Page 42 of The Inn on Bluebell Lane

“What…” She released the word in a shocked breath. His voice had been too matter-of-fact to be an accusation, and yet it had felt like that. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just, you haven’t always acted like it.”

Slowly, Ellie lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, her mind reeling. All right, yes, she’d struggled not to feel resentful sometimes, it was true, but she hadn’t thought that Matthew believed she blamed him for it all, because she didn’t. Did she?

“You’re not going to say anything?” Matthew asked with a twisted smile.

“I don’t know what to say,” Ellie admitted painfully. “It’s been hard for me, too, and maybe I’ve felt that you haven’t always realized that.”

“I knew you blamed me—”

“I’m trying to be honest,” she burst out. “Like you’ve been honest with me. I love you, Matthew, and I want to support you—in your job, in this move, emotionally, whatever it takes.” She felt tears crowd her eyes and she blinked them back. “But it’s been hard, especially when I haven’t always felt like you’ve been supporting me.”

“What—”

“I’ve had to watch my words, my attitude,” Ellie continued stubbornly, determined to get it all out now, since he had. At least, she hoped he had. If there was more, she wasn’t sure she could take it. “Anything remotely negative is always taken as some sort of personal criticism. You haven’t really appreciated how difficult I find trading suburban Connecticut for this tiny village in Wales, just dismissing my concerns about convenience and familiarity and, yes, having a darn Starbucks within thirty miles!” She let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. “And, yes, I know we both agreed to this, and I want to give it a real, hundred percent try, but… it’s hard. Really hard. It’s been hard for you, and it’s been hard for me. And maybe we just both need to realize that.” A sigh escaped her, a gust of sorrow. “I know there are times when I could have acted better, been more understanding, but I guess I want you to acknowledge that it’s a two-way street.”

Matthew stared at her, his face expressionless, and Ellie tensed, anticipating another emotional shutdown. They hadn’t talked this honestly since he’d first been made redundant, and she’d vacillated between being bracingly cheerful and not saying anything at all, because he hadn’t seemed to want her to. She could mark the beginning of their alienation from each other from that point, but she’d pretended to herself that it was nothing more than a blip, if that. Judging by his stony expression now, however, maybe honesty was overrated.

“Matthew…?” she finally ventured, her tone hesitant, cautious, as she braced herself for another round of accusations and arguments.

Then his expression collapsed in on itself as he shook his head, tears gleaming in his eyes. She felt both relieved and sadder than ever, simply by how sorry he looked. “I’m sorry, Ellie,” he said in a low voice. “I know it’s been hard for you. Harder, maybe, than it’s been for me.”

“It’s not a competition,” she said gently.

“I know.” He sighed, rubbing his good hand over his face. “Although maybe I’ve tried to make it one. I know I’ve been feeling sorry for myself. Mum told me as much. It’s not a good look on anyone, especially not your husband. I think my arm was the last straw. One thing after another, one failure after another…” He blew out a breath. “And now I can’t even bear to look at the renovation plans, because I’m not sure what the point of it all is.”

“Oh, Matthew.” Ellie rose from the bed and went to put her arms around him. After a second’s resistance, her husband accepted—and thankfully returned—her embrace, leaning into her and closing her eyes. “I’m glad you’ve told me all that,” she said. “And I’m sorry we haven’t talked more openly about this before now. But there is a point to the renovations, to being here. I know there is.” She thought of what Gwen had just told her. “Especially now.”

He pulled away a little to look at her. “Especially now?”

“You need to talk to your mom about that,” Ellie told him. “But I’m glad we’ve talked. And I’m sorry I haven’t been more understanding and patient.”

“I know I’ve been the same.”

“But now… this can be a fresh start—not just for our life in Wales, but for us.” She smiled at him, feeling strangely shy, considering they’d been married for over fifteen years. “Can’t it?”

Matthew smiled then, properly, in a way he hadn’t in a long time, and pulled her toward him with his good arm, so she was tucked into his chest. “Yes,” he said firmly. “It can.”

He kissed the top of her head as Ellie closed her eyes with a rush of relief and gratitude.

“Now,” he asked as he settled himself back in his chair, “what’s this about my mum?”

CHAPTER 22

GWEN

Gwen perched on the edge of a plastic chair, every muscle tense even though she was doing her best to relax. Next to her, Sarah was sitting up straight, looking very officious and alert.

Since Gwen had told both Matthew and Sarah about her cancer diagnosis last week—a painful conversation for all parties—her daughter, bless her, had been doing her best to become Llandrigg’s official cancer expert. She’d printed out several articles she’d found on the internet, and taken two books from the library, and pointed Gwen to countless blogs—everything from ‘Cooking to Be Cancer-Free’ to ‘Daily Mindful Meditations’ for cancer sufferers. Gwen was starting to feel as if she was nothing but the cancer, a blob of bad cells, which was exactly what she’d been worried about, but she knew she couldn’t explain that to Sarah. Her daughter was only trying to help, in the way she knew best—by doing.

Sarah had always liked to be in control, Gwen knew, even when she’d been a little girl. She’d made schedules and organized her toys in soldier-like rows and run playdates like military meetings. Matthew, in his own way, liked to be just as active, but he was laidback when it came to making decisions. Maybe too laidback, Gwen reflected, or at least uncommunicative. She was glad Ellie had shared about the tension between her and Matthew, but Gwen hoped that was being resolved.

When she’d told Matthew and Sarah about her cancer, Ellie had sat next to Matthew and held his hand. Gwen had seen him squeeze her fingers, and she’d been heartened by this show of solidarity between them. Maybe things were already changing, getting better.

As for Sarah… that was a little trickier. When David had died, she’d wanted to arrange the funeral, give the eulogy, and pick both the flowers and hymns. Gwen had let her do most of it, because she knew that was how Sarah handled her grief and she’d felt too wrung out to fight her or do those things herself, but she wasn’t sure she could deal with that level of interference this time around. This was her life—her cancer, even—and she wanted to be the one making the decisions. She hadn’t quite been able to articulate that to Sarah yet, though.

“I think you should be seen soon,” Sarah said tetchily. “That lady over there came in after us and she’s just been called in. Perhaps I should have a word with the nurse—?” She half-rose from her seat and Gwen stayed her with her hand.