Chapter 39 – Eden
EDEN
Ilean back in my chair, sipping tea and feeling victorious.
The dining table is finally mine.
After two weeks of warfare, Wade finally got tired of helping me move all my piles of binders and papers before every meal. We all have to crowd around a small folding table in the kitchen to eat, but since Reed hardly shows up for dinner anymore, it’s mostly fine.
I thought being home for this long might drive me crazy. After enjoying my independence in Toronto, I assumed my brothers’ constant supervision would have me seriously contemplating an early return trip.
To my surprise, my days have settled into a pleasant rhythm.
I spend most mornings on the phone with vendors, and in the afternoon, I’m overhauling the barn and turning it into a real venue.
Mom often joins me at the dining table at night to give her opinions on flowers and dishware, which has turned out to be a great brother repellant.
Wade and Jasper don’t want to get nagged about when they’re going to settle down, and Reed is usually out, anyway.
The more I work, the more the wedding comes together. I love that I’m creating something beautiful for my best friend, a wedding that speaks to the deep love she built with Beau.
If I keep my head down, I can almost forget that my best friend can barely look at me.
At least the seating chart is almost done.
It’s been a struggle to figure out where to put all of Beau’s Italian cousins, who easily take up a third of the guest list. I’ve spent all day positioning everyone based on the long list of family feuds Beau gave me, but I finally found an arrangement that kept Catterina, Enzo, and Allessio far enough from each other that no arguments would break out over dinner.
I reach for my tea and realize that my cup is empty. If I’m going to keep working, I’ll want another cup. Heading to the kitchen, I heat up water on the stove while I dig through Mom’s tin of teabags. I find a caffeinated vanilla black tea for myself and a lavender mint for Mom.
While I wait for the water to boil, I listen to the quiet settling sounds of the house.
It’s rare that I get to be completely alone here.
The boys are out at the bar watching some basketball game, and Mom’s out on the porch.
It’s a good day for her if she’s up this late; she’s usually tired enough to turn in around nine, and we’re pushing 10:00.
Once the tea’s ready, I take the cups out to the porch. I find Mom sitting on her swing, reading a book. Because I’m a meddling daughter, I can’t help but ask. “Where’s your wheelchair?”
She points to the opposite side of the door. “I took it out here, but I didn’t feel like staring at it all night. I can manage a few steps over to it.”
My chest feels a little less tight. Mom has done this dance between stubborn independence and adherence to her many limitations for years.
Sometimes, it feels like she makes things harder just to prove to herself what she can handle.
Knowing she’s using her wheelchair on her terms lets me breathe easier.
“The boys are out?” I ask.
“It’s Friday. I’m sure they went down to the bar,” Mom says. “Well, Wade and Jasper, anyway. I couldn’t begin to guess what Reed gets up to. Are you going to join them?”
I shake my head. “Too much to do tomorrow. I’m going to bed early.”
“Sit with me a few minutes, then,” Mom says, patting the empty space on the swing next to her. Wordlessly, I accept the invitation and let her arrange the blanket to cover both our legs.
“How’s the planning going?”
“I’m deep in the thick of it. I’m in the middle of figuring out contingency plans in case the weather turns on us.”
“I thought you already had the tent arranged.”
“I do, but we’d also need rented umbrellas, some canopies to walk from the house to the barn, and an extra generator for the caterers. I had to make sure everything was on hold within an hour of Sundre, so I can pull the trigger if the forecast doesn’t look good.”
“Doesn’t sound like the most exciting part of the job,” Mom notes.
“It’s not, but I got to do something a little fun.” I pull out my phone and show her a photo. “The florist did a mock-up of Brinley’s bouquet. What do you think?”
Mom peers at it through her reading glasses. “Oh, it’s lovely! The thistles will match the bridesmaids' dresses beautifully.”
“Don’t remind me.” I sigh. “I still have to get into town to get my dress hemmed. I’ve been putting off for way too long.”
“You better get down there before Louann’s schedule fills up, then. You don’t want to be tripping down the aisle.”
“I'll call her tomorrow. I promise.”
Mom sips her tea. “So, Luke must be pretty lonely back in Toronto without you. How's he doing?”
Right. The other thing on my to-do list that I’ve been putting off. I have to lay the groundwork with my family for the break-up. I know how fond Mom is of him, and how disappointed she’ll be.
“He's doing fine. I don't know. The distance has me thinking. I’m not sure we’re going to work out.”
“You’re not?” she asks levelly. “Why not?”
“It's complicated,” I hedge. “I'm busy, he's busy…our schedules are really tough, you know.”
“I'm sure that's nothing you can't work out. You've always been good with logistics, Edie.”
“It's more than that. Just a lot of little things. Like we’re both workaholics, and he’s more of an extrovert than I am, and I'm just not sure we’re right for each other.”
Mom puts her hand over mine. “But you've been in love with that boy since you were ten years old.”
I freeze. Those are words I've never ever said out loud. I barely let myself think them. I mean, sure, I had a crush on Luke when I met him. At some point, I probably should have grown out of it, but he never did anything that made me change my mind. Still, I wouldn’t have called it love.
Even though that's exactly what it was.
Mom smiles knowingly at me and I shake my head. “But how did you—”
“Do you know how many crumpled-up notes I found on your bedroom floor? There must have been a dozen that you wrote for him but never gave him. A few that just had ‘Mrs. Eden Windsor’ in terrible cursive. You never did quite get the hang of cursive.”
I laugh despite myself. “I think you must've sat with me for hours practicing.”
“Because I know that if you set your mind on something, you’ll make it happen. You’ve always been practical like that. You dream about something, and you don’t stop chasing it until it’s yours.” Mom squeezes my hand. “I think that's why you waited so long for him.”
“This is different, though,” I sigh. “I can't work my way into changing how people feel. And Luke…he’s Brinley’s brother. I can't jeopardize our friendship with a man, not even him. Maybe I’ve loved Luke for a long time, but I’ve loved her for longer.”
Mom nods. “I can respect that. But I can't help thinking that maybe you don't have to choose. Maybe you can have both. For love like that, it's worth trying, isn't it?”
I stare down at our clasped hands. Sitting here with Mom in front of the never-changing prairie, it reminds me of a time before my life was complicated.
Before Dad died, before Mom got sick, before I had to start making hard choices.
Once, I was a carefree little girl who thought the world could be hers.
I haven't seen that girl for a long time. I had to learn early to be practical, and the practical side of me can't imagine a world where Luke and I work. It’s just a fantasy.
Mom doesn't make me answer. She just holds my hand—her grip thinner than it used to be, and somehow still the strongest thing I know—and we sit together for a long, long time, the prairie going dark in front of us like it has every night of my life.