Mating for Life

Chapter one continued...

The next morning, Liane slid her laptop back into the bag she had brought it in. She took the cottage guest book out to the side porch with her coffee instead. She opened it and flipped backward in the book.

Thank you Helen for a wonderful week. We made the most of the weather and still enjoyed many long walks, warm fires and great food. We appreciate you being so generous in offering it to us for the week. Sincerely, The Smiths (Terri and Dave).

Liane yawned and turned the page. She had no clue who Terri and Dave were, but they sounded boring. Perhaps they were friends from the village Helen now lived in. Helen had once said that most of the people who lived there were boring, but that she loved them for that because it made her feel more interesting. 

On the next page she saw a familiar scrawl.

Your children are gorgeous, your cottage is magical and you, of course, are a queen of all things. Love, Edie.

Liane experienced a moment of surprise, because seeing Edie's writing made her realize how many years had passed since any of them had seen her. 

Edie had not been boring. Liane had loved Edie. They all had-even Fiona, who had never liked any of Helen's friends but had spent more time with Edie as a young child than any of the girls, since Helen had toured more back then. There had been some sort of falling-out between Helen and Edie, though, and she had disappeared from their lives around the time Fiona graduated from high school. Liane remembered this because Edie had come to the graduation and Helen had refused to speak to her. Liane had never asked Helen what had happened, and now she wondered why not. They had called her "aunt"; she had been Helen's best friend. 

Liane looked down at the writing and remembered the time Edie had taken her, Ilsa, and Fiona on an "expedition" to catch caterpillars, which she had somehow known would make cocoons in the jars, which would then turn into but- terflies, which the girls would then release at dusk. "Why at dusk?" Liane had asked Edie. "You must always release but- terflies at dusk," Edie had said, her voice full of the mysteries only a woman like her could fathom. She had long hair she braided around her head like a crown and she always wore swishy skirts and an anklet that tinkled when she walked. 

Liane closed her eyes. She remembered more: Ilsa's jar hadn't produced a cocoon. Her caterpillar had died. Later, Ilsa had told her she'd switched hers because she'd known something was wrong with Fiona's-and that Fiona would hate to fail at producing a butterfly. "But didn't you want one?" Liane had asked Ilsa. Ilsa had shrugged. "Not really. It felt wrong. And anyway, not as much as Fiona probably did." Liane felt like she was the only person who knew that Ilsa really did love Fiona. She thought perhaps she should tell Fiona about the butterfly, but also that it was too late. My sis- ters don't like each other. She realized this, also, as she continued to follow the loops of Edie's cursive script with her eyes, and thought about how strange it was that there were truths that could exist in families that everyone ignored, even though they were devastating. 

Liane closed the book, stood, and went into the kitchen. She opened the cupboard closest to the stove and grabbed a box of spelt flakes and raisins. She scooped kefir onto the cereal. Then she saw her mobile phone sitting on the counter and brought it with her to the side porch. She thought about not calling Adam, but instead she did. She should have before now. It had been days. There were no missed calls, no texts from him, nothing. 

"What are you doing?" he asked, as though they had talked a few moments ago. 

"Eating breakfast." 

"Ah, and you didn't want to dine alone." 

"Well, no, not really. I just realized I hadn't called to tell you I arrived safely and thought you might . . ." She was about to say, be worried, but stopped, because it wouldn't have been true, and what Adam said next confirmed this.