Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
JOSEPHINE
“You’ll take care of them, won’t you?”
Maude’s hand on my arm tightens as we stroll after Zoe through the garden behind the chateau, taking one last walk together before she leaves for home. The two of us have gotten close over the last few weeks, but yesterday afternoon, when I retreated to my bedroom with a newly broken heart, it was Maude who came to check on me.
She held me while I cried, murmuring gentle words in French that I could only half understand, and furious ones about Ellis in English, probably for my benefit.
“I’ll take care of them,” I promise. The anger I felt toward Ellis faded overnight. He hurt me, yes, but it wasn’t intentional. I know him well enough to be sure that he wasn’t conscious of what he was doing to me.
Now I’m just sad.
It’s ironic that all this time I’ve been worried about him breaking my heart, and instead I broke my own.
“How did it go? With Miranda?” I ask after a minute of silence.
In the corner of my eye, I see Maude’s expression tighten. “ Uneventful, thankfully. There was some confusion and tears at first, but after that, Zoe wasn’t interested at all. Barely looked her way the entire time I was in the room with them. Ellis was hovering, which didn’t lower anyone’s blood pressure. You know our Zoe. She likes her space. The woman came and went in three hours. I suppose she’ll stop by again at Christmas.”
Somehow, it never occurred to me that we would be here for the holidays, but of course we will. Ellis’s work assignment has officially been extended until March. Even with all that’s happened, I would rather be here than in Connecticut, where there will be pressure to decide the next steps. My mom, obviously sensing I need space, has been giving it to me, and I’m grateful. That will all end when I go home, though, and I’ve been too focused on Zoe, Ellis, and my newfound sewing hobby to reflect on something as inconsequential as my career path.
Consciously or not, I’ve been holding my breath, waiting to see if I should be making room for Ellis and Zoe in my future. Maybe it’s time to put more thought into it.
Maude and I don’t speak as we round the last corner of the chateau and approach the drive, but she hugs me when we stop beside her car. “Does it make me selfish to hope you two will work it out?” she asks, patting my cheek fondly.
“No.” I smile sadly, not having the heart to tell her that her hopes are futile. “We’ll see you in a few months.”
Stepping back, I watch Zoe endure several minutes of goodbyes. At some point, Ellis steps out of the front door and, as if by habit, my eyes move to his for a fraction of a second, before the shooting pains through my heart remind me to look away.
“ Conduis prudemment, maman ? * ,” he says, moving to my side when Maude has finally released Zoe, and honey girl has crossed back to me. Reaching down to take her hand feels like the most natural thing in the world.
Maude scowls at him but accepts a hug nevertheless. “ Vous allez le réparer, n'est-ce pas ?? * ”
He only smiles vaguely in response, leaning down to kiss each of her cheeks before drawing away to stand on Zoe’s other side. The three of us watch as Maude leaves, her car kicking up dust from the drive in its wake.
Zoe sniffs.
“She’ll be back in a few months,” I assure her gently, giving her hand a little squeeze. “And she only lives a few hours away. Maybe we’ll make a day trip one day and go visit?”
I’m careful to keep my tone bright and a smile on my face, but I’m acutely aware of Ellis being so close to me. How do people do this? Break up with someone and pretend everything is fine? Replace intimacy and connection with careful, strained interactions?
It’s unbearable.
“Can we sew my dress?” she asks, rocking back and forth on her heels, hands fluttering at her sides. All day she’s been a little more on edge, and this is the most she’s said to me since I mustered up the courage to go down to breakfast. Considering the day she had yesterday, I’m happy to give her anything she wants.
“Of course.” The two of us turn toward the chateau, but we don’t get far before Ellis calls after us.
“Jo? Could I have a moment?”
My stomach twists, but I don’t look back or stop. “Can we talk later, Ellis?”
“It’s about the notes.” There’s a hopeful, pleading quality to his voice that makes fresh pain rip through me. Isn’t this whole situation hard enough without him forcing me to stand here and talk to him? Can’t he see that I’m holding on by a thread here?
“Fill me in at dinner!” I call, pulling open the big iron handle of the door, ushering Zoe inside.
It isn’t a relief when he doesn’t follow.
Still determined to keep a brave face for Zoe, who deserves some stability after Miranda’s visit, the two of us head upstairs to my room. The dress we’ve been working on for her, a pink, tulle monstrosity that she saw the pattern for online and absolutely had to have, is half done and hanging in pieces in my closet. As I go to get them, I hear Zoe’s voice.
“What does this say?”
Curious, I poke my head out of the closet. She has a strip of paper in her hand.
Josephine,
The night we met, I thought so lowly of myself that it didn’t seem possible you would want me.
I still can’t believe it.
Your Ellis
My heart is in my throat as I push the note into my pocket. What is he doing?
“Just for the shopping,” I lie to Zoe, busying myself with laying all the dress pieces out on the table. Ellis has kept me at arm’s length—metaphorically anyway—for so long. The man keeps his feelings behind a thirty-foot wall of barbed wire, rebar enforced cement wall, that’s probably monitored by some kind of alarm system programmed to go off in the event of emotional intimacy.
When I move to the cookie tin where I keep my threads, my heart vaults into my throat. Another note, just like the one Zoe just gave me, is resting on top .
Josephine,
When my father died, I didn’t cry. We were close. I loved him, but he had been so sick for so long that when he finally passed, I was relieved. I’ve always been ashamed of that. So much so, that I think a part of me didn’t believe I deserved to cry for him.
He was a good man, a good parent, and I think about him every day. He would have adored you, just as my mother does, and my daughter, and every person whose life you touch.
Mine included.
Your Ellis
My hand trembles as I put the note in my pocket with the other, casting a wary look around my room for evidence of more. My eyes catch on a piece of paper sitting on my bedside table, and I have to press my lips together to stop myself from making a noise of shock.
This one is much longer than the others, and my eyes are burning before I’ve finished the first paragraph.
Josephine,
It’s hard to admit, but I rushed into my marriage. There were issues from the start, but I was sure that if I wanted it badly enough, if I dedicated myself to my wife, it would all be okay. For a while, it was, but things got so much worse after Zoe was born.
I didn’t want to accept it, but I knew she was cheating for a long time. She didn’t really try to hide it. The scent of a man’s aftershave on her shirt, late night disappearances, mysterious phone calls and weekends away at conferences that didn’t exist.
For over a year, I turned a blind eye, kept going to marriage counseling, kept trying to keep my family afloat. It all came crumbling down when Zoe was three. She had a fever, and I picked her up early from daycare. We got home, and I had to pull her back out of the house because Miranda was having sex with her boss on the couch.
He left. We fought. She left. I expected her to come back, but then I was getting served with divorce papers at work. She took a job that would take her out of the country, and that was it.
For so long, I just tried to be a good father. I ignored the guilt, the sense of unworthiness, of failure, of rejection, and of loss. All of it stayed buried until I met you.
I’m so sorry, mon amour.
Your Ellis
Wiping tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand, I clear my throat and turn back to Zoe. “Let’s finish your dress, honey girl!”
She’s looking at me strangely, and I know she must sense the poorly concealed grief, but I thread the machine, pull the fabric into place, and soon she’s absorbed in the rise and fall of the needle.
Meanwhile, I’m spiraling.
Why is he doing this? We broke up. I made it really, really clear that I’d had enough, and I don’t know what he’s trying to accomplish here, but I refuse to believe it’s some kind of grand gesture. The current, ruined state of my heart is evidence that blind hope is a very dangerous thing, and I refuse to make that mistake again.
The notes keep appearing all morning. I find them in my purse when we go to the village for milk, in the drawer with the silverware and on my favorite bench in the garden, weighed down by a stone. All of them are different, Ellis barring some small piece of his heart.
I’m a wreck.
Twenty-four hours ago, I was sad, but proud of myself for standing up for what I deserve. Why does he have to make this so much harder than it has to be? I’m determined to not let myself get sucked in, but when I open the refrigerator in search of a snack mid-afternoon and find the note taped to the little box of chocolates I keep hidden behind the lemon juice for emergencies, I can’t take it anymore.
Josephine,
I hate that I have no firsts to offer you, but if I can heal what I’ve broken between us, I swear on my life you’ll have all my lasts.
Your Ellis
I’m not sure whether I should cry or scream. Either way, there’s only one person I want to direct it toward.
Leaving Zoe hunched over a coloring book at the kitchen table, I stride down the hall and cross the entryway to the library, shoving open the glossy wood door without knocking.
Ellis is standing beside his computer, a book in one hand and his other on the keyboard. He looks up sharply as I stride into the room, my cheeks burning and my chest so tight it might crack.
“Why are you doing this?” I demand, brandishing the note.
Calmly, Ellis sets down the book and straightens up. “I’m trusting you.”
“We broke up .” I half cry, half laugh. Apparently, there’s only so long a girl can ride an emotional rollercoaster before she loses her mind. “You hurt me, Ellis. You hurt me over and over again. Can you seriously not respect that I’m done after all that? Do I need to start dating someone else for you to get it?”
His expression goes from patient and benign to murderous in seconds. “Don’t joke about that. You won’t be dating anyone else.”
My mouth falls open in furious disbelief. “You have no right to tell me what I will or won’t do. Not anymore.”
“I have every right.” Ellis takes a step forward, his gaze burning right through me. “You’re in love with me. You don’t want anyone else. Which is lucky, because I’m in love with you, and I certainly don’t want any other woman.”
I make a quiet, wounded noise. He loves me?
“Ellis. Please .” What am I begging for? Do I want him to keep going? To stop? I have no idea.
Like he senses weakness, Ellis advances, striding over the worn carpet, his pale eyes bright and wild. “Every word you said to me yesterday was true. I’ve been a coward, and I’ve been pushing you away rather than confront why. There’s a lot I never dealt with after my divorce, but I need to now. I love you, and I want this to work, so I’m fixing the problem. Losing you isn’t an option.”
His hands lift to my face. I hate that he’s saying all the right things, and that when he touches me my body goes soft and warmth spreads to the places I assumed were dead.
I hate him. I love him. I’m scared. I’m happy. I want to run. I want to stay.
Ellis must be able to tell I’m beyond words, because his expression softens, and he leans in, kissing the corner of my mouth with a tenderness that makes me want to cry. “You don’t trust me right now,” he murmurs, still holding me close. “You put your heart in my hands, and I let you down. You’ve been so brave, mon amour. Right from the start. Now, it’s my turn.”
I’m shaking my head. A sob escapes my lips despite how hard I’m trying to hold back the overwhelming rush of emotions. Never have I wanted anything more than to say yes to him, to throw myself back into his arms and trust that the connection between us doesn’t exist to bring me nothing but pain. God, I want it so badly, but I’m scared in a way I wasn’t before.
Now, I’ve learned how terrible it is to lose him.
“I found out why Perdue was writing those notes.” His remark about that earlier was driven completely out of my mind when I found his notes. Now, my eyes widen, temporarily distracted from my inner turmoil. Ellis’s smile is sad. “He fell in love with a young woman in college. Mari, the daughter of a garbage collector from Queens. Perdue asked her to marry him, but ended the engagement when his family disapproved. By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late, and she was marrying someone else.”
I wait as he gathers his thoughts, my chest hollow and pulse hammering on too quickly given the circumstances.
Ellis’s voice is laced with sorrow when he continues, “He collected these books, second editions as an act of faith that he would have a second chance to love her. He wrote the notes because he was sure she would someday be here to read them herself.”
Sorrow blooms inside me for these two strangers. “But she never came?”
“No.” He shakes his head, grave faced. “He realized at the end. That’s why he left his estate to Weston. Mari is short for Marian. She was my mentor, my predecessor at Montgomery. He thought that she would see them, that she would finally know he never stopped loving her.”
Tears are spilling down my face, sorrow for these two strangers clogging my throat. “Is she still alive? Marian?”
He nods. “She is. I spoke to her yesterday to confirm all this. I’ll be sending her the letters.” His thumbs wipe my tears away. “She still loved him, Josephine. After all this time, they loved each other, but Perdue was a fool and they missed their chance. ”
A breeze brushes past us from the library’s big open windows, a jarring reminder that there is a world outside the moment we’re locked together in. I can barely breathe, barely think, barely move.
Ellis’s pale eyes are shining, and his voice is rough when he speaks again. “I don’t want to wake up decades from now, still loving you, and wish I’d done more. I don’t want to lose you because I was too afraid to face myself. You don’t have to trust me, I know I haven’t earned that privilege, but let me trust you. Let me fight for us, mon amour . Let me become the man you deserve.”
Fresh tears are spilling over my cheeks, and a sob bubbles from my lips. Will I wake up years from now, filled with regret at not giving him the chance to fix it? Will I wake up months from now, nursing a shattered heart and hating myself for giving him yet another chance he didn’t deserve? Both possibilities are gut wrenching, and yet there’s one that is so much worse.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out and I stare up at him, silently pleading for one last push, some way off the horrible, pointed ledge I’m balancing on, too terrified to fall one way or the other.
In the way he always seems to know what I need, Ellis gives it to me. “All you have to say is yes. Say yes, and I’ll trust you until you trust me again.”
Another breeze sweeps through the library, and I close my eyes, feeling the fear and hope and love. Love that’s so big, so overwhelming, that I know won’t fade. Even if I walked out this door and never saw him again, I would spend my life wondering.
I open my eyes and say the word. “Yes.”
* ? Drive carefully, mom
* ? You're going to fix it, aren't you?