July 12, 1958
Dear Emmy,
We went out again today. This time we made our way to Chipping Camden, which didn’t look familiar at all when we first drove into town, and I had to remind myself that nearly twenty years have passed since the day you and I arrived in Gloucestershire. But as we neared the city center, I began to think perhaps we were to be lucky today. The railway station and the lay of the streets and the city hall—it addled my brain how familiar and yet not familiar they were. Again we asked about in the shops and the library and the bank if anyone knew of the sisters. We received mostly kind and compassionate responses. A few people looked askance at us or simply shook their heads with a wordless no when we asked. We had tea at a lovely café to refresh us and Simon noted on the map how many villages were within walking distance. And we went to them all, Emmy. Aston Subedge, Broad Marston, several others.
Every place looked like it could have been where you and I were. And yet no one knew of the sisters. We even strolled the cemeteries, looking for their names.
On the way home I was feeling tremendously discouraged. I wondered aloud if perhaps Thea had been wrong about where Mum told her we were. Maybe she assumed it was Gloucestershire. Or maybe Thea said we had been in Oxfordshire and Granny heard Gloucestershire, because there are Cotswold villages in Oxfordshire as well.
Simon just said, rather confidently, Well, then we’ll look in every village in Oxfordshire, too.
The way he said this gave me pause. I couldn’t see his face clearly because night had fallen and the only light on his features was from the headlamps of a few passing cars. But in the shadows I saw a determined look that surprised me. It did not matter to him that the search may have now widened to include another county. It only mattered that we pressed on, like a wise accountant would do to find the error in the ledger and adjust it. It was as if he was determined to find the house to fix me, which is different than the reason I want to find it. He wanted to find the house so that I could at last climb out of my regrets and marry him. I am not interested in fixing me. I want to fix what I broke.
It’s completely different.
When I said nothing, he took my silence for anxiety that now we have even more towns to search and that he might lose interest in me because of it. He said not to worry, because I was the only thing that mattered to him. He reached for my hand.
I love him, Emmy, I do. And I know he loves me. But sitting there in the dark with the shimmer of London way off in the distance, I knew that I must continue on alone. If I don’t, I fear I am the one who may lose interest.
I don’t want to feel as if I am the broken thing that needs to be repaired even if that’s what I am. Your lover should see you as whole even if you are in pieces, because that’s what love does, doesn’t it? It sees past the flaws. It forgets there are flaws.
Simon said my name.
I traced his hand in mine, wondering how to tell him. Simon, I said, would you mind very much if next Saturday I went alone?
What was that? he said.
I proceeded to tell him that finding the brides box was something I needed to accomplish on my own. I figured the word “accomplish” would sound good to his ears. I didn’t think he needed to know that I was feeling he was showing less love for me rather than more by his ardent enthusiasm for the quest. That would only wound him. And there are already enough wounds in the world. I told him I appreciated with all my heart the help and support he had given me, but that I wanted to continue on my own.
But are you sure that’s a good idea? he asked. Going alone?
I think he was suggesting that in my fragile state, maybe I would collapse at the shock of finding the house and the box, or be devastated at not finding them.
But I have survived much, Emmy. Haven’t I? Haven’t I survived the war and the loss of my childhood, my parents, and my sister? Haven’t I come back to London? Haven’t I looked for you? Haven’t I agreed to write this journal? Haven’t I embarked on the mission to find your brides? And haven’t I done all that alone?
I squeezed Simon’s hand. This is something only I can do for me, Simon, I said. I will be all right.
He attempted a couple more counterarguments but, in the end, because he loves me, he agreed.
I asked him if I could use his car, which he has loaned to me other times, and he said of course.
He seemed a little hurt when we said good night, but I don’t think he feels injured by me. It’s more that he’s disappointed he can’t be the one to rescue me.
I think I know how that feels.
Julia