me two hundred pounds for the ring . . . but it’s probably worth much less.”
Either Charlie was embarrassed or the red blotches on her face were remnants of the scarlet fever.
“It looked valuable, didn’t it? Or maybe Mr. MacGrady just felt sorry for you,” I said to Charlie, smiling at Grandmother.
I was worried about her. The old lady had talked without interruption for almost forty-five minutes and her voice had grown shaky, almost faltering, towards the end.
“Who would have thought? My upright, respectable sister Adele turns out to be, in retrospect, a bigger cheat than all of us combined. A fine family we are.”
“Now, Bri,” protested Li. “Don’t be so cheeky.”
“What? It’s true. We’re either deceiving others or ourselves.” She briefly glanced at me. “Li’s the exception, of course. She can, as always, thoroughly wash her hands of the matter.”
“But that’s not what I want at all! And I can’t believe you all left me out of the loop. Poor Josie! To think that you sent her to Scotland for nothing. And we could have done without that crazy trip, too—plus, we wouldn’t have to cancel the lovely lilies.”
“Poor Josie!” Bri imitated Li, frowning. “Do you really not understand anything, Li? Poor Josie could have done a lot worse than go to Scotland, even though right now she’s sitting here sniffling like Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. Besides, you’d never have tripped over your French musketeer’s feet if you’d just stayed in your floral armchair, waiting for some schmaltzy romance writer to explain love to you.”
Li sulked silently, but could not prevent her rosy cheeks becoming rosier, which probably satisfied Bri as much as the fact that Adele had resorted to an incredible lie to be able to marry Gustav.
I took Grandmother’s hand, which felt cool and dry. I needed to say something before she launched into her usual role of defusing a clash between the twins.
“It’s really sweet that you’re worried
about me, Aunt Li, but Aunt Bri is right. The thing is, a lot has happened lately and I still have to let it all sink in. But I’m actually relieved.”
And I really was, in spite of the blank page waiting for me, “Josefine’s Future” scrawled across the top and with no meticulous lists beneath. Grandmother squeezed my hand as if she knew how I felt.
“Spoken like a true von Meeseberg. Bravo!” Bri made a pistol with her hand, pointed it at Li, and pretended to pull the trigger.
“But where does she go from here?”
“That’s a good question, Li.”
I looked around at four pairs of eyes filled with pity, curiosity, and empathy. The long silence was infused with the aroma of baked apples, flour, and yeast. The familiar scent aroused in me a feeling of peace, something I had lost among all the lists that were meant to lead me into a perfect adult life.
“Actually, I don’t think I want to plan anything right now, especially since fate might have a different idea,” I said slowly, thinking of the small, dried thistle. “I think I’ll take a little time and see what comes up. I haven’t listened to my gut for so long. I think I need to learn to trust it again.”
“Whoa!” Bri laughed. “Is this really Josefine?”
“I asked the same thing,” Charlie piped up with a grin.
“Yes, it’s me,” I answered, and knew that it was the truth.
Bri raised her glass and everyone followed suit.
“Well, then . . . To Josefine’s fresh start. May her gut tell her where to find happiness. And should it be silent, I could give her a clue. She probably doesn’t want to hear it, though.” Bri casually cleared her throat.
“Speaking of new beginnings,” Charlie said. “I have something to share.”
“You’re pregnant,” said Bri.
“Bri!” scolded Li.
In response, her sister plopped herself down on her chair in a not very ladylike manner, her knees as far apart as her pencil skirt allowed. Li’s expression showed that, in her opinion, it allowed much more than was proper for a woman over seventy.
Charlie smiled with lowered eyes. “I’m going back to Scotland, to Ian. His brother offered me a position as an apprentice pastry chef in their Edinburgh branch. Aidan’s going to teach me everything I need to know so that Ian and I can manage the original bakery in Kincraig later on. Ian isn’t good with numbers, but with my basic knowledge in business administration, we’ll manage somehow.”
Bri raised an eyebrow. “So you’ll be a baker.”
“A pastry chef. I’ll bake the best cakes the Scots have ever seen, let alone eaten. After all, I learned more in this kitchen than just how to lick a mixing bowl clean.” Lifting her chin high and squinting, she looked ready for battle. “Don’t even try to talk me out of it. I’ve made my decision.”
Bri and Li exchanged a look and Grandmother contemplated the apple cake as if she were thinking of having a slice after all.
I was speechless as well. It wasn’t because Charlie had decided to settle down—to lead a normal life, as it were. I had expected that after having observed her with Ian. It was the casual mention of a name that had thrown me off.
Aidan.
The room expanded and contracted. It was amazing what the mere sound of his name did to me—a gentle smouldering radiated from my belly to the tips of my fingers. I clung to my chair with both hands and closed my eyes.
Bri reached for the champagne bottle. “Finally! A toast to the happy couple! I can’t wait to see my nephew’s face when he hears the news.”
“Don’t remind me. Papa is going to cut me off without a penny.”
“I thought he’d done that long ago.”
Bri raised her glass, satisfied as a famished cat with a bowl of cream. Charlie groaned theatrically and everyone laughed, but I felt miles away.
Aidan. Aidan. Aidan. His name rang in my ears.
Bri scrutinised me before lifting her glass. “To Charlie and Josefine. To the emancipation of the von Meeseberg women. Hip hip, hooray!”
Li almost choked on her champagne. “Hip hip, hooray?”
“Why not?”
Glasses clinked and my field of vision continued to shrink until I could see hardly anything beyond the untouched apple cake in the middle of the table—a perfect circle with a light-brown crust.
Aidan, a soft, longing voice wouldn’t stop singing while the rodeo pony in my chest beat time with its hooves. My pulse rate must have been a hundred and eighty.
Charlie gently touched my arm, startling me.
“I almost forgot . . .” My cousin moved closer. “I brought you something.” Then she addressed everyone, her eyes sparkling. “Aidan gave me a present for Jo.”
The chatter around the table stopped.
Okay. Now I was dizzy. I blinked and tried to say something, but only warm air escaped my mouth. Charlie slid from her chair, left the kitchen, and came back with a brown padded envelope that she laid on the table in front of me.
It was addressed to Mrs. Stone. I immediately recognised the flowing handwriting.
“Maybe Mr. Murray sent cookies,” said Li from the end of the table, squinting through the glasses that hung from a chain around her neck, which seemed to grow several inches as she tried to look at the envelope. “But your name isn’t Mrs. Stone.”
“Li, you really are beyond help,” Bri said.
“But why? Mr. Murray knows that Josie likes cookies, and he’s famous for those lucky stars—”
“Shut up, Li,” Bri and Grandmother said in unison.
Bri looked at her older sister in amazement while Li just shrugged and leaned back into her chair with a disgruntled snort.
“Open it, Jo,” Charlie pestered me, raising two fingers as if taking an oath in court. “I swear I didn’t sneak a peek, even though I wanted to. I hid it at the very bottom of my backpack. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“Or you could take it to your room and open it in peace and quiet,” Grandmother said.
Disappointed faces.
“No way! I’ve been praying for years for something exciting to happen in this family.” Bri aimed a finger at my chest. “What are you waiting for, young lady? I highly doubt it’s a bomb.”
I took a deep breath. Then I picked up the envelope—only to almost drop it again. It weighed almost nothing. Definitely no cookies.
“Did he say anything?” I managed to ask, afraid of the answer.
Charlie shook her head. “He just asked me to give you the envelope. Said you would understand. That’s all I could get out of him.”
I wrestled with the glued seal of the envelope. I lost, and finally tore it open on one side. A small object rolled out onto the kitchen table.
Bri whistled softly. My grandmother turned pale and pressed a hand to her mouth.
“I don’t believe it,” Charlie said.
The chiming of the old kitchen clock seemed too loud in my ears. I noticed something wet on the back of my hand, but only realised I was crying when the bride’s ring became blurry.
“Ooh!” Li’s glasses slipped to the tip of her nose when she bent forward. “So is this the right one, then?” Confused, she gestured to the ring with the sparkling rhinestone that had duped three generations in this house into believing it was a diamond.
I reached for it in what felt like slow motion.
It felt hard and cool, but the metal soon absorbed my body’s heat. The ring seemed to pulsate in my fist, like a tiny creature with magical powers that might grant me a wish if I let it go. I knew it was my own heartbeat inside my tightly closed fingers, but the idea of the magic ring living and breathing appealed to me—and I knew Aidan would have liked the thought as well.
Aidan.
I suddenly knew what my wish would be—something I wanted more than anything else in this world. I sat there as if in a trance for a minute before meeting my grandmother’s knowing gaze.
“Yes, Li,” I said, slowly opening my hand. “I think this is the right one, indeed.�
�
18
Edinburgh, June 2016
I had overcome many of my fears these past few weeks. Unfortunately, my fear of flying was not one of them.
Even though the pilot had sounded very competent on the intercom, the ride had been exceedingly bumpy. One more life lesson—never trust a deep male voice cooing about the possibility of “some minor turbulence,” even if a flight attendant smiles at you at the same time. I had my eyes closed for almost the entire flight, knowing I must be freaking out the young woman next to me by incessantly kneading my fingers.
Now, two hours after landing, I still felt queasy.
It seemed as if I had stood here since yesterday, on the little paved path in front of the pastry shop—actually, in front of the house next to it. I didn’t want to be discovered before mustering the courage to go in. Fate apparently didn’t like all this waiting and so sent me an irate downpour. Defiantly opening my umbrella, I huddled up against the house. It wasn’t the best spot since people were coming and going, carrying presents and wrapped bottles. A party on a Monday afternoon—and here I was blocking the door. I had to step aside every two minutes. If I wasn’t fast enough, someone would step on my feet or push me aside. When I ended up in a deep puddle, I gave up, closed the umbrella, and entered the shop.
An aroma of warm baked goods permeated the room, mixing with the smells of coffee, chocolate, and caramelised fruit. In my memory, the shop was larger, but maybe that was because of the crowd filling it now, all pushing towards the glass display cases. Hiding outside had been absurd. Nobody noticed me now that I was inside. Murray & Sons was a zoo today, and the zookeepers were busy keeping the animals fed.
I hid behind the cookie shelf with two elderly ladies in rain bonnets. If I stood on my toes, I could overlook the entire room without being seen. But this, too, was superfluous, since Vicky and Aidan had barely enough time to so much as smile at their customers. Their hands flying, they bundled butter scones and their famous lucky stars into paper bags and packed colourful cupcakes into boxes. Cake slices landed on small, round plates that Vicky rushed to the crowded tables from time to time. Aidan’s little nephew stood on a stool and pushed buttons on the coffee machine with an expression like that of a ship captain. Coffee and hot water for tea emerged with equal decorum.
Kissed by the Rain Page 24
