Chapter 25
Oh! worse than cold-hearted! —Sense and Sensibility
Elinor
My mom and sister are waiting for me when I get home that evening.
“So . . . ?” Annie hops up from the piano bench. “How did it go? Where’s Edward?”
“I don’t know.”
“What happened? Aren’t you two . . . together?”
“No,” I look away. “I don’t know why everyone keeps assuming that.”
“I saw that kiss!” Annie turns to my mom who is sitting on the love seat with a book and a bowl of popcorn. “I’ve never seen two people so madly in love. I felt a little indecent, watching the two of you.”
I give a quiet, humorless laugh. “Then why did you?” I ask, taking a seat on the ottoman.
“I couldn’t look away.”
“Did you know about Annie’s prank, Mom?” I demand.
“She told me about it after the fact. It was maybe a bit rash, but I can see where she was coming from.”
“What?! You cannot be serious.”
“It’s obvious that you two are crazy for each other,” my mom explains. “Annie felt you just needed a nudge.”
“And the note?” I ask. “Who found out about the mailbox?”
“Pepper discovered it and told me,” Annie pipes up. “Brandon was not very enthusiastic about that part. As usual, he was a bit of a stick in the mud. He told me the whole plan would backfire.”
“But he still helped you?”
“Not exactly . . . he just came along to make sure Pepper was safe. Once there, he could see it was in his friend’s best interest to leave you guys in the tree.” My sister snickers a little. “Edward did seem to be enjoying himself. And you’re really not dating?”
“We decided things are too complicated right now.”
“In other words, you trampled his heart. Elinor, how could you!” Annie picks up a vase of wilted flowers on the bookshelf.
“Sometimes I can’t believe we’re sisters.
” She walks about the room gathering more vases of dead flowers and setting them on the coffee table.
“A good man loves you. How can you turn your back on that?”
I give a small smile, reminded of Edward’s profession earlier. “He did say I was ‘it’ for him. Can you believe that?”
“Um, yeah!” snaps Annie. “I’ve seen you guys together. And I saw that kiss.”
“That wasn’t love . . . we were just caught up in the moment.”
“So you’re telling me you don’t love Edward?
Could you—wait, hold on . . .” She hops up to the bookshelf and pulls out an old Greenwood Family Bible.
It’s older than the cottage and has all of the Greenwood family births, deaths, and marriages recorded on its front two pages.
“Would you swear on Grandma’s Bible that you do not love Edward—what’s his middle name? ”
“Norland,” I answer automatically.
“See! That proves my point. You’re on middle-name basis.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It’s definitely a thing,” says Annie.
“It’s like in Victorian novels when they finally call each other by their Christian name,” adds my mom, smiling. “It’s a big deal.”
“Exactly,” says Annie. “These days you don’t know someone’s middle name unless you’re practically engaged.”
“Or you Google them,” I say, but my sister ignores me.
“Put your hand on it,” she says, holding up the Bible. “You have to do this properly or I won’t believe you.”
“This is so dumb,” I mutter as I put my left hand on the Bible and raise my right hand up like I’m being sworn in.
“Do you, Elinor Margaret Greenwood, solemnly swear that you are not even one little itty bit in love with Edward Norland Frechette?” Annie intones, trying to keep a straight face.
I sigh. “I, Elinor Greenwood, swear—”
“Don’t forget the Margaret!” says Annie.
“I, Elinor Margaret Greenwood, swear that I am not . . .” A lump forms in my throat . . . I can’t speak.
I love Edward. And I know it.
It’s not the full-grown mature love of a century-old tree. It’s the tender green of a sapling just breaking through the soil—delicate and new, but real, and growing faster than I realized.
And I want to protect it.
I hand the Bible back to my sister and sit down on the loveseat next to my mom.
“Oh my goodness!” Annie exclaims. “You are totally in love with him!”
“This is terrible,” I moan into my hands.
“Why?” My mom puts an arm around me. “He loves you. You love him. It’s always a miracle when two people find each other. You guys will figure things out.”
“But we have so much against us. I don’t want him to lose his job, but I don’t want him to turn Norland Park into a luxury resort.
And I definitely don’t want to work here when it happens.
” I look heavenward. “I don’t see how we can get through this mess without one of us resenting the other—either Edward loses his job or I lose my home. Or more likely, we both lose our jobs.”
“That’s the sort of thing couples figure out together,” my mom says.
“But it seems like a big decision for a fledgling relationship.”
“It might be,” my mom gently strokes my back. “But you won’t know unless you try.”
Annie nods emphatically beside her.
“Okay, then what if it does work?” I ask. “What if I leave you?”
My mom’s expression softens. “Elinor, we’ll be okay. I know you’ve felt responsible for this family for a very long time, and I’m sorry you had to carry that so young. I honestly don’t know how Annie and I would’ve made it without you. But we got through that.”
She squeezes my hand. “You don’t have to hold everything together forever. Annie and I are grown-ups. We’ll figure things out. And if we have to leave Big Sur, so be it.” She smiles faintly. “We’ll be overly dramatic about it. But we’ll be okay.”
“You would be very dramatic about it,” I murmur, smiling in spite of myself. “But I’d hate for us to lose this place”
“Leaving home is the natural order of things. It’s scarier for you because you didn’t get to move out when you wanted to. But I’m guessing you’ll love it.”
This is a new thought. Have I been pushing Edward away because of fear—not just the fear of the relationship failing, but the fear of what it might mean if it works?
“And let’s say you move to the city,” Annie rushes to add. “We’d visit you all the time.”
“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m just thinking about dating Edward, not marrying him.”
“So you don’t want to see the bridal bouquets I’ve picked out for you .
. .” says my sister, only half-teasing. “I prefer you get married when morning glories are in season. They would be so unique trailing in your bouquet and for a boutonniere for Edward. They tend to wilt, but I have a few workarounds . . .”
“Please! Annie!” I put my head in my hands. “You’ve got to stop planning my wedding.” My mom and Annie just laugh, and eventually, I do too.
***
I wake up early Sunday morning and put a letter in the mailbox.
I feel confident, happy and hopeful as I flip up the red flag.
I wait for a moment at the crossroads. It would be perfect if Edward were to pass this way on his morning run.
The world is fresh and glittering from yesterday’s rain.
The sky is exceptionally clear, promising a hot day.
And then, as if I wished him there, I see a runner coming up the misty lane from the cottages. I let out a little gasp of happiness. Today is going to be a beautiful day.
The runner approaches, but this guy is too stocky for Edward, plus he has a beard.
It’s Brandon. I step in front of the mailbox, wanting to block the raised red flag from his view.
I don’t know how much Pepper and Annie told him, but it seems likely he will know about our secret mailbox and suspect my errand.
He waves. I wave back. With everything up in the air between Edward and me, I really don’t want to talk to Brandon.
Too late.
“Hey,” he stops beside me.
“Morning!” I say.
“I wanted to apologize for yesterday—especially for Pepper snooping on your mail. I promise, I had no idea what Annie and Pepper had planned, not until it was too late.”
“I don’t blame you. Or Pepper, or my sister. Okay, I blame Annie a little, but not much. And it all turned out fine in the end.”
“Really? Edward made it sound like . . .” He wipes some sweat off his brow. “Never mind.”
“How did he make it sound?” I ask.
“He didn’t say much. But he seemed pretty upset before he left.”
“He left?”
“Yes, early this morning.”
“But he didn’t say goodbye.” I’m ashamed of how pathetic I sound.
“He was under the impression that you didn’t want to see him.”
My heart sinks, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Edward is simply respecting my wishes, but I can’t help asking, “He really left?”
“Sure . . . yeah.” Brandon shifts on his feet. The poor guy seems profoundly uncomfortable with my feelings, but at the same time somehow exudes sincere concern.
“Elinor . . .”
“Yeah?”
“I wouldn’t worry too much. He really likes you.”
“Thanks, Brandon.” I wish I could tell him that Annie really likes him too, but I’m still not clear on her feelings, even though I have my suspicions. And for that matter, I still don’t know exactly where Brandon stands either. “Wish me luck!” I say.
“With what?”
I pull my note out of the mailbox. “I have a letter to deliver.”
He breaks out into a huge, glorious smile. “Godspeed!” Something tells me that if Annie could see him now, my suspicions might come true.