Chapter 18
Nell and Molly were sitting at the kitchen table, the remains of breakfast before them. Well, the remains of Nell’s breakfast. Molly had taken nothing but a cup of coffee laced with milk and sugar. She hadn’t spoken, either, but to ask Nell if there was any errand she could run for her on the way home from classes. Nell had said there was not. The tension in the room was high.
When the doorbell rang, both women jumped in their seats. Nell looked at Molly, whose face had gone ashen. “Do you want me to get it?” she asked quietly.
Molly shook her head, slowly got up from the table, and left the room. Nell followed her as far as the little hall between the dining room and the living room, from where, if she kept close to the wall, she could hear and partially see what went on by the front door.
Mick had already come into the house. In the palm of her hand Molly was holding what was unmistakably a ring box. Oh, no, Nell thought. Please not this.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Mick asked. There was a mix of hope and fear in his voice, of excitement and just a little bit of dread.
Without a word, Molly lifted the hinged lid on the little box. Nell couldn’t quite see the look on her daughter’s face, though she didn’t fail to notice the tense set of her shoulders.
“It’s real gold,” Mick said hurriedly. “It belonged to my grandmother. My grandfather gave it to her on their tenth wedding anniversary. They were too poor to afford a ring when they got married. She wore it until the day she died. Since she had no granddaughters she left it to me.”
Nell swallowed hard. The implication was clear. Mick would give the ring to the woman he married.
“Oh.” Molly managed a ghost of a smile.
“It’s a promise ring,” Mick went on. “I promise to love you forever. Here, let me put it on for you.”
As Mick slipped the ring onto the fourth finger of Molly’s right hand, Nell fought the urge to dash forward and put an end to the farce. No, she thought. This is not a farce. This is the stuff of tragedy, and I have no rightful place in it.
“Thank you,” Molly said quietly. She did not return Mick’s promise.
Mick didn’t seem bothered or disappointed by her simple response. “We’ve got a plumber coming to the house this morning so I’d better be off.” He leaned forward and kissed Molly on the cheek.
When Molly had closed the front door behind him, Nell came into the living room. Molly looked at her mother and laughed a bit wildly. “What’s he going to give me for Christmas, a marriage license?”
“You accepted the ring,” Nell stated. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I . . . I didn’t know what else to do!”
“You can’t keep it,” Nell said quietly. “Not if you’re intending to break up with him. You don’t have a right to it. You have to be honest with him, Molly. It’s not fair what you’re doing.”
“I know,” Molly cried. “I know! It’s just . . . I’m confused, Mom. Suddenly, I don’t know what I want. Moving away . . . Mick . . . the farm . . . It’s all so . . .”
“What’s going on?” It was Felicity, thundering down the stairs. “Was Mick here? I thought I heard the doorbell but I was in the shower so I couldn’t be sure.”
Nell turned to her younger daughter. “Mick gave your sister a promise ring. It belonged to his grandmother.”
Felicity squealed. “OMG, it’s like you’re engaged!” she cried. “Let me see it!”
“No,” Molly said curtly. “It’s not like I’m engaged. I’ve got to get to class.”
She was gone before either her mother or her sister could say another word.
Felicity frowned. “What was that about? I thought she’d be thrilled. I mean it looks like Mick’s going to propose soon, maybe on Christmas Day. That’s probably the big surprise.”
“I told you the other day,” Nell said lamely. “Your sister is under a lot of strain at school. I think we just need to give her some space.”
“I’ve never understood what that means, giving someone space. Is it like a polite way of ignoring someone? Well, whatever. I’m off to school.” Felicity kissed her mother’s cheek, grabbed her bag from the small table just inside the front door, and hurried out of the house.
Nell sighed. Her older daughter had always been a straightforward, even a transparent person, but now Nell felt sure that Molly was hiding something important, possibly even from herself. After all, she had admitted that she no longer knew what it was she really wanted. I’m her mother, Nell thought, her frustration mounting. I should be able to help her understand what it is that she needs to be happy.
Nell’s cell phone rang, distracting her from her thoughts. It was Jill.
“Do you by any chance have dried mustard?” Jill asked. “I’m feeling too lazy to drive into town.”
“Sorry,” Nell said. “It’s not something I usually have around.”
“It was worth a try. By the way, I haven’t heard from Stuart in weeks. Usually we’ve made a plan for Christmas dinner by now.”
“Our children are keeping us on our toes this season,” Nell commented.
“As in Molly and her plan to run away?”
“I’m not sure she would call it running away,” Nell said, “but yes. And guess what just happened. Mick gave her his grandmother’s wedding ring as a promise to love her forever, and she accepted it. To be exact, she didn’t protest his putting it on her finger.”
“Almost as bad as an engagement ring,” Jill said. “Well, you know what I mean. What’s she going to do?”
Nell sighed. “Your guess is as good as mine. I just hope she speaks up soon. The longer she keeps silent about her intentions, the more damage she’s doing to Mick and to her own peace of mind.”
“Agreed,” Jill said. “But remember, this is Molly’s life, not yours. Try not to let her woes overwhelm you.”
“I’ll try,” Nell promised, and they ended the call.
With the girls gone and her phone back in her pocket, the house suddenly felt very empty. The silence was thundering, and into that thundering silence came the call of the old notebooks and journals stashed in Nell’s bedroom closet. Again she realized that at some point before Eric left town he might ask about her poetry. Nell had no idea how he would react to the news that she hadn’t written a word in more than twenty years. Possibly the information wouldn’t affect him in the least. And maybe he wouldn’t ask in the first place, having long ago ceased to be invested in the girl who broke his heart. But if that were true, why did Eric want to see her again?
Nell rubbed her forehead. Eric Manville. The temptation of poetry. The joys and sorrows of the past, both before and during her marriage. They were all dragging her attention away from what was really important. Making this Christmas, possibly their last together as a family of three, perfect for her children.
The stockings, Nell thought, heading upstairs to her bedroom. I’ll work on the girls’ Christmas stockings.
* * *
Nell was dusting the furniture in the living room later that day—not easy to do what with the Christmas decorations on every available surface—when her cell phone rang. It was Eric.
“Hi,” she said brightly. Her earlier anxiety had largely eased away, thanks to the soporific effects of daily routine and, more specifically, of housework. A tidy house allows for a tidy mind. It was something her mother always used to say.
“Hi,” Eric said. “Nell, I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel our get-together this afternoon. I’m sorry.”
“Oh.” The dust cloth fell from Nell’s hand to the floor and she bent over to retrieve it. “Sure,” she said. “No problem.”
“I just got a call from my friend Hal,” Eric went on. “He owns a fantastic little bookstore in Cambridge. When I told him I was in Ogunquit, he asked if I could possibly come to a holiday open house this evening to mingle and sign a few books. I felt I couldn’t say no. Hal has come through for my family and me more times than I can count. He gave Sarah a job all through college.”
“Of course,” Nell said with a heroic attempt at sounding neutral and unmoved. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“Thanks, Nell. I knew you’d understand. I’ll let you know when I get back tonight, okay?”
Nell struggled to find her voice over the lump that was building in her throat. “Sure,” she said finally. “Bye.”
Nell stuck the phone back into her pocket. She felt keenly disappointed, though she knew she had no right to be. Eric didn’t owe her anything, not after all this time. Face it, Nell thought, and not for the first time. He means a lot to me but I just don’t mean that much to him. Before the reading at the Bookworm Jill had suggested that Nell ask herself just what it was she wanted from seeing Eric Manville after a separation of more than twenty years. But I didn’t take that advice to heart, Nell thought. I didn’t prepare to . . . to be disappointed.
Dust cloth in hand, Nell went to the kitchen where Molly was sitting at the table with a textbook opened before her. She was still wearing the ring Mick had given her that morning. Turning toward the fridge Nell noticed that two windows on the Advent Calendar hadn’t yet been opened. She was surprised she hadn’t noticed before now.
“Why haven’t you or your sister opened the windows for the seventeenth and eighteenth?” she asked.
Molly looked up from her textbook and shrugged. “I forgot. Fliss probably did, too.”
“Why don’t you open the windows now?” Nell suggested.
“That’s okay,” Molly said. “You can do it.”
Nell shook her head. “But I bought the calendar for you girls.”
“Mom.” Molly sighed. “We’re not little kids. We don’t care about stuff like that.”
“Like what?” Nell was aware of the tone of hurt in her voice. She hadn’t meant her feelings to be so plain, but she felt so raw at the moment, raw and vulnerable.
“Like Advent calendars and matching aprons. That stuff is okay when you’re a kid, but . . .” Molly suddenly got up from the table. “Okay, Mom. If it makes you happy I’ll open the windows.”
Nell watched as her older daughter dutifully opened the two windows on the calendar and realized that she didn’t feel particularly happy about it. “I was thinking of making that meatloaf you and Felicity like so much for dinner,” she said.
Molly went back to the table and her textbook. “Sure, Mom,” she said. “Whatever.”