As she spoke, Charlotte’s hands gestured animatedly, painting vivid pictures of her Scottish abode. The mention of her son, a three-year-old bundle of energy, brought an affectionate smile to her face.
“He’s the light of my life,” Charlotte shared, her tone softening. “I wanted to bring him along, but the trip is too exhausting for him. So, I left him with our trusty governess, seeing I would be back shortly anyway. And when I do, we will explore the lochs and share tales by the fireplace once again. Those are his favorite things to do.”
Joyce listened attentively. It was obvious from the look in her eyes that the idea of a Scottish adventure planted seeds of excitement in her heart. However, the same did not happen for Phyllis. For her, such a trip would only be yet another reminder of what could have happened.
“We would love to come for a visit!” Joyce exclaimed excitedly. “Wouldn’t we, Phyllis?”
“Yes,” Phyllis nodded. “It’s just that it is so far away.”
“It is, but that is why it will be an adventure!” Joyce refused to diminish her enthusiasm regarding the idea.
At that moment, Phyllis looked at Charlotte. Phyllis wanted to look away, but it was too late.
“I am so sorry that I missed your wedding, dear Phyllis,” Charlotte excused herself tenderly. “You see, my son had taken ill, and I could not travel. I wrote to you, explaining everything.”
“Yes, I know,” Phyllis nodded, remembering the letter. “It is quite all right.”
Charlotte frowned a bit. “But you never wrote me back.”
“Yes, I…” Phyllis cleared her throat a little, in an effort to try and clarify. “I’ve been rather busy with everything at the Woldaves estate. I have taken it upon myself to renovate the entire place, and as you can imagine, it has been quite an endeavor, demanding every moment of my time.”
“Renovating the entire house! Why, that sounds splendid,” Charlotte smiled, radiance beaming out of her every pore.
Phyllis could not understand it. How did this woman look so joyful, when her life was in shambles, when she was hiding from her husband? It made no sense. But Phyllis knew better than to ask such a rude question.
“Yes,” Phyllis nodded again, dabbing the corner of her lips with a nearby napkin. “It is an old house, and needs… well, a lot of attention.”
“I’m sure that you will make it into a heavenly place,” Charlotte gushed. “And Joyce, this place… I can see you yourself have added a few touches of your own to it.”
“I have!” Joyce nodded proudly. Then, she continued to describe everything she had changed in her new home, but Phyllis was barely paying attention to this conversation.
All she could think about was the fact that she had allowed fear to guide her life, because she had been afraid that she would end up as hurt as Charlotte had been. The rest of the dinner passed by with Charlotte and Joyce dominating the conversation, after which they all retired to their respective chambers.
The next day unfolded with a mix of activities, laughter, and heartfelt conversations. Charlotte and Joyce reveled in the joy of sisterhood, sharing memories and making plans for the future. The air was filled with the warmth of their bond, a stark contrast to the underlying tension that lingered in Phyllis’ heart.
As the day progressed, Phyllis couldn’t shake the feeling of disconnection. She observed Charlotte’s radiant smile and the genuine happiness that seemed to emanate from her sister. It perplexed Phyllis, for Charlotte’s life had weathered its share of storms – a fact etched on the lines of experience on her face.
In the quiet moments, Phyllis found herself grappling with the paradox of Charlotte’s apparent contentment amidst life’s uncertainties. How could she wear joy so effortlessly when, to Phyllis, the world seemed fraught with disappointment and unfulfilled desires? The dissonance between Charlotte’s happiness and Phyllis’ inner turmoil cast a shadow over the gathering, a poignant reminder of the complexities that bound the three sisters together.
It seemed that Charlotte had been more introspective than Phyllis remembered her to be, and that very evening, once all three sisters had retired to their respective chambers, Phyllis heard a gentle, barely audible knock on her door.
Wondering who it could be, Phyllis hastily rushed to the door, opening it ever so slightly, surprised to see Charlotte standing there, in her house robe, with her hair down, obviously ready for bed. But instead of in bed, she was there, in front of Phyllis’ door.
“Charlotte,” Phyllis gasped silently. “Did something happen?”
“Yes,” Charlotte replied, her voice a hushed whisper. “Between us, Phyllis. I don’t know what, but I can see that you are not happy to see me. At least, not as Joyce is. And I don’t know why.”
Phyllis knew that she was no good at hiding her emotions. And it was unfair for Charlotte to think that she had done anything wrong, when it was all Phyllis’ doing.
She inhaled deeply, stepping to the side, to allow Charlotte to enter her room. “Come in, Charlotte,” she told her. “And I’ll explain everything.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
Phyllis’ heart was beating inside her throat, making it increasingly more difficult to breathe. But she knew that she owed Charlotte an explanation for her detached behavior. Still, she needed an explanation of her own beforehand. She watched Charlotte sit down, her eyes gentle and curious as she waited, with her hands in her lap.
“How can you be so happy?” Phyllis blurted out this question with both curiosity and shock.
It was not what she wanted to commence with. She wanted to ease into this conversation, into this complete befuddlement regarding her sister’s happiness and the mysterious source of the same. But the question left the confines of her mind before she could even ponder it for a moment longer. Now that it was out, Phyllis knew that there was no going back, there was no easing into this conversation.
