― pleasefindthis, I Wrote This For You
I can't imagine two people more opposed than Tess and Clare. Each as jealous of the other as the stung are of the adder.
I blame Nat for putting me in the middle, inviting Tess to dinner simply because he was blinded by her beauty.
It's only dinner, I tell myself, but it seems an ancient feud as if these two have unfinished business and maybe they do―like every other resident in West Harbour they're frozen in time and mired in its amber.
We arrive at the restaurant and there's an awkward moment while the hostess arranges to seat us.
Clare is stand-offish but Tess stays right beside her.
Finally, we're shown into restaurant but just as we cross the threshold from the reception to dining area, Clare's heel catches on the plush rug and she's thrown off-balance.
I'm two steps behind and before I can move Tess' arm reaches out and steadies her.
It's a simple gesture―a reflex, but an image flashes through my mind―Tess with her arm around Clare in that other place and time.
And then I know. It all becomes clear. They were friends.
My jaw drops but there's more. As Clare turns to thank Tess I see the recognition on both their faces as they become aware.
They follow the hostess to the table but are left unsettled.
Nat holds a chair for Tess then sits beside her, with Clare and me facing them.
The bristling feud that was simmering ends in quiet detente, the anticipated Maginot Line no longer a linen divide but a flag of surrender...
And all without a word said.
I'm mesmerized and overcome with wonder.
Nat, blissfully oblivious to what transpired, babbles on merrily and who could blame him? He's totally absorbed and consumed with Tess' beauty.
Clare glances at me her eyes full of dark surprise and I nod in silent confirmation and feign nonchalance.
There are roses on the table, yellow for remembrance, but there's more between us than flowers― at the very least a century.
Nat, continues unaware of the subtext of our lover's triangle, engaging Tess with questions about antiques and local points of interest.
I'm dying to whisper to Clare but refrain. I feel like Hardy invariably immeshed in a lovers' triangle with one partner dead.
And that's when it hits me. The past isn't done and it's not dead―as for Tess and Clare and me, our dreams still live to light a path ahead.