I turned to her. “So, it’s just going to be a shrine to the child you lost?”
“No, it won’t be like that. And you don’t understand. But we’re not going to try to bury the memories either, because we know Sammy’s still with us.”
Well, there it was. I couldn’t compete with a ghost. And maybe I was better off this way. Maybe I was meant to be alone. Maybe a family—a child of my own—wasn’t in the cards for me. Maybe I needed to get that through my thick skull once and for all.
If this was what Emma wanted and needed—to be with Carter—I wasn’t going to stand in her way.
I took a few minutes to collect myself, then I faced her and spoke more calmly. “I appreciate the honesty. That’s all I wanted. And if this is the way it is, and you’re sure—if you’re absolutely sure—then I want you to be happy.”
She broke down again, strode forward and hugged me while she cried. I clung to her—not to comfort her, but because I was heartbroken and needed to hold on. I didn’t want to let her go, though I knew I had to.
When she stepped out of my arms, it felt as if my heart had been ripped out of my chest. Yesterday, I thought she would be my wife. I even thought we might have a child of our own a year from now—that I would be a father at last. But none of that was going to happen. She would leave me now, and I would be alone again.
Chapter Fourteen
Luke
Emma had said she’d return the next day to collect her things. I had asked what time she planned to arrive because I wanted to make arrangements to be elsewhere. We had settled on a time after supper, then she said good-bye to the dogs and walked out the door.
That night, after our breakup, I couldn’t sit home alone. I called my friend Wayne, a high school buddy who lived in Victoria, told him what happened and asked if he wanted to go out for dinner and drinks. Lots of drinks. He had a wife and two kids at home, and it was a weeknight, but he told me he’d meet me in an hour. I called my neighbor to let the dogs out before bed, just in case I didn’t make it home.
I wasn’t normally the type to pour my heart out in public places, but Wayne and I spent the entire evening at a very expensive restaurant talking about Emma and my previous cheating girlfriend, Gwyneth. We rehashed how that relationship had crashed and burned, and discussed why I didn’t see the signs with Emma. How could I not have recognized that she wasn’t as committed as I thought? Why hadn’t I been more cautious and guarded at first? I’d jumped in with both feet after the first date, which wasn’t like me at all. Not after what happened before.
“Look at it as a positive thing,” Wayne replied. “You’re finally over what Gwyneth did to you, and I think you’ve been ready for a long time to have a family. You’ve been wanting it but you just haven’t met the right girl. As it turned out, Emma wasn’t her, but at least you tried.” He pointed a finger at me. “What I don’t want to see is you throwing in the towel. If you were a bridge for Emma, then let her be a bridge for you. Don’t just give up. Get back on your feet and try again.” He picked up his wine and took a sip. “Because I’m telling you, man. Being a dad is great. I can’t imagine my life without Jenny and the kids. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
After dinner—followed by far too many cocktails at a trendy martini bar—Wayne let me sleep on the sofa in his basement, but at six in the morning, I woke hungover with a raging headache and thought about Toby and Max. Rather than stick around for breakfast with Wayne and his family, I left a note thanking him for the use of his sofa, and said I’d call him later. I got into my car and returned to Oak Bay.
The dogs were at the front door when I walked in. They greeted me with wagging tails and wet tongues. I immediately let them out through the back door to the patio and they ran down to the lawn below.
While they took care of business, I made a cup of coffee.
A moment later, I stood at the patio railing, watching sea-kayakers paddle by along the rocky coastline. It was a beautiful September morning with a light mist over the water. Dew on the grass glistened in the early sunlight. There was something almost magical about the day and I tried to appreciate it, even though my insides felt like cold stone.
When I finished my coffee, I whistled to call the dogs in, poured kibble into their bowls, and cooked an omelet for myself. I sat down to eat at the breakfast bar, but the house was depressingly quiet, so I got up and turned on CBC radio to listen to The Current while I ate.
* * *
After breakfast, my hangover got the best of me. I collapsed on the sofa and slept for two hours. When I woke, I dragged myself to the kitchen and guzzled a large glass of water, then I thought about going for a swim in the pool because it was a warm day. I got into my trunks, but when I padded across the pool deck and looked down at my reflection in the water, I decided instead to relax on one of the lounge chairs under the canopy, where I could lie back and read the newspaper. The dogs lay in the shade under one of the patio tables.
I don’t know how much time passed while I lay there. I might have fallen asleep again. I wasn’t sure.
When I opened my eyes, it was mid-afternoon. Emma told me she planned to hire professional movers to collect the furniture in my garage, which would happen later in the week, but that night, she’d be cleaning out drawers, picking up her toothbrush. Stuff like that.
I didn’t want to be in the house when she arrived, so I had to make other plans, but I had no idea what to do with myself. I didn’t want to call Wayne again because I doubted Jenny would appreciate me dragging him out two nights in a row. Maybe I’d take in a movie. I’d think of something.
The sky turned dark and the temperature cooled, so I rose from the lounge chair, whistled for the dogs, and went back inside.
The house was silent and dismal. Or maybe it was just my mood. In an effort to liven up the place, I found a major-league baseball game on TV. The white noise of the cheering crowd and the sound of the commentator was a welcome distraction, but then I turned and saw Emma’s sneakers beside the sofa. The sight of them was like a knife in my gut.
If she were here right now, we’d probably be cooking something in the kitchen or talking about our honeymoon. Making plans. Maybe we’d get the bikes out and go for a ride, or we’d take the dogs to the park. Maybe pick up some groceries on the way home.
The next thing I knew, I was wandering around my house, taking an inventory of the things she would collect—things that wouldn’t be here when I returned. I found her trench coat in the front closet and a bunch of her shoes and boots. In the den, the book she was currently reading lay on the table next to the brown leather chair. I picked it up and opened it to the bookmarked page. She was about halfway through. I read a couple of paragraphs, then set it down again.
When I went upstairs to our bedroom, it hit me that it was no longer our bedroom and I had to learn to stop saying “us” and “we” all the time.
I stopped short in the doorway.
Because I hadn’t come home the night before, the bed was still made. Emma’s silky blue nightgown was draped across the footboard and her laptop was on her pillow. She must have forgotten about it when she left in such a hurry, but there it was.
I walked toward it and opened it. The screen lit up and I couldn’t resist. I clicked on her email program.
I don’t know what I was searching for—love letters perhaps? Secret messages to Carter where they discussed and plotted how they could be together again, and how she would break the news to me?
There were no such emails. If there were, she had permanently deleted them.
Feeling like a pathetic voyeur for scrolling through her inbox, I shut down the email program and shook my head at myself. Don’t do this to yourself, man. Move on.
But when I opened my eyes, a website page was staring back at me. Or more particularly, it was a woman whose face was startlingly familiar. She was posing and smiling outdoors with a little girl who appeared to be her daughter.
The recognition
was immediate and caused a rush of exhilaration in my veins.
Bev Hutchinson.
Halifax.
That conference a few years back…
Why was this picture on Emma’s laptop? Is this why she wanted to go back to Carter? Because she’d been looking into my past, had discovered this brief fling I’d had, and decided I was a player when it came to one-night stands? Was that it?
I scrolled up to the headline and discovered this was a recent article on a major news site. There was a photo of the ship that had gone down in Nova Scotia. I read the headline:
GIRL WHO WENT TO HEAVEN IS JUST LIKE YOU AND ME
My mind shifted into overdrive. I started reading the article and quickly realized that the little girl Emma had been obsessing about was Bev’s daughter. What were the odds?
The article described how Bev had performed CPR to bring her daughter back from the dead. This made me recall my conversations with Bev about her work. She loved being a nurse.
She’d had a daughter? She must have gotten married…
I read through the whole article. It commended her as a single mother.
I scrolled back up to the image and zoomed in on it.
Two beautiful smiling faces. A sweet little girl. Five years old. I was mesmerized.
Then my mind began to scramble through the math. When was the conference?
Almost six years ago.
Was it possible that…?
No, it couldn’t be.
I stared at the image again—those two beautiful faces. The little girl who had drowned and allegedly gone to heaven. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, nor could I leave it at this. I needed to know more.
Chapter Fifteen
Bev
Halifax, Nova Scotia
I’ll never forget where I was when the text came in. It was eleven o’clock at night and I had just finished an evening shift at the hospital. Still in my scrubs, I pulled my purse out of my locker and checked my phone, but the battery was dead so I shoved it into my back pocket and figured I’d charge it in the car.
I wasted no time getting there and plugged it in right away, just in case Claire had called. Whenever I worked a night shift, Louise slept over at my sister’s place, but this afternoon, Louise had been complaining of a stuffy nose, so I wanted to make sure she was okay.
I turned the key in the ignition and sat in the dark, waiting for my phone to charge. At last the screen lit up. A moment later, a few texts came in. I tapped on Claire’s message right away: Louise is feeling better. She went to bed no problem. Get a good night’s sleep and if she’s okay in the morning, I’ll take them both to school.
I quickly thumbed a reply: Thanks for letting me know. I just got off work and I’m heading home. Call me if she wakes up and needs me through the night. I can come and get her, no prob.
I hit SEND, then scrolled through the other messages. There was something from one of my colleagues who wanted to trade a night shift with me next week, and another from my mom, inviting us for dinner on Sunday. I responded and accepted her invitation.
Then I tapped on a text from an unknown number and was surprised to see a very long message.
Hi Bev. Hoping you remember me. It’s Luke Hawkins. We met in Halifax five years ago when I was in town for a conference.
My stomach went whoosh and my heart started to pound. It was partly excitement because I hadn’t heard from Luke since we were together, and I’d never forgotten the chemistry we shared. But the initial thrill turned instantly to panic, because I’d been living in fear of this day since before Louise was born—when I’d made the decision not to tell Luke that I was pregnant.
I’d always planned to tell him eventually, but I wanted the time to be right. When Louise was a baby, I was too preoccupied and exhausted all the time. I was so in love with her, I wanted her all to myself. Later, I imagined it would be best to wait until she was old enough to understand.
But we weren’t there yet. She was only five.
I continued to read Luke’s text.
I just tried calling you but there was no answer, so a text will have to do. It’s been a while so I hope this is still the correct number. I saw a news article about you tonight. What a shocker. I had no idea you were involved in the accident where that ship went down. The story of you and your daughter was all over the news here in BC when it happened, but I didn’t know it was you. I’m glad you’re okay. It must have been a terrible ordeal, especially with what happened to your daughter. It’s a good thing you have medical training.
The text ended there, but there was another that came after it, which appeared to be a continuation of the first. He said: Can we chat on the phone? I’d really like to talk to you. You can call me anytime at this number. I’ll try again tomorrow if I don’t hear from you.
That was the end, and by now my heart was racing so fast, I felt nauseous.
Did he know? Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he just wanted to reconnect and catch up.
Oh, God. What was I supposed to do? I didn’t want to call him at that moment. I needed time to think it through.
I texted Claire. Are you still up?
She replied right away. Yes. Watching tv.
You’re not going to believe what just happened, I replied. Is Scott there with the girls? Can you come over? I need some advice.
Yes, he’s here. I’ll meet you at your place in five minutes.
I texted her back and said OK, then I backed out of my parking spot and headed home.
* * *
“My God,” Claire said after she finished reading Luke’s messages. “Do you think he knows?”
“I don’t know. You can’t tell, based on what he says in the texts.” I sat down at the kitchen table. “I’m not sure what to do.”
Claire set my phone down in front of me and went to fill a glass of water at the sink. “I hate to say I told you so, but I always knew this was going to come back and bite you in the ass one day.”
My gaze lifted. “That’s not helpful. And believe me, I knew it would too, and if I had a dime for every time I wished I’d just come clean in the first place, I’d be a rich woman today.” I buried my forehead in a hand. “Oh, God. I should have told him. What was I thinking? Why was I so afraid?”
“We both know the answer to that,” she said as she sipped her water.
I waved a hand through the air. “Okay, okay. Let’s not rehash it. Let’s just try to figure out how I should handle the situation now.”
“There’s nothing to figure out. If you’re going to talk to him, you have to tell him. If I were in your shoes, I’d call a lawyer first thing in the morning.”
I exhaled heavily. “This is exactly what I wanted to avoid in the first place. I don’t want to go through a custody battle, and I certainly don’t want Louise to have to deal with that. It doesn’t help that she said she didn’t want to meet him.”
My cell phone rang on the table in front of me, and I jumped. I picked it up and darted a glance at Claire. “It’s him.”
“Him, who? Luke?” Her mouth fell open and she set her water glass on the counter.
It rang a second time. “I have to answer it. Stay here. I’m going in the other room.”
I hurried to my bedroom where I closed the door behind me, then I swiped the screen. “Hello?”
There was a brief pause on the other end. “Hi, is this Bev?”
My heart raced like wildfire, and I couldn’t deny that the quiet, smoky sound of his voice caused a commotion in me. It was familiar and surprisingly intimate.
“Yes, this is Bev. Is this Luke?”
“Yeah,” he replied. He took his time before he added, “It’s been awhile. How are you?”
“I’m good. How are you?” I spoke too quickly and my cheeks flushed with heat.
“I’m all right,” he said. “I’m glad you answered. I wasn’t sure if this was the right number…if it still worked. God, I hope I didn’t wake you. It’s late there, isn’t it? I didn’t t
hink.”
“No, it’s fine,” I replied. “I was at work tonight and I just got home a little while ago. What time is it where you are? And where are you exactly? You mentioned BC in your text.”
“That’s right,” he replied. “I live out here now. It’s eight-thirty.”
All the way on the other side of the country. I fought to breathe in a slow and steady pace. “You were in Toronto before, weren’t you? What made you decide to move out west?”
This was painful small talk, but it was necessary. I had to be polite and keep it together. Just make casual conversation.
“I guess I got tired of the noise and the constant smell of exhaust in the city. And this is where I grew up.”
“That’s right. I remember you told me that.”
I was tempted to add: I remember everything. But I swallowed the words.
“Are you still working as a stockbroker?” I asked.
“I’m retired from that. Now I just do a bit of financial consulting here and there. I still travel back and forth to Toronto a fair bit.”
I managed a small laugh. “You seem too young to be retired from anything.”
“Maybe,” he conceded. “But I like being my own boss. Better hours.”
Suddenly, I didn’t have a clue what to say next. I was completely thrown by the fact that we were talking on the phone after all this time, as if we were casual acquaintances who hadn’t made a baby together.
But this was Louise’s father. She had his DNA.
If I were open and honest right now, I would thank him, a hundred times over.
I bowed my head in shame. How was I going to explain this? If only I could turn back time.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m calling,” he said.
The Color of a Silver Lining Page 13
