In the end, they said each other everything, or at least what was left to say.
After that terrible event, Johnathan had earned the right to not justify himself for his lie and for spying on his wife: he told her the whole truth about his plan. Elizabeth listened indignantly but, submerged as she was by the weight of her guilt, she said almost nothing.
While Abblepot made his legitimate outburst, asking his wife the reasons for her action, as if this could have soothed his pain, Elizabeth confessed her love for young Martyn Trischer and the circumstances in which it was born.
Abblepot left his wife without saying a word, and he went up the stairs as if he was carrying excessive weight on his back. Elizabeth burst into tears: she fell on the sofa and only after many hours, overcome by exhaustion, she finally closed her eyes.
She didn't know or cared what her husband was doing upstairs, nor did he worry about his wife anymore.
Johnathan Abblepot thought about all these things, while with his head down, he tried to concentrate on prayer.
He looked up at the crucifix. A question echoed in his head, but he did not dare ask it out loud, for he knew that "you should not tempt the Lord."
"Anyway, He can read inside us," he thought immediately after, with resentment.
However, he refrained from speaking. He stared with greater determination at the wooden cross above the altar, and tears rose to his eyes. He felt prey to intense depression, yet a constant tingling ran through his limbs; he clasped his hands tightly together.
Then he got up, determined to go back to the house.
Once in the living room, he called, "Elizabeth", in a low tone. He knew he would find her in there.
She was sitting in the armchair, looking out the window, as if she had been still for who knows how long, just waiting for him to appear somewhere. She didn't turn around, but Abblepot understood that she had heard him calling and was paying attention to him.
The reverend said, "We didn't talk like decent spouses last night."
The girl replied, "And how can we be, John?"
"What I mean is that I was only able to speak by throwing at you all my frustration. And it can't be the only way to deal with this. "
Her husband's calm and apparent complacency almost annoyed her. Elizabeth said nothing.
Abblepot continued: "Please look at me."
So she did. Her eyes were sad.
"John," her voice almost turns into a sigh. New tears came to her eyes as if the previous evening ones hadn't been enough.
"Do you love that boy?" Johnathan's voice was firm.
"I do not know anymore. When it all started, I was almost convinced. Now I don't know anymore."
"Elizabeth, I would like to ask you the reasons. I would like to know why it happened ... but I will not ask you. I thought about it, and I don't think it would help me."
"John," she said again.
"Please let me finish. If this has happened, there must be many reasons. But we all make mistakes. Who knows how many times I did. I cannot tell you how long it will take me to regain the trust that used to bind us, but I am convinced that it is possible. If you want to, if you don't love Martyn Trischer so much that you'll want to sacrifice our relationship for him, maybe we can start again. In a different way, but together."
Elizabeth couldn't understand the emotions stirring inside her; she didn't know what to say.
"Elizabeth, I'm telling you that I want to try to move forward beyond this affair. I prayed: last night and this morning. I prayed for answers. Well, unfortunately, I didn't get any. But I decided to follow what I felt during all of last night's sleepless hours."
The young woman was silent.
Then she said, "John, I don't know what to say right now, honestly.
When we decided to live together, I wouldn't have ever imagined that something like this could happen. Now, something else is happening that I hadn't thought about last night while I was awake. I need some time."
Her husband looked at her, almost impassive. Elizabeth continued: "I just want the storm that I feel inside to calm down. And I promise you we'll talk. Only, not now. Please."
Johnathan Abblepot agreed to his wife's request. He left the room and went for a walk, letting her wife know as thoughtfully as he could.
The days had passed, almost usually. Johnathan and Elizabeth seemed to have somehow managed to go beyond what had happened to leave it behind.
Of course, when they fell asleep together, they no longer did so by holding their hands as they used to. At times, when they were in the same room, a feeling of coldness and tension crept into the walls of the house.
Yet they had managed to move forward: Johnathan by being as thoughtful as he could, and by never mentioning to her the new feelings that indeed started growing inside of him; Elizabeth by letting things take a strange turn, somewhat unnatural, but more than decent.
In reality, the young woman felt the weight of that situation very much. Even if before she felt guilty for her actions and lies towards her husband, she was in a stronger position. She was the only one aware of the truth, and a young, attractive boy loved her.
Now, however, the strong position was her husband's, who had forgiven her, still accepted at home, to whom she owed everything, the food, the accommodation, and the excellent reputation that people always credited her.
Then, it occurred to her, amazed that she had forgotten about it, that she, her husband, and Martyn were not the only ones aware of the scandal that had happened in the vicarage.
The slim figure, slightly curved, and the ambiguous look of Evelyn Archer came to mind.
She had a precise role in the matter. She was the first one to talk to Elizabeth about her nephew, and Elizabeth had met him for the first time right in that shop.
Evelyn Archer had gone even further. More than once, she invited the reverend's wife to the shop at a specific time, the same time when Martyn would also come by; as she was organizing their meetings intentionally.
Until one day, despite every sense of decency, Mrs. Archer had dared to propose to Elizabeth Abblepot to go to a house she owned, on the outskirts of Vestavia Hills, and had promptly handed over the keys.
Elizabeth had equally promptly indulged her.
Straight after, she felt those keys almost like burning her fingers, keys that she should have indignantly rejected. Instead, like a little girl who had just received an unexpected gift, she played with them in her hands, and couldn't wait to get to that house, where she knew, very well, who she would find.
The young woman shook herself off from these memories and decided to go to Mrs. Archer. She was avoiding the shop for weeks, and when she saw her from afar, she did not bother to look at her.
On the way to the shop, Elizabeth felt her legs tingling as if loads of insects were clinging on them. When she opened the shop door, Evelyn Archer was as usual in her spot, near the counter, busy with the pointless activity of moving and repositioning trinkets of all kinds, from one position to another. She seemed surprised to see Elizabeth come in, but her amazement had something unclear, not at all embarrassed.
"What can I do for you, dear?" Archer said, trying to be distant but failing.
"Mrs. Evelyn, I'm not sure why I came here."
"Maybe for the usual reason. To see Martyn, or to find out where he is." The older woman seemed annoyed.
"Maybe ..." and Elizabeth wanted to carry on, but she didn't let her.