Confessions from the Quilting Circle by Maisey Yates (free ebook reader for iphone TXT) 📗

But she did not love the man that he became, and that was the only man left.

But he was Peyton’s dad, and it was never going to be simple.

But just because it was complicated, didn’t mean they couldn’t be happy.

And Avery didn’t feel tired like she had before.

“Have a seat,” she said, gesturing toward a table and chairs in the corner. It was larger, of course, than the one that Gram had kept set up for herself, Hannah and Lark. But it was in the same place. And it made her smile.

Lark came out from behind the counter and walked over to the table, grinning.

“Hi, Aunt Lark,” Peyton said.

“Hi,” Hayden mumbled.

“Anything to drink?”

“He’ll have a hot chocolate,” Avery said, and laughed at his scowl. “It’s what you want. Stop drinking things you don’t like just to be cool.”

“What tea do you have?” Peyton asked, straightening and trying to look grown up.

“Chai,” Lark said. “Others too, but I bet you’d like the chai.”

“Okay. I’ll have that.”

“Do you know what craft you’re going to do?”

“I want to do those bags that people do here,” Avery said. “Where you carve out your own stamp.”

“Linocut,” Lark said. “I’ll get you the supplies for that. You two?”

“I don’t know,” Hayden said.

“I’ll do the same as Mom,” Peyton said.

“Linocut all around, how about? And I can help if you need it.”

Lark turned to get the supplies, and Avery stopped her. “Just a second,” she said. “I think we need...flower crowns.”

“What?” Hayden looked horrified.

“You don’t have to wear it. But I’m feeling celebratory.”

“What are we celebrating?” Peyton asked.

“Whatever we want. And that in the future we can be whatever we want. All of us.”

Lark returned with crafts, drinks and flower crowns, and the three of them set to work. She and Peyton wore the crowns, Hayden’s sat in front of him on the table.

It was amazing how being a happier woman, one who let herself want things, and feel things, was making her into a better mother. Because this didn’t feel hard, or like too much. It felt like joy. And it had been a long time since she had felt anything like joy.

Lark came and sat at the table for a while, assisted where assistance was needed.

“Do you want another drink?” Lark asked, after a while.

“Sure, I’ll go help you carry them.”

“You’re good at this,” Lark said, when they were out of earshot of the kids.

“It turns out that I’m good at a lot of things,” Avery said. “It’s amazing how much more you can appreciate that when you don’t always feel like you’re failing at something.” She studied Lark’s profile, and saw that there was a stillness, a sadness to her sister.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, forcing a smile. “I... Keira is in town.”

“Ben’s ex Keira?”

“Yes.”

“And that scares you.”

She nodded. “There are things...there are things I have to tell him about and this is going to make it even harder.”

“You’re not scared of hard, Lark Ashwood.”

“I’m not?”

Avery shook her head. “No. We all underestimated you for a long time, but look at you. Look at this place. You set your mind to something, and you seem to make it work. I think you’ll make this work too.”

Lark ducked her head. “Well. You too. You were always an overachiever.”

“I don’t know about that. But I liked a lot of different things. A lot of things that I forgot I liked. I used to really enjoy writing.”

“Well,” Lark said. “I would say that you have a lot to write about.”

Avery looked around the Craft Café, this building that housed so much of what she was. What she’d been, and now, who she was going to be. At her sister, who she was beginning to realize was strong and brilliant. Like they all were. Like all the women that had come before them. Who were with them now.

“I do. I really do.”

Lark

Lark had spent the whole next day feeling like she was floating. It wasn’t as though she felt entirely unburdened, but she felt like something. She couldn’t quite pin it down. She was about to close the shop, when Ben walked through the door.

“Hi,” she said.

Something shifted in her, when she looked at him. And she knew that she was going to have to tell him.

“I just came to find out if you wanted to have some dinner,” he said.

“Dinner?”

“Yeah. I brought...” He moved his hands out from behind his back. “A picnic basket. I know you have food, but I didn’t think it was a very good offer if I had you make it for us.”

“That’s... Actually I did want to talk to you.”

He cut her off though, kissing her. And she just wished that she could kiss him and not talk because between Keira being back and having to face dealing with her secret...

She didn’t want to. She was too bruised. Too battered.

Because her one had up and married someone else. But he was the person that her heart cried out for, no matter how much distance, no matter how many years. And she had been certain it was that grief that she carried, the fact that she’d had his baby. That it had done something to her, but she didn’t think that was it. Not now. Not while he was kissing her.

When they parted, he was breathing heavily, and so was she. She pressed her fingertips to his chest and felt his heart beating beneath them.

“Keira is back,” she said, resting her hand against his chest.

“Yes,” he said, his voice rough. “It doesn’t matter. I mean, not like that. She came to talk to me and I sent her away.”

“You can’t do that. You have to talk to her.”

“I don’t,” he said.

“You do. Because she’s Taylor’s mom. And because frankly, we have to deal with this or we can’t...we won’t be able to work, Ben. We can’t pretend. We can’t pretend that it was us all this time. Not when it wasn’t.” Emotion throttled her voice. “I can’t pretend