Chapter 31
It had been a while since Rebecca had woken up to the crushing reality of grief, but it happened again on Monday morning.
For one blissful moment upon waking, yesterday’s conversation with Cort didn’t exist. And then it did, all of it, arriving with the dull, painful thud of a cupboard or drawer closing on her fingers.
She lay still and listened: the small apartment settling, the faint tick of the hallway clock.
She had to get up, or she’d wallow in bed all day.
She pulled on jeans and a soft lavender wool sweater, jammed her feet into boots, and took the back stairs down through the diner.
The air in the empty room, even after all these years, held cinnamon and coffee like memory—and now held sawdust and cedar, too.
Somehow, the faintest hint of Cort’s shampoo, his subtle aftershave.
Outside, the September morning was glorious, as September mornings so often were—and this one had no right to be.
The sky was a sharp, clear blue, the sun already bright.
Every red leaf looked lit from within. Without fully choosing her path, Rebecca was on the road to the orchard.
It was the only place she could think to go, the only place she truly wanted to be.
Sabrina would make her a latte and put something warm and sweet into her hands and say, Okay, start at the beginning.
We will sort this out. Even if the situation was unsortable.
The walk did nothing to steady her. Rows of maples lifted their torch-bright crowns; the air tasted like apples and woodsmoke.
And all of it, all of it, reminded her of Cort.
What they had suddenly found with each other—and then, just as suddenly, lost. At the edge of the Calloways’ property, the wind carried laughter from the hay maze, and then it was gone and she wondered if she had imagined it or if somehow it was ghost laughter, echoes from the past.
She walked on, crossed the gravel toward the barn apartment, and knocked.
No answer. She tried again, a little harder. “Sabrina?” she called, already seeing the living room in her mind: the braided rug, the cookbook shelves, Rusty’s oval of sun on the floor, and the comfort she would surely find in her best friend’s home. But there was no answer.
“Rebecca?” a voice called from the lane.
Marion Calloway approached with a basket of corn husks on one arm, an apple-red scarf knotted at her throat. “I thought I heard knocking over here.” She glanced at the door and then back to Rebecca, taking her in, in a way Rebecca knew meant she could hide nothing. “Honey,” she said.
“I’m okay,” Rebecca began, then shook her head. Her wobbling lip betrayed her before she could stop it. “Is Sabrina—?”
“Out at the hay maze with James,” Marion said, shifting the basket to her hip.
“Wind came up overnight and toppled half a row of bales. She’s got a safety inspection at ten and three school buses booked for noon.
” Marion smiled with her eyes. “She’s in her element, though.
They both are. Loving every minute. It’s their favorite time of year, when a hay maze feels as important as international diplomatic relations. ”
Rebecca managed a laugh. “They do love it, don’t they? Do you think they need help?”
“This hay maze has reached a scale that is beyond our ability to help, my dear. There’s nothing we can do but wish them well.”
Rebecca let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I can come back later.”
“You can come to the main house,” Marion said simply. “You look like you need tea and a talk. I’m not Sabrina, but she learned everything from me. Come. Walk with me.”
The farmhouse bricks were the color of a Golden Delicious; half the porch railings were woven with dried corn husks and tiny white lights.
Marion put down her basket. “I’ll finish that job later,” she said.
Inside, the kitchen radiated the kind of warmth Rebecca associated with childhood: the low hum of the old fridge, a radio murmuring KayakFM, the leftover smell of baking, spicy and sweet.
“Sit,” Marion said. “Tea or coffee?”
“Tea,” Rebecca said. She didn’t want coffee. Coffee was Cort and their mornings together in the diner.
Marion put the kettle on. “There’s apple-spice or plain old English Breakfast.”
“Apple-spice.”
While the kettle heated, Marion took a tin from the counter and opened it to reveal golden-brown-sugar-dusted mini doughnuts.
“Apple cider fritters,” she said. “Sabrina’s creation.
I’m not sure how she does it, but she’s constantly coming up with new baking masterpieces in addition to everything else on her list.”
“Baking and cooking makes her happy,” Rebecca said, then paused. “Not that working with you and James running the orchard doesn’t…”
Marion smiled. “No, I get it. We all need a passion that isn’t just work.” When the kettle clicked, she poured, then slid the mug across. “Want to talk about it, honey?”
“Cort and I broke up. Although how do you break up with someone you’ve barely started dating?”
“Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry. But you and Cort have been circling each other for years. It wasn’t just what materialized between you these past few weeks that was on the table. It was half a lifetime of feelings. What happened?”
Rebecca stared into the tea and began to explain, speaking easily with Marion because she knew her so well.
She told her about how close she and Cort had been getting, leaving out how much time they had spent in bed but still feeling her cheeks color.
Then she looked up and explained about the run-in with Melanie.
How it felt that, in an instant, everything changed.
“I said the practical thing, the adult thing. He did, too. And it all felt like the opposite of what I wanted. But it’s over now, and there’s nothing I can do. ”
Marion was thoughtful for a long moment.
“I’m going to offer you the same advice my mother gave me, when James and I broke up just after I graduated, and I went off traveling, without a real resolution between us. She told me forever decisions take time, and things that are meant to be can survive a pause.”
“It’s just, it feels over. He said he couldn’t be casual with me,” Rebecca whispered. “And then he asked the question I’ve been trying not to answer: Do I see a future here?”
“And do you?” Marion asked, her tone frank.
“I…don’t know. My life is in Toronto. My job. My apartment. Except when I’m there I feel”—she searched for the word—“flat. And here I feel…everything.”
“Then it isn’t that you don’t know,” Marion said.
“It’s that you are holding two true things at the same time.
” She smiled, lines fanning from her eyes.
“That is called being a person. And I adore Cort, truly, but I don’t think it was fair for him to be looking for answers like this from you. Not yet.”
Rebecca nodded but found she wasn’t able to speak.
Marion waited a beat, then kept going. “As for Melanie, and Pip,” she added, “Cort is a father first. Any good one is. Seeing an ex with someone new—” She shook her head gently.
“It stirs up all sorts of old reflexes, even if everyone’s happy now. It needs to settle. And it will.”
Rebecca shook her head now. “I’m just not sure,” she said. “It feels so final.”
She took a sip of tea. It was sweet and hot, tasted like mornings after sleepovers here, during her childhood.
She held the mug, let it warm her hands, maybe give her the boost of courage she needed.
She felt afraid, but she also knew she had to get answers here.
“What you said about you and James, breaking up…I’m sorry to even bring this up.
But that photo I saw here the other night, and another one I found of Evie and James…
it made me wonder if they were ever together.
It’s just that I know so little about her.
I know it’s not fair to you, but it’s so hard not to ask. ”
“It’s fine. Really. Of course you can ask.
And I can see why it makes you nervous, Becca.
Sabrina spoke to me about this already, told me how you’re feeling about it.
And I understand. You’ve had a lot of loss in your life.
But you should know we are your family, no matter what.
You could never lose us. Not even in that giant hay maze of ours.
So, let’s talk, even about the things that feel hard or awkward. ”
Rebecca smiled, but it didn’t last. She still felt uncertain. Marion reached out and squeezed her hand.
“Your mother was so special, Rebecca. So passionate. If she wanted something, she reached for it. I have tried, since we lost her, to be more like that. To live with such an open heart. Even if it risks getting hurt.”
Rebecca nodded, felt her eyes fill with tears. “I reached out and grabbed Cort—probably in the way my mother might have, in the same situation.”
Marion laughed softly. “Oh, no. Nothing like Evie. She wouldn’t have waited so long. She would have reached out and grabbed him during high school. And it probably would have been too soon. Now feels like the right time for you and Cort.”
“Only, it isn’t. We’re over.”
“Maybe,” Marion said. “Or maybe you just got scared, and so did he, and it will wear off and you’ll realize that what you have is worth taking risks for.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, being married all these years, it’s that love is not rocket science. People make it seem like it is, twist themselves into pretzels over it. But it’s really just about letting your guard down. Keeping your heart open. Being honest, always, about how you feel.”
Rebecca pressed her lips together, hard. “You’re all so important to me.”