“If it wasn’t for Gavin and Erin, I would have sold it a long time ago.”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Gavin loved this place. He and Erin had dreams of buying it from me one day and running it together. I knew it would likely be a challenge for them, but together, they were up to the task.”
Burke felt that familiar pang of loss. “And now that Gavin’s gone, that dream is dead.” Burke realized why he was feeling shame. Because he didn’t love the Moontide as Gavin had. “I’m sorry, you know.”
“For what?” Aunt Lenora asked.
“I’ve said it to Erin and to Kitt. But I don’t think I ever said it to you. I’m sorry you lost him. I’m sorry I didn’t come back right away, after he died.”
Aunt Lenora leaned forward. “You run away when you’re hurt, Burke Daniels. You did it when you were fourteen, and you did it when your brother died.”
He felt a twist of pain, Aunt Lenora’s words striking too close to a truth he hadn’t wanted to admit. “What do you mean?”
“When you came to live here, you were like a wounded animal. Like that dog you adopted. Skittish. Wary. Unwilling to be hurt again.” She gave a little snort. “The dog recovered far faster than you did. Some days, it was all I could do to keep tabs on you, when you hid in the attic or went to Fallon Point to look out at the bay after school.”
“You knew about that?”
“I knew. I wouldn’t be much of a guardian if I wasn’t keeping an eye on you.”
He was stunned. He had always thought Aunt Lenora hadn’t known nor cared what he did. He’d done his best to never cause her grief. He hadn’t rebelled or lashed out. He’d maintained average grades and had a handful of well-behaved friends. He didn’t go to parties, and he didn’t get close to people. Erin was the closest friend he’d ever had. He’d always assumed that Aunt Lenora didn’t care what he did, as long as he kept out of trouble.
“I...didn’t know that. I always figured that as long as I kept my nose clean, you didn’t care.”
She frowned. “Of course I cared. But you were like that dog of yours. Every time I tried to approach, you backed away. I thought you just needed time to lick your wounds, to heal.” She sighed. “But you never really did. And when you turned eighteen, you ran. Again.” For the first time in all the years he’d known her, Aunt Lenora looked...vulnerable. “I’m sorry I failed you. I didn’t know anything about raising children, much less two wounded and grieving teenage boys.”
His heart caught in his throat, and the words came out falteringly, “You did just fine. You showed Gavin and me more caring than anyone else. You gave us a home.”
She clasped her hands on the table. “I know you’ve never seen this place as your home. Gavin did. But not you.”
The knot remained lodged in his throat. “I’m not sure I could see any place as home, after my parents died.” He drew a breath. “And I’m sorry, that I wasn’t able to be more like Gavin.”
“More like Gavin?”
“Yeah. That I couldn’t...I don’t know. He just, he had a way...” Burke broke then, the tears for his brother rising unexpectedly. “He was a healer. Gavin had that gift of making the worst situation better because he had faith. I could never be like that. And I’m sorry. I know you loved him better, that everyone loved him better...and he’s the one that’s gone.”
He lowered his head and let the tears flow, so overwhelmed by his grief that he didn’t realize Aunt Lenora had moved from her chair and come to his side until he felt her lay her head on top of his.
“Oh, dear child.” He felt the weight of her small frame, leaning on him. He’d grown accustomed to her not touching him. It had never been her way. But feeling her so close to him now was soothing. “I never loved him better. Just differently. You were the one who captured my heart.”
These words stunned him. He straightened, and so did she.
“Me?”
She gave a short nod. “You and Gavin were so different. He saw the light in the world and tried to preserve it. I think that’s why he joined the army. He wanted to protect what he valued. But you...you see the truth. The only problem is you don’t always know how to live with that truth. Gavin may have made the world brighter, but you, sweet boy, make it matter.”
He swallowed, too shocked and moved to respond. Lenora released a ragged sigh, but he sensed some deeper emotion in it.
“You love Erin,” she stated.
He considered denying it. Wouldn’t it be better for him to keep that information to himself, especially given that Erin had turned him down? But then, like Aunt Lenora had said, it was time for a new chapter. And maybe a clean start meant being honest, not only with himself but also those who loved him. Loved him. He hadn’t realized until this moment just how much he needed to know he was loved.
“I have loved her since I was seventeen years old,” he admitted. “I left here and didn’t come back much because it was too painful to see her with Gavin. She belonged with him,” he rushed to explain. “They were meant for each other. But I couldn’t bear to witness it. I wish...I had. I wish I’d had more time with him.”
Aunt Lenora nodded in understanding. “You ran,” she said again. “But I think, perhaps...you’re done running.”
Her words settled on him with the weight of a benediction. “I think you’re right. I’m ready to be here, in Findlay Roads, for good.”
Aunt Lenora smiled. “I’ve waited a very, very long time for that. So let me be the first to say...welcome home.”
* * *
ERIN SLEPT IN late the following morning. At one point, she roused enough to hear a faint knock on her door and the creak of it opening, but she kept her head buried beneath the covers and soon enough, her intruder closed the door again and let her be. She slept fitfully, a subconscious tangle of dreams and nightmares causing her to toss and turn.
In one, Gavin was beckoning to her from the lighthouse but no matter how hard she ran to him, she never gained any ground. In another, Burke stood on the shore of the bay. She stood watching him for a long time as he looked out over the water. And then he turned and began walking away. She tried calling to him, but he didn’t turn around, and she couldn’t will her legs to move to follow him.
She woke up from that particular dream drenched in sweat, her heart thumping heavily. After stumbling to the bathroom and draining a glass of water, she returned to bed and fell back into another restless sleep.
By the time she finally stirred, her stomach was growling loudly and the bedside clock registered the time as well past noon. She frowned in dismay at her laziness and then reconsidered.
If the inn would be closing, she’d have no guests to worry about, no duties to tend to in the future. She might be able to sleep in more often. It was a bittersweet thought. Besides, she reminded herself, the inn hadn’t closed yet. Unlikely as it seemed, maybe Aunt Lenora would reconsider.
She hopped in the shower and tried to keep her thoughts focused on what else she could possibly do to help the Moontide. But her mind kept returning to Burke, to the way he’d looked at her the night before and to the things he’d said.
I love you. I want to marry you. I want to put down roots and leave the past behind.
And the way he’d kissed her, as if she was his sole reason for existence. She shivered at the memory but then pushed it away. She had told Burke no. Again. She had her reasons. She believed she was doing the right thing.
But why did the right thing hurt so much? Of course, it had hurt fifteen years ago when she’d turned him down. But that had been for a good reason, too.
Gavin. She’d made the right choice then. Surely she was making the right choice now.
She stepped out of the shower and dried off, dressed in her favorite pair of jeans and an old T-shirt of Gavin’s and pulled her hair into a ponytail without bothering to dry it. It
was too late in the day already to waste time with primping. She hesitated before heading downstairs, worried about the embarrassment of facing Burke. But she couldn’t hide in her room forever and decided it was best to meet the awkwardness head on, as if nothing had ever happened. Burke would follow her lead, as he’d done over the years, and they’d say no more about it.
Though she felt confident about this, she was no less disappointed in the idea of keeping Burke at a distance, as she’d done for so long. They’d been friends once, very good friends. She’d cherished having that back, but she’d been foolish to think it could last. She would always have to keep Burke at arm’s distance. She wouldn’t be able to resist temptation otherwise.
She reached the first floor and headed for the kitchen, ears tuned for conversation and wondering what Kitt had been up to all day. The house seemed eerily silent. She stepped into the kitchen and found it empty. Despite her rumbling stomach, she wasn’t sure she could eat—at least not until she had reassured herself Kitt was being taken care of.
“Aunt Lenora? Kitt?”
She didn’t call out Burke’s name, but neither of the others responded. She wandered through the house, soaking up the atmosphere. The leftover evidence of the open house had been cleaned up, and the inn looked much the same as it always did. The sight was reassuring, even if it did make her sad. What kind of changes would Allan make?
In the library, she paused to run a hand over the fireplace and let her gaze roam around the room, viewing the setting with a new appreciation. It was hard to imagine the inn as anything other than a B&B. It had been a place for families and travelers for as long as she’d lived in Findlay Roads. After another minute spent memorizing the details of the room, she headed back to the hall.
She wandered toward the parlor and finally discovered Aunt Lenora, watering the plants blooming on the windowsills. Belatedly, Erin remembered the gift Allan Worth had sent the day before and wondered what had happened to it.
“Where’s Kitt?” Erin asked.
“With Burke. He took him and Scout for a walk. They were both restless after being cooped up inside yesterday, and it’s cooled off quite a bit.”
“Oh.” Erin didn’t have a response to this. It was thoughtful of Burke to get Kitt and Scout out of the house, but it also made her wonder if he was avoiding her. Not that she could blame him if he was.
“Erin.”
Erin focused her attention on Aunt Lenora as the older woman said her name.
“I think it’s time we talk.”
Erin felt her shoulder stiffen into a rigid line of tension. She knew what was coming.
“Please. Give me another chance. I messed up yesterday, I know. But if I could just try again—”
Aunt Lenora reached out and took Erin’s hands in her own. She ignored Erin’s pleading and tugged her toward the settee. They both took a seat.
“This house has been part of my family for generations.”
“I know. Which is why I don’t understand why you want to give it up.”
Aunt Lenora looked around, a strange smile on her lips. It was as if she and the house were silently communicating. Erin felt oddly out of place.
“It’s time it had a new story.”
“I don’t understand.”
The older woman returned her gaze to Erin’s. “You don’t have to. I believe this is the right decision.”
“And what if it’s not?” Erin’s words came softly, but they echoed in the overwhelming silence. “What if you’re wrong?”
Aunt Lenora’s expression was not without pity. “I could be,” she admitted, “but I don’t think I am.”
“Then let me buy the Moontide from you. I have Gavin’s life insurance. It’s not as much as Allan is offering, but wouldn’t you rather see the inn stay in the family?”
“No.”
It was such a stark and immediate refusal that Erin felt a tug of desperation.
“What about Kitt? If you won’t consider me then please consider him. What if he wants to run it someday?”
“Oh, Erin. There is a whole wide world out there, just waiting for Kitt. I wouldn’t want him to decide to remain here out of some sense of obligation to me, or to you, or even Gavin. The money from his life insurance is for your future, not to be used to save this old place.”
“And what do you think Gavin would say, if he was here?”
The pity in Aunt Lenora’s expression shifted to something harder. “He is not here, Erin. He has not been for a long time. Keeping yourself chained to this place will not bring him back. It will cause you to waste the best years of your life in self-imposed punishment.”
Erin shook her head. “You don’t understand me at all. You don’t understand Gavin or what this place meant to him.”
Aunt Lenora arched one fine, gray eyebrow. “I understand far more than you know. I know that you love this place. I have loved it, too. But it’s time for a new chapter. For all of us, including this old house.”
But Erin was not ready to give up. “Aunt Lenora, please, if it’s about the money—”
“It has never been about the money. The money will be helpful, it will allow us to establish a new life beyond this place. I already have a house in mind for us to rent until we can find something permanent. But the money is not why I’m selling. And that’s why you will not change my mind.”
Erin heard the finality in this declaration, but she was still not willing to give up.
“Please.” Tears rose to her eyes. “I will ask you one more time. Please don’t sell this place. Please don’t give it up, when it is so precious to me.”
Aunt Lenora’s face softened. She leaned forward. “I am sorry, Erin. I know it pains you, and I am the most sorry for that. But this is the best thing. I am sure of it.”
Erin felt the weight of sorrow settle onto her shoulders. She had lost. First Gavin and now the inn, her last tangible connection to him. She sniffed and sat there a moment longer, absorbing the finality of this blow. She knew she shouldn’t be angry with Aunt Lenora. The inn was her property. It was her choice to sell it. She had been gracious in letting Erin and Kitt live here all these years, both before Gavin’s passing and particularly afterward. But at the moment, none of that generosity mattered. Erin felt nothing but anger at the older woman. She pushed back her chair and stood.
“Then, if you’ll excuse me. I have to consider how I’ll share this news with Kitt.”
“We can tell him together, if you like.”
“No.” Erin rejected this suggestion. “No, I think it would be better if he heard it from me.”
Aunt Lenora gave a nod of acquiescence. Erin turned then, hurrying from the room before her tears began to flow in earnest.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ERIN WAITED UNTIL after dinner that evening to talk to Kitt. In fact, she didn’t bother going downstairs for dinner at all. She was still angry at Aunt Lenora, and she didn’t want to see Burke either. She managed to avoid them both for the rest of the afternoon, staying holed up in her room—the room she’d always shared with Gavin, silently mourning Aunt Lenora’s decision. No one came to check on her, and she suspected Burke was keeping Kitt distracted in order to give her some space. She appreciated his thoughtfulness, but it didn’t ease the sting of knowing she’d have to face him sooner or later.
Erin peeked her head into the hall after she heard Kitt’s tiny footfalls on the stairs and the notable creak of his bedroom door. Seeing no one about, she slipped out of her room and went to Kitt’s bedroom. She found him with an array of plastic green soldiers spread out in front of him. Scout wasn’t with him, and she realized how odd it seemed without the dog around. In such a short time, Scout had become a member of the family, Kitt’s silent companion, even if he was technically Burke’s dog.
As she stepped inside the room, her eyes automatically flicked to the
framed photo of Gavin, in his army dress, on Kitt’s nightstand. The sight of him left her feeling ashamed. She had failed him, failed their dream. And now she had to figure out how she was going to break the news to her son.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
Kitt looked up as she went to sit down beside him.
“You’re awake,” he noted.
“I am. I’ve been awake. I just...needed some time.”
Kitt nodded in understanding. “That’s what Uncle Burke said.”
She couldn’t help it. Her stomach flip-flopped at this confirmation that Burke had seen to it she was left alone to grieve for the day. She shifted her focus to her son, trying to push away thoughts of Burke.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Playing,” Kitt replied as he placed several of the toy soldiers into a toy Jeep.
“Hmm.” She watched him for another couple of minutes as he moved the toys around, clearly unfazed by her presence. She finally reached out and ran her fingers through his hair. He didn’t react, still playing.
She sighed.
“Kitt, there’s something I have to tell you.”
She didn’t need to instruct him to put the toys away. He pushed the Jeep and its occupants aside and then placed his hands in his lap, looking at her expectantly. She drew a breath and looked away, trying to gather her emotions so she didn’t end up crying in front of him.
But it was a lost cause as the tears trickled down her cheeks.
“Kitt, I’m sorry.”
She broke then, the trickle of tears becoming a torrent. She sobbed for a couple of minutes, inwardly berating herself for losing it completely in front of her son. But Kitt seemed to understand because the next thing she knew, he was climbing into her lap, wrapping his arms around her and patting her cheek.
Of course, this only made her cry harder. She wasn’t even entirely sure why she was weeping. She was certainly devastated about the inn, but this violent emotion came from something deeper. Perhaps it went the whole way back to her childhood, being moved around from place to place as an army brat and feeling as though her needs came second to her father’s career. She cried and cried for the things she’d lost until her chest hurt, and her eyes burned. And then, almost as swiftly as it began, the tears stopped.
The Way Back to Erin Page 18
