Chapter 19
Nell had indeed made the meatloaf she had mentioned earlier to Molly, and though it was highly flavored with black pepper and oregano, Nell found that she barely tasted it. It was unlike her to eat mechanically. It was also unlike her to be checking her phone for incoming calls or texts while at the table, but that was exactly what she was doing. She hadn’t entirely convinced herself that Eric wouldn’t call that night upon his return from Cambridge.
“Guess what Ella’s father is giving her mother for Christmas,” Felicity said. “A brand-new Jaguar. Can you believe it? It’s a total surprise. I mean, Ella knows but her mother doesn’t have a clue.”
“They must have a lot of money to throw around,” Molly said with a frown of disapproval.
“I wouldn’t call buying a car throwing money around,” Felicity protested.
“I would, especially when it’s a totally impractical car to have in Maine. She won’t be able to drive it for half of the year.”
“Mom?” Felicity asked. “What do you think?”
Nell looked up from her phone. “Sorry, what did you say?” she asked.
Felicity frowned. “Who are you expecting to hear from, Mom?”
“No one,” Nell lied.
“Then why do you keep checking your phone?” Molly asked.
Nell slipped the phone into the pocket of her sweater. She felt a bit chastened. How many times had she asked her daughters not to use the phone during a meal? And here she was, behaving like a lovestruck teen waiting to hear from her crush.
“So, what do you think of Ella’s father buying Ella’s mother a Jaguar for Christmas? Do you think it’s a silly purchase?”
“I think it’s none of our business how other people spend their money,” Nell replied.
“I wonder what Dad’s getting Pam,” Felicity mused.
Molly rolled her eyes, and though Nell resisted that particular urge she, too, had no desire to entertain the question. Silence descended on the table, and as Nell poked at her meal she was struck by a sudden surge of annoyance that bordered on anger. Why did Eric have to breeze back into her life at just this time only to highlight her feelings of loss and inadequacy? Why had she gone to that reading in the first place? And to think she had been foolish enough to consider asking Eric if he remembered the summer day on which that long-lost photo had been taken! Reconnecting with Eric was getting her absolutely nowhere and would only result in—
“Ugh!” Felicity cried. “It feels like I’m sitting here with Scrooge and the Grinch! Why are you two so unhappy and distracted and grumpy?”
“Sorry,” Nell said automatically.
Molly got up from the table and brought her dishes to the sink. “I’ve got a lab report to write,” she said. “Thanks for dinner, Mom.”
“Let’s watch A Charlie Brown Christmas after dinner,” Nell suggested when Molly was gone. “Or we could make popcorn balls. I found a super easy recipe online earlier.”
“That’s okay,” Felicity said. “If Ella is around, I’ll drive over to her place for a bit.” Felicity took her phone from her pocket and began to text her friend.
Nell stabbed at the remains of the meatloaf on her plate. She wondered if at that very moment Eric was chatting with an adoring female fan. He had become a media darling after the success of his first book, and the truth was that he was kind and good and smart and any woman in her right mind would welcome the chance to know him and to possess more of him than a grainy photo from the local newspaper.
“See you later, Mom.” Felicity was getting up from her chair. “I’m going to Ella’s house.”
“Okay,” Nell said. “Drive safely.”
“You always say that.”
“And,” Nell replied, “I always mean it.”
* * *
The curtains were closed against the night, but a sliver of moonlight had made its way into Nell’s room. She was tucked up in bed with one of her old notebooks and a biography of William Blake she had first read in college. The author of Songs of Experience and Songs of Innocence had always fascinated her. Slowly she paged through the sections of the fantastical color illustrations—The Raising of Lazarus, Jacob’s Dream, the wildly famous portrait of Newton—and found that lines from “The Tyger” were running through her mind. “. . . In what distant deeps or skies/Burnt the fire of thine eyes?/On what wings dare he aspire/What the hand, dare seize the fire?”
William Blake would probably not have appreciated cell phones, Nell thought as hers rang loudly in the quiet of the room. She reached for it on the bed beside her. It was Eric. “Hi,” she said with a sense of palpable relief.
“You sound surprised. I told you I’d call when I got back from Cambridge. Is it too late? Did I wake you?”
“No,” Nell assured him, putting the book aside. “It’s not too late. How was the event?”
“Mobbed. It was a lot of fun and a big success for Hal, I think.”
Nell experienced a twinge of jealousy, of which she felt immediately ashamed. Of what was she jealous? Eric’s popularity? His wealth? His many friendships? Nell glanced at the old notebook by her side and felt keenly her own lack of ambition. She had taken no steps in her life to win such prizes, and there was no one to blame but herself.
“I’m glad you had a good time,” she managed to say.
“How was your afternoon?” he asked.
“It was fine.”
“And the girls? How are they?”
“They’re fine, too,” she said. “Getting ready for finals. Spending time with their friends. Dropping hints about what they want for Christmas. Well, Felicity is. Molly’s not much of a materialist.”
“Hey, apropos of nothing,” Eric said, “guess what I was thinking about on the drive back tonight? The day we rode the swan boats in the Public Gardens and one of the swans, the real ones I mean, came charging at us. One of us screamed—it might have been me—and the kid manning the pedals dove into the water, leaving us stranded.”
Nell laughed. “How could I forget? Luckily the swan lost interest in us. They can be pretty vicious when they’re protecting their young.”
“I hadn’t thought of that incident in ages,” Eric admitted. “It’s funny, but suddenly the years we were together seem so close.”
“Yes,” Nell said, glancing again at the old notebook in which both she and Eric had written out their thoughts and feelings. “They do. And yet . . . and yet they also seem so very far away.”
“Yes,” Eric replied softly. “I know what you mean. Well, I should let you get some sleep. Good night, Nell.”
“Good night, Eric.”
Nell plugged her phone into its charger. She was very pleased that Eric had phoned and recalled with a bit of surprise the moments since they had last met when she had rued her decision to attend the reading at the Bookworm. Suddenly Nell remembered another afternoon when she and Eric had been in the Public Gardens. A fierce rainstorm had broken out with little warning. Hand in hand they had ducked under a massive oak tree, where they had kissed passionately and shamelessly as only the young can do in full view of the world. Only when the storm had long passed did they emerge from under the protection of the branches, aglow with happiness.
Nell put a hand to her chest. Their romance had been so very passionate. Of course, it was true that intense passion never lasted for very long. If she and Eric had stayed together, one day the strength of their physical desire for each other would have weakened. No, Nell decided now, tucked in her bed on Trinity Lane. It would not have weakened. It would have transmuted into something more mellow but just as strong and wonderful. She thought of what Eric had said about the shiny gold ring becoming lovelier over time as it was marked by experience, both good and bad.
It was a beautiful image and one to treasure.