Six weeks later #2
They didn’t speak of what would happen when the family left for Port Lorne.
It hung over them like a cloud, but they talked of other things.
What the children had been doing. (Jonas had been shadowing their mother at her work more consistently; Sasha had become determined to know the name of every plant that grew on the edge of the wood.) What the McIntires’ house in Port Lorne was like and how Calyx liked it.
What romance novels Arthur had been reading.
He’d found himself returning to the one with the monstrous love interest over and over but couldn’t quite bring himself to admit it.
When Charlotte and Elspeth returned from their walk, Arthur brought his sister to see their father’s grave.
(Unlike Ira, he told her in advance what they were doing and asked whether she wanted to see it.)
They gazed at the headstone in silence. Charlotte sat on one of Ira’s stools, which Arthur had brought in case she needed
it. She had been less resistant to rest and help since their adventures. Seacliff hadn’t appreciated that, but Arthur certainly
did.
“It’s nice,” she said stuffily. “The flowers are . . .”
“They were like that even before. The ground was covered in snow, but the flowers bloomed anyway.”
“Do you recognize them?” Wiping her eyes, Charlotte gave a tiny smile. She pointed. “Sweet amber. Wild garlic. Meadowsweet.
Heal-all. They’re all medicinal.”
They fell silent again.
“I still miss him,” Charlotte said.
Arthur took her hand. “So do I.”
Her voice got very small. “I wish I remembered him as well as you do.”
“Well, anytime you’d like to talk about him—we’ll talk about him so much you’ll feel just as if you remember him that well.”
Charlotte bit her lip. “Maybe . . . we can talk about John sometimes, too. And Mam.”
She’d never offered that before, or asked for it. The few times Arthur had mentioned John over the years, she’d shut down.
He kissed her hand. “Certainly we can. There’s sort of a way to see them, too. Ira has this basin—”
“I’m familiar.”
“—and we can see our memories, really see them. And each other’s. If you’d ever want to.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready for that much,” Charlotte said softly, “but maybe one day.”
The children tumbled into view, followed by Elspeth, whom they fended off with sticks and laughter. Giving an uncharacteristic
yell, Jonas lunged at her. She took the stick between her arm and ribs, falling to the ground, and died dramatically, with
a great deal of weeping for the cruelty of the world.
Arthur smiled. “I think she’ll be a good influence on Jonas.”
“She’ll be an absolutely dreadful influence on them,” Charlotte said fondly.
Ira sidled into the scene, laughing, and took them away to see an old fox’s den that looked as if it had recently been in
use. Now the forest was as it should be, Sasha in particular had liked exploring its edges, though Arthur and Charlotte had
never let her go too far or alone. She’d badgered Ira all afternoon to take her exploring in more depth, and he’d finally
obliged.
Arthur’s gaze followed them until they were out of sight. He sighed.
Charlotte glanced at him. “You could stay.”
Arthur’s skin prickled. “I couldn’t, though.”
“Why not?”
It was deeply distressing that Arthur couldn’t think of a single reasonable response.
“Well—you. And the children. I couldn’t leave—”
Charlotte took his hand.
“Do you think you’d never see us again? We could visit as often as you liked. Or you could stay with us, whenever you wanted. Now the forest isn’t so dangerous, we could travel back and forth all the time.”
Arthur paused. “But—your income—”
“That will be a difficulty. But Mrs. Livingston’s money is quite a good start, and it isn’t as if I’ll be alone. Elspeth will
provide for us, too. She says Port Lorne has more opportunities. And we’ll have a roof over our heads and a garden to feed
us, and her whole family to help us, and you and Ira right here in the wood if we need more.”
Charlotte smiled mischievously. Arthur’s first confused notion was that Sasha looked a lot more like her than he’d ever thought.
“Besides,” she said in a low voice, “it would be nice to have somewhere to send the children for a few days when Elspeth and
I want some privacy.”
He flushed at her tone. “Charlotte!”
She giggled. He stared. He hadn’t heard her giggle in years. Perhaps Elspeth had been a bad influence on her, too.
If only she’d be a bad influence on him. He certainly needed one.
“But,” he sputtered, “but—”
His sister’s laughter faded. She took his hand.
“Arthur, what is it you’re afraid of?”
Something cracked inside him. Something that had long been held together by his romance novels and daydreams, stories where
happily-ever-after came surely and perfectly after true love’s kiss, where no one ever quarreled or resented each other for
petty reasons regretted long after death. He swallowed.
“What if,” he said, “what if it’s terrible? What if we fight all the time, or get tired of each other, or find we can’t stand
each other? What if the sex is dreadful? What if—”
“What if it doesn’t stand up to your novels?”
Reddening, Arthur nodded. Charlotte squeezed his hand and let go.
“You can’t expect to find out if you don’t try. You can’t expect your life to change if you never choose to change it.”
“But I did choose that. I decided to take on Mrs. Livingston’s job, didn’t I?”
“After trying to make me decide for you,” Charlotte said with a smile, but Arthur pressed on.
“I went into the forest—I left the vale—I chose to keep going even when Ira didn’t want to! I just—” He ran a hand through
his hair. “I thought it’d be easier now. I’ve had my adventure, for heaven’s sake, I’ve made decisions—why must it still be so hard to decide? Why can’t I be—I don’t know—brave and bold and certain now?”
“Wouldn’t that be nice.” Charlotte’s smile faded. “I know your books are like that. My radio program is, too. But it’s not
like that, really. There’s not one moment where you make a choice and now you’re a different person. You have to keep choosing
to be that person, again and again.”
Her hands scrunched in her apron.
“I feel it myself. I care about Elspeth, I was so glad to see her, but . . . the whole time she was gone, I kept thinking,
what if we stayed? How well do I know this woman? It won’t be like it was, living with her family in the city after being
alone together in the forest. It’s so impractical to want to go, when I’ve never lived anywhere else, and the children have school, and . . .”
Charlotte let out a breath.
“It’s seemed so much easier to go on the way we’ve been.
The way I’ve been. I’ve had to keep reminding myself it’s worth it, I’ll be happier, and I’ll have more help on bad days—between Elspeth and Maggie and their grandparents and cousins, there’ll always be other people to help with chores or watch the children.
And I think it will be good for the children, too.
Sasha already thinks it’s a wonderful adventure. ”
Her smile was brittler than before.
“It is exhausting, I admit, to keep reminding oneself of such things. To keep deciding all over. But it seems that’s how it
is.” She squeezed his hand again. “So you’ll have to choose, you see, and I’m afraid it won’t be for the last time.”
“But—”