Matilda

Matilda stood under the grand chandelier in the library foyer gazing straight up into the crystals, like looking up at the star-filled sky. If she listened closely, she could hear them tinkle in the airflow from the heater. The rain had stopped before dawn, and the sun was quickly working on erasing it, but the air remained crisp. Sunlight danced over the crystals. She had the urge to spin in a circle.

For a moment she felt whole.

A very brief moment.

“Well, well. I almost thought Thea was making the whole thing up.”

Matilda lowered her chin, erasing her smile to greet Beverly with due humility. “Hello, Beverly.”

Beverly only raised an eyebrow. The head librarian looked exactly the same: matronly and severe. “Can I trust you?”

Matilda folded her hands contritely. “Yes, ma’am. I apologize for my leaving without notice before.” It still made her uncomfortable to admit to something she didn’t remember but she had to keep up the act.

Beverly’s eyebrow climbed higher. “Not much has changed. The computers have been updated, but I trust you’ll be fine with that.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And I assume Thea informed you about your probation. Not one mistake, Miss White.”

The sound of her last name tugged at something in her head. Why didn’t it sound right? “Yes, of course.”

“Well, then get to work. There’s a cart that needs shelving.”

Matilda nodded and went to the circulation desk to stow her things. Pushing the cart down through the stacks gave her an unsettling sense of vertigo. This is right and yet … it isn’t. Matilda shook the thought away and focused on her work.

Thea found her a half hour later. It still surprised Matilda to see her friend with a pregnant belly. Thea wore a long blue knit dress, stretched tightly over her bump. Her fingernails were painted pink, no longer black. “Has Beverly been horrid?” she asked.

“Nothing more than usual. I see time has not softened her.”

Thea laughed. “The opposite, if anything.” Thea picked up a book from the cart and shelved it. “You doing okay?”

Matilda slid a book into place. “Yeah.” It was mostly true, as long as she didn’t allow her thoughts to wander into the blackness.

Thea nodded. “Want to go to lunch at The Mad Hash? It’s still as good as always.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that. Plus, I brought the last of your pasta to eat.”

“Is that all you’ve eaten for two days? I could have brought groceries. But really, you need to stop hiding.”

“I know. I’ll go to the market tonight—I have to. Not only do I need food, but things like toilet paper, deodorant, shampoo, toothpaste. A toothbrush, actually.” Thea made a face, but laughed. Matilda went on, “I wish there was a way to keep hiding—”

“Good heavens!”

Matilda had spoken too soon. Rosie Silverton stood behind Thea with a hand on her chest, as if the sight of Matilda had given her palpitations. Rosie was tall and thin, in her sixties, and always wore tailored pantsuits; she had one in every color. Her auburn-gray hair was tied into a neat chignon, not a hair out of place. Her family owned the mill, which made her Silent Fields royalty, especially in Rosie’s own mind.

“Matilda White. The prodigal child returns.”

Matilda winced and Thea rolled her eyes, her back to Rosie. “Hello, Rosie,” Matilda said quietly.

Rosie stepped closer. “I have to say I’m shocked. Just shocked. I didn’t think you would come back after what you did to poor Parker.”

“Parker is fine, Rosie,” Thea interjected.

Rosie waved a hand at her. “Oh, I know. I just mean … well, that was quite the drama, wasn’t it?”

“It’s nice to see you, Rosie,” Matilda said, trying to diffuse the woman’s curiosity. “How are Sid and Katie?”

“Oh, the kids are fine,” she glossed over the question and dove into her own inquisition. “What brought you back? Where have you been? Did you apologize to Parker? I’m surprised Beverly took you back. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her as mad as when she found out you’d disappeared. And the way Parker moped around town. His heart shattered …” Her manicured hand came back to her chest.

“Rosie, come on now,” Thea started.

Matilda put her hand on Thea’s arm and smiled at her. Then looked to Rosie. “It was just time to come home.”

Rosie frowned at this vague answer, but seeing the expression on Matilda’s face held back further questions. She, no doubt, was concocting her own story to spread around town. “Well, yes. Everyone likes to come home. Who wouldn’t want to come home to our perfect little town? You shouldn’t have left. I suppose you finally realized that.”

Matilda smiled stiffly and picked up a book to signal she was ready to get back to work. “It was nice to see you, Rosie.” Rosie frowned at her again, followed by a judgmental head to toe examination. Matilda was glad she’d worn a long skirt and long sleeved shirt to hide all her ugly scars. She hated to think what kind of rumors would come from people seeing those. She fought the urge to cover the tiny ones on her cheek with her hand and thanked the bad lighting in the stacks.

“You too,” Rosie finally said and turned on her heel.

Matilda and Thea exchanged a look. After a moment, Thea said, “Oh, yes. Perfect little Silent Fields.”

Matilda smiled weakly, thinking she’d also need to get some makeup for the scars on her cheek. Or maybe she should just disappear in the night again.

n

By the end of day, Matilda was blue in the face from answering—or rather not answering—questions about where she’d been for the last six years and why she’d come back and why she’d left like a thief in the night. It seemed people were coming in the library solely to pepper her with why and how and what. And to see Silent Fields’s lost child returned in the flesh. Matilda wasn’t the only one annoyed. Beverly had been steaming from the ears all day, put out to have her schedules and rules compromised for such petty drama. Several times, Matilda thought Beverly might fire her just because of the disturbance.

When Matilda locked the front doors, she heaved a long sigh of relief. “This town,” she muttered. No one had actually asked her how she was doing, if she needed anything, if they could help. All they wanted to do was gossip about her scars and her limp, which everyone seemed to know about despite her clothing. She guessed she had Dr. Wells to thank for that. One woman, Cindy Block, a baker at Estelle’s, had leaned close and asked if a man had given her the scars and limp. “Did he beat you? Is that why you’re back? You’re running away from a man.” A tongue click and head shake. “Honey, it happens all the time.”

Matilda had blinked in shock, unable to answer, which Cindy probably took as a yes. But the truth was, it was possible. Maybe it’d been so bad that the trauma of it had blocked her memory. But Matilda couldn’t imagine herself ever being with a man who beat her. What if it had happened against her will?

Matilda couldn’t let herself wander down those slimy thought paths.

With the library now closed to the curious, she put her head on her arms on top of the circulation desk. “I hate everyone.”

Thea was there, shuffling papers. “Well, don’t feel too bad. They hate you more.” Matilda heard the smile in her words.

“I hate you most of all.”

“I know.” Thea closed a drawer. “Come on. Let’s go to The Mad Hash and eat fries until we explode.”

Matilda lifted her weary head. “Are you kidding me? It’ll be a public flogging. Rocks might be thrown.”

“Maybe a hamburger or two.”

Beverly interrupted, stomping over from out of the stacks. “Doors locked?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Matilda reported.

“I trust tomorrow will not include such an intrusion from your personal life, Miss White.” Beverly took her small purse from a drawer and tucked it under her arm.

“Oh, how I hope so.”

Beverly only frowned, and then turned on her heel to leave.

Thea giggled quietly. “She’s just jealous she never had a personal life.”

Matilda rolled her eyes. “I’m going home. I need to recover before I go to the market.”

“Want a ride? Think of the floggings possible walking down the sidewalk. Lots of readily available rocks.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

In Thea’s red Honda Civic, Matilda leaned her head against the cold window. The sun was shining and flowers were blooming, a lovely spring.

“Oh, did you hear about the mystery guy?” Thea gossiped.

Matilda closed her eyes, suddenly annoyed by the high-pitched tone of Thea’s voice. “No.”

“Well … apparently he crashed his car in the storm Monday night and walked like ten miles on a broken foot to Abby O’Nell’s house. And Abby being Abby—she took him in and is helping him recover from the accident. Dr. Wells saw him yesterday.”

“I’m sure Gill is thrilled.”

“I’m sure they are best friends by now, Gill and the new guy.”

Matilda smiled at the idea. “Drinking beer and yuckin’ it up. Swapping farm war stories.” Thea laughed. “Good for Abby though,” Matilda added. “She’s actually someone I’d like to see. Does she still come to the library every Friday?”

“Like clockwork. Dr. Wells told my mom that the guy is here to take over for Ronnie at the paper.” Thea switched the radio station.

“Really?” Matilda lifted her head. “Ronnie’s still running the paper? And now he’s giving it over to an outsider? I’m shocked.” She put her hand to her chest sarcastically.

Thea laughed. “He’s been campaigning for a successor for like ten years, but no one here would take it. He finally had to lure in someone from the real world. Going well for the guy so far, don’t you think?”

Matilda laughed. “Splendidly, indeed.”

“And someone told Edith he’s really good looking.”

“How is Edith? Is she still in town?”

“My sister is the same as always: quiet, refined, and alone. I swear she’s never gonna allow a man into her life. No one is ever good enough. It’s getting pathetic. I’m two years younger and look at me.” Thea gestured to her belly. “And, yes, she’s still in town. She runs Old Mill Antiques now. Edith and her old junk. It’s a good thing she loves it so much because it’s the only thing she has to keep her company.”

“I love that store. I’ll have to go see her.”

“Just don’t try to set her up with anyone.”

Matilda laughed. “Not really my thing. I’m sure she’ll find someone when the time is right.”

Thea pulled into Matilda’s driveway, sat back in her seat, and rubbed her belly. “Yeah, maybe. Who knows? I’ve never really understood Edith, but she’s my sister and I love her, so I guess I should stop bad mouthing her.”

Matilda smiled as she looked out at the faded white clapboard, aspen green shutters, and violet gingerbread trim of Jetty’s Victorian cottage. Matilda had cleared most the weeds yesterday. She still needed to touch up the paint where it had peeled. It had a long way to go to get back to Jetty standards. If she hurried, in the summer there would be roses and wisteria hanging from the porch.

I always wanted a storybook house, Jetty had said. So I made one. Decided against making it out of candy though. That would probably attract too many bugs.

The memory made Matilda smile. But then she frowned. And I abandoned it. She relished every moment of the chore to repair it. Atonement. Punishment. For crimes I can’t remember committing.

“Want me to hang out with you? Beat back the heathens that come knocking?” Thea offered.

“No, thanks. I’ll survive. You should go home and put your feet up. I’ll see you tomorrow for more ‘accost Matilda’ fun.” She opened her door. “And thanks for the ride.”

“Of course. See ya!” Thea waved.

n

Matilda stood in the kitchen. Only the small Tiffany pendant light over the sink was turned on, casting a colorful soft glow. She stared, hands on hips, at the three pies and platter of cinnamon rolls. What do I do with all that? Cooking to avoid thinking about the upheaval in her life had its problems. Of course, Jetty would be pleased her gourmet kitchen was back in action.

The trip to the market after Thea dropped her off had been like surviving an obstacle course. She’d dodged people left and right, sprinted down aisles at random to avoid being seen, and crouched behind her cart more than once. But the checkout line had been her undoing. Kathy, the cashier, had a question for every item she scanned.

But at least Matilda now had food. Plenty. Too much. She could hole up in her house for at least two weeks, if it came to that. Or maybe a whole month. Don’t be dramatic, she told herself, still staring at the baked goods.

Randomly, she thought of Abby O’Nell and the injured new editor.

She found a box, put two pies into it, and carried it out to the small, detached garage. Jetty’s old tangerine-orange Volkswagen Bug slumbered under a thick blanket of dust. Matilda could walk to the library and market, and most places in town, but Abby’s place was a half hour outside of Silent Fields. Matilda’s beautiful Bel Air was not there, not in the garage or driveway. Missing. Along with six years. Matilda set the box on the workbench and focused on the car that was there. Will it even start? She found an old rag and scrubbed off the windows, making plans to wash it properly tomorrow night after work. She yanked open the door, which gave a grinding squeal of protest. The inside was nearly as dusty as the outside. With a sigh, Matilda sat in the driver’s seat, slid in the key, and prayed. The engine sputtered, died. She tried again. After a guttural gasp, the engine turned over.

“A miracle,” she whispered. She smiled at the blue lace agate stone dangling from a string from the rear view mirror. It had always been there. As a child, Matilda had been thrilled by the smooth surface of the stone, adored the early-morning-blue color lined with white, and loved what Jetty said about it. “I put it there because it’s supposed to have calming energy. I hate to drive. It’s like being trapped in a metal box and thrown down a hill. So the stone is there to calm me. But really it’s there because it’s pretty.”

Matilda touched it now. “It’s still pretty, Jetty.” She retrieved the pie box, wedged it carefully in the passenger seat, and then headed out of town toward Abby’s farm.

Abby had always been a good friend, a regular at the library. She had read almost as many of the books on the shelves as Matilda had. Each time Abby came in, they’d hide far away from Beverly’s tyrant eye and talk books. Their favorite new cheap romance or a character they couldn’t stop thinking about or how they had cried at an ending.

Matilda parked outside the old farmhouse. Looking through the murky windshield, she wondered how Abby would receive her. Suddenly nervous, Matilda looked over at the pies and almost turned around to go home. She forced herself out of the car.

Careful not to upset the pies, she balanced the box up the steps and rang the doorbell with her elbow. It was almost ten o’clock; something she probably should have thought about before she was standing on the porch.

Thankfully, Abby opened the door, not Gill. Abby blinked twice and then smiled. “Matilda! Is that you, sweetie? Well, bless my soul! I’d heard you were back. What are you doing here?”

“I made some pies. Thought your invalid might want some comfort food. And I wanted to say hi.”

Abby laughed. “I wondered how long it would take until that news got ’round.” She pushed open the screen and Matilda stepped in. “I bet it was Dr. Wells. He’s the worst gossip of them all. Not sure he cares much for the whole doctor/patient privacy thing. He was the one told me you were back.”

“I’m not surprised. Seems he’s been very talkative lately.” Matilda followed Abby to the kitchen and set the pies on the stove. “Apple and pumpkin. Hope you like those.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. Want coffee, tea? A stiff drink?”

Matilda laughed. “No, I won’t stay. It’s late.”

“You sure? I’d love to catch up.” She stepped closer. “I’ve sure missed our book talks.”

Matilda half smiled, glad for Abby’s kindness. “Yeah, me too. Sorry that I left.” Matilda looked back at the pies.

Abby must have read something in her expression. “You’ve had to say that a lot lately, huh? The ‘I’m sorry.’ I can only imagine the reception of this town.”

Matilda continued to look at the pies, trying to hide her emotions. “Yes, I have. I went back to work at the library today.”

Abby whistled. “Brave girl. Well, you don’t have to say sorry to me. Everyone’s allowed to go crazy and do what they need to do. Our goofy town should mind its own business.” Abby stepped next to her and nudged her arm with her own. “You okay? Looks like you’ve had a rough go.”

Matilda felt the weight of Abby’s examination. She tugged her long sleeves further down to hide her scars. “A little.”

“That why you came back?”

The warmth in Abby’s tone and her standing close made Matilda want to break down into her arms like a little child. Like she would have done with Jetty. “I think so.”

Abby nodded sagely. “Sometimes you just need to come home.” She stepped away, to the stove, and Matilda exhaled in relief. “You sure I can’t make you a hot beverage? You can sit for a bit. I won’t feel as guilty about shoveling pie into my face if you do it with me.”

Matilda smiled. “No, thanks. I better go. It’s late and you have the new editor to take care of.”

Abby looked to the hall again. “I’d introduce you, but I think Henry is sleeping.”

At the sound of Abby’s guest’s name Matilda felt a sharp pang in her chest. She flinched, confused. To cover the reaction, she said quickly, “No, of course. That’s fine. I’m sure I’ll see him sooner or later.” She moved out into the hall and toward the door. “You’ll be in town Friday, right?”

“Of course. I’ll find you. I’ve got six years’ worth of books to tell you about.” Abby touched her arm. “Thanks for the pies, dear. You are sweet.”

“My pleasure.”

Abby opened the door. “Hang in there. And if you need anything, Tilly …”

Matilda stepped past her with a shy smile. “Thanks, Abby.” She went down the steps, trying her best to hide her limp. It was obvious Abby noticed it, watching her closely, but the old woman smiled kindly, completely without judgment or curiosity.

“Good night,” Abby called as Matilda got into her car.

Abby waved as Matilda turned and drove away.