by Gail Cleare
“Meow,” she said, perfectly imitating a cat. Pumpkin jumped up and whipped around, looking suspiciously toward the house. All three of them burst out laughing.
“Meow,” Lauren and Bridget said. “Meow.”
“Time to get dressed, little kitties.”
Nell, Bridget, and Lauren drove into town and parked on a side street near Adam’s apartment. The festivities were in full swing, and the whole town seemed to be there. Nell saw her friend the librarian and waved to some of the nurses from the hospital. Kids were playing games and racing around. People visited the vendors’ booths and placed bids on items at the open-air auction. An old-fashioned barbershop quartet wearing red-and-white-striped jackets was singing in front of the fountain. Two huge Belgian draft horses hitched to a hay wagon were standing at the curb, waiting for the next load of passengers.
“Let’s go over there.” Bridget pointed at an empty bench and clutched Nell by the arm.
“Okay, don’t cut off my circulation. Look, there’s Adam.” Nell waved. He was carrying a pair of lamps up onto the stage to be auctioned.
Adam saw them and smiled. A couple of attractive mid-thirties women standing nearby looked to see whom he was smiling at. They frowned when they saw Nell and Bridget sitting in the shade of a big red maple. The women put their heads together and whispered behind their hands.
Bridget looked at her watch and then scanned the crowd.
“Be calm. I’m sure you’ll do great.” Nell took Bridget’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “She’s lucky to have you. So am I. I’ve always known that too.”
“Thanks.” Bridget took a deep breath.
She jumped to her feet. “I’m going to take a walk around, see if they’re lost in the crowd.”
“Can I go hang out with Daddy over there?” Lauren said, pointing toward the auction stage, where David and Ben were helping.
“Okay, I’ll wait here.” Nell watched her go, enjoying the comfortable vantage point.
Local produce and goods were for sale, and there was every kind of food imaginable. The smell of cinnamon, maple, and grilled sausages filled the air. A few minutes later, Nell noticed a silver-haired man in an expensive-looking beige jacket and gray slacks. He was walking with a young woman with long blond hair who looked strikingly familiar.
Just then Bridget turned from the booth, where she’d been examining handmade quilts, and she saw the couple too. Her face flushed with excitement and a yearning, wistful expression. Stepping forward, she waved. The man looked at her. He touched the girl on the arm and pointed.
Lizzie turned, and Nell thought how alike they were, mother and daughter, as they stood facing each other across the lawn. Profiles identical, the same hair. The girl was younger, taller, and slimmer, but the Reilly genes were obvious. She was another child of the clan.
The two approached each other and spoke. Bridget looked nervous, and the girl’s body language was stiff. Then Bridget reached out as the girl swayed toward her. She leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, scanning her face as though memorizing it. Then she looked over at her sister and laughed when she saw Nell was watching.
“My daughter.” Bridget mouthed the words. Her smile was radiant, and she gestured excitedly. She pointed out Nell to Lizzie, who waved and smiled.
Nell waved back and stayed put, giving them time. She sat on the bench and watched Hartland doing what it did best. In front of the fountain, benches were filled with mothers with baby strollers and backpacks. Dads followed toddlers as they waddled along the sidewalks chasing toys, pigeons, and each other. Grandparents sat in lawn chairs under the trees, guarding blankets where babies slumbered. People laughed, patted each other on the back, and hugged.
They know the secret. What we’re all trying to discover. A simple idea but so elusive.
Once, Nell would have said that people ought to constantly struggle to evolve and improve themselves, to achieve bigger and better successes. Her life had been a series of hurdles and challenges, many of which were impossible to attain. But in Hartland, she had discovered a new attitude. And it had made all the difference.
Life is short. Be happy. That was it, the nutshell version.
Nell smiled, and endorphins rushed into her bloodstream as her body responded to the facial expression. She felt a subtle shift in consciousness. She had taken control of her reality, and it had changed. She was happy. All because by coming here and finding out how her mother had dealt with regret, a veil had been lifted.
There were no more secrets to keep.
Dear Reader,
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Author’s Note
There is a real place called Hartland, Vermont. I have borrowed the name and surrounding landscape for this story, but the town and its inhabitants are totally imaginary.
About the Author
Gail Cleare has written for newspapers, magazines, and Fortune 100 companies. Her advertising agency worked for the co-creators of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and she was Leonardo’s date for the premiere of the second movie. She got to wear a black silk evening gown and sparkly shoes, and ride in the Turtle Mobile.
When she worked for AOL, Gail wrote a cooking column about chocolate and read Tarot cards live online. Her fine art photography is held in private collections across the US.
Gail lives on an 18th century farm in Massachusetts with her family and dogs, cats, chickens, black bears, blue herons, rushing streams and wide, windy skies. She writes fiction full time now, sitting by a view of woodlands and pastures.
