Emily, you cant leave me! What am I supposed to do without you?
The same as always, drink from dawn till dusk!
I slammed the front door and collapsed into the drivers seat, tears streaming down my face. How had it come to this? A year ago, our family had been the picture of happinessenvied, of course, because thats just how the world works.
Em, hurry up, get William readyIve got a surprise for you both! And dont forget warm clothes.
My husband, Charlesor “Charlie,” as I playfully called him when he was being spontaneousloved surprises. This time, hed taken us out of London to ride snowmobiles. A colleague of his had recently bought a country estate about sixty miles away. It was less of a cottage and more of a medieval fortress, complete with turrets and what could only be described as castle walls.
Well, what do you think? he asked, grinning at my stunned expression.
Theres something about this place sends shivers down my spine.
Youre just cold. Come insideyou havent even seen the fireplace yet.
The interior was even more unsettling than the exterior. But the men seemed right at home, and who was I to argue about taste? The fake animal heads mounted on the roughly plastered walls didnt help. Charles insisted they werent real trophies, but that didnt make them any less grotesque. Meanwhile, William, ever the little adventurer, charged through the rooms with a toy sword, battling imaginary monsters. I kept my eyes fixed on the fire, trying to ignore the oppressive atmosphere.
Perhaps that day sticks in my memory in such dark tones because it was the last of our old life. Later, the owner would roll two snowmobiles out of the garageone of them would take my sons life. Charles, at the controls, would never escape the guilt, drowning himself in whisky.
I dont know why I held up better. The pain was unbearable, yet I refused to let it consume me. People around me had no ideathey smiled, laughed, lived. Sometimes, I considered joining Charles in numbing the agony with drink, but I knew it would only make things worse. Alcohol amplifies emotion, and emotion was our enemy nowanger, resentment, bitterness. Charles hid behind them like a tortoise in its shell, refusing to come out no matter what I did.
I hadnt planned to leave him. I just needed air. So I droveno destination, just away. Snowflakes dusted the windscreen, perfect as if designed by some celestial artist. I stopped at service stations, drank coffee in roadside cafés, even spent a night in a hotel just to sleep.
Eventually, I found myself in a sleepy little market town, parked by a green. I sat motionless for what felt like hours.
Youll catch your death out here, came a voice at the window.
An elderly woman with a small, curly white poodle stood outside. On impulse, I got out.
Saw you sitting here with the engine off. Thought you might need help.
I do, I whispered.
Funny how its easier to confess to a stranger. No judgment, no dredging up family history, no blame. Just clarity. Before I knew it, I was seated at her kitchen table, a steaming mug of chamomile tea in hand, tears soaking a crumpled tissue.
Emily, Ive made up the sofa for you. Rest, then carry on to your “nowhere.”
Alright, I sighed, too drained to argue.
That morning, I woke smiling. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, a clock ticked on the wall, and a rough tongue licked my nose.
Alfie, I rememberedthe poodles name. His eager face seemed to grin back.
Alfie, leave the poor girl alone! Especially before breakfast.
The womanAuntie Roseentered with a tray. The smell of fresh coffee and cinnamon rolls filled the room.
Dont be surprised. When I cant sleep, I bake. These rolls are fussythey prefer silent praise.
Hows that?
Close your eyes and sigh. Theyll know.
One bite, and I understood. These rolls could demand anything they pleased.
For the first time in months, a memory of Charles bringing me breakfast in bedoften absurd combinations like toast with picklesmade me laugh rather than ache.
I didnt apologize for intruding. It wouldve offended her. After breakfast, I dozed again, waking at dusk. Alfie snored beside me, his warmth a comfort.
Goodness, Ive slept the day away! I muttered, scrambling up. The house was quiet. A teenagers room, I realizedposters, dumbbells, a desk cluttered with trinkets. A framed photo showed two young men in uniform.
The front door opened.
Sleepyheads! Its nearly supper time!
Over rabbit stewa gift from one of Auntie Roses admirersshe shared her own story.
Lost my boy, too. Army accident. After the funeral, my husband and I grew apart. Two years later, we divorced. He drank himself to death. I nearly followed, but an old woman set me straight. Said I had to live properly if I wanted to see my son again.
Her words rooted me there. For the first time in a year, I felt at home.
The next morning, a knock startled us. Charles stood at the door, scowling.
So, no lover after all.
What?
Youve been here two days. I thoughtnever mind.
Auntie Rose chuckled.
Pancakes for breakfast. Ever had wild mushrooms with them?
We stayed two more days, wandering the snowy streets of Hemsburya far cry from the “backwater” Charles had imagined. Hed smashed a whisky bottle after I left, sobered up, and realized he couldnt lose me too.
Back home, we faced Williams room together. Not with grief, but quiet remembrance.
Remember this? Charles donned a gorilla mask, imitating the zoo trip that nearly got us banned.
That night, we talked openly. Charles finally accepted it wasnt his faultno more than blaming a fallen branch or a startled hare.
Nine months later, Williams sister was bornlikely conceived that night. Auntie Rose, now married to her rabbit-farming suitor, cheered us on.
Charles, I blurted one morning, Im pregnant.
What?
Pregnant.
You mean were having a baby?
He kissed me, then pressed his hands gently to my stomach, where our daughter slept.
