The Story She Left Behind

Chapter 35 Clara

CHAPTER 35? CLARA

Lake District, England

Now we knew: we were tied together.

“I want to help you find out what happened to your mother,” Charlie said. “Wherever she is. I want to help you find out why that leather bag was in my father’s library and her word is on a garden sign.”

“It might mean talking to your mother, and I know you didn’t want to bring her into all this. I didn’t mean to make my family problems yours.” I didn’t wipe away my tears; I let them fall because they were warm, and I’d needed them for days now. Wynnie was safe in that solid house across a frost-encrusted lawn. “I thought you simply wanted to hand the papers over and did not want to get involved.” I tried to imitate his accent but it came out rough and uneven.

I did make him laugh. “That was true. Then I met you. And now here we are.”

“Yes, here we are.”

I wiped at my tears.

“What is it?” He lifted my hands from my face. “What did I say?”

I shook my head. “It’s not you. Not one bit. It’s all of it. All the holding back. For days, I’ve been terrified for Wynnie, and here we are, safe. I think I am just terribly relieved. All of this is my fault.”

“All of what?”

“All of everything. Mother leaving. Wynnie being sick.”

“Clara, I am very happy you are here.” The warmth of his words flowed through me. “I’m glad to meet the wonder of your daughter. And I’m pleased to know that mothers like you exist in the world, for you are a glorious one; I can see this is true.”

I was silent, absorbing his kindness and the soft sounds around Esthwaite Water: the crunch of icy grass, the lapping of water on the shore. “What a lovely life your mum has built here.”

“She is beloved, and she loves. You can see why I might be loath to bring up another woman’s satchel.”

“Whose daughter and granddaughter are in your house. Yes, I can.”

He stopped and then turned when we reached a low stone wall, holding inside its boundary a garden of wicker cages. “Oh!” I said, and walked toward it. “This is like finding a secret garden.”

“I showed it to Wynnie, and she said you’d say that.”

I set my hand on top of the stones and felt the hum of earth and longing and something primal and ancient. It wasn’t a large garden, but it was set apart. “It feels like it holds some kind of magic.”

“You should see it when the garden blooms in spring. It’s probably one of the most beautiful on the property, but don’t tell Mum. She is very proud of her own.” He smiled, and for one breath I thought he might kiss me. How lovely that kiss would be near a lake in the countryside of England. He stepped closer.

“Charlie, darling!” A woman’s voice called out, and we turned to see two women walking toward us arm in arm.

Charlie waved at them and whispered to me, “Aunt Nelle and her caregiver, Deirdre.”

I stared with the slow realization that I was trying to find Mother’s face.

The older woman wrapped in a bright red scarf, hat, and coat threw her arms around Charlie, while a younger woman stood by her side and smiled at me. “Hallo,” she said.

The older woman, Aunt Nelle, released Charlie and stared at me, cocking her head as if in confusion. This short, stout woman was most assuredly not my mother, and I felt a fool for wondering.

“Aunt Nelle, this is my friend from America. She is called Clara.”

“Clara!” Nelle said. “What a beautiful name for a beautiful child.”

“Thank you,” I said, and I could see now that her face was off a bit, as if her nose and her forehead beneath her hat had been misplaced. Her wide and round eyes gave her the look of a child. “Pleased to meet you,” I told her.

“Do snakes come into your house? Do they find their way under the doors and windowsills?”

“Not usually,” I said, having been prepared for her odd questions. “But I will keep an eye out.”

Deirdre laughed and placed her hand on Nelle’s shoulder. “Come now, let’s find those mushroom caps you’re looking for.” And off they went.

“Mama!” We both turned to see Wynnie running toward us, her red scarf flapping in the wind and her cheeks flushed with cold and excitement.

“Wynnie!” I held out my arms and she ran into them. “I thought you were with Moira.” I looked behind her.

“No! I wanted to find Peter Rabbit, and everyone was gone, so I just came out.”

“You can’t come out here alone. You’ll get lost!” I held her tight and looked her in the eyes, gripped her shoulders too tightly.

She broke free of me and clambered to the top of the low wall and held out her arms. “Emjie showed me the way.”

“Wynnie.” Charlie’s voice was low with a roughness I hadn’t heard before. “It is dangerous out there alone. You mustn’t go out alone. There are paths that lead up into the mountains, where you might get lost by yourself.”

“But I’m never by myself,” Wynnie said. “Emjie is always with me. She always finds me.”

These words caused a shiver to run up my arms and across my scalp; I heard Mother’s voice clear and ringing in the air.

I will always find you.

“Wynnie, you may not go into these woodlands alone. I have very few hard rules with you, but this is one.”

“I wanted to see the lake again. And I found so many things, Mama! Look!” She dug into her pocket and brought out a broken branch with a mossy arm, the bones of a bird’s wing, and a dismembered nest of pine needles and fuzz. “I just wanted to be outside.”

Charlie studied each treasure she held out, and I crouched down to Wynnie. “That might be what you want, but you must be with one of us.”

Wynnie looked from my face to Charlie’s, and tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

I gathered her in my arms and held her close. “I just want you to be safe, darling.”

“Only good things will happen here, Mama! I feel it.”

I looked at Charlie as I hugged her, and there were tears in his eyes, for we both knew that this childhood belief was both beautiful and wrong.