Adam was grateful Sophie was sleeping in her own room on the other side of the corridor and his restless sleeping habits hadn’t woken her. His mother, on the other hand, must have been used to being awakened in the middle of the night—after years of living with her three sons, and their four cousins, who’d moved in when they were still kids—because it only took fifteen seconds for her to show up at the door. He’d thought he was being quiet, but apparently his mother had exceptional hearing.
“Everything okay?” she whispered from behind him. He nodded and looked away, hoping the dark would hide his troubled face. The nightmare was still vivid in his mind.
“Thought I heard Sophie call,” he lied, turning his back.
“You were talking in your sleep.” Her tone was low and soft, but it was lined with that slight hint of worry she could never really hide.
She came up beside him and put a hand on his back. He stiffened. The time had come for him to move out of his childhood home and find a house for his little girl and himself. He was twenty-nine and he didn’t want to cause his mother any more worry than he already had. He knew seeing one of her sons constantly grieving, and waking up in the middle of the night after dreaming of the day his wife was shot to death, was a great cause of sadness for her.
He’d been happy to come home and have his family help look after his six-month-old daughter, but lately he’d started itching for privacy, especially now he might have a new lead on the investigations.
Besides, he had to start getting used to living life as a single dad. Moving out of his parents’ ranch would definitely be a step in the right direction.
Sophie had just turned three in May and would be starting preschool on September first. He had nearly a month to get back on his feet, find a house and a job. He could have a word with Spring Harbor’s sheriff, Glen and see if the position of deputy he’d offered a few months ago was still available. It was high time he found a real job, something other than restoring old furniture—a hobby he’d enjoyed as a kid to spend a little time with his grandfather. Even though over these past three years it had brought in a few dollars and had kept him sane, he couldn’t depend solely on that income if he wanted to buy a house and support his daughter all by himself.
He could ask Glen for a few short shifts to start with, so he wouldn’t have to depend on other people to take care of his little girl. He knew his mother, as well as Hannah’s, would be more than happy to babysit, but he wanted to be around his daughter as much as he could. She only had one parent left, and he wanted her to feel how important she was to him. Her happiness, her needs, and her well-being would always come first, no matter what.
“Sorry I woke you,” he said now, keeping his eyes fixed on his sleeping daughter. Even though the room was dark, he was sure that, if he turned, his mother would manage to see the pain on his face.
“You didn’t. I was already awake, honey.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze but he didn’t turn back. “It’s been a while since you had a nightmare. I was hoping you’d started getting better.”
Adam shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s not as bad as it used to be.”
The first few weeks, actually months, after Hannah died, he used to dream about her every night, about that day his life changed forever. He’d wake up screaming her name and would find his mother already sitting on his bed, with a glass of water in her hand and a worried frown on her face. He was sure he was the one who’d put the couple of new worry lines on her forehead.
“Maybe you should see a doctor, after all. I know you never wanted to open up with anyone about what happened, but—”
“Mom, please don’t start,” he said, shaking his head. He could speak to all the psychologists in the world, but they wouldn’t bring Hannah back. That was the only cure for his nightmares—he didn’t need a PhD to know that.
“But I think—”
“I don’t need to see a shrink. There’s nothing they can do. I’ll be okay. I just need time.”
He wasn’t sure how long he’d need to get over the grief that still squeezed his heart and choked him at the thought of the way his loving wife had been taken away from him—or if he ever would. But of one thing he was sure: talking about it wouldn’t help. He hadn’t spoken about it with his family in the three years he’d been grieving, so why should he talk to a stranger?
“Okay. Well, you know we’re all here for you, if you ever need to let it all out.” Her hand patted the back of his head lovingly, and she took a long breath. “Go back to bed, now. It’s barely three, and I know you were up late finishing that chest you’ve been working on.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I will in a minute.”
His mother wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his back. “I know you’re all grown up and you don’t need me to protect you, but you’re my son—it hurts me seeing you in pain and knowing I can’t do anything to help.”
His heart squeezed. He closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat. He hated being the cause of his mother’s grief.
“I’m sorry I’m hurting you; that’s the last thing I wanted.” He spun around and hugged her, and she leaned into him. “I truly appreciate all you’ve done for me and Sophie. This family is the reason I made it through the toughest moments. I wouldn’t have survived without all your love and support.” He kissed the top of her head, suddenly needing to show his mother how much he loved her. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too.” A soft sob escaped his mother’s lips, and he rubbed her back like he did when he held his weeping daughter in his arms. “Things will be okay, honey,” she continued. “I know you’re strong enough.”
“Thanks for the confidence,” he said with a smile, even though right now he felt anything but strong. “Now, go back to bed before Dad realizes you’re gone.”
She chuckled, patted his chest, and smiled, wiping a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. She hesitated a beat before walking out, her steps barely audible on the worn carpet.
When he was alone, he lingered a little longer by the crib, staring at Sophie. He placed a kiss on her head, and her soft curls tickled his nose. The scent of her baby lotion reminded him of the first weeks after she was born, the first time he’d given her a bath, and the expert way Hannah had guided him through it, even though he felt awkward and was afraid of hurting the tiny creature in his hands.
Hannah had never doubted he’d be a great father and, even through the grief and the depression, he’d always striven to be the best dad he could. All in all, he’d managed fine. Hopefully, things would get easier in time, especially once he was on his own with his daughter and had no round-the-clock help from his family.
Sophie stirred when he stroked her cheek with his finger, and mumbled something that sounded very much like ‘puppy’. Her pretty heart-shaped lips curled into a megawatt grin, even though she was still asleep. His own lips twitched in a tentative smile; it had been so long since he’d really smiled, let alone enjoyed a hearty laugh. Seeing his little girl happily dreaming of puppies pushed the grief the dream had caused out of his head for a moment, even though it was still simmering somewhere inside his chest.
She was all he had, all he lived for. He didn’t care about finding love again; his heart would always beat for his little angel, and that would be enough to give him a reason to wake up every day.
Chapter Two
Home is where the heart is.
The words played in Elise Hawthorne’s head as she stared at her grandmother’s beach cottage, her beach cottage, on a sunny early August afternoon. It was exactly a month since her interview at Spring Bunnies preschool, where she’d start working as a teacher in a little more than three weeks.
Gravel crunched under her sandals as she walked up to the wooden porch. The grass on both sides of the path was a yellowish shade of brown, tall weeds the only spots of green. She remembered the luscious green grass and the colorful flowers her grandmother was so fond of, and the thought of her re
action if she could see the state of her garden now brought on a sense of desolation.
The wooden planks on the three front steps creaked under Ellie’s weight, making her fear they would give in. Yellow paint peeled off the façade, and the once-upon-a-time white pillars supporting the porch were now dirty gray. Her heart ached at the sight of the abandoned cottage that had once been so full of life.
Being an Army brat, Ellie had never stayed in one place long enough to call it home, but whenever she spent her summer vacations with her maternal grandparents in Spring Harbor, she’d always felt as if the tiny cottage was her actual home. From the first time she’d stepped out of her grandparents’ car and seen the two-story wooden cottage, Ellie had hoped one day she’d be able to live in a place like it.
Now it was hers. Well, hers and Ethan’s. But since her twin brother was still in Afghanistan and would be for at least another couple of years or so, until his commitment with the U.S. Army was through, she could consider it hers for the time being.
Ellie hadn’t thought twice about leaving her city life behind when she’d gotten the call from her grandmother’s attorney. All she’d ever wanted, after spending eighteen years packing up her life every few years to move from one state to another, was to find a place where she could put down roots, a place to call home. And after the incident with Spencer Boren and her forced resignation from her job in San Francisco, she’d been eager to put as much distance as possible between herself and the man, leaving the city—and the gossip—behind.
Just like most little girls, Ellie used to dream that one day her Prince Charming would come on his white steed and whisk her away to his castle. She’d dreamed of a fairy-tale romance like the one her parents had. When she met Greg, her first serious boyfriend, during her freshman year in college, she thought she’d found her one. But three years later, while she was dreaming of wedding bells, he told her he’d applied for a job as a Navy doctor and would be moving to Virginia. Sure, he’d asked her to move with him, but after growing up in a military family, she’d promised herself she would never subject her children to an itinerant life. And marrying a military man would mean moving around the country all over again.
More than anything she’d wanted stability, she’d wanted the white picket fence, a dog, and friendly neighbors who’d come for iced tea on lazy Sunday afternoons, while their children splashed together in a kiddie pool. But her little bubble had burst in her face, dreams of Prince Charming and happily-ever-afters exploding like paintballs.
A year later her father died, during what was supposed to be his last mission before he retired, and after that, her mother withered away until she could no longer endure living without him. For three years she lived in a kind of limbo, until the day she gave up and took her life. That day, Ellie had promised herself she would never let a man take control of her heart and soul to the point he became her whole world. She concentrated on her studies, started working at a prestigious preschool in San Francisco, and eventually her path crossed with Spencer’s. Whether she was too naive, or vulnerable because of everything that had happened to her, she’d believed his lies. She’d wanted to believe he could be the one to help her get back on her feet. And that had been her biggest mistake.
The smell of dust and stiff air hit her straight on when she opened the door, bringing her back to the task at hand. She hated when memories crept back at the worst possible times.
This would be the start of her new life, a blank page in her notebook she’d fill with beautiful memories; she didn’t want to spend it reminiscing about what could have been or what stupid mistakes she’d made.
She navigated the living room in the dark, her mind remembering exactly where each piece of furniture was located, and pulled the heavy curtains open, letting the sunlight in. Then she opened the French doors and took a long breath of summer air. The smell of salt and grass brought back memories of happy days.
As the rays of the afternoon sun warmed the living room, she looked around, and reminders of her childhood beamed at her. Pictures of Ethan and her at different ages still sat on the mantelpiece; knick-knacks they’d brought home as souvenirs from all the cities and countries they’d lived in still clustered the shelves of the cherry bookshelf in the corner of the room; framed watercolors and oil paintings still hung on the walls.
Ellie closed her eyes, remembering the days she’d spent there with her grandparents, the summer vacations she always looked forward to, and sadness squeezed her gut. Her grandmother had been right in the letter she’d left her: Ellie and Ethan would need to fill the house with something that would be uniquely theirs, something that wouldn’t remind them of the past. She’d have to make it her home.
Although this was as much her house as it was Ethan’s, she was sure he wouldn’t mind. Next time she talked to him, she’d ask whether he’d like her to store some of the furniture in a warehouse, in case he wanted it when he came home from Afghanistan.
If he ever did.
She shook the thought away. She’d been worried about her twin ever since the day he enlisted. When they sent him off to Kandahar four years ago, she’d been downright terrified, but he’d made it through so far, and he came home to see her whenever he was sent back to the States.
He’d come home for their mother’s funeral three years ago, as well as for their grandmother’s seven months ago. Now she hoped he’d be able to come home, if not for Thanksgiving, at least for Christmas. Or maybe just whenever. She missed him, and talking to him on Skype wasn’t enough to put her mind at ease. He insisted he was just a medic and wasn’t in any kind of danger, but she’d checked out enough websites to know that army medics were in exactly the same kind of danger as other soldiers. He was in the U.S. Army; little did it matter to the rebels that his job was to help wounded soldiers. His uniform was enough to make him just another target.
Her phone rang, and she was grateful for the distraction. When her mind wandered in the wrong direction, it took a humongous effort to think positive.
She smiled when she saw Charli’s face flashing on the display. She’d only been gone a few hours, but she missed her best friend already. Losing her friends every time her family moved to another town, she never really made too much of an effort to meet new ones. She’d never had a best friend until Charli had steamrolled into her life.
“Wow, phones work there, too. I’m shocked! Tell me, is there electricity, or are you going around holding an oil lamp?”
Ellie laughed. Charli was a city girl through and through. Born and raised in San Antonio, Texas, she’d later moved to San Francisco to attend the Hospitality Tourism and Management classes at SFU, where she and Ellie had met. They’d shared a room from day one of their freshman year, and once they’d started working and could afford a more adult-looking place, they moved to a tiny but nice two-bedroom apartment on the outskirts, but still within easy reach of the city.
Charli’s eyes had widened in disbelief when Ellie told her she was actually considering moving to Spring Harbor, instead of keeping the cottage as a summer house. If a place didn’t have at least ten thousand residents, two malls, ten coffee shops and twenty different restaurants you could choose from, it didn’t count as a possible residence in Charli’s mind. She could barely believe Ellie wasn’t moving to the Little House on the Prairie.
“Stop being such a snobby city girl, Charlotte Ariela Wingate,” Ellie said now, knowing how much her friend hated being called by her full name, since it reminded her of when her grandmother used to reprimand her. “I love this little town, and I’m looking forward to a slower pace of life. You of all people should know this move has potentially saved my life. And my career, too.”
Charli was the one person who knew how hard the last six years had been on Ellie. Losing her parents, her grandmother, and her job one after the other had taken a big toll on her. Ethan had come home on a three-week leave after she’d discovered their mother’s lifeless body, and he’d been the big brother he always claimed
he was—just because he’d been born two and a half long minutes before her. And he’d come back when their grandmother had passed away, even though it was only for a few days. But only Charli knew what had happened with Spencer and why Ellie had been forced to leave a job she loved, just because she’d believed a liar who ended up being nothing more than a lousy cheater.
Only Charli could understand how the call from Grandma Lilian’s attorney had come as a godsend for Ellie, when people had started pointing at her, whispering as she passed them by.
“This place is going to work miracles on my nerves. The waves crashing is the only sound I can hear right now. You should come here and see for yourself.”
A snort came from the other end of the line. Charli and country life went together like fire and ice.
“Yeah, right. Tell you what: I’ll come to your wedding. I’ll even organize it for you without charging a dime.”
Ellie laughed. Seeing as Charli knew very well Ellie’s take on love and the forever kind of relationships right now, her statement meant Charli would never set foot in Spring Harbor—unless hell froze over or some other unlikely event happened.
“Now, tell me about you. Has Donnie moved in yet?” Ellie asked.
A spluttering noise followed by a coughing fit came from the other end of the line.
“We’ve only been together four months; it’s a little too early for that. Or for wedding bells and promising forever.”
Charli organized weddings and other events for a living, but apparently she wasn’t that interested in organizing her own wedding just yet. Ever since Ellie had known her, her relationships had been fleeting; Donnie had been the longest one she’d had so far.
No End to Love Page 2
