I let Mary give me the tour while Henry brings our bags in from the car and takes them upstairs. I’m surprised she still lives in this house when Henry could obviously buy her something bigger, newer, nicer. But she says she refused all his offers.
“This is the house where I fell in love with Fred—my late husband—and where I raised Henry. All my best memories are here. Why would I ever want to live anywhere else?” It’s so sweet, and it makes me long for the family I’ve always wanted to create those kinds of memories with, the kind I don’t get to have.
“Is this Henry’s dad?” I point to a framed photograph leaning on the mantel, it’s clearly Mary from many years ago—before her perfect bob turned silver—with a man dressed in uniform.
“Yes, that’s my Fred. The best man I’ve ever known.” She looks so wistful I’m afraid I may start to cry.
“I heard you lost him recently, I’m so sorry. You look very much in love.”
“Three years ago. The man was always one for the dramatic, had to go out on March 29th, my birthday. He never did want me to celebrate without him.”
Suddenly, all the air is sucked out of my lungs and I grab at my chest, my throat, trying to find a way to breathe. I’m numb, tingling all over, and can’t move a muscle. I’m completely frozen in shock.
“Lucy, are you okay, dear? What’s wrong?” Mary places a hand on my back and guides me to sit down on the love seat. She feels so motherly, it makes the pain in my chest ache even more. She rubs her hand up and down my back as she tells me to breathe. It feels like the wind was knocked out of me.
It takes a few moments, but the tightness in my chest eases. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You just caught me off guard. That’s umm . . . that’s the same day my mom died. Three years ago.”
We share a long and heavy look that carries so much meaning, how we both lost someone we loved, how it happened at the exact same time, how my mom died on Mary’s birthday, the weirdness of it all. And then she hugs me fiercely.
When she finally pulls away, I can see her eyes are wet. “Are you hungry, dear? I can get some dinner together, or maybe we should just go straight to dessert?” This woman really understands me.
Henry comes downstairs to find us eating strawberry pie straight from the pan, light sniffles coming from each of us sporadically. “Erm, what did I miss?”
“We’re having pie for dinner, Henry, grab a spoon.”
“Whatever you say, Mum.” Henry comes over and gives her a hug before grabbing the spoon out of my hand and taking a bite. Mary reaches out to take my hand in hers and Henry beams at seeing the gesture. He scoops up another perfect bite but brings the spoon to my lips instead of his own. He moves closer to me, eyes glued to my face. At first, I wonder if he can see I’ve been crying, but then his gaze turns starry-eyed and I know he’s just enjoying the moment, the three of us together.
For a second, I can see it.
I can see a whole life with him: simple nights sharing pie, sitting by the piano, Henry surprising me with butter cake and impromptu vacations, visiting Mary in this quaint little town, feeling like afamily. Henry’s eyes connect with my own and I know he sees it too. His smile is so warm, so intentional, I swear I can see little hearts in his eyes.
It’s too much.
“I, umm . . . need a minute.” I hurry upstairs to Henry’s room, the one Mary showed me we’d be staying in. I go to close the door before tears spring from my eyes but Henry beats me to it, stepping inside and folding himself around me.
“Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?” His voice is so soothing I want to melt into him. But I can’t. I break away.
“Henry, why did you bring me here? What is this?” I gesture to the room around me, to the house we’re in, to the town we traveled over five thousand miles to get to.
“I’m so sorry Luce, I wasn’t thinking. I just, well I guess I thought you’d react differently. Is there a problem with my mum?”
“No, of course not, she’s perfectly wonderful. But . . . Henry, I think you’re giving her the wrong impression. You’re acting like we’re together and this all feels so serious and I—”
“I am serious. I’m serious about you. That’s why I brought you here. I wanted to show you I want us to be together. I’m not like Jack, Lucy. I wouldn’t leave you. I could never leave you.”
“Jack? You know nothing about Jack or why he left. You have no idea if you’re like him or not. We just—we can’t be together like that.”
“Why? Tell mewhy, Lucy? Tell me why he left. You’re not making any sense. Look at yourself, you’re a mess.”
He’s right. I can feel my chest heave as tears stream down my face. I’m horrible at containing my emotions, and sadly, I’m not a pretty crier.
“I just don’t think we should get into it right now—”
“No!You don’t get to say that anymore. Enough with your fucking excuses. We kiss and you tell me you were just lonely. We sleep together—no—we have the most incredible night of mylifetogether, and you run away! I’m telling you I want you. I want something real, something that will last. Maybe forever.” I see his throat bob and his eyes go glassy. In just a few moments he’s gone from rage to despair. “I’m in love with you, Lucy. Just be honest with me.”
His words spill over me like an enchantment.
He’s in love with me.
