Choices
‘That worked well,’ Isaac said, as he and Eliza sat on the bench enjoying the last of the evening sun. ‘Our guest definitely had a different demeanour when she returned.’
‘Tired,’ Eliza said, ‘but you are right, Isaac, there was a change.’
‘Did you put that idea into Carrie’s head?’ Isaac asked, his eyes twinkling as he studied his wife.
‘I might have floated the suggestion around her,’ Eliza replied, with a mischievous smile, ‘but I believe that our lovely Carrie would have got there on her own, without my help.’
Isaac shook his head.
‘How did you know that was what our guest needed?’
Eliza shrugged.
‘When Carrie arrived, I could see that she needed to sleep, to do nothing for the first few days, but Jules is different. She has already had a week on her own and although she needs rest, she will also benefit from activities which take her mind off her troubles. Carrie recognises that, too.’
‘But pottery?’ Isaac said with a frown. ‘It could have been a disaster. Sent her self-esteem plummeting even further.’
‘Possibly, but we didn’t think so. Our guest delivers babies, she helps to give birth. Creating something with your hands is another form of that.’
They sat for a moment quietly, watching the sun go down.
‘Modern medicine is a marvellous thing,’ Eliza reflected. ‘Perhaps if we had been granted a different time in which to live…’
Isaac took her hand and lifted it to his lips. She pulled herself up a little from her waist, shuffled her shoulders.
‘We made the best of our situation, didn’t we, Isaac? We’ve been happy, just the two of us, have we not?’
He rested his forehead against hers.
‘Of course, my love. You know that you are my world.’
She closed her eyes for a moment.
‘And of course we may not have met each other if the timing of our lives had been altered,’ she said.
‘What is meant to be is meant to be, isn’t it?’
He nodded.
‘And you don’t have to give birth to be maternal, do you? You can fulfil that instinct, that purpose in other ways.’
‘And you have, my love,’ he said, kissing her on the cheek. ‘You still are.’
She leaned her head against his shoulder.
‘I couldn’t have borne an existence without you, Isaac.’
‘But you would not have known,’ Isaac said, smiling.
Eliza felt his chin drop to nuzzle her forehead.
‘I would have known that something, someone was missing. I’m sure of it.’
Just like I feel that something is missing now, she thought.
‘Isaac,’ she asked tentatively. ‘Why did I lose my memory? Why is there a period of my life that I can’t remember?’
He was quiet for a moment.
‘I’ve told you, Eliza, you were ill, very ill. I feared that I might lose you.’
‘Consumption, you said?’
‘Yes.’
‘I was lucky to survive.’
‘Very lucky. Most didn’t. Your life hung in the balance for several weeks, my love, and your recuperation was long.’
‘I’m sorry to keep asking, but I remember little of this time.’
She turned to him.
‘And you planted this willow tree to celebrate my return to health. That was such a lovely thing to do, Isaac. I feel at peace when I sit beneath its canopy.’
‘Willow is a symbol of resilience and healing. It felt appropriate.’
‘It is, and resilience is such an essential characteristic. I wonder if it is the result of nature or nurture.’
‘A combination of both, I believe. You were born with resilience, Eliza, but you had the courage to disregard your family’s wishes for your future. Having the courage to face up to challenges in itself breeds resilience.’
‘I knew that we were meant to be together,’ she said, lifting her face slightly to his, ‘so my choice didn’t take too much courage.’
‘I think you are doing yourself a disservice, my love.’
‘And I believe that we were always meant to come to this place,’ Eliza said, looking out towards the horizon. ‘Do you believe that some places choose you?’
She didn’t wait for him to reply.
‘I think that being here made it easier for me to bear my barrenness. I hope it did for you, too.’
‘You know that I do not like that word, Eliza. It is so misleading.’
‘Sterile, unproductive then.’
Isaac took her gently by the shoulders.
‘I wish you would not still punish yourself this way. You were and are far from unproductive. Look at what we achieved here. The layout of this garden still adheres to your original creation. The cottage still resonates with your love. Our little dogs, buried beneath our feet, knew your tenderness, as have I. All I ever wanted was you,’ he whispered, burying his face in her hair. ‘You have been more than enough.’
‘Oh, Isaac.’
She put her hand upon his dear head. She wished she could say the same, but she had wanted more.
She had wanted a child and the emptiness of not being blessed with that never left her. Perhaps that was what she was looking for – acceptance, peace. She felt a weight lift from her form. That was it!
She would begin to work on bringing herself peace of mind. Then, when she had attained that, maybe she would be ready to leave.