"Right? How Alec? Eric's happy, let him be," I stated though a pain began to mount in my chest. "Please tell me you didn't call him and let him know I'm back in Ligonier?"
I had moved on, let him go. He was doing what he loved–saving lives and helping people. I knew I was getting myself all worked up over nothing. It wasn't as if Eric still thought of me after all this time, nor did it matter, because I was with Aiden now.
Alec never answered me, but rather lowered his head and stepped back into his room. "Goodnight, Ashley," he said as he disappeared back into his bedroom.
I hesitated at the door a few seconds longer before closing it and letting my thoughts dissipate. After I changed into the nightshirt I had left in the dresser the last time I stayed over, I walked to the bed. Some nights when I was tired from studying with Graham, I had kindly taken up his offer to stay in the guest room. This house had become like a second home to me, and I loved the nights I stayed over.
I inhaled and exhaled deeply, relaxing my body after an emotional day as I slid under the warm blankets. I rolled the pearl from my mother's necklace between my fingers, feeling closer to her than ever before and drifted into sleep. My last thought was one I had stupidly never thought of the entire time I've been back in Ligonier. What's going to happen when Eric actually does come home?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Eric
I tried to be as quiet as possible as I let myself into my grandfather's house. After I disembarked from my final plane, three airports later, I had no idea how I was going to get back to Ligonier. I was just lucky enough, considering it was Christmas, to catch a bus directly home. It had been a long trip, over 36 hours when I included the stop overs and I was exhausted.
When my father had called me five days ago, something just seemed off.
"I think you need to come home, son," he had said.
"Why, what's wrong? Is it grandfather?" I asked, my tone vexing.
"No, but I think you need to come see this. I did wrong by you and it's time to make it right." My father wasn't making a lick of sense as he spoke in riddles, refusing to give a straight answer.
"Dad, I can't just leave. I still have three months left here," I explained.
The work I was doing in the volunteer field had been more than I had bargained for; it was also a damn miracle. The people I worked with were giving their time to help others, they were an inspiration to anyone who met them. Being away, I learned to appreciate life; my struggles seemed minute compared to what I had been witness too—the poverty, lack of work, inadequate medical care, and homeless children were enough to break anyone's heart. Yet, through it all I had seen God’s hands working. The people had trust in Him despite their despair. They smiled and were appreciative of the small gestures of love or care they were given. It was a big dose of reality for me. Made me want to be a better man every single day.
"Fair enough, son. I'll see you when you return," he said before hanging up. And that was it. No other explanation obviously needed as he finished the conversation, not even a goodbye.
As I hung up the phone, something still didn't sit right. I knew my father would never call and ask me to come home if it wasn't urgent. After all, he was the one who convinced me to extend my trip and move on to the next volunteer stop. It must have been important, and after going back and forth for days as to whether I stay or follow my gut instinct and head home, I made my decision and booked the earliest flight back to the States.
Trudging my way from Town Square didn't take long, especially since I always cut through the forest. I felt an immediate sense of relief once I entered my grandfather's house–I had missed home. Instinctively dropping my bag by the door, I winced as the raucous thud was loud enough to wake anyone. I just hoped no one heard it. Slipping off my boots, I made my way towards the kitchen. I needed a glass of water for my parched throat and then it was off to bed for a few hours, especially since it was just after four a.m.
I opened the fridge door and pulled the chilled bottle of water from the top shelf when a familiar voice sounded from behind me.
"Son, you're home!" As I turned around, my father walked towards me, wrapping a solid arm about my shoulders. "I knew you would come back," he smiled.
"Well, you sounded like I needed to be here," I answered. "Oh, and thanks for hanging up by the way. Missed you too."
"Yes, you do, and I hung up for effect. I knew if I didn't explain things you'd find your way home," he responded, rubbing the back of his neck.
Before he could say or explain any further, I heard the sweetest voice ever ask, "Is everything all right?"
Looking past my father, I saw Ashley rubbing at her eyes, still sleepy.
No, it couldn't be. I dropped the bottle of water I was holding, the frigid liquid splashing my legs and puddling by my feet.
She hadn't looked up as she dragged her slippered feet along the floor, but the sound of the bottle dropping caused her to raise her head. As she did, her mouth fell wide open at the sight of me. Her face probably mirrored my own.
"Ashley, I… I… can't believe it. What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to push past the shock, and wondering for just a second if she was real, if she was really standing there. My mind had played tricks like this on me before. It took everything in me to remain still and take in the situation we were standing in. I wanted to run to her, to prove she was really there, but the stunned look on her face warned me to go slow and not do that.
"H-hello, Eric. Um, wow. It's… good to see you," she tried to smile, her voice shaky and unsure.
A thought came to mind. What was she doing here after all of these years? And why was she in my grandfather’s house?
I managed to pry my eyes off the beautiful woman standing only mere steps away, disheveled in her nightshirt, and looked at my father. "How long has she been back, Dad?"
My father rubbed his chin and neck again, not looking at me.
"Dad, how long?" My voice flat and demanding.
"Just about six months," my grandfather answered, joining us in the kitchen.
I couldn't even embrace the man I had grown so fond of, as the words he just spoke struck me in the chest, causing a fury I had not felt in years to rise up. Any emotions I had been feeling only moments ago were squashed as anger took over.
"Six months! Six months?" I struggled to wrap my mind around it. "Was anyone going to tell me?"
They all lowered their heads to peer at the ground, their silence answering for them. I threw my hands up in frustration before stepping over the puddle on the floor and pushing past my grandfather, heading toward the kitchen door. I stopped briefly to give Ashley a side-glance, seeing her body tucked against the door jam. Ouch, my chest hurt. She had no idea how much I had missed her.
"Why Ash? I thought…" I began to say. When she refused to look up at me, I growled out my frustration and marched towards the front door, stomping into my boots and exiting the family home.
I was freezing and damn near exhausted, but there was no way I could be around those people right now. I walked back into town, all the way trying to wrap my head around what just happened.
Barely a day had passed that I didn't think of the girl who stole my heart all those years ago. Heck, I couldn't move on even when I thought she was dead. She consumed my thoughts so much I even built a sculpture in the middle of Ligonier in memory of us. Yet there she was, more beautiful than ever, standing in my grandfather's kitchen. Why didn't anyone tell me she was back? And alive and well?
As I hit the town center, I still had no idea what I was doing, or where I was going. I just continued to walk down Main Street, my thoughts and emotions bouncing all over the place. As I reached the end of the street, I glanced up to see my father's workshop. Aiden lived above the garage and I knew I would get answers from him. We had become good friends over the last few years, best friends really. How could Aiden not tell me? I didn’t know why, but I didn't think I was going to like his explanation.
; The apartment light above the garage was on so I made my way across the street and up the side steps. Even if he was asleep, I wouldn't have cared. Before I even had a chance to knock, the door opened. Aiden stood there in the doorway with his hair ruffled, obviously woken from slumber, yet ready for me.
We looked at each other; he gave me a small unsure smile, while I furrowed my brows at my long-time friend.
"Alec called me and told me to expect you," Aiden broke the silence.
I wasn't sure if coming here was a good idea after all. "Why didn't you tell me she was back?" I growled, barely holding on to my temper.
"I didn't tell you for selfish reasons. I'm sorry, Eric. Look, come inside, it's freezing. Let's talk."
He held the door wide open and I stepped in. I paced the small living room, unable to sit down. I wanted answers, no, I needed answers. My heart was fucking hurting, my mind confused, and my temper was at an all-time high, feeling betrayed by the discreetness about Ash returning to Ligonier.
"Do you want anything to drink?" Aiden offered.
"No, start talking," I demanded.
With a sigh, Aiden walked over to the small kitchen counter in the one-bedroom apartment and leaned against it. Crossing his arms, he prepared to tell me what I wanted to know.
"Ashley came back six months ago. She finally got the courage to leave her father. She's staying at Ava and Sharon's house now." He continued to inform me about Ashley's job, her studies, and how she was doing in general.
"Yeah, that's all great, but you still haven't answered me. Why didn't anyone tell me she's back?" I bellowed.
"At first, she didn't want us to. She wanted to get settled in. You were on your first volunteer trip and we thought within a few weeks you would be home. We had no idea you would sign up for a consecutive trip. Then your father—"
"What about my father?" I stopped pacing.
"Well, maybe he should tell you that part," Aiden added.
"No, you tell me. I'm angry, tired, and barely containing my temper right now, Aiden. Don't test me," I warned.
"Well then my friend, by the time we finish this conversation, I'm gonna hate to see what you do to me." Aiden gulped and blew out a breath, running a hand through his tousled red hair. "Your father told her to stay away from you, to stop ruining your life. So that's what she did."
I thought I was outraged before, but that news ignited a whole new level of fury. Walking over to the wall, I smashed my fist into it with all the strength I had, cracking the plaster as I screamed. Over and over my fist connected with the wall until my knuckles bled.
Aiden didn't try to stop me; I needed to let the rage and hurt out. I couldn't understand how or why my father had done such a thing, knowing how crushed I had been after that summer Ashley didn't return. He knew what she had meant to me.
I still couldn't wrap my head around the situation I had come home to. I leaned my head against the wall, taking deep breaths. Without turning around, I asked my friend one last question, "What's your excuse, Aiden? You could have told me."
"Like I said my friend, I had my own selfish reasons. I'm sorry."
The room fell quiet. Somehow I knew I wouldn't like the next part. "Tell me, why you didn't call and let me know," I demanded.
"I'm in love with Ashley."
My head snapped up and I turned to look at my friend. "What did you just say?"
"We've been dating for just over a month now. I love her, always have," he admitted, looking me straight in the eye, his head high.
In two strides, I was in front of him, my fist connecting with his face. He didn't try to run or defend himself—he was expecting it. He simply rubbed his jaw before he wiped away the blood at the corner of his mouth, using his thumb.
"I deserved that."
I couldn't take the betrayal. I walked to the front door and turned to look Aiden in the eyes before stating, "You're no friend of mine."
I left his apartment and headed for my grandfather's church. It was somewhere I could turn on a heater and get out of the cold. I wanted to feel ashamed of my behavior, for hitting my so-called friend, but I felt nothing. Everyone I loved and trusted lied to me, betrayed me, and kept secrets.
Climbing through the back window of the church, I made my way first to the large wall heater, turning it on. Then I laid down on the front pew. I closed my eyes, begging for sleep. I wanted to wake up and feel like this had all been a nightmare. But as the sun rose, I sat up, my mind refusing to shut down. I thought that maybe after some rest, at least sleeping off the jet lag, things might not seem so bad. Why bring her back into my life God, only for me to find out she had moved on? It was the only question I had for Him in that moment. He knew how much I had missed her, what I had felt for her from the moment we crossed paths all those years ago. Yet no matter how many times I asked Him in the quiet, He didn’t answer me.
Turning the heater off, I left the church and began the trek home. No matter how much I stewed over everything that had just happened, I also knew that sooner or later, I would need to get to the bottom of it all.
The house was quiet as I entered. I was relieved as I still didn't want to talk to anyone, my thoughts were still that of anger and hurt, and I didn’t think anything that came out of my mouth would be nice in that moment. I entered my room and crawled into bed. I would figure out what to do another day, after a good sleep, things might not seem so bad.
I was kidding myself.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ashley
I couldn't sleep even if I wanted to after what happened earlier in the kitchen. Eric was home, and I struggled to process it. His handsome face brought back the feelings I tried to bury.
After he had stormed out of the house, I went back to the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. Alone in the dark, my mind replayed the hurt that had crossed his face when he discovered everyone had kept my homecoming a secret. My chest ached as I saw what my betrayal had done to him. And the agony in his eyes as he walked past me was almost too much to bear.
Unable to lie in bed anymore, I got dressed and made my way to the kitchen where Alec and Graham were sitting at the table deep in conversation, which immediately ceased the moment I entered. After a quick cup of coffee in awkward silence, Alec offered to drive me home. I had a pretty good feeling he was also going to drive around and check on his son's whereabouts.
I had heard him call Aiden to warn him right after Eric had left the house; I was filled with worry for both men. I knew Aiden would tell him about our relationship and my heart broke at the thought. I didn't want to hurt anybody, yet I had done just that. All three of us were going to be broken in some way. I just hoped the fragmented pieces could be fixed.
"This is my fault," Alec broke the silence on the drive home.
"No, it's not. I'm the one who told Graham and the others not to mention I was back yet."
"No, I told you to stay away, but I had no right and now look at the pain I have caused him. I tried to make it right; that's why I called him a few days ago to tell him to come home."
My head jerked around to look at him. "What? Why did you do that?" I asked, annoyed.
"Because I got to know you and I could see why my son fell for you the way he did. He needed to come home and fight for you, if there is any chance of you two being together."
My heart ached. I was with Aiden now and cared deeply for him. Oh, but when I raised my eyes this morning and saw Eric standing in Graham's kitchen, my heart skipped three beats. He was just as handsome as ever, if not more so. He was no longer the boy I remembered and cherished in my mind, but better. Just as tall, a little broader, his face more defined, but his eyes were what I remembered most of all. Yes, those clear blue tropical sea eyes were stamped into my memory.
I still had the only keepsake of our time together that summer; the photograph tucked away in the back of my copy of To Kill a Mockingbird was now creased and had been held too many times to count. I wondered if he still had his.
A
lec pulled up in front of the B&B. After parking the car, he turned to look at me.
"Look, I know you care for Aiden, but I have a feeling you're in love with my son. There are some things we can't explain, Ashley, even when we're young. I think the first time you and Eric met was the start of something special. Am I right?"
I nodded, unable to talk and ashamed of my admission. Of course, I loved Aiden but did I love him the way I should love him? The way he deserved to be loved?
"Besides, Aiden knew what he was doing. He could have told Eric, too. They are friends, really good friends at that, but he chose to keep your return a secret for his own reasons. Can't say I blame the boy. I see the way he looks at you."
I was so perplexed emotionally; I had no idea what I was going to do. As I stepped from the car and watched Alec drive away, I knew I had some serious decisions to make.
Creeping up the stairs to my room, I knew sleep was out of the question, so I pulled my novel from the drawer and removed the photograph from the back. I remembered that night as if it was yesterday–my brown, sun-streaked hair styled perfectly, the gorgeous dress, the cake, the kiss with Coltrane playing in the background, the corsage, and the magical butterflies—all of it. All those years I had longed to be with him again, yet I was only left with dreams about what our life together would have looked like–traveling, living by the sea, laughing at Disneyland—but my favorite was being married with a family of our own and living in Ligonier. It was a beautiful dream that brought me such joy, yet such sorrow at the impossibility of it.
I placed the Polaroid back into the book as I heard the stirrings of people talking downstairs–Ava and Sharon were up and laughing away in the kitchen. I made my way downstairs towards them. As I entered the kitchen, Sharon swung around on her chair with a big smile on her face.
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