Amelia cried out, “Why, Mason Thaysden, I never thought I’d see the day!” as he paraded in with Maisy.
He smiled like he had won a prize. Then he whispered in my ear, “You’re right. It’s our job to protect Maisy. I’m in.”
I’m in. In on what? Keeping my secret? Going along with the plan? Or was heinin a bigger way? Did he want to raise her with me? Be a family? As Mason paraded the baby around, showing her off and introducing her to each of his family members, I couldn’t help but imagine that this time next year, Maisy and I just might be at this very same table. But that, by then, we might be Thaysdens too.
TILLEYFantastical Engagements
What Tilley had always loved most about Easter was that it was a day for miracles. And, looking around at the table with people she adored, eating food she had lovingly prepared with her own two hands, she felt that this Easter was no different.
Mason had brought a woman he was seriously dating to a family event: miracle. They were passing back and forth a baby they had saved together, a tiny soul who, if not for his being at the right place at the right time, might not even be on this earth: miracle. Robbie and Trina’s four sons were all sitting still andquiet: miracle. A man who knew all about the fantastical engagements of her mind was sitting beside her, seemingly interested in making a fresh start: miracle. Each and every person around this table was healthy, happy, had a roof over their head, food in their belly, and clothes on their back. Miracles abounded.
Excitement welled in Tilley as she remembered that two weeks from now, all these people would (well, presumably anyway, and perhaps minus George) be in an audience watching her sing her heart out and be transformed in a way she hadn’t been since she was a child. She couldn’t remember feeling this happy. If only Robbie knew the truth,then her slate would be clean, her conscience cleared. But she had agreed long ago that that would never happen.
But maybe Daisy was right. Maybe he wouldn’t believe her if she told him the truth. That gave Tilley an idea…
But not for now. For now, her eyes filled with tears as her six little grandnieces and -nephews—well, four were actually her grandchildren, but she had blocked that out—started singing their favorite sweet blessing. Gosh, she loved them. In a flash, everyone started eating and laughing and it seemed like, much too quickly, the thing she had spent so long preparing for was over. Sure, they lingered at the table for hours, until the sun began to make its descent. She was happy that Amelia and Daisy insisted on doing the dishes because, as much as she hated to admit it, Tilley was exhausted. And she was thrilled when George squired her out to the porch with two glasses of wine to rest with her for a moment, to enjoy the sunset.
It was a perfect spring day, where the air was warm but lacked the oppressive humidity that would come so very soon. Not that she minded it. Southern humidity did wonders for the skin. As she took a sip of wine, she felt nervous. She knew what nerves could do to her. But no. Not now. Now, she reminded herself that she wanted to be here, with George. She turned to look at him. Sure, he had lines on his forehead and his cheeks had started to sag, his hair had started to recede. But how was it that men could look even more handsome, even more distinguished, as they aged? It was truly unfair. Although Tilley knew she had held up pretty well, despite all she had been through.
“I am quite certain that you are the best cook in all the South,” George said.
Tilley gasped. “Are you saying there are better cooks outside the South?”
He laughed, and she loved that she could make him laugh like that.
George looked out over the water. “There’s something about this place, isn’t there? A peace to it that I can’t find anywhere else.”
Tilley nodded in agreement, though she had to admit that, since she had spent her entire life here, she had very little to compare it to.
“The sunset,” Tilley said, “is always my favorite part of the day here. I don’t know why. I love the daytime; the dark is what haunts me. But this sunset is truly something to behold.”
“I actually sleep here,” George said. “Despite the dark.”
“How long has it been since you lost your wife?” Tilley asked, wondering if she should. But she knew that, sometimes, all she really wanted was for someone to ask about Robert, to feel like her love was still alive.
George blew out his breath and looked out over the sound. “Oh, eleven years now. Too long. Too short. Still impossible.” He paused. “What about you?”
“Oh, Robert has been gone for decades. We were never even engaged.” As she said it, Tilley felt that she was somehow discounting the big love they had had. But, then again, maybe that was for the best. Hadn’t she held on to it for too long? Hadn’t she sacrificed her entire life for a man who could never come back for her? And she had to wonder on days like today: Had she punished herself all these years for never telling the truth?
“Sometimes I think about moving on, but then I think about her, and I wonder, if she could see me, would it break her heart?” George said.
Tilley nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. I feel like my pain keeps Robert alive.” She shook her head. “I realize how terrible that sounds when I hear it out loud. But that’s what I feel.” She sighed. “It’squite the conundrum, and it has kept me stuck in a holding pattern for all this life I should have lived.”
“So, are you having regrets?” George asked thoughtfully, turning to look at Tilley.
“Maybe not regrets. Maybe more like the tide has turned, and I wonder if there is something else for me that I’ve missed by staying so closed off.”
“Hm,” George said. “You know, Amelia has been working on me a little.”
Tilley laughed, a quiet, soft sound like the tinkling of a bell. “Oh, me too.” Tilley turned slightly toward George and gave him the look she had perfected when she was just a girl. He couldn’t have taken his eyes off her even if he had wanted to. But she got the feeling that maybe he didn’t want to turn away. “Amelia reminded me that, technically, she and Parker were the second loves of each other’s lives. She had Thad, and he had Greer, and if they’d allowed their dreams of a family and a future to die with Greer—”
George winced at the sound of his daughter’s name, but Tilley continued. “If they had stayed closed off to a future, they never would have found each other. They never would have had this next amazing chapter of their lives. We wouldn’t have our precious baby George and baby Greer.”
“That Amelia is a wise woman.” George was still looking at Tilley, and she knew this was her moment to look away. So she did, out over the moonlight painting the marsh a luminescent silver. She loved this marsh, the way the water moved in and out, the birds, the fish, the sounds, the smells. It was as much a part of her soul as Dogwood, as Elizabeth, as music and dance. She could never imagine leaving it. But, then again, what if leaving it was what she had to do? As she had just realized, she had never been anywhere else at all.
“Tilley?” George asked. She turned back to him, slowly, those Disney princess eyes affixed on his. As demurely as she could muster, she said, “Yes, George?”
“If I flew back here some time soon, would you go to dinner with me?”
