To Love and Be Loved(92)

The golden winter sun loomed large in the morning sky, splintering the moody clouds with its rays as the white foam of the waves broke against the rocks along the foreshore. The two girls pulled their coats about their shoulders and Merrin wiggled her toes inside the knitted socks on her feet. The air was still and salty and even the gulls were subdued, as if acknowledging that life would never be the same again.

‘You’re very quiet.’ Her sister nudged her with her elbow.

‘Yeah, for the first time since the day I was supposed to marry I don’t think I want to leave. I don’t feel scared of the place, the gossip, the rumour, like I did.’

‘So don’t then.’

‘I have to, really, Rubes. I have a job, responsibilities, and all my things are in Thornbury. Plus, I need to talk to Miguel. And what would I do here?’

‘I don’t know, build that house?’ They both looked over towards the Old Boat Shed.

‘Can’t believe it’s mine. And the cottage is yours. All that lovely history of Gran and Gramps and now you and Jarv and the babby.’

‘Property owners – us? It’s wonderful, isn’t it?’ Ruby looked over her shoulder at the bricks and mortar that made up her home.

‘It really is.’ The glorious fact was still sinking in.

‘I love the little place.’ Her sister beamed.

‘I know you do.’

‘And Jarv gets the boat – he will be made up; more than made up. Can’t wait to tell him.’ Ruby stared at the little trawler moored against the harbour wall. ‘He loved me, didn’t he?’

‘Dad?’

Ruby straightened and nodded, her expression one of embarrassment, as if she hadn’t intended to say the words out loud.

‘Of course he did. He loved you so much!’ Merrin hoped that this message had finally sunk in and that her sister would go forward without the snarky chip on her shoulder.

Ruby’s smile was wide and softened her pretty face.

‘I guess what I meant when I said I don’t want to leave is that I don’t want to leave you and Mum,’ said Merrin.

‘We’ll be fine. She’s got me and I’ve got Jarv.’

Merrin dug deep and found the confidence to speak. ‘I don’t want you to ever feel jealous about me and Jarvis: it’s nuts and unnecessary and hurtful. I swear to—’

‘I know, Merry.’ Ruby interrupted her and held her gaze. ‘I know. I think it might be my hormones and—’

‘And what?’ She pulled the blanket around her legs and turned to face her sister, wanting to have this conversation, no matter how painful, knowing it was open communication that would take them forward. Her dad had paved the way with his beautiful letter. ‘What is it you were going to say?’

Ruby looked into the middle distance. ‘I don’t want to say it,’ she said slowly.

‘Come on, whatever it is, it’s better out of your mouth than sticking in your throat, where it’ll only go bad until you have no choice but to spit it out!’

Ruby took a deep breath. ‘When you left Port Charles, after Digby—’

‘Yep.’ It was Merrin’s turn to interrupt, with no desire to go over the details of that day again.

‘Mum and I gave nearly all the presents back to the people who had sent them, apart from a bottle of champagne from someone at the Rotary Club, which we drank when we ran out of blackberry wine.’

‘That’s fair enough.’ Merrin let her mouth twitch in the beginnings of a smile.

‘There were a load of cards, all unopened, and there was one in a shiny gold envelope. It was from Jarvis.’

‘Right. Yes.’ She vaguely remembered him dropping one off and the girls ribbing her.

‘I don’t know why,’ Ruby began, ‘but I opened it.’

‘What did it say?’ Her curiosity surged along with her fear; did she really want to know if Jarvis had made some misplaced declaration? She knew it could only make her feel awkward in his company and stoke the fires of her sister’s ire.

‘It said’ – Ruby swallowed – ‘something along the lines of, “Have a nice day, but if things with Digby don’t work out, then I will always be there for you.”’

‘Well, that was kind. He is kind. Maybe he had a sixth sense.’ She felt more than a little bit uncomfortable, but figured it could have been worse.

‘It felt like . . .’ Ruby chose her words slowly. ‘It felt like he was saying, “Pick me, Merry! Pick me!”’

‘Don’t be ridiculous! Of course he wasn’t! That’s nuts. He was just being a good friend, being funny. Don’t forget he wrote it thinking Digby and I were going to open it together; he’d hardly have written that if he was being serious, would he?’ she reasoned.

‘I guess not. It just hurts me, because I always liked him, loved him even, and the thought that he might have had deep feelings for you—’

‘He didn’t.’ She spoke sharply. ‘We were kids, and if Digby and I had opened that card you would never have seen it and never have had those crackers thoughts. Have you asked Jarvis about it?’

‘Yes. He said he doesn’t even remember writing it.’

‘There we go!’