The afternoon stretched on, like saltwater taffy left out in the sun, as I told them everything. It felt like a narrative of someone else’s life, an odd and twisted tale conjured up by the imagination of someone with an odd and twisted mind. An eight-month marriage that should have never happened, ending in a manhunt. An eight-month mind game that had taken small, slow hits at me. I had been naive to trust someone I knew so little about, and it had cost me in ways that were still taking their toll. My biggest shame, though, was not so much in my naivety, but in how I was still allowing myself to be enslaved to the damage.
By telling them all of it now, these women would be able to see just how weak I was.
When I had finally finished, our plates had been emptied and cleared, the detritus of numerous cups of coffee littering the surface of the table.
Gauging by all of their reactions to my words, I was guessing that all three of them would have welcomed the addition of something stronger than creamer to their coffee.
And while all of them offered exclamations and questions at various points along the way, not one of them showed any sign of judgment. Instead, they showed only concern, shock, and anger at what had happened. They proved, beyond doubt, that they were on my side. Even more than that, they offered me one more sign of hope that I could be strong enough to become whole again.
“Dellie, do you not see how amazing it is that you’re still standing up straight? You’re here—you’re supporting yourself and doing something you love doing. He didn’t take all of that away from you—you’re still here.” The words that Savannah was speaking now weren’t dissimilar to those that my family had been saying to me all these months. But coming from Savannah, they carried a different sort of weight. Here was a young woman who had lost a husband she loved to a horrible disease, and she was telling me that I was amazing?
I shook my head. “No, I’m not amazing, Savannah. Far from it. I’ve been afraid of things for so long—even before all of this. I’ve let it make me become something—someone—I’m not proud to be. I’m proud of what I’m doing with my writing, of course, and it sometimes still shocks me that I’m making it—sometimes just barely—but I am,” I admitted. “But who I am when I’m not writing…that’s not who I want to be. I’m tired of being so afraid, but I still seem to be unable to find my way out of it. That’s part of why I came here,” I continued, wondering what they were all thinking. “I needed a place to clear my head. And I wanted forgiveness, I guess. For not coming when I should have, after Grammie died. I let fear keep me away. I did that, and I can’t undo it. I just want to be forgiven,” I said, feeling the threat of more tears.
Vivi reached out a hand to take mine in hers, squeezing gently as she spoke. “I’m sure you have it, Dellie. I know I can’t speak for your grammie, but I knew Merry enough to know, with every single solitary bone in my body, that she would forgive you. You just have to forgive yourself. And learn to live again. To make yourself live again. The choice is yours, Dellie. Remember that. Choose.”
She was right. I had to choose.
“Savannah, what do you think would happen if you took Annabelle up on her offer for the loan?” I asked a few days later as we sat on a bench downtown, watching the carousel spin its course, each of its handcrafted antique horses looking regal as they paraded past our view to the lively soundtrack of band organ music. These were the sights and sounds of my childhood, snapshots of summers past when Grammie had brought Charlie and me here, to this local landmark along with my cousins, to ride the carousel’s horses or to walk through the Air and Space Center that was mere steps away. This close to the water, you could smell the sea air and watch the seagulls as they flew in greedy search of their next meal. Much like the rest of Hampton, this was an area steeped in history, layered by hundreds of years during which innumerable people had walked past this very spot where we now sat.
Savannah sighed, looking uncharacteristically tired. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s the thing that worries me,” she said slowly, eyes still staring straight ahead at the carousel’s horses. It was mid-afternoon, a time of day when downtown was bustling, and a rider had claimed each horse. Shrieks of glee did battle against the steady stream of music, a sure sign that—despite the advent of technology and the allure of video games—the old-fashioned fun of a carousel ride could still draw an audience.
“I guess I’m afraid that if I take Annabelle’s offer, it’ll change everything. Right now, we’re friends; but what if I fail? How would I ever pay her back for something like that?” She shook her head. “I couldn’t stand the pressure. Same reason I won’t ask for money from Caleb’s parents. It’s really nice to know that so many people believe in me, but…” She trailed off with another sigh. “Do you ever feel like you’re a complete fraud? Like, if people knew what was really going on in your head, they’d see just what a mess you are and lose all confidence in you?”
I stared at her in surprise. That was a feeling I’d had many times myself, but it wasn’t a sentiment I had expected from Savannah. She was so lively and bubbly, so optimistic. True, I’d seen signs of her own lack of self-confidence, but I hadn’t realized just how great it was. She was so talented. Couldn’t she see that and trust that her dream was worth pursuing?
“See, you do think I’m nuts,” she said, turning her eyes on me.
“What? No,” I insisted. “Not at all. I actually feel like that all the time, so I know exactly what you’re talking about. It’s part of the reason I really didn’t want to tell you about everything that happened with me—my marriage, my anxiety problems. If I compare my story to yours or Vivi’s or Annabelle’s, I feel like mine is just so…small. Like it should be so simple to get on and get over all of it, and you guys must think that I’m weak and idiotic and crazy not to have done it by now. I guess I kind of thought that none of you would respect me for being so stuck in struggling.”
“Far from it. I feel stuck, too; and even though I know I’m getting in my own way, I don’t really know how to get out. Maybe if Caleb was here, things would be different, but…” There were tears in her eyes as she looked at me, the pain apparent.
“You miss him a lot, don’t you?” I asked quietly.
She nodded, sniffing slightly. “All the time. You would have loved him, Dellie. Everybody did. And he believed in me so much that it made me believe in myself, you know?” She smiled sadly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind one ear. “But now, without him here? I feel like I lost that, too. What if I’m not really good enough? What if I try it and fail? Everyone will think I’m foolish and irresponsible.”
“But you’ll never know for sure unless you try, Savannah. And you’ll always be wondering What if?”
She looked at me appraisingly. “Is that why you did it, why you quit your job to start writing? So that you could stop wondering?”
“In one of my rare moments of bravery, yes. And I’m glad I did it, even though it scared the tar out of me to do it,” I said, thinking back on things. It was the absolute, unvarnished truth. I had been scared out of my mind to hand in my notice at work. But I had also been so overwhelmed by my need to get out of a place that left me feeling so stuck and unfulfilled that taking the leap seemed my only solution. Why couldn’t I be more like that in the rest of my life?
“I’m hardly the one to be giving you advice, though, Savannah. Remember what I told you the other day at Azalea’s? If you had any idea of everything that fear has stopped me from doing—” I felt the burn of tears in my own eyes now “—I’m such a coward, Savannah. There’s so, so much that I’ve missed,” I barreled on. “So much that I’m still missing out on, and I don’t know how to get out of this…this…place. I want to be out of here, but I don’t know how!” The tears were finally making their escape, trailing steadily down my cheeks. “I’ve been here so long that anything else seems impossible. But it has to be. It has to be—” I knew how desperate my voice sounded, but I was past caring. “I have to be okay. There’s more to me than this, Savannah. I wish you had known me before—you would have liked that Dellie. That Dellie was fun and daring, and I miss her.”
“You’ll find her again, Dellie. She’s still in there—I’ve seen little bits and pieces of her since you came here, I think. Being here, making new friends, and being away from where you’re comfortable—that’s s a big step, do you know that?”
I shook my head, my eyes clouding. “It’s not nearly a big enough step, though. Vivi is right. I have to choose. I have to take back the power—and sometimes it just seems so impossible.” I sighed, feeling so discouraged by my own weakness.
“It’s not impossible, though. It’s not,” Savannah said, sounding far older and wiser than her years. “You’re strong. And there are people who want to be with you, to support you every step of the way, if you let them.” She paused for a moment, watching as the carousel horses danced. “I felt so lost after Caleb died, and I was desperate for some kind of sign that my life didn’t have to be over, just because he was gone. I always thought that only old women were widows, you know? And all of a sudden, I was a widow. I was afraid that meant I’d used up all my chances, so early in the game, and that I’d have to spend the rest of my life alone.”
Savannah’s voice was far off and contemplative. “I had my parents, and Caleb’s parents, and that really did help get me through a lot; but I still felt so, so alone. None of them had ever been through anything like that, none of them knew what it felt like to lose the person you thought you’d spend your life with.” She sniffed again, and I could see a fresh batch of tears work their way to the corners of her eyes. “It’s funny, though, how things work out. I’d known Annabelle and Vivi before Caleb died, but I never really got to know them until then. That was when I truly came to think of them as friends, odd as that may sound.” She shrugged and gave me a watery smile. “We made a little band of merry widows, I guess. But they were really there for me—and they knew what it was like.”
“Having people like that is important,” I murmured, remembering how oddly alone I felt when my sham of a marriage had come to its end. I had the wonderful support of my family; but the entire thing was something that no one I knew could really relate to. Especially in light of the fact that the man I had married was, sadly, not someone I could grieve for. His arrest had meant my freedom; and even though it brought with it a sense of relief, I was still left having nightmares that he might come after me someday. Eventually, I realized that would never happen; he was safely out of my life for good, oceans away. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I couldn’t trust anyone that way with my heart again; that I couldn’t trust my own judgment.
The marriage may not have been real in the eyes of the law; but when I’d spoken my vows, I had thought I was beginning a path to happiness. In exchange, I’d been cursed by the lies of a criminal whose real name I had not known, his wedding vows spoken as falsely as the words that were printed on his birth certificate.
“Once my parents were gone, it was harder,” Savannah continued, bringing my mind back to our conversation. “Thank God I had Vivi and Annabelle. You might not know it to look at the three of us, but we’re actually all pretty close. And as much as Vivi goes on about Annabelle, she really does love her. They’re a lot more alike than they’ll admit.”
A smile crept over her face. “Your grammie’s cakes certainly didn’t do any harm in helping things feel just a little bit better, either. When Caleb died, she baked a cake and brought it to the reception after the memorial service. And every month for that first year after he was gone, even though she hardly knew me, she baked me my very own cake, always decorated with something that went with the month. I think it was her way of reminding me to celebrate that there is still so much of life left to live, even after something like that. Merry was such a special lady, and her cakes were so special. I think she never really understood that, never felt that important, even with all the things she did for other people. And when all of those trendy cake shops started popping up everywhere, doing fondant and things that she didn’t know how to do…it really made her lose confidence even more. She felt like she couldn’t compete—she told me a few times when I called her for cakes that I probably wanted something fancier than she could do. Fancy as those cakes were, though, they never tasted like Merry’s. Her cakes were always something you could count on being good. And that’s why so many people ordered them, year after year, for everything they could think of.”
Savannah’s smile deepened and she closed her eyes, looking as though she was imagining a bite of the sweet frosting as it melted on her tongue. “It’s funny how much all three of us—Annabelle, Vivi, and I—loved her cakes. Something else we had in common.” She paused. “For Annabelle, though, I think hurting your grammie was one thing that she never felt forgiven for. No matter how many cakes she ordered and how much business she sent Merry’s way, Annabelle always seemed as though she wasn’t satisfied.”
“You know, then, about George and my grandmother?” I asked, feeling somewhat surprised at the realization that the subject had never come up in conversation with Savannah before now.
She nodded. “Annabelle told me what happened. It wasn’t something that we discussed regularly or anything like that, but she told me the story once when we were talking about how much we loved Merry’s cakes. I asked her how long she had know your grammie, and then we just got to talking…” Savannah shook her head in wonder. “It’s funny, isn’t it, how deeply people can affect your life without really knowing it?”
I nodded silently. It really was amazing to me, how sometimes even the most seemingly small acts could shift things so much, could set someone else off course or help them get back on track. How you could heal or destroy someone else with a simple word.
“I think that’s why Annabelle tried so hard, for all those years. She saw the damage that came from running off with George like she did, and she wanted so much for your grandmother to see how sorry she was for all of it.” Savannah shrugged. “So Annabelle did what Annabelle does best—she used her powers of persuasion and her influence to get her ladies in line. Did you know that Annabelle gave your grammie her first big order?” Savannah watched me carefully as she spoke, no doubt wondering if I was really understanding the weight of what she was saying. “After that, there weren’t many cakes ordered in this town that weren’t baked by Merry. Annabelle saw to that, but she also saw to it that no one ever told your grammie just how much of a hand she’d played in things.”
“You mean Grammie wouldn’t have started doing all of those cakes if Annabelle hadn’t stepped in?” I asked, feeling dumbfounded.
Savannah smiled. “Remember, Annabelle has quite the ability to use her power for good, and she definitely exercised that power. Merry might have done it, eventually, on her own. But by having the encouragement of so many women who all insisted that they wanted her and her alone to bake their cakes…that was something.”
“Obviously,” I murmured. “Wow. I wish I had that kind of force.”
Savannah laughed. “It would be nice, wouldn’t it? It’s scary, in some ways, but in cases like this, the ability to have so much influence is inspiring.”
“Awe-inspiring,” I agreed. “I take it that Annabelle told you all this?” I ventured.
“She did,” Savannah said. “But it wasn’t in a haughty, look-at-me way. Actually, I think she told me because she was, in her own way, looking for reassurance that maybe, just maybe, she’d done something good in the middle of all that she’d done wrong. Much as she’d hate to admit it, Annabelle isn’t above making mistakes.” The fondness in Savannah’s voice was undeniable; but so, too, was the fact that she knew far better than to place Annabelle above reproach. She’d learned to take the good with the bad, just as I suspected Vivi had, in all the years that they’d known one another.
“After your grammie made her that first cake, Annabelle gave her a cake server to say thank you. It was silver, with her initials engraved on the handle. I wonder whatever happened to that cake server?” she murmured, turning her eyes back to the carousel and the cluster of children that was now spilling from its gated enclosure, having satisfied themselves for the afternoon, ready to move on to their next adventure.
What, indeed? And had Grammie known, when Annabelle had given her that gift, what she was telling her? Had she realized that Annabelle wanted her to know that she saw beauty and uniqueness and talent that should be celebrated and recognized?
I hoped so. And I hoped that it was something she was reminded of, every time she used that silver-handled server.