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“I can’t believe they never told you,” Eloise finally managed.
“Never,” Greta assured her. “Please. Help me understand, Eloise. Help me understand what happened when I was in Paris. I’ve never forgiven myself for leaving you like that. I know whatever happened to you, it was wrong.”
Eloise sniffed and leaned back in the porch chair. Beside them, the ocean roared with impossible mysticisms, its waves crashing into one another to form a massive cacophony beneath the darkening clouds.
“I always thought I would get old here,” Eloise said very quietly. “I always thought, once I got older, you and I would become the best of friends.”
Greta’s lips parted with surprise and pain. For a long time, the two sisters regarded one another, overwhelmed with the immensity of the moment.
Yet still, Eloise wasn’t sure how to tell Greta what had happened, as it was a story she’d never told anyone— not even Liam.
ChapterThirteen
News that Eloise had visited The Copperfield House traveled quickly up to Anna’s bedroom. Scarlet brought it, her eyes manic with information. She sat at the edge of Anna’s bed and wrapped her arms around her knees as she said, “I can’t believe it. How did this woman find you at that diner? Isn’t it too good to be true?”
Anna’s soul had darkened. She felt blackened and bruised, especially after speaking so much about Dean at the therapist appointment, and she peered at Scarlet through the shadows of her room and had to force herself not to ask Scarlet to leave.
“All I know is, you should have seen Grandma today while we put up those flyers,” Anna said finally. “She looked panicked, as though she had to find Eloise, or she would fall apart.”
“So bizarre,” Scarlet said with a shake of her head. “Eloise never mentioned anything about Grandma?”
“Nothing,” Anna said.
Scarlet sighed and leaned against the wall alongside Anna’s bed. “I keep thinking, what if I didn’t see Ivy for another fifty years? What would we say to each other? And you, what would you say to Rachel if you didn’t see her for so long?”
“I would probably ask her what she did with all of my hair ties,” Anna said with a soft smile.
Scarlet laughed gently and crossed her ankles on the bed. A silence settled over them as Scarlet understood that Anna had very little to give her by way of conversation. Anna’s heart went out to Scarlet, although she couldn’t fully say it aloud. In these moments, as Eloise reunited with Greta downstairs, Anna felt she couldn’t possibly fathom the strangeness of the world.Why did it give so much love and take so much of it away, seemingly at random? Why had Greta and Eloise’s father sent Eloise away; what could she have possibly done, at the age of sixteen, that had necessitated him destroying their family?
Finally, Anna heard herself speak. “What do you know about Grandma’s father?”
Scarlet shrugged. “Basically nothing.”
“Me neither,” Anna said. “Grandma has only ever spoken of her parents fondly. But it sounds like she was the golden child, the one who could do no wrong.”
“I feel so grateful that my parents treat Ivy, James, and I equally,” Scarlet said quietly. “I mean, Dad and I hardly spoke the past few years, but that was not because he loved me any differently than my siblings. That all came down to my arrogance. My inability to listen to his worries about Owen.”
“You can’t beat yourself up about that,” Anna urged her. “You’re on the other side of all of that now.”
Scarlet tilted her head thoughtfully. “Have you spoken to your father at all lately?”
“No. I see no reason to.” Anna dropped her gaze, feeling her soul drop into her stomach again. “My father loves all of his children equally, yes. But that doesn’t mean he loves us enough.” Anna was quiet for a moment, then went on. “I used to think Jackson Crawford was the most intelligent and powerful man in the world. I guess many young women think that about their fathers. But when he left our family and my mother like that— just out of the blue, without even bothering to sit down with my mother and have a conversation about their marriage— he showed just how little he respected all of us.”
Scarlet grimaced. “I understand. I think you’re right to feel the way you do.” After another, longer pause, she asked, “Do you think you’ll ever find a way to forgive him?”
In truth, Jackson had texted Anna nearly every day since Dean’s death. Sometimes, he just texted: “Hi, honey. I love you.” Other times, he wrote out more precise apologies about the past, none of which even scratched the surface of Anna’s anger.
“I don’t know,” Anna answered. “I don’t want to say one way or the other. I only know how I feel right now.”
“And how is that?”
“Like nothing will ever be all right again,” Anna confessed. “And I don’t know how my father fits into that story in the slightest, so I haven’t made any room for him.”
* * *
Later that day, after Scarlet had retreated downstairs and left Anna in the silence of her bedroom, Anna pulled up the information her therapist had given her regarding Harriet Thornburg, the woman in charge of the Nantucket Daffodil Festival. Anna bit hard on her lower lip and considered what Andrea had said: that perhaps it was best to get back to old, creative habits as a way to return to herself. It was worth a shot, she supposed.
Anna emailed Harriet with an inquiry, saying that she had connections with various travel magazines across both coastlines and that she would love to meet and chat about all things Daffodil Festival. “I know you’re busy,” Anna explained toward the end of the email. “But even just thirty minutes could help me illuminate the article.”
