Page 70 of The Austen Escape
I squeezed her tighter yet. “Stop.”
“An ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t going to cut it back there. That poor child—I didn’t even see her, until I did. I saw Aaron first.”
“An ‘I’m sorry’ will cut it, Isabel. Explain it to them, privately. They’ll understand.”
“That I’m crazy?”
“You’re not crazy. You’re hurt.”
She nodded, then shifted away and twisted to face me. “Nathan Hillam is here.”
It was a statement full of questions.
My answer held more. “Yes.”
We stared at each other. I broke the tension this time because I couldn’t hold on to it. I wasn’t angry. It was too hard and too heavy to carry. “He called you, and I answered your phone. He came to help.”
“He came for you.” Again, a statement full of questions. I didn’t answer this time. After a heartbeat, she grabbed my hand and pulled it into her lap. Her dress was soaked and freezing. “I’m so sorry, Mary. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you about. I didn’t mean to do it. I was in the middle of it—” Her eyes widened as if she’d discovered something sour and ugly. “No. I knew what I was doing from the beginning.”
I stood. We weren’t finished, but I also needed action to help us. “Let’s get you changed.”
“I can’t go back there, not yet. I’m not cold.”
“Then at least let’s get the dress drying. This way?” I tilted myhead farther down the path. “Are your legs burned? That’s what Grant was trying to find out.”
“Oh.” She stood, and I imagined she was remembering Grant and how she’d slapped at him. She touched a finger to her thigh.
“They’re fine. They sting a little, but I can tell they’re not burned.” “Then if you won’t go change...” I mustered up a smile and looped my arm through hers. “We shall walk. When there are serious matters to discuss, Austen women walk. And it has the side benefit of keeping our figures so light and pleasing.”
She choked on a laugh that became a mess of tears before we’d walked five steps.
“I don’t want Austen anymore. I don’t even want to finish. I... I never knew myself, Mary.”
“I think that’s Austen.”
“True... I’m not sure I have many original thoughts left.” She swiped at her nose. “But Lizzy was right when she lamented her despicable behavior. And I’ve done the same... I’ve acted so horribly. How did I get here?” She pulled at me. “Do you hate me? Or is the question how long have you hated me?”
“Stop... I don’t hate you. But I was close, maybe I even did for a heartbeat, when I first heard Nathan’s voice on the phone. But not now.” I stared straight ahead.
“I’d never heard you talk like that about a guy. You’d always wanted that fairy-tale thing, and then there you were laughing about a guy’s faults and quirks—and you accepted them all. You and I—we were written, and then you started changing and I didn’t. It was like you were ready for something new and I... I didn’t know what I wanted. It wasn’t planned, honest, but I met him and I was jealous. Can you forgive me?”
We had strolled up the path and out Braithwaite House’s frontgate. We walked on, and eventually it dawned on me she was waiting. She wasn’t pushing me for an answer; she wasn’t demanding one. She was awake and waiting.
I broke our silence. “I do forgive you, and I’m sorry too.” That spun her head my direction. “I’m your best friend, Isabel, but until this trip I don’t think I ever understood, not even when it happened before.”
“It can’t happen again.”
“When we get back to the house you need to call Dr. Milton for his daily update. We’ve been talking and texting the past couple days. If you hadn’t come back by tomorrow, I was to get you on a plane somehow.”
“But now?”
“You can ask him yourself... And call my dad too. He’s been getting practically hourly updates as well.”
“I love your dad.” Isabel sighed.
“I know.” I’d always known. Now I understood.
I felt Isabel stiffen next to me, and I lifted my head to see a small group of women staring at us. I also noticed Bath, twenty-first-century Bath with its buildings and cars—and tourists—surrounding us.
