“Because of the meeting we had at the restaurant?”
Beth shook her head. “No. That happened over Thanksgiving, when my parents came to Portland.”
“That’s good,” he surprised her by saying.
“It is for them both. It’s time this foolishness between them came to an end.”
He grinned as if he found her statement amusing.
Not knowing what else to say, if anything, Beth stood again. “Thank you for seeing me and for letting me apologize in person.” He hadn’t accepted her apology, she noted. That was on him, though. She’d done her part.
“What you did is forgivable, Beth.”
“Thank you.” Relief washed over her as she started for the door. “You surprised me.”
“How’s that?”
“I expected you to demand that I leave your office and have me escorted out.”
“But you came, anyway.”
“Yes, seeing you was important. It helped that you didn’t recognize my name.”
“Ah, but I did.”
“You did?”
“I was curious to find out what brought you to my office.”
That made sense. “From past experience, you probably should have been afraid.”
He grinned and Beth had the feeling he didn’t find much in life amusing. “Would you mind if I tell my aunt you have one of her early paintings?”
Indecision passed over his features, tightening them briefly. “Sure. Go ahead, if you like. It won’t make any difference, but if you feel it would help her to know that I’ve thought of her through the years, then by all means tell her.”
“Thank you for everything.” Beth made it all the way to his door before she hesitated and turned back. “Would you mind answering one last question?”
“Depends on what it is.”
“You loved her, didn’t you? Sunshine, that is.”
His eyes grew sad and he nodded. “Always.”
For reasons that hit far too close to her own heart, tears gathered in Beth’s eyes. She wanted to say more but was afraid if she did her voice would crack. No matter what the future held for her and Sam, she would always love him. If he never wanted to see her again, then she could accept that, no matter how much it hurt.
—
When Beth arrived back at the house, she found a note from her mother on the kitchen counter.
Out for the afternoon.
Seeing that she had the house to herself, Beth made herself comfortable in her favorite chair, tucked her feet under her, and reached for her phone. Her aunt was probably busy in her studio and would let the call go to voicemail and return it later, which was fine. She was surprised when Sunshine picked up.
“You okay, Sweet Pea?”
She wasn’t but not for the reasons her aunt assumed. Beth had yet to tell Sunshine about what had happened with Sam. Deep down, she was confident he would eventually have a change of heart. It was still so new she hadn’t dealt with her own feelings and wasn’t up to speaking about it, not even to Sunshine. “I’m good. Had an interesting morning, though.”
“What’s up?”
“Before I get to that, I need to say something.” She drew in a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I want to apologize for the dinner Mrs. Reacher and I arranged. We both thought we were helping smooth the path to true love. Yet all we did was bring up old hurts. I’m genuinely sorry. If I could undo that dinner, I would. I hope you know I would never intentionally hurt you. I feel terrible knowing I did.”
“Of course you wouldn’t, Baby Girl; I know that. It’s forgotten. No apology necessary.”
Her aunt was more than generous, but then she always had been.
“Now tell me about your morning,” Sunshine said, changing the subject.
“You weren’t the only one I needed to apologize to,” Beth explained. “When I first tried to speak to Mr. Hamlin, the receptionist, not Mrs. Reacher, made an appointment for me in December. I’d actually forgotten about it. Then I got a reminder and decided that instead of breaking the appointment I would go to his office and apologize personally.”
“Did he kick you out?” she asked, making a joke of it.
“I thought he would,” Beth confessed. “Instead, he saw me. I assumed he didn’t recognize my name, but later he told me he had. He accepted my apology and asked after you.”
“He did?”
“Whatever anger he felt toward me and Mrs. Reacher has worn off, I think. He was actually calm and almost…pleasant.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“He has one of your paintings in his office.”
Her words were greeted with silence.
“It’s one of your early ones.”
Silence again.
“I asked him if he objected to me telling you that he had it, and he said he didn’t mind.” Seeing how quiet her aunt had become, Beth had to wonder if she’d done the right thing by letting her know.
Beth thought she heard a sniffle.
“Should I not have told you that?” she asked, uncertain now. “I mean, seeing that he has the painting and seems to have had it for a long time says something, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I suppose it does.”
Beth debated on telling her aunt the rest. “I asked him another question and I’m not sure you want to know the answer, so tell me if you don’t.”
“What was the question?” Sunshine asked, and it sounded as if she was struggling to hold on to her emotions.
Oh dear, would she never learn? In trying to apologize, she might have made matters even worse.
“I asked Peter if he loved you.” She bit into her lower lip while she waited for her aunt’s response.
It took her a moment. “Yes, tell me.”
“He said always.” She waited for her aunt to say something more. A long time passed.
Then finally, in a tightly controlled voice, Sunshine whispered, “Thank you, Beth.”
Unsure now that she’d done it again and hurt the people she loved, she asked, “Did I do the right thing? Or did I make matters even worse?”
An eternity passed before Sunshine answered, and when she did her voice was thick with emotion.
“You did the right thing.”
—
Beth waited until Christmas Day to send Sam a text. A dozen times or more she’d typed out a few words, needing to reach out to him, hoping he’d had a change of heart. Not hearing from him ate at her.
Christmas morning, knowing she was two hours ahead of him time wise, she waited until she was certain he would be up and about. All she sent was two words: Merry Christmas.
She waited all day and got no response back.
CHAPTER 37
Sam
The second weekend in January, Sam was busy working on a friend’s car when Rocco showed up at the house. Sam hadn’t stopped by his friend’s house since before Christmas for fear of inadvertently running into Beth. Nichole and Beth were tight and he didn’t want to risk a chance encounter. It was hard enough not to think about her as it was. Hard enough to push thoughts of her out of his head.
Just plain hard.
This lost feeling was new. Before Beth he’d grown accustomed to the loneliness, filled it with nights at The Dog House, watching sports, and poker nights with his buddies. He found the missing piece of his soul with the music she brought into his life. With her he’d discovered joy, laughter, and most important, meaning. His evenings seemed flat; he looked for things to keep himself occupied so he wouldn’t think about her. He consoled himself with the promise that this lost feeling wouldn’t last forever. He’d grow accustomed to life without her soon enough.
“Hey,” Rocco greeted, stepping into the garage. He stuffed his hands in his jean pockets as though to warm his fingers. He walked around to the front of the vehicle and looked over the engine. The weather was typical of January, drizzly and miserable. It was a good complement to Sam’s mood, which had been dark since the day he split with Beth.
>
“Hey,” Sam returned. He straightened and looked to his friend, wiping his hand with a cloth.
“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Rocco commented.
“Been busy.” Sam suspected this was more than a social visit. Without it being said, he understood Nichole had sent Rocco on a fact-finding mission. Sam had nothing to say, and he’d make sure Rocco knew it in quick order.
“Owen’s jar is empty,” Rocco said. “He’s asking about you.”
Sam grinned. “You should bring him by; I’ll fill it up for him.”
Rocco bent over the car and examined the engine. “You okay?” he asked without looking at Sam.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” The question was defensive.
Straightening, Rocco shrugged. “Heard you and Beth split.”
“Yeah, well, all good things must come to an end, right?” He placed his hands on both sides of the engine and leaned forward, as if the answers to the questions of the universe were revealed there.
“Not all good things,” Rocco countered.
“It was time,” Sam said, unwilling to add anything more.
Rocco nodded as though he understood. “Thought that way once myself. Learned otherwise. You two were good together, complemented each other. Thing is, Sam, I don’t ever remember you being as happy or content as when you were with Beth.”
“Appreciate the words, Roc, but not your business.”
Rocco raised his hands as if surrendering. “I had my say and as far as I’m concerned, from here on out it’s a closed subject.”
“Good. Keep it that way.” Sam straightened and relaxed. He didn’t want to lose a good friend because of Beth. These first few weeks would be the most difficult. It would get easier in time. All he had to do was wait it out.
“Heard Beth’s—”
Sam stopped him. “Do me a favor.”
“Sure,” Rocco said. “What do you need?”
“If you hear of her…”
“You mean Beth.”
Who else did he think it would be? “Yeah, Beth. If you hear anything she’s said or if she’s dating again, I’d rather not know about it. Better yet, don’t mention her name anytime I’m around. Understand?”
Rocco grinned like he knew something Sam didn’t.
“Can you do that?” he asked, letting his irritation show.
“Sure thing.”
“Good.”
Rocco hung around for another thirty minutes and then took off on an errand for Nichole. When Sam finished adjusting the carburetor on the 1970 Chevy Impala, he fixed himself a bologna sandwich and stood at the kitchen counter, wolfing it down. Funny how even the little things like a countertop in his kitchen reminded him of Beth. He’d stood right here when Beth had delivered the cookies for his poker night with the guys.
He didn’t dare let Rocco know how bad off he was without her. It’d been only three weeks since he’d last seen her—three dark weeks—and every day was a challenge. Countless times he’d thought to reach out to her. It took every bit of restraint he could manage to not give in. What held him back was knowing something like what happened at Christmas was likely to happen again. She couldn’t help herself. It was part of her nature to fix things. To make everything right. He’d seen it more than once.
What Beth failed to understand was that Sam didn’t need fixing.
He didn’t need her sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong, dragging up the past he was determined to push to the farthest reaches of his mind. After Trish, he’d decided never to trust another woman again. Circumstances had brought him and Beth together and for a time it had been good.
Real good.
He’d let his heart rule his head and it had nearly ended in disaster. He could only imagine what would have happened if Trish had happened to see him at that recital. And worse, far, far worse, was seeing Luci. Seeing his daughter. She was everything he had imagined, everything he’d hoped.
Pain hit him square in the chest and he closed his eyes while his body adjusted to the emotional hit.
His daughter.
His child.
Just thinking about her and his head felt like it would implode. He could never be part of her life. He didn’t need to be reminded that his chance of being a father had been taken away from him.
No, letting go of Beth was a protection. Hard as it was, he was determined to be free of her—this time for good.
CHAPTER 38
Sunshine
Sunshine had always enjoyed her visits to Chicago and was happy to accept the Lindstrom Art Museum’s invitation to display her work. The reception held in her honor was to take place late afternoon on a Saturday. Her sister had agreed to accompany her, and Sunshine could see how well Ellie enjoyed introducing herself as the sister of the artist.
The compliments flowed as smoothly and freely as the champagne. By the end of the viewing, Sunshine was tired and more than ready to return to her hotel room for downtime. Ellie and Phillip had left, and she was about to thank the curator and head out herself when she noticed a lone man remained. His back was to her, but even then she recognized who it was.
Peter.
After a short hesitation, she joined him. Standing at his side she said, “I didn’t realize you were here.”
He set his empty champagne glass down on the tray provided and smiled. “Your work is breathtaking, Sunshine.”
Her paintings had received praise and adulation all afternoon, but none meant more to her than Peter’s kind words. “Thank you.” She was afraid to say anything more, not knowing his mood. Their past two conversations had left her feeling wounded.
The curator approached and was about to tell Peter the showing had come to an end when she stopped him. “This is a personal friend of mine,” she explained.
“Ah, of course. Please, stay as long as you like.”
“I appreciate it.”
He left them.
Peter stood by her side. “Are you tired?” he asked.
These receptions drained her of energy. Generally, all she wanted to do was return to her hotel room and put up her feet. “A little,” she admitted.
“Would you consider dining with me?”
She hesitated, unsure they could spend time together without both of them coming away bleeding and battered.
“It’s a simple question,” he said when she didn’t answer. “Yes or no?”
There was a slight edge to his voice as if he half expected her to make an excuse.
“Yes,” she said, not wanting to risk losing the opportunity to spend more time with him even if it did end up bringing her pain.
He grinned then, almost sheepishly. “I know this quaint Mexican place that serves fish tacos.”
“Peter.” She breathed his name, hardly able to believe it. “Is our restaurant still open? After all these years?”
“Not the same one, a bit different, but with the same owners.”
“No.” Her fingertips hugged her lips. “Impossible.”
“It took some investigating to find that couple. I was happy to learn they are still in the restaurant business.”
“I can’t believe it. Have you been?”
“No, I decided to wait until you could join me. Will you?”
She nodded, feeling almost giddy with delight.
The curator supplied her purse and coat and then escorted them from the museum. He gushed with enthusiasm and praise along with appreciation as Sunshine walked out the door, embarrassing her with his continuous compliments. When she was with Peter, she was no longer the artist, she was a woman spending time with a man.
Peter led her to a waiting car.
“You have a driver?” she asked.
“The firm supplies one for special clients.”
“Am I a client?”
“No,” he agreed, “but you’re special.”
She smiled and squeezed his fingers. He looked down at their joined hands as though shocked. Thinking her touch was unwelcome, she immediately
released his hand and pulled her own closer to her body.
The restaurant was in the suburbs and took forty-five minutes to reach. They said little, almost as if they were strangers, which, Sunshine supposed, they essentially were. After all, it’d been more than thirty years.
When they arrived at the restaurant, the driver opened the door for Sunshine and helped her out. She was impressed with the outside of the building, which was a far cry from the hole-in-the-wall place they had faithfully supported in their youth. The original only had ten tables and this place was massive.
Peter approached the receptionist and they were seated right away. Neither bothered to look at menus. They knew what they wanted.
“It’s changed, hasn’t it?” Sunshine said, looking around at the flurry of activity. The waiter at the booth next to theirs was making guacamole, scooping fresh avocados into a bowl. Another server was delivering chips and fresh salsa.
“We’ve all changed, don’t you think?” Peter asked.
Sunshine could only agree. “Do you ever think back to those days when we pooled our limited funds to share a meal?”
Peter grinned. “I do. I could probably buy every item on this menu ten times over without giving it a second thought now. You, too, I suppose,” he added. “But I was a far happier man when I was driving the car my grandfather loaned me and looking under the seat for spare change so I could take you to dinner.”
Sunshine looked down at her hands. “I was happy then, too.”
“And now?” Peter asked.
Unsure how to answer, she said, “You need to define happiness. I’m content. I enjoy my life and my career.”
“Are you ever lonely?”
She shrugged. “At times. You?”
He responded in like. “At times.”
“If I were able to reach back in time and change the course of my life, there is one thing I’d do.”
“Not leave for Italy because—”
“Not that,” she said cutting him off.
Surprise showed in his eyes, and it seemed some of the light faded.
“Not that,” she continued. “Italy was a life-changing experience for me, and not for the reasons you assume. The change I’d make is reading the letter you wrote after I moved to California. I was hurt and angry, filled with righteous indignation. I returned it to you unopened. I wish now that I’d been mature enough to put all that disappointment and indignation behind me.”
If Not for You Page 31
