‘was.’ You were happy. What happened?”
“Another woman.” I sighed. “I guess my husband got tired of the person I was pretending to be.”
“You’re divorced, then?”
I nodded. “It’s been nearly a year. He’s remarried and has another child already. He hasn’t seen much of Amity since.”
Matthew and I locked eyes. “It’s not my place to criticize Amity’s father, I’m sure he’s a fine man”—he shook his head slightly—“but he’s also a blind son of a bitch.”
I let out a laugh. “Such language, Reverend!”
“Just calling it the way I see it.” He grinned and took another bite of his chicken. “If you have a daughter like that girl upstairs and a wife like you, you thank God every day for your good fortune.”
We smiled at each other and I felt a sizzle, an electricity wrapping around us and charging the air. I shook my head and pushed away the feeling—that was the last thing I needed right now.
“So,” he said, breaking the silence, “what’s it like finally being back here after all this time?”
I looked around the room. “I was dreading it. I knew it was going to dredge up memories that I had tried very hard to forget. But just being here, I know it’s going to sound a little crazy, but I feel so close to my brothers, and to my mom and dad for that matter. I’ve heard the boys’ laughter and smelled my mom’s perfume. I really feel their presence in this house. It makes me realize how much I’ve missed them.”
My eyes brimmed with tears.
“That doesn’t sound so crazy to me,” Matthew said. “I deal with the supernatural on a daily basis, you know. I have no doubt that you can feel the spirits of your family here.”
He took a sip of wine and continued. “So what’s next for you? What happens after the funeral?”
“I really don’t know,” I admitted to him as I bit the top off an asparagus spear. “Amity and I had a great life out in Washington—our house is on Whidbey Island, which really is quite beautiful. But I’ll be honest. Ever since her father left us last year, things have gone downhill and it has been pretty lonely for me out there. That’s his hometown and all of our friends were his friends first, and they basically got him in the divorce, if you know what I mean. I’m off the dinner party list. He’s got a new wife and baby now and we’re completely out of the picture. And it doesn’t help that everything about the place reminds me of our life together. He introduced me to it all.”
For the first time, this occurred to me: “I really wouldn’t mind leaving there for good.”
“And Amity? What does she think?”
I thought out loud about how a move might affect my daughter. “She doesn’t see her dad very much as it is, so moving across the country wouldn’t change that. Actually, it would provide an excuse for why she doesn’t see him, other than the fact that he’s an ass and much too busy with his new family to care about his old one.”
The more I talked about it, the more it seemed to make sense. “Amity has been coming here during the summers for years,” I went on. “She loves it almost as much as I did at her age. And back on Whidbey, this next school year she’s got to change schools—redistricting, it’s quite annoying—and she’s going to have very few friends at her new school. If we were going to make a change, now is a good time.”
He smiled a broad smile, his eyes shining. “So are you saying that you’d consider moving back here to Alban House?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “It’s funny. This house and my family’s legacy haven’t meant much to me for a couple of decades, but now that my mom’s gone and I’m basically the head of the Alban family, I do feel a certain—I don’t know. A sense of responsibility, I guess. I feel it especially strongly when I’m here inside the house. Albans have been leaders in this town for a hundred and fifty years. Without me here, what will
“Another woman.” I sighed. “I guess my husband got tired of the person I was pretending to be.”
“You’re divorced, then?”
I nodded. “It’s been nearly a year. He’s remarried and has another child already. He hasn’t seen much of Amity since.”
Matthew and I locked eyes. “It’s not my place to criticize Amity’s father, I’m sure he’s a fine man”—he shook his head slightly—“but he’s also a blind son of a bitch.”
I let out a laugh. “Such language, Reverend!”
“Just calling it the way I see it.” He grinned and took another bite of his chicken. “If you have a daughter like that girl upstairs and a wife like you, you thank God every day for your good fortune.”
We smiled at each other and I felt a sizzle, an electricity wrapping around us and charging the air. I shook my head and pushed away the feeling—that was the last thing I needed right now.
“So,” he said, breaking the silence, “what’s it like finally being back here after all this time?”
I looked around the room. “I was dreading it. I knew it was going to dredge up memories that I had tried very hard to forget. But just being here, I know it’s going to sound a little crazy, but I feel so close to my brothers, and to my mom and dad for that matter. I’ve heard the boys’ laughter and smelled my mom’s perfume. I really feel their presence in this house. It makes me realize how much I’ve missed them.”
My eyes brimmed with tears.
“That doesn’t sound so crazy to me,” Matthew said. “I deal with the supernatural on a daily basis, you know. I have no doubt that you can feel the spirits of your family here.”
He took a sip of wine and continued. “So what’s next for you? What happens after the funeral?”
“I really don’t know,” I admitted to him as I bit the top off an asparagus spear. “Amity and I had a great life out in Washington—our house is on Whidbey Island, which really is quite beautiful. But I’ll be honest. Ever since her father left us last year, things have gone downhill and it has been pretty lonely for me out there. That’s his hometown and all of our friends were his friends first, and they basically got him in the divorce, if you know what I mean. I’m off the dinner party list. He’s got a new wife and baby now and we’re completely out of the picture. And it doesn’t help that everything about the place reminds me of our life together. He introduced me to it all.”
For the first time, this occurred to me: “I really wouldn’t mind leaving there for good.”
“And Amity? What does she think?”
I thought out loud about how a move might affect my daughter. “She doesn’t see her dad very much as it is, so moving across the country wouldn’t change that. Actually, it would provide an excuse for why she doesn’t see him, other than the fact that he’s an ass and much too busy with his new family to care about his old one.”
The more I talked about it, the more it seemed to make sense. “Amity has been coming here during the summers for years,” I went on. “She loves it almost as much as I did at her age. And back on Whidbey, this next school year she’s got to change schools—redistricting, it’s quite annoying—and she’s going to have very few friends at her new school. If we were going to make a change, now is a good time.”
He smiled a broad smile, his eyes shining. “So are you saying that you’d consider moving back here to Alban House?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “It’s funny. This house and my family’s legacy haven’t meant much to me for a couple of decades, but now that my mom’s gone and I’m basically the head of the Alban family, I do feel a certain—I don’t know. A sense of responsibility, I guess. I feel it especially strongly when I’m here inside the house. Albans have been leaders in this town for a hundred and fifty years. Without me here, what will
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