“He’s protecting himself.” Brock pushed up a bit and pain shot down his neck. “Cured or dead. At this point I’m not sure which sounds better.”
“I wish this wasn’t happening.” Tears shimmered in her eyes, but he couldn’t look away. When he was lucid enough to pray, he actually asked God to take away the tumultuous feelings he had for this woman. Because if he lived . . . a wry smile jumped him without permission . . . well, Mitch hadn’t been that far off the mark.
“You’re tired, Savannah.” He wanted to reach for her hand, but clasped his fingers together instead. She gave a watery smile and a shrug.
“Not sleeping very well.”
“When’s he coming back?” Brock hadn’t wanted to ask. Mitch told him, with a glint of glee in his eyes, that Savannah’s husband hightailed it out of here a few days ago. But the man did have a job to get back to. Brock couldn’t believe he’d brought her up here in the first place.
“Hopefully on Saturday. With Adam.”
“That’s good. Day after tomorrow, right?”
“I know.” She twisted her rings and frowned at the floor.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing. Just . . .” She met his eyes again and he saw fear in them. “The woman Kevin had an affair with has applied for a job at his company. And put him down as a reference.”
“She what?” Brock had to work to keep horrified laughter in check. “Well, that’s gutsy.”
“There are other words I can think of.” She bit her lip, fiddled with her rings some more, and faced him again. “If she moves back to Boston, I don’t think I could take it.”
“Hey.” Knowing it was so not a good idea, he reached for her hand anyway. “You know there’s a long road ahead. A lot more healing to come. It’s not going to happen overnight. You’re going to have to trust him.”
“It’s her I don’t trust. What if—”
“There you go climbing up that tree again.” Brock grinned, gave her hand a squeeze, and let go. “Have a little faith, Savannah.”
She nodded, put her hands on her knees, and nailed him with a stern look. “I will if you will.”
“Touché, darlin’.” They shared a smile and his eyes stung. That happened a lot lately. “Thanks for coming up here for Maysie.”
Savannah smiled and wrapped a lock of hair around her finger. “I’ll stay as long as they need me. As long as you need . . .” She shook her head and her gaze shifted to the window.
“Hey. In my bag over there.” He pointed to the small duffel Mitch had left in the corner of the room. “In the side pocket. Grab that journal, would you?”
Savannah did as he asked and sat down again, handing it to him. Brock tried to get rid of the lump in his throat, met her curious look, and pushed the book toward her.
“I want you to have this.”
She narrowed her eyes, opened the leather-bound book, and turned a few pages. Then she stared up at him through tears. “I can’t take this. All these quotes . . . so many years . . . Brock. This is practically your whole life right here in this book.”
“Yeah. It is.” He took in her incredulous expression and somehow found a smile. “So it has to go to someone who’ll appreciate it. And I think that’s you.”
“No. No, Brock. You’re going to be fine. You’ll have the operation and—”
“And if I’m not, you’ll take care of that for me. Give it to Maysie one day. When she’s ready.”
She clutched the book to her chest, stood, and paced the room, emitting a shaky sigh every now and then. Then she sat again, too much heartache in her eyes. “Okay. Fine. You win. Now can we talk about something else?”
“Sure.” He sat back, content with the victory. “How’s the greenhouse? I’m not sure Clarice has been in there much since you’ve been gone.”
Her eyes widened a little. “You know, I haven’t even checked. But when I was in the kitchen just now, I’m sure I smelled jasmine.”
“I don’t know what we’ll do when you head back to Boston,” he said quietly. Assuming he was still alive.
Savannah shrugged. “Who knows if we’ll stay there anyway. Kevin might have to find another job.” Her tired smile broadened a bit. “He told me he’s always dreamed about owning a bookstore.”
“A bookstore? Really?” Funnily enough, though he didn’t know the man well, that wasn’t hard to imagine.
“All these years, I never knew.” She let go a wistful sigh. “So much I never knew.”
“You’re getting your second chance, Savannah. Don’t let go.”
“I won’t.” She sat silent a moment, then met his gaze again. Opened her mouth, then closed it quickly.
“What are you thinking?”
Her cheeks flushed a little. “Well. I wanted to ask you . . . How did your wife die? You never did tell me the rest of your story.”
“Ah.” Brock smiled. “Well, she—”
“I have no idea why I asked you that.” Savannah stared at him in sudden horror. “I’m so sorry. Just forget I said anything.”
“No, it’s fine. Really.” He shifted onto his side and let out a long breath. “I think it was time you did.”
She nodded. She understood.
And somehow he’d known she would.
“There will come a time when you will know. And you will understand. And believe.” Clarice spoke those words to him months ago, during one of their heated arguments when he still couldn’t bring himself to face the truth. Or accept the possibility that a greater force was at work here.
“Gabrielle was a few years younger than me. Worked at a bookstore I used to frequent. Anyway, we had sort of a whirlwind courtship, if you will. I married her after only six months of us knowing each other, and she wanted to get pregnant right away.” Memories ran hard and fast and made his heart pound against his chest in an uncomfortable rhythm. “She didn’t, though. It was about a year later, I guess. We had a good marriage. She got me, you know? I mean, we weren’t without issues, it wasn’t perfect, but it was close.”
“She must have been some kind of saint to put up with you.” Savannah’s soft smile skewered him and he gave a low laugh.
“I reckon so. Well, anyway, Maysie was born and life went on. I don’t think I’d ever been happier. More content. My books were starting to take off. I was making real money. And a few months after Maysie’s birth, I hit the bestseller list for the first time. There was talk of a movie deal.” His eyes began to burn but he went on, needing to finish it now.
“We bought a house in the country. Near the Chattahoochee River. The road around it was steep, winding. One day there was a heck of a rainstorm. Maysie was about six months old. I needed to run some errands, and Gabby asked if I would go to the store. It wasn’t a big deal, but I was on deadline, and I just wanted to get out and back, quick as I could. We had a stupid fight about it. Gabby said fine, she’d just take Maysie and go herself. Once I was on the road and saw how bad the weather was, I texted her to stay put. I’d get the groceries. She never answered and I figured she was still mad at me. I went to the store anyway. And on the way home . . . there was this accident up ahead.” Brock let out a tremulous sigh and watched tears creep into Savannah’s eyes. Like she knew what was coming.
“Gabby’s car slid off the slick road and went through the guardrail. With Maysie in her car seat.”
“No, Brock.” Savannah gasped and grabbed hold of his hands. He pulled strength from her and somehow smiled through the blistering pain that still blindsided him from time to time. The physical pain he’d learned to live with over the last year was no match for the emotional trauma those memories still put him through.
“Gabby was killed instantly. At least, that’s what they told me. I hope it’s true. I hope she didn’t suffer, wondering about Maysie.”
“And Maysie? How . . . in a car seat?” A mix of confused amazement furrowed her brow and made her eyes shine brighter.
“Yeah. I know.” He liked this part of the
story. Even though he didn’t fully understand it and probably never would. “By the time I got there, she was on the riverbank with the cops and EMTs and a bunch of people . . . It was mass confusion. Afterward, they told me a young girl had pulled her from the water.”
Savannah ran the back of her hand across her eyes. “I bet you hugged the life out of that kid, whoever she was.”
Brock held her gaze, swallowed hard, and fought the urge to brush the tears from her cheeks. “I never found out who she was. Nobody did. There were no kids at the scene, Savannah. Just some couples in canoes, a few fishermen, and some people driving by who stopped to help. But no girl that matched the description five people gave the police. To this day, I don’t know where she came from.”
Silence fell around them, sheltering his sorrow and reminding him that even now, there was grace. Mercy. Second chances.
Miracles did happen.
Maysie was living, breathing, irrefutable proof of that.
“Her guardian angel.” Savannah breathed deeply and presented him with the most beautiful, peaceful smile he’d ever seen.
And somehow he smiled back.
“So it would seem. They called her the miracle baby for the longest time. I guess over the years . . . well, she’s heard the story enough times. So I don’t pay that much attention to her angel sightings.”
“Or she really has one.”
“Or there’s that.”
She sat quietly for a bit, then drew a shaky breath. “You said Maysie was about six months old. When did the accident happen? What date?”
Brock hesitated, not sure why it mattered, but he told her anyway. Savannah gave a slow nod and swiped at fresh tears.
“Brock.” That serene smile hit him again. “That was the day I tried to end my life.”
A chill raced through him and he blinked tears. He let her words sink in and slowly shook his head. What she was suggesting seemed so improbable it made perfect sense. “So you think . . . that . . .” He struggled to piece it together. “You and Maysie both got a second chance that day. In some way, we’ve been connected all this time?”
“Doesn’t that give you hope?” she whispered.
He sighed, desperately exhausted now. “Yeah, it does. It actually really does.”
“You need to hold on to that, Brock. Whatever happens. We will be okay.” Her smile lit the room and set fire to the renewed hope in his heart. “I knew Maysie was special the moment I laid eyes on her.”
“Yeah?” He couldn’t stop a chuckle. “That’s kind of how I felt about you.”
“Oh, Brock.” She groaned and covered her face for a moment. Then those luminous eyes were staring back at him again. “I have to say something.”
“I know you do. But say it anyway.”
“After the operation, if things are okay . . . we . . . you and I . . .” She hesitated, sadness stamped across her face. “As much as you’ve come to mean to me, I don’t think that we should still, I mean, Kevin knows that you . . . that we—”
“Okay, stop.” Brock sighed and took pity on her. Wishing things were different wouldn’t help. She’d made her choice. And it was the right one. “You don’t have to explain. I get it. I know.” He couldn’t look at her now. “I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”
But he had a gut-deep feeling that he’d just made a promise he wasn’t going to have to keep.
CHAPTER 32
“What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.”
—T. S. ELIOT
It cannot end like this.
Friday morning I’ve been up for hours, sorting laundry and doing a final load before heading back over to the Chandlers’. It’s hard to believe I’ve only been back here a week because it feels like so much longer. Brock’s operation is scheduled and he will leave next weekend. Clarice is going with him and Mitch, of course. I’ve offered to look after Maysie. I’m not sure how much she knows yet, what Brock has told her.
I don’t know how you do that. Tell your child that she might not see you again. I’ve cried over it all week. Losing Shelby—having to tell Adam and Zoe that she was gone—that was horrendously difficult. But this . . . my heart aches for that little girl.
I head to the living room with an armful of towels as there’s a rapping on the front door. I hope it’s not Mitch with more laundry. I’m hoping at some point the man will learn to be helpful. I struggle to unlock the door and open it.
“Kevin!”
My husband stands there on the front porch, the early-March sun bouncing off his dark hair, an even stranger light shining in his eyes. He has bags. A large suitcase and a black duffel slung over his shoulder. And at least a dozen red roses in his free hand.
Fresh, fragrant air fills my lungs as I step backward to let him in. “You’re not supposed to be here until tomorrow,” I manage to say, stretching to look past him at the car. “What about Adam?”
“I’m still going to get him tomorrow.” He places the bags in one corner and the roses on a nearby side table, grabs the bunch of towels I’m holding and puts them on the couch, then reaches for my hands. He shakes his head and takes a moment to catch his breath. If I hadn’t seen his car out front, I might believe he ran all the way from Boston.
“So, here’s the thing.” His grin flashes, then he sighs heavily and sniffs. “I lay awake all last night thinking about this. Thinking about why you’re doing this, and I realized it’s because you’re you. Because you love people. You’ve always been that way. Always the first to jump in when there’s a crisis. The first to do whatever needs to be done.” He takes a breath. “‘She who saves a single soul, saves the universe.’”
“What?” I stare in utter confusion.
“It’s an Alice quote.”
“I know that. But what does it have to do with anything?”
“Because that’s you, don’t you see?” His eyes widen like I’m being a little stupid. “I’ve always loved that about you, how you just want to help people, and I had absolutely no right to make you feel like you were doing something wrong by staying here. So—”
“Kevin—”
“No.” He puts a finger to my lips. “Let me finish.” He lets out another breath, smiling. “So then I thought, while you’re so busy up here cooking and cleaning and”—his sparkling eyes move toward the couch—“doing laundry, and looking after them . . .” Kevin gives my hands a squeeze. “I thought, who’s going to look after you?”
I shrug. I don’t know what to say. I am truly speechless.
He leans in and kisses me, a little laughter sticking in his throat. “I thought about our wedding day. About the promises I made you that day. And about how I broke them. But you took me back. You forgave me and offered me another chance to love you. I thought about how I told you I’d never let you down again. And letting you stay up here alone, that’s not going to work. So this mission you have, it’s mine too. We’re in this together, Savannah. We do life together now, no matter what.”
“What about your job?” My nose and eyes are burning, but he gathers me close and places his lips to my forehead.
“I quit.” Kevin pulls back and a smile slides across his face. “Yesterday. I told my boss why.”
“Oh, Kev.” I push my fingers through his hair and think about what that must have cost him. “You’re serious about this.”
“Well, I’m currently unemployed, so yeah, I’d say I’m serious.” His grin is back and I can’t resist the overwhelming urge to kiss him.
And I’m suddenly reminded of that verse about God being able to do so much more than we even dare ask for.
This is so much more than I prayed for, hoped for, or even imagined.
So much more than I deserve.
But he’s here.
For me. For us.
Forever.
“Want to fold some towels?”
Kevin laughs, and his gaze lingers as he traces the shape of my face, his
fingers moving like feathers, creating that tingling sensation I never can resist. “Maybe later. Right now I think you could use a little TLC, my love. You’re looking a little peaked.”
I lean against him, hold on tight, and breathe him in. “How did I ever think I could live without you?”
“Ditto.” He tips my face toward his and smiles. “Now . . . where were we?”
The Chandler house gets quieter as each day goes by. It has been the longest week. We’re moving toward the moment we have to say good-bye, and I’m dreading it.
Kevin jumped into life here with both feet, carrying laundry baskets for me, helping do the dishes and feed the dogs. He even brought toys for them and informs me he’s started taking allergy meds.
Maysie was thrilled to see him and couldn’t wait to show him all around. Clarice beamed as though she’d expected it, which of course she did. Mitch grunted affirmation and Brock . . . seems strangely accepting of my husband’s sudden presence in his life.
He gets weaker each day, and it’s hard for him to get around. They’ll fly down to New York on Sunday, but Mitch has arranged for a doctor to be on the plane with them. The lawyer in him won’t leave things to chance. At this point I don’t think Brock cares too much, because he’s not putting up a fuss about anything.
Friday evening we eat early. Brock and Kevin play a game of chess. Mitch has no idea how and doesn’t want to learn. Adam is here for the weekend again. Zoe picked him up and they arrived a couple of hours ago. I know they think this whole situation is strange, but they’ve been mature about it, and provide a good distraction for Maysie.
They’ve gone back over to the house now, said they’ll watch a movie until we get home.
I read with Maysie for a bit, and then I notice that Brock and Kevin have disappeared. Mitch is sprawled in an armchair, playing some stupid war game on his iPad. I still can’t believe the man is an outrageously highly paid attorney.
“Hey, Matlock.”
He arches a brow and pins that scintillating gaze on me. “Yes, dear?”
“Where’d they go?” I nod toward the empty chairs.
Where Hope Begins Page 29
