Scones and Sensibility (24 page)

“Oh, come on. Nothing is that bad. Did you and Fran have a fight?”

I nodded, tears cascading down my cheeks.

“So, what happened?”

“I got her potential mother arrested and ruined any chance at her having happiness.”

Mama sat up straight. “Arrested? Who did you have arrested?”

“The lady who Mr. Fisk met on the computer.”

“Oh my gosh, Polly. How did this happen?”

I recounted the story through tears that shook my shoulders and brought the fresh pain of what I had done to the surface once more.

Mama shook her head. “How could you do that, Polly?”

Now that the floodgate of sins was open, I released everything I had done all at once. “But that’s not the end of it all. I broke up Clementine and Clint. First I wrote them each a letter saying that they were breaking up with the other. But when that didn’t work, I had Edward, this boy at the toy store, try to rescue Clementine from Clint. I thought that Edward and Clementine would fall in love but they didn’t, and now Clementine has jellyfish stings and hates me, and Fran hates me. And I’m sure Mr. Nightquist will hate me too.”

“Mr. Nightquist? Why would
he
hate you?”

“Because I set him up with Miss Wiskerton and then he let Jack get hit by a bike and now Miss Wiskerton hates him. And then there was Lucy Penny.”

“Wait, wait, wait. What in the world have you been doing?”

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand and blew my nose into my dress, something that in any other circumstance I would never, ever consider doing. “I’ve been trying to help people … fall in love.”

All was silent, except for my quiet sobbing. Finally Mama spoke. “It seems you’ve been letting your romanticism get the best of you again.” She stood up
and paced the floor. “I thought there had to be a reason why Clementine has been so upset. She said Clint and her are over … through.”

“I am afraid what you say is true. At my hands they have been pulled asunder.”

Papa sat upon the couch and placed his arm around me. “Breaking up people is a dangerous thing, Polly. You know, your mother and I almost didn’t get married.”

The words stunned me and I sat up straight, wondering at his meaning. That could not be!

Mama smiled. “Your dad’s grandma didn’t like me at all. What’d she say about me, Sam?”

Papa smiled. “Oh, I don’t even remember anymore. But I do remember she was always trying to break us up. She liked this girl named Sally Seawald and hoped I’d date and marry her. Ha!”

Mama smiled as well, though I was mortified at the thought. My great-grandmother was just like Lady Catherine de Bourgh in the great
Pride and Prejudice
—trying to tear asunder those who were meant to be together. To think that neither Clementine nor I would be here on the earth was something I could not bear. Or perhaps my name would have been
Grenhilda—a name that I had decided was the worst name a person could be called.

A terrible fate.

“She told him one time that I was dating some other guy, ’cause she saw me hugging my cousin,” Mama said, walking over to Papa and grasping his hand in her own.

“I broke up with her, and we didn’t see each other for almost a full year after that.”

“But then the two of you met once more upon the shores of love,” I said, knowing this romantic part of the story.

Papa laughed. “Well, it wasn’t all ‘shores of love’ at first, but we made it through, and that’s all that mattered.”

Mama stepped in. “So just think, if we hadn’t met each other on the beach that day, who knows if we would ever have seen each other again? You don’t mess with people’s lives, Polly. You can’t.”

A fresh wave of weeping swept over me. “I’m … I’m sorry. I need to go upstairs,” I declared through heart-wrenching sobs.

And once in my room, I threw myself upon the bed and wailed at the great sin I had committed against my
sister. To interrupt love’s working was the greatest sin; I had declared it to my own soul more than once.

Yet it was I … I who had betrayed love.

And I had betrayed my dearest sister. And though I highly doubted that Clint could ever become gentlemanly or exciting, or that he and Clementine were meant for each other, I supposed there was always the slim (and indeed, I believed it was slim) possibility.

I did not wish to become like the high-and-mighty Lady Catherine, who had found it her duty to save her nephew from his one true love.

The thought, the painful thought of this made my heart wrench and twist inside my chest.

But even more painful was the chasm I had set between my own dear sister and myself.

My fate was surely to stay locked inside my bedroom like a prisoner, for what comfort should a thwarter of love receive? I would never come out. Instead I would live, a hermit, away from those I had wounded so deeply. Surely the very sight of me would only bring pain to their hearts.

The tears poured from my eyes, and I wallowed in despair. All that I had hoped and dreamed for concerning those I loved had failed disastrously. I was in a prison of buried hopes.

I clutched
Anne of Green Gables
in my hands and beseeched the spirit of her to aid me in this time. “Dearest Anne, my kindred spirit. What must I do to heal those I have hurt?” And with eyes tight shut, I waited for an answer, a bit of advice that would assist me on this journey of redeeming myself, if in fact I could be redeemed.

But no answer did come.

No aid.

No assistance.

I was alone with my tormented and troubled soul.

And I thought of my dear Clementine, realizing that she, too, was most troubled.

All because of me.

That was it. I must try to persuade her to forgive me. I knew that her heart was far from me, and that although she had not heard my former pleas of redemption, I must continue to try. I must not stop in this quest.

I could not.

But how?

She would not hear words, nor would she listen to the language of pastries. No, her heart was closed to me.

I needed to prove that I was filled with deep regret over my treacherous sin.

And there was but one way, I knew.

I must attempt at bringing Clint and my dear sister back together. The words, indeed, were very hard to say. But it was true.

It was I who tore them apart, and it must be I who brought them back together.

After composing myself, I raced down the stairway in search of my sister to tell her of my plan.

Surely her heart would soften.

“Clementine? Clementine, can I talk to you for just a second?” I called. But no answer came.

“She’s not here, Polly,” Mama called from the kitchen. “I think she went out on the beach for a walk.”

Perhaps she and Clint would meet just like Mama and Papa did! Indeed, I needed to be present for this moment. To tell them how deeply sorry I was and to bless their relationship. I placed my hat atop my head and walked out the door and straight into Bradley’s waiting figure.

“Oh my gosh, Brad!” I cried out in alarm. “Um … surely you frightened me beyond reason. Why have you come?”

Upon his head he wore an elegant black top hat. He was clothed in a somewhat overly large black coat and
held a cane in one hand and a single stem of lily of the valley in the other. His cheeks filled with color that agreed with his appearance, and though I felt myself drawn to his person, I refused.

A wretched killer of romance and love did not deserve love in return!

“Well, I … I heard about what happened with Fran and her dad last night.”

“What?! How in the world do you know?” With my many sins, I had forgotten, momentarily, what I had done to my bosom friend.

Did my wretchedness know no bounds?

He looked down at the sidewalk. “Well, my mom’s a cop. She was working last night and was the one that helped sort everything out at the station.”

Now it was my cheeks that filled with deep red, and I could not stop the tears from coming. “I didn’t mean to ruin everything,” I said. “It’s just that I wanted her to have a mom again—the perfect mom. And finding someone on the Internet, it’s just not … not … not right.” I sat down upon the sidewalk and concealed my face with my hands, hoping he would not look upon me.

He sat beside me, but spoke not a word.

“Tell me, Brad. Did your mom say if everything is all right? Or is she in jail?”

“No, she’s not in jail. Actually, she was laughing about it in the end, my mom said. But … I did see Fran today.”

My heart pounded hard within my chest. “What … I mean … did she say anything about me or about what happened?” I wished with all of my heart that perhaps she had forgiven me already, and had even laughed over the matter herself.

“Well, she said that you never listen to her, that you have no idea how hard it’s been for her without a mom, and that … that she never wants to see you again.”

A torrent of sadness and tears overcame me at hearing this. My heart was crushed and would never rise up again, I was sure. And though Brad was not my confidante, I couldn’t help the words that poured out of me. “Oh, Brad! What should I do? I thought I always listened to her, and I know it’s been hard for her not to have a mom. She’s my bosom friend, and I can’t live without my bosom friend.”

He sighed. “I don’t know about bosom friends or girl stuff or anything like that. But you know when my dad left it was real hard.” He did not look up but
twisted his hands. I knew at once that this was hard for him to say, and he did so to help me.

“All of a sudden I was the man of the house. My mom had to go back to working full-time, I was home by myself a lot, and I had to learn how to cook and clean. Then there was the school stuff and sports and things. The father-son basketball game, the father-son football game. And I didn’t get to go to any of it, ’cause I didn’t have a dad of my own.” He shook his head. “I know my mom could’ve gone, but that would’ve been even worse, besides the fact she was always working.”

I did not speak, for I had nothing to say in response.

“When he left it changed everything, Pol … Polly. And you know what I wanted most?”

“Someone to aid you through the time of trial? Someone that would lend you their father like I lent out my mother to Fran?”

His laughter at this surprised me. “No, Polly. It would’ve been nice just to have someone listen to me and try to understand where I was coming from.”

He stood up at this moment. “I actually came over to ask you if you wanted to go for a really cool … I mean, elegant dinner on the board of the walk.” He took off his hat. “But maybe another time, huh?”

I nodded, but gave him a small smile before he walked away.

And seeing his retreating figure depart, I was no longer filled with any hope of reconciliation with my bosom friend, nor with my sister.

All that Fran had wanted from me was a listening ear and a kindred heart of understanding. But I had given her neither.

And at these terrible thoughts, anguish and hopelessness filled me up so fully and completely that I felt I would break in two. I covered my face with my hands. “What have I done?”

I turned back to my house, and could hardly stand to look up at the window of my room where I had concocted my villainous plans. “What have I done?” I cried again. Unable to go inside, I ran down to the beach to try and sort through all that had happened at my own hand. Surely, I could find some solace in the waves, some sort of plan of redemption.

Besides, with all those I loved angry with me, where else was there to go?

I
walked along the shore, letting the water lap at my ankles and drench the hem of my dress. Fresh tears sprung from my eyes and a new torment filled my heart.

I was cursed, and lifelong sorrow was all I was destined for now.

“Ouch!” My toe hit a slick, sharpened rock, and I realized I had come upon the jetty that reached out into the ocean’s breaking waves. Most did not venture out onto the jagged pier, but I had navigated the rocks long ago with my parents by my side and then with Fran accompanying me.

I started along its weatherworn path.

The wind pummeled me and the water spray smote my face with angry lashes. It was what I deserved, and
though the pain brought fresh tears to my eyes, I bore it all for the pain that I had exacted on those whom I loved.

My feet ached beneath me as a rock seemed to reach out and pierce my flesh. The cold, salted ocean stung the freshly opened skin and I winced. But farther I ventured, out past the breakers until the jetty ended and the open, wild sea began.

I stared below me at the waves crashing together in a surge of angry water. What had I done? I was now beginning to realize the full extent, and it was more than I could bear.

“Polly?”

I opened my eyes as the waves spoke my name. Could it be the spirit of the sea calling to me from its watery depths? Having so angered the ways of love, was I now causing this squall upon the sea?

“Polly?” Again the voice spoke.