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I’m tired, disappointed, and confused. I don’t know what to do about the conundrum we’re in. Yes, we’ve been thrown back together in another random and improbable way. It must mean something. But, even if Camille wasn’t here, can I trust Lilly? There is a lot she didn’t tell me. But there was plenty I didn’t tell her either. I sit in my father’s chair all night. When the sun starts to rise, I’m not any clearer on what the hell I’m going to do.
22
Lilly
I walk into the kitchen slowly. I'm tired and emotionally spent from last night's confrontation with Harry. I'd walked back to my room, feeling like the weight of the world on my shoulders. My sleep had been fitful. I felt so pathetic and jealous of the woman he’s with.
I’m not entitled to those feelings – why shouldn’t he have moved on?
I disappeared, rejected everything he offered me. We had no way to get in touch with each other and I'd thought I would never see him again. And now that I can see the world he belongs to, I know it wouldn't have worked out anyway.
Camille is exactly who he should be with. She’s part of his world. And she probably isn't walking around with enough baggage to fill a train car. Last night I at dinner, she had the air of someone who had never known deep hurt or irrevocable loss. No one who had could be as careless and clueless as she was.
I don't like her. And it's not solely because I'm jealous. We had dinner at one of the estates restaurants last night. It was a huge group of people. A welcome for all of the town guests. Cara and Louis had both been so happy they'd practically glowed. She insisted repeatedly, that she knew me. She talked nonstop about Louis' "amazing” ex- girlfriend. She didn't notice when everyone grimaced. I shudder at the memory.
I the kitchen door slowly, dread filling my veins as I think about facing Jan. I hadn't seen her since I'd run from the kitchen yesterday. I'm ashamed of what a coward I was, but I was overwhelmed and I didn’t know what else to do.
"Hurry up and get in here, love. You're letting all the cold air in behind you and cook's got bread rising." Jan's voice rings out from the corner of the room where she's sitting.
"Grab some coffee or tea, whatever you need and come join me." She said brusquely without looking up at me. My stomach falls as I watch her for a beat before I follow her instructions. The last thing I need is one more person in this house who hates my guts.
I pour myself a cup coffee from the percolator and stand awkwardly by the table. She doesn't look up at me when she barks, "Well, sit down."
So, I do and I wait. She's writing something and only when she's done and closes her notebook does she look up at me. Her eyes are hard as they scan my face, but they soften as she takes me in.
"Oh love. You've
been crying. You didn't sleep." I don't say anything, since she's stated the obvious and because I don't have it in me to lie and the truth is so much worse.
I haven’t been crying. I’ve been bleeding tears. I slept, but I had nightmares that woke me with a scream in my throat and with my heart threatening to break loose from the confines of my chest.
"He told me that you met in Ghana. He said you left. From what he told me, I’d thought you were indifferent. But I was wrong, wasn't I?" She says, taking the coffee cup I'm clinging to out my grasp and holding my hands in hers.
"Yes. You were very wrong." I say without looking up at her.
"Tell him." She says as if it's that simple.
"No, and it doesn't matter. He's with her." I mumble.
She sighs and says, "It appears that way, but I don’t know.” And in my heart, despite already knowing that he wasn't mine, a little bit of hope flickers to life. Her delicate brow furrows, "I don't like her. She's like the last one."
I look up at that, because I didn't expect that. He’d made it sound like he’d never be with anyone like Zara again.
She raises her eyebrows at my surprised expression and insists, "She is. They were friends. Good ones." Disgust coats her voice. My eyes drop to our joined hands, my grip growing tighter as anger starts to color my anguish.
"Freya's desperate for him to be settled. So, she can't see this one's no better and that he's had enough of being set up. A few weeks ago I told her that he would choose on his own. Little did I know that he already had.” I look up at her and see her smiling kindly.
“My boy's been so hurt before.” She says sadly, “That girl, she was a devil. She only wanted him for his title. And this one’s, the same.” She grimaces a little, “He's a big boy. He won't make the same mistake twice. And...you're here, now."
I look up at her then and one of her hands leaves mine and comes to cup my face.
"I don't know what ails you. I don't know what eats at you. You don't have to tell me, darlin'.” She says when I start to shake my head.
“But Lilly, I've lived long enough to know that nothing is as bad as it seems in the dark corners of our minds. I also know that no secret stays a secret. Tell your story. On your own terms. Or else someone else will and you may not like their version."
I feel a small prickle of dread. She's right and I know it. I’ve known it for a long time. But how to tell them what I swore I'd take to my grave?
"The wedding is in two days. Everyone's going to be really busy and preoccupied. You should take the time to think and gather your courage, love and then just tell them." She says with a challenging cock of one of her eyebrows.
