Chapter Two, Episode Eighteen - Home Time - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update:

In this review, there was little revision necessary. In the first couple of sentences I did rework the verb tense to better clarify a past memory. 

I caught myself up on the last line of this episode. It was an obvious set up for the next episode, but clearly I didn't re-read this episode. I can't decide whether to delete that sentence or to somehow fix it. I'll give it some thought.

One of my, all too common typo's, required a fix. My habit is to type 'that' instead of 'than'. I've had to fix that so often that it's really getting annoying! (I didn't get high marks in accuracy in a typing class I took year ago.)

Amendment: After a suggestion that another read through would be a good idea, I was curious. What? Me? Miss something? Sure did - sentence structure, tiny spelling issues and some punctuation needed. 

Home Time

“Do you regret that we eloped, Em?” Dr. Jeremy Crawford had known Emelina years before when image was all consuming for her. She would have been horrified at even the suggestion. This escape up Island, only leaving a letter for her sister, Dez, and bringing a basket of food prepared by Cook, would have definitely been pooh-poohed. Just the thought made Jeremy laugh out loud. “What is so funny, Jeremy? You’re laughing at my shopping spree! What did you really think of the dress I bought on the ferry?” Emelina stepped off the elevator on Deck 2 where they were parked. “Well, it just reminded me of what our wedding could have been like and how much it would have cost. I loved the dress you bought, Em - casual and still classy. There’s our car over there.” Jeremy pointed ahead of them. Car doors opening and closing, passengers calling to each other “Hurry up! The ferry’s about to dock.” “Wake up that guy in front of us. We don’t want to get stuck behind him.” “Jimmy, get in the car…no on the other side….I have to buckle your sister into the car.”

On their drive from the ferry, they turned off the main highway to Hartley toward the Beaufort Estate. “In answer to your question, Jeremy, I definitely do not regret that we eloped. It was so much fun and so spontaneous. I know it was unlike the old nose-in-the-air Emelina, but she really needed it.” She reached out her hand to Jeremy, who took it. They fell silent. As the ferry docked, Jeremy put both hands on the steering wheel and, directed by ferry workers, followed the traffic onto the highway.

Breaking their silence, Jeremy said “I have another question for you, Em.” He glanced quickly over at her. “Eyes on the road, sweetheart - what’s your question?” As her husband had, Emelina pulled down the visor against the evening sun. “Well, when I was waiting for you in the kitchen, I heard Cook and Martha talking about someone they called ‘The Storyteller’. Do you know what that’s all about?” It was Emelina’s turned to laugh. “Oh, my - you don’t know about The Storyteller do you? You’ve been buried in your work and then I spirited you away. The Storyteller is really the narrator of our stories. I’m not sure you've even seen her. In the first, oh, about six months of the pandemic, she was frequently either at the Estate or spending time with Dez to write a little something everyday about us all. I think your name has been mentioned more than once. Didn’t you have an interview with someone off and on in the past year? Someone that may have seemed like a reporter?” 

“I’ve been so consumed with work or exhaustion, I’m not sure. I’ll think about it. But, what does she hope to get by writing about Beaufort? I mean, there’s not much sensational out there.”  Jeremy kind of remembered some early stories when he was mentioned, but hadn’t really thought much about it. His forehead wrinkled, his face serious. Emelina gently smoothed her husband's forehead. “Ok, I’ll tell you what The Storyteller told Dez and I. Maybe that will make sense. The three of us had a good visit one day when she was out to the Estate after being away for a while.”

“Mrs. Beaufort and Miss Eliot, it all started out as a bit of silliness. Dez you were the first! I have to tell you, I was scared. The world was so noisy! All I had been hearing on the news was how many people were dying, how many people tested positive for this Covid 19 virus, politics and the early arguments about mask wearing. I had to do something. I’m not much of a writer, but that’s what I like to do. Alone in my apartment, I imagined a home without Covid. A tiny pocket outside of the stifled city. A place where things felt almost normal. And then each of you on this land - and you, Dez, in the city - stepped forward and gave me that home. There were times when my pen flew so fast, it was like someone else’s hand putting down the words. Yes, and very tragically so, there have been many people die, families torn apart by absolutely heart wrenching grief. And there are many more that live outside the ravages of this pandemic. Just plain living. The Beaufort Estate - or even in your apartment, Dez - was that place where I could see that, even with restrictions, your little family could sort through them. And more than that, survive and live comfortably.”

Emelina sat back with a sigh. “Does that answer make sense, sweetie?” Jeremy pulled up at the back of the Estate mansion. “It sure does. That’s why I’ve loved to come out here. To feel some peace, quiet and life. Do you think she’ll keep writing - is it still every day?” They took their luggage and empty picnic basket out of the trunk. “It’s only been once a week for several months now. About six months in, she sent Digby a letter saying that she was pretty tired and asked that we help out. I can show you that stack of stories we’ve all written. Even Martha’s grandchildren have little stories. As a matter of fact, little Abby wrote two! The second one was a second letter to Santa. Come, let’s go in the house and something smells good.”

“There can’t be anyone home. Looks like they’re all over at the Digby cottage. At least that’s where all the cars are.”

“The world is quiet here.”

~ Lemony Snicket