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“You see?” Aggie maintained her smile. “It works, doesn’t it?”
Emilia returned a weak nod. “Thank you.”
Aggie swatted the air and sat down on the swing beside Emilia. “Pfft. It’s just hot water and leaves, the best placebo in the world. Now, get it off your chest, tell me what that boy’s done to upset you.”
Her pulse quickened, and she sat bolt upright. “Oh God, no. It’s not him. Blaine and I, we—”
What to say? How much to say? She lifted the cup to her lips and frowned over the rim before sipping again. She wanted so much to keep everything to herself, but more than that, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a real chance to talk about her problems.
Aggie took Emilia’s hand and patted the back, the old woman’s brows lifting with seeming concern. Emilia’s shoulders sank. Maybe she’d get some relief from talking to someone who’d been alive nearly three times longer than her.
“Blaine and I knew each other. I mean, before I came to Harlow.” Her voice came out ragged and weak, but Aggie’s smile stayed soft and encouraging, and she nodded for Emilia to continue. “At the nursery, when you mentioned him coming to Harlow because of a girl—I’m that girl.”
Aggie drew back, her fingers tightening around Emilia’s hand. “Oh ya, that explains a lot.”
Emilia turned her attention to the picturesque scene ahead, the green and wide landscape and the light twitter of small birds. A tranquil scene that didn’t at all match the story she had to tell. A story no one outside her family knew.
“Blaine and I dated for a little over six months, back when I was seventeen and he, nineteen. My dad didn’t approve. Blaine wasn’t Italian, and his family didn’t have money or social standing. He didn’t have plans to climb any corporate ladders. As you know, he just wanted to make beautiful furniture. So like typical teenagers, despite my dad’s disapproval, we kept seeing each other, anyway. But there was another man my father wanted me to consider, someone ‘more appropriate,’ someone whose family had done a lot for mine. Anthony.”
An incredulous laugh burst from Aggie’s lips. “That sounds like a fair trade, ‘Help us and we’ll give you our daughter.’”
Emilia laughed, too, even as the pain in her heart returned. “Well, yeah, when you put it like that, it’s ridiculous, right? But the pressure’s usually a lot more subtle, and life can get difficult if family obligations aren’t met. You’d be surprised how common these agreements are, even if the expectations aren’t stated in any obvious way.”
“Oh no, that’s not right. What about what you wanted?” Aggie shook her head, her gaze drifting out to the field opposite Emilia’s front yard. “And Blaine. He never said much, but that boy returned to Harlow aimless and heartbroken.” She turned back to Emilia, pupils wide. “He loved you, Emilia. He loved you so much.”
Emilia winced against the truth in those words. No longer able to drink, she merely peered down at her cup and the umber liquid inside. “If my father hadn’t interfered, we’d probably still be together.”
Though she didn’t look, Aggie’s fingers continued to caress the back of her hand, the comfort in that touch implying support, almost like her own mother returned to her.
“It all fell apart the day I came home to find Anthony and my father plotting to send me interstate.”
