“She apologized, right? For flying off the handle at the lawyer’s office?”
Rowan sighed. Audrey had apologized. Tersely. And she’d repeated that apology in a text later that night. But since? Radio silence. And it had been three days. “Yes, but shouldn’t she think more of me at this point? Even if she’s grieving, it bordered on cruel.”
Dylan nodded. “Fool me once, eh?”
Was that what had happened? Should she have learned her lesson the first time Audrey assumed the worst of her? Even with the simultaneously crushing and hollowed out feeling in her chest, she couldn’t bring herself to see it that way. Too much had happened. Too much goodness and honesty and intimacy. But what if it had been one-sided? What if Audrey played along, but kept a wall around her heart the whole time? Not knowing what was real at this point had to be the worst of it. “I don’t know.”
“Do you want to know what I really think?”
“Are you going to tell me whether I want you to or not?”
Dylan shrugged. “Probably.”
“Well, go on then.”
“I don’t think Audrey resents Ernestine leaving you the orchard.”
“No?” It sure as hell felt like that.
“I think that, on top of the grief of losing Ernestine, she has to deal with the fact that you got something you really wanted, and she got something she doesn’t know what to do with.”
“Huh.”
“She’s attached to the house, the animals. But she can’t keep that without turning her life inside out, so it’s as much a burden as a gift. If she sells, it would be like losing Ernestine all over again. If she doesn’t, she—what?—abandons her career and her life in the city and moves here permanently?”
“Yeah.” Though it had been so easy to imagine Audrey building a life here, along with a different sort of career. A more satisfying one. But more satisfying to her, not necessarily to Audrey.
“If she resents anything, it’s that she’s stuck in that position and you’re not.”
Perhaps it was self-centered, but she hadn’t really considered Audrey being in that sort of catch-22. One that had nothing to do with Rowan being gifted the orchard. It was a small solace that Audrey would likely feel that if she’d inherited everything. “I didn’t think about that.”
“Because you’ve secretly, or not so secretly, been wishing for her to stay.”
She’d spent so much time and energy at the beginning reminding herself that Audrey’s presence would be temporary. And yet, the closer they got, the less she thought about it. Ironic considering how much higher the stakes were now than at the beginning. Talk about head in the sand.
“You don’t have to admit it. It’s written all over your face.”
She didn’t doubt it. “If it’s so obvious, how come Audrey can’t see it?”
“I’m pretty sure she wants to think about it even less than you do.”
“Yeah.”
“Have you asked her if she’s considering staying? Or telling her that you want her to?”
The mere thought put a lump in her throat. “I couldn’t put that kind of pressure on her.”
“But how can she make an informed decision without knowing how you feel?”
Maybe Dylan had a point. Too bad that point involved baring her soul with the very real possibility of having it kicked to the curb. “But what if she stays for me and regrets it? Talk about resentment.”
“I’m not saying she should stay for you. I’m saying she deserves to know you’re in love with her as part of her decision-making process.”
She didn’t even flinch at Dylan’s use of the L-word. “I don’t think whether I’m in love with her should be the point.”
Dylan let out an exasperated groan. “You are so fucking stubborn.”
Was she? Sometimes. When it came to relationships, though, she tended to be pretty honest. Of course, no woman had ensnared her heart the way Audrey had. Which meant few had the capacity to utterly gut her. “I’m no more stubborn than she is.”
Dylan gave her a look that hovered somewhere between amusement and pity. “And that’s why you’re perfect for each other.”
Rowan let out a grumble. “You’re no help. You know that, right?”
“I could pass her a note for you. Ask if she likes you and have her circle yes or no.”
She scrubbed her hands over her face. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Maybe walk yourself over to Audrey’s house and tell her how you feel.”
More grumbling, this time with a few swear words. She put on her jacket, yanked a knit hat onto her head, and strode out into the cold and rapidly fading afternoon. And even though she told herself she wouldn’t, her legs carried her into the orchard that was now hers and in the direction of the house that now belonged to Audrey.
* * *
My dearest Audrey,
If you’re reading this, it means I’ve moved on from the physical realm. (I’ve always wondered if people really begin letters to their surviving loved ones like this and here I am, so apparently they do.) I’m sure that you’re sad and feeling perhaps a little lost. Chin up, darling girl. I’ve lived a full and happy life and any time beyond this moment of putting pen to paper has been a gift.
You’ll know by now that I’ve left Rowan her apple trees and the rest of the farm to you. If I know you, you’re sloshing around in a crisis of conscience. I’m here to tell you—this whole letter is to tell you—to stop it at once.
The farm was my dream. It’s never been yours and it doesn’t need to be. If you discover it gives you joy, by all means keep it, make it your home. If not, sell it without a moment of hesitation and use the proceeds to forge your own path.
I’m not one for deathbed promises, but I hope with all the breath I have in me that you listen to your heart and follow wherever it leads. I know you tend to trust your mind in all matters of importance, but it will only take you so far. Be good, be brave, and know how very much you are loved.
Yours,
Ernestine
Audrey looked up from the piece of paper, wiping tears from her cheeks but not as quickly as they fell. She’d read the letter several dozen times by now, but each time brought a fresh wave of tears. Because like always, Ernestine knew her better than she knew herself. But unlike all the other big moments in her life, Ernestine wasn’t there to see her through.
She read the letter once again. It had been written before Ernestine’s stroke, at a time when Audrey’s visits to the farm were mostly long weekends and holidays. Long before she’d come to understand what living on the farm entailed—what it demanded and what it offered. When Ernestine had every reason to believe she’d feel sad about it but sell and not look back.
Things were so different now. Now it was a crisis, not of conscience, but of character. Of who she was and what she did with her life. Because unlike some vague outline on a distant horizon, this decision had to be made now. Soon, at least. And it would determine everything that came after. Everything.
The knock on the back door nearly sent her out of her skin. She didn’t deserve to hope it was Rowan, not after the harsh words and weak apologies. But she hoped it was Rowan nonetheless.
When she opened the door and found Rowan standing there, looking about as miserable as she felt, a new wave of guilt and questions washed through her. “Hi.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me, but I was out walking and couldn’t seem to help myself.”
She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “If anyone deserves to play the avoiding game, I’d say it’s the other way around. Come on in.”
Rowan did and proceeded to pace the length of the kitchen a few times. “I’m sorry Ernestine’s will added another layer of stress to losing her. Obviously, that isn’t the case for me and I’m sorry for that, too.”
Audrey leaned back against the counter and allowed her shoulders to slump once again. “Thanks.”
“I didn’t come here to tell you what to do, but I think you should stay. And I wanted you to know that.”
She searched Rowan’s face for meaning—for words she hadn’t said and feelings she hadn’t expressed—and got nothing. For some reason, that got her hackles up. “I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s a bit quixotic, don’t you think? I don’t have a job here.”
“You could open a private practice. You said so yourself.”
Basic tax services, consulting for small businesses and startups. It wasn’t her expertise by any stretch of the imagination. Still, it was more expertise than a lot of rural communities had access to. “I only meant that one could. That the community would benefit from that.”
“And why not you?”
“Because I wasn’t serious about it.” She wasn’t. She had no desire to take on the risk or headache of working for herself. Even if, in quiet moments in the garden or her daily conversations with the goats, she’d let her guard down and allowed herself to imagine what a life here might look like.
“But you could be. I don’t know the New York City version of you, but I know how you were when you got here and I’m pretty sure you’re happier now.”
Was she? Maybe. But she attributed it to being on sort of a retreat from her regular life, not a permanent change. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“I know. But you also have to remember you have prospects here, and people who would support you. It wouldn’t be much, but the cidery could start paying you. And I bet Gretchen would too, now that she’s got her shop up and running. It’s not enough, but it would be a start.”
Normally, this sort of rational argument would be right up her alley. She was all about weighing the pros and cons, the costs and benefits. But for some reason, it left her flat. Not to mention beholden to people she cared about. “It’s easy to give turn-your-life upside-down advice when it’s not your life that would get turned upside down.”
“I know that, too. But you’ve managed to make a really nice life here and maybe that’s worth taking into account.”
Something about phrasing—logical and almost sterile—reminded her of her parents. “Maybe a successful and stable career is worth taking into account, too.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t. I’m—”
“You’re what, Rowan? Slinging platitudes about life when it’s not your life on the line. Thanks, but no thanks.”
She didn’t usher Rowan to the door, but she turned toward the sink and stared out the window overlooking the flower garden. Rowan sighed. Audrey waited. Though whether she waited for Rowan to leave or to make another case was hard to know. All she knew was that her heart ached and Rowan was making it worse instead of better.
The door opened and closed and she was left standing in the kitchen alone. She shook her head, willing her breath to steady and her pulse to slow. Though anger seemed somehow preferable to the other emotions threatening to swallow her whole.
Where did Rowan get off, anyway? She didn’t get to come in and act like she knew best. Especially when her ideas of what was best meant Audrey uprooting everything and changing the course of her life.
It wasn’t like Rowan was chomping at the bit to change. If anything, her oh-so-helpful suggestions meant she got to plod merrily along and not have to change anything. Like consider moving to the city.
The very idea registered as ludicrous. Rowan was as tied to the land as Ernestine had been, if not more. She could almost see Harriet navigating the subway before she could imagine Rowan doing it.
She let out a snort of indignation, but with it came visions of herself, briefcase in hand, pressed into a packed A train heading to midtown. Swept up in a sea of people heading to one of a million office spaces that, deep down, all looked the same. Different clients, but every day sort of the same. Easy dinner, a book or a couple hours of mindless television.
When did it start to feel like a drudge? And when did she start resorting to fights to avoid showing her real emotions? Since Rowan, that’s when. Because Rowan stirred things in her she’d never felt before. Didn’t know how to feel. Wasn’t sure she wanted to feel.
It sure as hell didn’t help that Rowan didn’t seem to share those feelings. Yes, Rowan had asked her to stay. But she hadn’t uttered a peep about wanting Audrey to stay. About wanting her, period. About being in love. Surely, if there was a time to make that sort of declaration, today had been it.
She tried to imagine a scenario where Rowan had said that. Would it have changed her mind? Given her clarity? Probably, but even if Rowan had and she had given in to the warm and fuzzy moment, it was hard to imagine the doubt and the questions not creeping back in.
So, maybe it was for the best. She was left to slog through on her own, just like always. Well, not like always. Usually she had Ernestine to be her sounding board and cheerleader.
She picked up the letter and read it again. Once again, the tears started, though for a slightly different reason this time. Without meaning to, Ernestine had created more questions than she’d answered. And for the first time in her life, Audrey had absolutely no idea what to do.