But instead, I paste on a smile and nod my head as if I’m winning an award. When I catch Henrietta’s eyes, she flashes me a weird look. Like she’s uncomfortable. She glances away and whispers something in Marcus’s ear.
“I’m glad she got this match right. Our poor Henrietta went through not one but two failed matches because of Emma Jane. Not to mention both men were sleazes. Can you believe that so-calledreverendsaid those nasty things to my Henrietta when he decided not to date her because she wasn’t Emma Jane?” Withevery word that Henrietta’s aunt continues to speak, recounting the awful behavior of our former reverend, my stomach sinks into a pit of despair. All eyes at the table flick to me, and as Mrs. Bates continues to spew from the mouth, their expressions go from curious to disbelief and settle on shame.
Or is it because I feel shame in my gut that I believe everyone is looking at me in that capacity? It’s too much to bear. Their stares, Mrs. Bates’s high-pitched shrill, the disappointed look from the red-headed man sitting across from me. Henrietta’s sympathetic expression.
How does she carry sympathy for me? Mrs. Bates is right. I did this, I—
I can’t breathe.
All of the thoughts from before dinner come barreling back to me.
As I stand, my chair falls. The noise of it crashing to the ground reminds me of the sound I’m making as I fall from the pedestal I’ve stood upon for years. This is it. This is the moment where everyone discovers I am not perfect. Where everyone disowns me and shuns me. Where I lose everything I’ve tried to maintain. Where I become unloved. Where my castle crumbles and my reign comes to an end.
I’ve let everyone down. Put my best friend into awful situations with awful men.
All because I needed to be perfect. Needed to make people like me and see my worth.
“Enough!” Henrietta’s voice booms from the opposite end of the table. She stands, slamming her hands on the table. The table quiets, but I don’t have the strength to rip my gaze from my black,sparkly shoes. She clears her throat. “Emma Jane has apologized to me, and I have forgiven her. Aunt Mary, you have no right to give a tongue lashing to my friend like this. I told you before we left the house for this dinner to not peep a word. We will talk about this further at home.”
“Child, how dare you—”
“No.” Henrietta’s voice is firm. “At home.”
I hear chairs scratching against the floor, and then Henrietta is at my side. I gather enough courage to meet her eyes. She smiles and pulls me into a hug. “I love you, E. J. Please don’t take what she said to heart.”
As she walks away, tears stream down my face. What did I do to deserve a friend like her? I don’t deserve her, and that is the truth of the matter.
Henrietta leaves, dragging Mrs. Bates with her. Marcus waves goodbye before following them out. Halle and Grant say their goodbyes. Mallory pulls Knightley to the side while Jane comes around to embrace me. I crumble in her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. “She’s right, Jane. I don’t deserve the love of this town. She’s right to call me out. I didn’t know Frank and Elton were the way that they are. I swear it. I never would do something to intentionally hurt Henrietta. She knows that, right? She says she does, but does she really?” I can’t bring myself to voice my thoughts from earlier. Not to Jane. I have to work through these character flaws on my own. With God. And pray I’m forgiven for my mindless mistakes in desperate attempts to be enough.
My words are jumbled and broken between trying to catch my breath and speak my heart. Jane pats my back, whispering in my ear, “You’re okay, Emma Jane. You’re okay. She knows.”
I stop trying to talk and cry in her arms until the tears start to run dry. Knightley brings a box of tissues over, telling his mom that Mallory left, and we all three sit down at the table as I blow my nose and dry my face. Moments pass as I shut my thoughts down, trying to collect myself.
The front door opens, and someone walks in, but I can’t bring myself to look up.
“Can you give us a moment?” It’s Henrietta’s voice. Jane and Knightley must agree because they get up and leave the room. When she places her hand on my thigh, the deluge resumes.
“Henrietta, I am so sorry. I never meant to try and set you up with pitiful men. Had I known their colors, I never would have—”
“Shh.” She continues making a gentle shushing sound even as I cry. “I know you didn’t. I didn’t know either.”
“But you did,” I continue sobbing, trying to get my words out. “I should have listened to you about Elton Philip after the first date went disastrously. I’m so sorry, Henrietta. You are my best friend, and I was being completely selfish.”
“I forgive you, E. J. I forgave you when you apologized after the incident withhim.”
I hug my best friend, and she begins to cry. We both hold each other, crying, until we can’t anymore.
“Why are you crying?” I ask, trying to laugh to lightenthe mood.
“Because my best friend is,” she exclaims, grabbing a tissue and blotting her eyes. “What’s going on, E. J.? This,” she sweeps her hand up and down my frame, “surely isn’t all about me.”
“I don’t know, Hen. I’m just…” I pause, taking a deep breath. “I’m a mess. I need to tell you something, but I can’t say it here. Not right now. Do you want to go for a drive or something?”
“I’d love to. I’ll drive and drop you off when we get back from wherever we end up. Then I’ll go deal with my aunt. I’m so sorry she said those things about you.”
I sigh. “She wasn’t all wrong, you know.”
“Regardless. It wasn’t her place. Not at a happy little gathering like tonight was supposed to be.”
