Love and Other Bruises
Ava had spent the afternoon taking out her frustrations in the kitchen. She’d whipped up every conceivable cake and cookie, and baked roasts to slice and freeze. When she stopped cooking, she untangled the utensils drawer, a task that took her through to dinner time. When John had failed to show, Ava started to worry. Marjorie seemed less concerned, delivering a generous serving of cold shoulder to accompany roasted beef with salad, and with Colin no longer an ally, neither objected when Ava chose to eat in the kitchen.
‘Who does she think she is?’ Ava heard Marjorie grumble to her husband. ‘Her type does not belong here, Colin. Your ancestors were as good as Candlebark Creek royalty.’
They finished their meal and left the empty dishes on the table to march themselves to the kitchen sink. What better way to drive home the message that Ava was nothing more than hired help?
Emotionally drained and physically exhausted, she was glad to grab her torch and head down the sloping path to the sanctuary of her little cottage.
After closing the door, her next action was to turn on the porch light. That was how habit-forming John Tate had become. Would he show, when she’d turned him away every night since the party? she wondered, while drawing the curtains and putting on the kettle for tea. She was desperate to know what this afternoon with his parents had been about. By midnight, when he hadn’t shown, Ava fell on her bed to force sleep.
Eventually she heard footsteps outside. Not bothering to cover herself with a robe, she flung the door wide open, expecting to see his usual come-to-bed eyes. Instead they were red-rimmed.
‘What’s the matter?’ Ava reached out a hand. ‘You’ve had me worried.’
John didn’t move, his arms limp and unresponsive by his side. ‘Do you really love me, Ava? Do you see me in your life?’
Holding her breath did little to quell the thump inside Ava’s chest.
‘You need to say something, Ava. A yes preferably.’ There was a tiny spark of Fun John in the twitch of his lips. ‘I need to know. I need to know now.’
‘Why tonight, John? What’s the urgency? Is this to do with something your parents said?’
‘Answer my question first, Ava. Do you really love me or am I an amusement, like Mum said?’
‘Your mother told you that?’
He nodded. ‘Nothing she said or that she says in the future will matter if you agree we have a future together. Unless you’re determined to leave me.’
‘A future? Oh, John, John.’ Ava backed away from the door, as though needing to distance herself. ‘I’m so sorry, it was wrong of me to let things between us get out of control. This wasn’t supposed to happen and I… I need a minute, I… ’
Ava knew that her answer would have serious consequences. Could she afford to be honest? Did she dare be so selfish and stay, knowing she could drive a wedge between a son and his parents? If she said ‘no’, could she say it convincingly enough to the man standing at her door, asking to be loved and wanting to love her deeply in return?
‘Ava, I’m not going until I have an answer from you one way or the other.’
*
John wasn’t sure how he managed to wait. He’d lingered tight-lipped on that porch for an eternity, hoping Ava would throw herself into his arms and declare her love. She had to say yes. She had to. If not, John didn’t know how he’d go back to his life. How could he see this cottage every day and not picture Ava, not feel the breathlessness and anticipation each night because he knew she was waiting there for him? Without Ava, he saw no future, no way he’d ever be happy. Sacrificing this cottage, razing it to the ground in a symbolic cleansing ritual to rid himself of all recollections, would be the only way to stop Ava Marchette’s memory haunting him for the rest of his days.
Yes, he knew what she was going to say: his mother had brought up their age difference when they’d argued earlier. The answer was also in Ava’s expression, and in her eyes.
‘John, you have to understand that my parents were just like us. My mother was older than Marco and she—’
‘Stop, Ava, you’re not your mother. You’ll never be the woman you’ve described.’
‘But you are younger than me, John.’
He steeled himself for a final, desperate attempt. ‘Okay, fine if you insist on comparing yourself to your mother, consider this. You told me she’d felt trapped in her marriage and tied to a life with a baby she never wanted. Have I recalled that correctly?’ He didn’t wait for her reply. ‘Am I trapping you to a life in the country, one you never wanted? Is that the problem, Ava? Are your father’s wishes so important that you’d walk away from love, from me?’ John didn’t bother controlling his anger. ‘Answer me! What are we doing here? Am I making a fool of myself?’
‘No, John!’
‘Are you telling me to go away, Ava?’
‘No, I—’
‘But you’re ending us, right?’
‘No!’
‘Do you want me to love you, Ava? Do you? Tell me!’
By now she was crying, her back pressed against the wall, her face buried in both hands.
Until tonight, John had never questioned his maturity. Now he craved the adult self-control to sit down, hold her and talk calmly. He was so desperate to feel her close to him, comfort her and tell her everything would be all right if they stuck together. Instead, he paced around the small room, swearing under his breath, unable to look at her. ‘I’ve made a total dick of myself.’
‘No, John.’
‘Then be honest.’ He stopped in front of her. ‘You told me you love me. Was that a lie?’
‘No.’
*
Poor John. He was crying now, and Ava gave in to her own tears, tired of trying to be strong and constantly shoring up the walls around her heart. Her parents’ relationship had taught her to tread so carefully around love that she’d managed to block good things waiting to flow towards her, like John.
‘So you do love me.’ John’s anger was mellowing, his voice softer, that sensibility – the quality that separated him from others his age – was controlling his emotions. ‘But do you see me in your life always? Yes or no, Ava? Tell me yes. Say you want to share my life here at Ivy-May.’
‘Please, John. You have to understand. For over ten years I’ve relied on no one and all my life I’ve found safety and familiarity within myself, and within what I know – and I don’t know what to do with love. Believe me when I say there’s never been anyone in my life like you.’
‘All the more reason for you to admit it, Ava. Let me hear the words. Stop thinking so hard and go with your gut. If you love me, tell me.’
‘What if I’m wrong for you, John?’
‘You’re not.’
‘What if I hurt you?’
‘I won’t let you, Ava.’
‘What if I’m scared?’
‘I’ve got you, I love you, and I know you want to love me.’
‘I do, I do.’ They fell into each other and collapsed onto the floor.
*
Ava wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, afraid to let each other go, to come back into a world that would test them in every way.
‘I do love you, John.’
‘Well, well, Ava Marchette.’ He pushed back, a finger tipping Ava’s chin up to his face. ‘You took your time.’ He squinted at his watch. ‘And you’ve made us late. Come on, we have to go.’
‘Late for what? The sun’s not even up. Where are we going?’
‘Ssh.’ He pressed a finger to her lips. ‘Enough questions for one night. Trust me. Allow me this one surprise. Then I can promise you that safety and familiarity with me, always.’
‘All right, John. Whatever this is, I’ll go with you, but when we get back we need to talk about all this. Promise me?’
‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’