Chapter Eighteen
“What is that?”
Esther stared at Will, bemused. It was a sunny Saturday morning, nearly a week after Easter, and he was dressed in faded jeans and a fleece, holding what looked like an old-fashioned Dorothy of Wizard of Oz-style picnic basket.
Will confirmed her suspicion with a smile. “I thought we’d go on a picnic.”
“A picnic?”
“It’s a nice day.”
“Don’t you have work?”
“I can take a few hours off.” Will shrugged. “Why not?”
Why not? Because they didn’t do picnics. They never had. After those first few dates they’d settled into a sensible routine, watching boxed sets and talking about farming and work. A picnic somewhere up in the fells was far too romantic for the likes of them.
And yet…
“I didn’t even think we owned a picnic basket.”
“We don’t.” Will glanced down at the cute basket with the red gingham lining, like something Little Red Riding Hood would have. “I borrowed it.”
“You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?”
“I have.”
Happiness zinged through her, like a firework. She couldn’t remember feeling so light. It had been a good week, working on the garden, helping her parents sort out the house. The uncertainty she’d been feeling was being replaced, slowly but surely, by something solid and good. As cheesy as it sounded, she wasn’t just finding her way back to Will, she was finding her way back to herself.
“All right,” she said. “Will I need hiking boots?”
“Of course.”
A few minutes later she was ready to go, and after calling to Ruth that Esther would be out for most of the day, Esther climbed into the Rover and Will got into the driver’s seat, the picnic basket between them.
Sunshine spilled through the windows as they drove out of Thornthwaite and then turned towards Keswick.
“How’s the garden coming along, then?” Will asked, and Esther told him about the meeting they’d held at the vicarage a few nights ago, with a committee formed, and a plan for the landscaping in place.
“There will be four small veg plots, as well as a communal space, and two cold frames, and the greenhouse, of course. Sophie’s working on a fundraiser in the summer, a strawberries and Prosecco evening in the vicarage garden, with fancy dress, just for fun.”
“Sounds good,” Will said. “Can I come as a farmer?”
Esther laughed, because Will had never been one for fancy dress. Neither had she, for that matter, but perhaps this time she’d give it a go. “We could go together,” she offered. “The farmer and his wife.”
Will shot her a quick, searching look, and Esther met it. Yes, she was really saying that. Really feeling it.
“Sounds like the perfect costume to me.”
“Not too much of a costume, though,” Esther said, her words still loaded with meaning, obvious and important to both of them.
Will nodded slowly. “No, not too much.”
He turned off the A66 towards a little B-road that curved around the sparkling expanse of Derwentwater, its placid surface shimmering in the sunlight, the dramatic, dark-green sweep of the fells a stunning backdrop to the perfect scene.
“I thought we could stop near Otterbield Bay,” he said as the Rover bumped along. “It’s a nice spot.”
Soon enough they were pulling into the little inlet, which was surprisingly empty on this gorgeous day, the stretch of grass to the rocky shore pristine and sparkling with dew.
Will laid out a blanket and they both sat down, gazing at the water. Esther felt perfectly content, a settled feeling inside her it seemed almost nothing could shake. Why had it taken so long, so much striving and grieving and fear, to get here? She decided the answer didn’t matter; the point was, she was here, and so was Will.
Will started unpacking their picnic, and Esther exclaimed over the array of delicacies, “Stuffed olives… Brie cheese… strawberries… champagne?” She goggled as he popped the cork on the demi-bottle.
“It looks as if you’ve cleared out Booth’s,” she remarked, referencing the upscale supermarket in Keswick.
“Did my best.” He handed her a plastic flute of fizz and held his own aloft. “To us, Esther.”
“To us,” she agreed, and they clinked plastic before taking sips. It felt strange and yet also strangely right to be so romantic, sipping champagne and feeding each other bits of food on a picnic blanket, the kind of thing they’d never, ever done. Esther felt self-conscious but she also felt happy, and it wasn’t that bad of a combination.
Then, when lunch was over, Will nodded towards the water. “Dare you.”
“Dare me? To do what?”
“Swim.”
Esther let out a disbelieving laugh. Wild swimming in the lakes was a popular pastime, but as far as she was concerned it was a crazy one. The water was ice-cold and deep, the bottom rocky and unforgiving. Most people only swam wearing wetsuits.
“Are you serious?” she said. “It’s only April.”
“End of April.”
“Still. I’ll turn blue in about five seconds.”
Will leaned back, his arms braced behind him. “Chicken?” he jeered softly, his eyes sparkling with humour.
“I’m not chicken, I’m sensible,” Esther retorted, and when she saw Will’s nod of satisfaction she realized she’d fallen neatly, and oh so predictably, into his trap. She was sensible. Sensible, box-ticking Esther, always with a to-do list and her stupid scorecard. Was Will daring her to be different for once? To be foolish and reckless and even stupid?
“Fine,” she said, with an upward tilt of her chin. “Since you want me to be stupid.”
“Not stupid,” Will corrected with a laugh. “Daring.”
She rose from the blanket, and as she walked towards the water, the sun which had felt so benevolent and warm a few moments ago suddenly didn’t seem so much anymore. She unlaced her hiking boots and kicked them off, then slipped off her sensible wool socks as well.
“You’re not going to go in your clothes, are you?” Will called. “Because that really would be stupid.”
“Are you actually asking me to skinny dip?” Esther practically yelped.
Will shrugged, still stretched out on the blanket. “I don’t see anyone around.”
Esther glanced around, seeing no one but a few walkers in the distance, no more than specks along the horizon. Still, someone could come around the bend at any moment, and she didn’t fancy being caught starkers.
“Is this some weird fantasy of yours?” she called back. “Seeing a naked woman freeze to death in the water?”
“Seeing my naked wife,” Will returned. “Yes, always. But not freeze to death. Maybe get a bit chilly.”
She laughed, shaking her head. Already her hands were at the bottom of her fleece, tugging it upwards. Why was she doing this exactly? She tossed it off, and then shimmied out of her jeans. She could feel Will’s eyes on her, even though he didn’t say a word.
This was ridiculous, and crazy, and somehow she was loving it. She felt so alive, every sense and sinew singing. Her shirt came next, so she was in her bra and pants. She turned around to face him, her hands on her hips.
“Then I dare you to come in with me,” she said, and Will scrambled up from the blanket with alacrity, his hands already on the zip of his fleece.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
*
Will didn’t know what had possessed him to dare Esther to go into the water; everyone knew how freezing the lakes were, especially this time of year. And yet the bay was shallow, the bottom not too rocky, and they could be in and out in a matter of seconds. There was no real danger, and yet it felt like a risk. A thrill. Perhaps even a baptism.
He pulled his top off and then shucked off his jeans, conscious that walkers could appear on the scene at any moment, and there he and Esther would be, in their underwear. It was so unlike them, and that was why he’d suggested it. It was silly, even stupid, but it was fun and exciting too, and it was new territory for them both.
“So, who is going in first?” Esther asked when they were both standing on the pebbly shore of the lake, a few inches from the water.
“Together?”
“All right.”
Will inched a foot in and then couldn’t keep from jerking back and shuddering. “Bugger, that’s cold.”
Esther laughed and splashed him with her foot, the icy droplets spraying his torso. “Now who’s the chicken?”
“Not me, woman.” Taking a deep breath, Will waded into the ice-cold water. He grabbed Esther’s hand and pulled her along with him, and with a screech she followed, both of them splashing into the freezing water until they were chest-deep.
“This is so crazy,” Esther said, shivering, and Will pulled her into his arms, their bodies juddering with cold together.
“Crazy but good,” he said, and kissed her. She kissed him, the passion they’d felt for each other unleashed once more, and something more than that. Something deeper.
“We’re still going to freeze,” Esther murmured against his lips, and with a laugh Will swept her into his arms and carried her out of the water. They fell on the blanket together, and Will wrapped them up in it, their wet limbs tangled, toes touching.
Will looked down into her pale, wet face, her lips blue, her eyes sparkling, and his heart expanded with feeling. “I love you,” he said, and realized how rarely he said it. He’d never thought he’d needed to, but more than that, he hadn’t always wanted to. Not because he didn’t love her, but because he hated being vulnerable. And yet here he was, here they both were, and he wanted to say it.
Esther’s eyes filled with tears as she gazed up at him. “I love you too, Will,” she whispered. “So much.”
He kissed her again and her arms came around him, their cold bodies pressed together and warming quickly. Then, in the distance, Will heard an excitable voice.
“Oh, I say, are there otters here?”
*
Esther combed her wet, tangled hair with her fingers, a warmth inside her that belied the freezing dip they’d just taken. After a pair of hikers had stumbled upon them, they’d jumped into their clothes and hightailed it back to the Rover, laughing the whole while. Esther had felt too happy to be embarrassed, and even now, nearly back in Thornthwaite, she felt a bubble of laughter rising in her throat at the memory of the two pensioners suited up in walking gear, holding knobbly walking sticks and nature guides, looks of astonished horror on their faces when they’d come across her and Will. A pair of otters, indeed.
A snort of laughter escaped her and Will grinned. “They won’t forget that in a hurry,” he said, and she smiled to realize how he’d been thinking the same thing she had.
They pulled into the drive and Will parked in front of the vicarage. He turned the car off and rested his hands on the steering wheel, his expression turning serious. Esther’s heart lurched, and then stilled.
“Do you think… do you think you’d consider moving back home?” he asked quietly. There was a raw note of vulnerability in his voice that made her ache.
Esther was silent for a moment, sifting through everything in her mind. Her pregnancy, her relief, her sadness, her uncertainty, the spare bedroom with her suitcases and serving platters. Those crocuses pushing their way up through the tilled earth, small and yet determined. Life on hold, yet ready to begin.
“Yes,” she said. “I will.”
Back in the vicarage, Esther walked slowly through the rooms, savouring their familiarity as well as the quiet. Yet already things were changing; her parents had given away some furniture, and a few days ago Simon had walked through the house, tellingly with Anna, and picked the pieces he wanted to have stay. Esther had been strangely glad of that; she liked the thought that the vicarage wouldn’t be completely different, with some stranger inhabiting its rooms. Simon was practically family, and perhaps soon he would be, judging by the happiness Esther had witnessed between him and Anna.
“Esther?” Ruth came in the dining room where Esther had been standing, gazing sightlessly at the rose-coloured walls with its eclectic collection of art—most of the paintings were done by hobbyist parishioners. “Is everything all right?” Ruth asked.
“Yes, everything is fine. Good, actually.” Esther took a deep breath and then smiled. “I’ve moving back home. To Will’s, I mean.”
“That is home,” Ruth replied with a beaming smile. “Oh Esther, I’m so pleased.” She gave her daughter a hug, and Esther squeezed her mother tight, so grateful for her understanding and patience.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a pain these last few months,” she whispered against her shoulder.
“You’re never a pain. And we can’t always choose when we feel up or down.”
“Yet you said happiness was a choice.”
“And one that’s not always easy or even possible to make.” Ruth eased back with a sigh. “As well I know. I’ve had some dark days of my own, Esther. And I know that sometimes the only way to get through them is by trudging one step at a time.”
“Counselling has helped, actually,” Esther admitted, and Ruth’s eyes widened in surprise.
“You went?”
“Yes, I took your hint of the card stuck on the fridge.” Ruth laughed and didn’t deny it. “I never thought I wanted to talk about my feelings, and truth be told, I still don’t, but it was okay. It made me realize some things.”
“Such as?”
Esther sighed. “That I’m a control freak and a perfectionist and when things don’t go my way I pretty much fold.” She smiled wryly. “Stuff you and Dad probably already knew.”
“We might have had our suspicions,” Ruth answered. “But the important thing isn’t how or where you’ve been, but how you are now, and where you’re going. And it sounds like you are definitely moving in the right direction, my darling.”
It felt strange to pack up her things that evening, and even stranger to put them in her car the next morning, after church. She said goodbye to her parents, feeling like a teenager off to uni, and they both hugged her and insisted she and Will come over for Sunday lunch the following week.
Esther felt both nervous and excited as she made the short drive to the farm, pulling into the yard as rain spattered the windscreen and mist shrouded the fells. Smoke hung in grey wisps above the chimney, the long, low house of white stone huddled against the bottom of the fells. Home.
Esther climbed out, leaving her bags in the car, and walked across the muddy yard to the kitchen door. She opened it slowly, gazing in surprise at the pristine kitchen; the table was cleared of papers and post, and there were no dirty dishes stacked by the sink. It smelled of lemon polish and wood smoke, and it made her smile.
“Will?”
He came clattering down the stairs, sheets bundled in his arms, looking both harassed and hopeful. “Sorry, I was just changing the sheets.”
“You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I wanted to. Welcome home, Esther.” She smiled and came towards him, and as his arms closed around her she breathed in the familiar scent of him, sheep and leather and wood smoke. After a few seconds Will eased away. “Someone wants to meet you.”
“Someone? What do you mean?”
“Hold on a sec.” He disappeared outside while Esther waited, baffled and bemused. A few moments later Will came back in, and Esther’s breath caught in her throat. A black lab puppy was squirming in his arms, a pink bow around her neck.
“Oh, Will.”
“She’s twelve weeks old and has had all her shots. Ready to be my next sheep dog.”
“Do labs make good sheep dogs?”
“Good enough.” He crouched down and placed the puppy on the floor; she skittered across the tile towards Esther, sniffing and licking her hands as she bent down to caress her silky ears.
“Oh, Will, she’s perfect. I love her.” A new puppy could never replace Toby in either of their hearts, but it was fitting to have a new start. A new chapter, just as Roger had said before.
“She’ll be a lot of work, of course. Puppies are.”
“I’ve got time.” The community garden was virtually up and running, with people applying for the veg plots and the first work day scheduled for the following weekend. As for a proper job… Esther wasn’t in any rush, but she hoped a new career prospect would reveal itself eventually, in its proper time. She was learning to trust the process, whatever it turned out to be. Finding out was part of the journey, the pleasure.
After a lunch of soup and bread, Will went back outside and Esther put her things away and played with their new puppy, trying to think of a name for her. While the puppy slept in her basket by the Aga, Esther wandered around the familiar rooms of her home, touching various pictures and piece of furniture, reacquainting herself with the place.
Will had grown up here, and most of the furniture, old and shabby as it was, was from his childhood. The pictures on the walls in the sitting room—a school picture when he was six, his parents’ wedding—were so familiar Esther had stopped noticing them. Now she paused in front of an old, eighties-style print of a family gathering, all of them bunched up together in front of the house. Parents and grandparents, cousins and aunts and uncles, it looked like by the number of people, and Esther picked out Will easily, by the shock of hair and the bright blue eyes. Then her gaze fell on a boy she hadn’t noticed before—a boy a few years younger than Will, who looked nearly exactly like him. A cousin?
She frowned, wondering why Will had never mentioned any family besides his parents. Why she’d never asked. Perhaps because her family had been so overwhelmingly present, had filled up all the gaps. Now she wondered. She wanted to know more about Will, to discover the depths to him as he had with her.
“Esther?” he called from the kitchen with the familiar stamp of boots. The puppy starting barking.
“I’m in here.”
Will came into the sitting room, frowning when he saw her standing in front of the photo on the wall. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just wondered who this was.” She pointed to the boy. “A cousin? You’ve never mentioned any other relatives before, and I’m ashamed that I never really asked.” She smiled at him, wanting to encourage him to share, but her smile wobbled and then faded when she saw him looking so serious. Serious and trapped.
“Will?” Esther prompted uncertainly. “What is it?”
Will sighed and raked a hand through his hair. He nodded towards the photo. “That’s my brother.”
“Your brother?” It was the last thing she’d expected. How could Will have a brother she’d never known about? How could no one, never mind her own husband, have mentioned it?
“Yes. David.” He turned away and went back to the kitchen, as if the conversation was already over. Esther’s mind spun.
“Will…” She followed him into the kitchen, the puppy tangling about her feet. Will stood by the sink with his back to her as he filled up the kettle. “Why have you never mentioned a brother? Did he… did he die in the accident with your parents?”
“No.”
“Then…” She shook her head slowly, still trying to process it. It felt like such a big thing not to know. For the last few months they’d been dealing with all of her emotional baggage, and she’d had no idea that Will might have some of his own. A lot of his own. How could she have been so selfish, so self-absorbed? And how could he have kept something like this from her all along? “Where is he now?”
Will didn’t answer for a long moment. He looked so weary, his shoulders slumped, his gaze on the farmyard outside the window. “He’s in jail,” he said at last.
*
Will heard Esther’s quickly indrawn breath and steeled himself for what came next. He should have told her about David. Hell, he should have told her a long, long time ago, and since he hadn’t managed that, he should have told her more recently, when they’d been doing all this soul-baring. But he hadn’t, because he’d been afraid. Afraid of her reaction to what he’d done, what he’d felt, just as she had been with him. The irony, brutal as it was, did not escape him.
“In jail?” Esther repeated softly. “Will, what happened? And please turn around and look at me.”
So he turned around, slowly, wearily, dreading the next few moments yet knowing he needed to be honest… just as Esther had been honest with him. “David was—is—three years younger than me,” he began. “When Mum and Dad died, I had sole care of him.”
“That must have been hard.”
Will shrugged. “It was what it was.” Which yes, had been bloody hard. “David was always a bit wild, getting into trouble at school, and that. Neither of us was ever going to be a great student, but he drank. Did some drugs.” He sighed again, the memory of those awful months after his parents’ deaths filling him with a familiar blackness. “It got worse then,” he explained. “After they died. I couldn’t control him, and I tried. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I tried, and he resented it.”
“That sounds so incredibly difficult…”
Best to get the worst part over with quickly. “Things went badly between us. We were always fighting, and I was always angry. It came to a head one night when I realized David had stolen some money from me… money I couldn’t spare, because Mum and Dad didn’t have any savings or life insurance, and things were tight. He was angry that I was angry, and it blew up in a right storm.” Will took a quick, steadying him. “And I hit him. I punched my own brother right in the face.”
“Oh, Will.”
“And I was glad. I’d been aching to do it for months. He was so furious with me he walked out of the house, said he wasn’t ever coming back. And I told him, ‘go on, then.’ Those were the words I used. Go on, then.” Each one stabbed him. “And he did. I haven’t seen him since.”
Esther gave a soft, shocked gasp. “Not once—”
“A couple of weeks after he left, he got into a fight in a pub. He swung a punch at a bloke and he went down hard. He ended up dying of a brain hemorrhage, and David got seven years for it. He came out again, but just a few months later he got into trouble again, this time a robbery. He’s been in jail since.”
“Oh, Will. I’m so sorry.”
“So am I.” He had trouble getting the words out. “I know it was my fault.”
When he could bear to look at her, he saw shock on her face. “Will, why do you say that?”
“I hit him. I drove him away.” He tried for a smile and failed. “Seems like a knack I’ve got.”
Esther paled. “Do you mean me…” He couldn’t answer. “Oh, Will.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’ve been so incredibly selfish, so caught up in my own problems, I never thought you even had any. It wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault.” She strode over to him, wrapping her arms around his middle. “And neither was what happened with your brother. It sounds like it was an incredibly difficult situation, and you were so young…”
“Excuses.”
“Now who is the one holding a scorecard?” Esther asked softly, tilting her head up to look at him. “Who’s the one feeling guilty when he needs to let it go?”
Will put his arms around her, needing to feel her there. “It’s harder than it sounds, I suppose.”
“I wish you’d told me.”
“I haven’t told anyone.”
“But people must know,” Esther persisted. “Thornthwaite is small, and you’ve lived here your whole life. Plenty of people must know about David.”
“My father’s not the vicar,” Will reminded her. “And in any case, people around here might have long memories, and they can gossip all right, but they also know when to keep their mouths shut.”
“True enough, I suppose.” A shadow entered Esther’s eyes. “Here I was, feeling like I couldn’t tell you things, and I never considered that you might feel you couldn’t tell me things.”
“I was ashamed,” Will said quietly.
“And so was I.” Esther pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “But what is love if it can’t accept the good parts of someone, the weak along with the strong? You’ve been so strong for me, Will, and I’ve relied on you, on that, so much, even when it didn’t seem as if I was. You were always there for me, the rock I took for granted. But now I want to be strong for you. That’s what marriage is, isn’t it? A true partnership, with us leaning on each other?”
He nodded, his chest tight with emotion, his heart full of love. He’d never needed to hear something more. “I suppose that sounds about right,” he managed in a rasp.
“I know it does. It’s been hard, so hard, getting to where we are now.” Her voice caught and she pressed on. “So much heartache and grief and sadness, and I feel like so much of it was my problem, my fault—”
“Hey. Scorecards, remember? We’re not having them. They’re gone.”
“Right.” She gazed up at him, smiling although her eyes were troubled. “I don’t know what the future holds, whether we’ll be brave enough to try for children again…”
“We can cross that bridge when it comes.”
“Or whether I’ll ever meet your brother…” He nodded gruffly, unable to manage more, but Esther continued with determination, “But I do know that I want to face it all with you. I want to be strong for you, and you strong for me. But I also want us to be able to be weak, to admit to being weak, to each other.” Her eyes lightened as her smile widened. “Do you think we can do that?”
“I think we already have.” Will smiled at her, feeling light and happy in the midst of the ache of old, remembered grief. “It’s a long road, Esther, and we’re just taking a few steps down it. But we’re going in the right direction. At last.”
“Yes,” Esther agreed quietly, a smile blooming across her face like a flower. “At last.”
“And now I know what step I want to take,” Will said, taking her hand and starting to tug her towards the stairs.
“What…” Esther looked mystified, and Will grinned. He loved his wife.
“I want to go upstairs and remind you that we are married,” he said with a deliberately lascivious look. “And get to know you in the biblical sense.”
Esther laughed and started towards the stairs. Will didn’t know which one of them was more eager to get to the top. They were still laughing as they fell into the big, old bed. Downstairs the puppy barked and Will pulled Esther into his arms. Home at last. Truly home.