Until Tomorrow Page 15

  She pushed him, and he fell back chuckling. “Funny. In my defense, there’s another letter. Forgive me for being a teeny bit excited.”

  “Seriously?” He sat up straight, all kidding aside as excitement filled him. He held out his hand. “Let me see.”

  “No way.” She hugged the letter to her chest and tossed the map at him. “You can decipher the code to our next destination, but I get dibs on reading the letter.”

  “Fair enough.” He sat back to listen as he unfolded the map.

  She read the letter Joseph had written to Kathleen, telling her he was coming home on leave at the end of the summer. He wasn’t due to get out of the service for another year, but at least she would get to see him soon. Then Emma read the letter Kathleen wrote and never got to send about worrying where he was and if he was safe and how she was so looking forward to seeing him, even if only for a moment. There were other letters as well. Ones after he got home from him saying how incredible it was to see her in person for the first time and how much he loved her and how he would find a way for them to be together. Then one from her saying yes, she would meet him in the park and she understood the code.

  “Wow,” Emma said, her hands falling to her lap. “I can’t believe the lengths they went through to be together. They must have really loved each other. I didn’t think love like that existed.” She sighed wistfully.

  Logan knew firsthand that true love existed. He’d had it and feared he never would again. Love like that was rare and special. An anger like he’d never known welled up inside of him on Joseph’s behalf. “I can’t believe how terrible his family was to her. I mean, they literally forced them to go into hiding instead of celebrating the fact that he’d made it home alive and had found happiness. The man was a hero, and they treated him like dirt.”

  “They were terrible parents. So were hers. I know times were tough back then, but who treats their children that way?”

  “At least they had parents,” Logan said with a frown and fiddled with the map to hide his own emotions. There was a time he would have given anything for parents of any kind.

  “True, but I’m beginning to wonder if ‘some’ were any better than none.” Emma set her jaw in an angry line.

  “Trust me they were,” Logan grudgingly admitted. “Joseph’s parents might have been wrong in their beliefs and the way they handled things, but they loved their son.” Logan thought back on his dark days as a boy in the foster care system. He’d bounced around from home to home in and out of trouble. Probably why he was such a worrywart now. Amanda and Trevor were the only family he’d ever known, and now her family was his.

  Emma looked out over the water; her features pinched. “Maybe I should call my mother.” She sighed, sounding a little defeated and resigned and guilty.

  “Maybe you should,” he said gently, taking her hand in his and threading his fingers through hers, beginning to understand the lengths a man would go to for love. Feelings he hadn’t felt in a long time took root in his heart no matter how hard he fought for them not to. His gaze met hers, wanting to be there for her and help her any way he could. He nodded reassuringly. “It’s time.”

  Later that day Emma walked along the same beach where she’d found the bottle, only today was much warmer with the summer half over. She stood for a long moment, staring out across the calm ocean, realizing once more it matched her mood. She felt calm now. Settled. Grounded, even. Logan had helped her to find her inner peace. Every time she was around him, she felt like everything was going to be okay.

  Maybe it really was going to be okay.

  Emma might never know what happened to Mark, but she had to find a way to let that go. If Kathleen could move on, then so could she. She had to stop blaming herself and thinking she was unlovable or wasn’t good enough, no matter how hard that might be. She had to forgive her parents, forgive Mark, and forgive herself. Starting with the easiest of the three, she pulled out her phone and called her mother.

  “Darling, I’m so glad you finally called. I’ve been worried sick,” Chelsea Hendricks said through the line. “Please tell me you have come to your senses and are coming home. Stacy seemed to think you were going to stay because of some story you’re working on, but that can’t be right. You don’t belong there.”

  “I’m not coming home, Mother,” Emma responded, sitting on a big piece of driftwood next to the water’s edge. “I don’t belong in Boston either, that’s for sure, but I do believe I’ve finally come to my senses. There was no need to worry. I had Stacy let you all know where I was going for the summer before I left. Beacon Bay is a small town, not some big scary city. I’m fine.”

  “Getting stranded on some remote island with a man you barely know doesn’t sound fine to me.” Her mother left It sounds scandalous unspoken, but Emma knew Chelsea Hendricks well enough to know what she was thinking. “I mean, you’re an engaged woman, my dear.” The censure in her mother’s voice came through the line loud and clear.

  Emma clenched her jaw and counted to ten, reminding herself that Logan was right. She had to forgive in order to forget and move on. She took a deep breath. “Actually, Mother, I’m not engaged. I haven’t been since Mark walked out on me seven months ago.”

  “But you don’t know why he did that or where he went.”

  “No, I don’t, and that’s his fault for not reaching out to me. If he was dead, we would have found out about it by now. And someone who gets kidnapped doesn’t pack their belongings and clean out their bank account first.”

  “Does that mean you’re not looking into his disappearance anymore? His parents will be distraught. And what will everyone think about us as your parents? Your father will never survive the scandal of it all. And what about poor Stacy? Now that she’s single, she’ll never find another husband if her family name is tainted.”

  “Stacy will be fine, just ask her. The last thing she needs or wants right now is another man. Frankly, I don’t care what anyone thinks. This is the twenty-first century.” Emma took a breath, counted to ten again, and spoke with a less harsh tone. “Mark’s parents can hire their own private investigator if they are so concerned about their son. They should have done that in the first place instead of relying on me.”

  “But that’s what you do. Find facts and get to the bottom of a story. Get to the truth. Don’t you want to know the truth?”

  “More than anything, but I have to think of myself for a change. This obsession with Mark is destroying me. It’s not healthy. What I’ve learned this summer is that many people all around the world from both yesterday and today are faced with hardships far worse than mine. It’s how you pick up the pieces and move forward with your life that matters. I have to let some things go and make peace with them in order to have any kind of peace for myself. That’s why I called.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I forgive you.”

  There was a pause on the line. “You forgive me?” her mother sputtered, her tone implying, Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

  “I’m the victim here, Mother. No one seems to get that.” Emma rubbed her temple, closing her eyes for a moment. She had to stay focused and keep her anger in check. This wasn’t about her mother; it was about herself and for her own well-being. “Yes, I forgive you and Father and Mark’s parents.” She opened her eyes, feeling better already just for saying the words out loud, but she was a realist. She threw a pebble at the water. “Forgiving Mark is going to take a bit longer.”

  “I don’t understand. We’ve always had your best interest at heart. You know we love you, right?”

  “In your own way, yes, I know you love me.”

  “Then what on earth do we need your forgiveness for?”

  Emma wanted to say, For making me doubt myself and making me think I wasn’t good enough and making me think I was unlovable and sticking up for Mark over me, but in the end she simply said, “For everything.”

  Her mother was stunned into silence for the first time
in her life.

  Emma said, “That’s all I have to say for now. I’ll be in touch soon. Give Father my love. Goodbye Mother.” Emma hung up the phone and just like that a weight was lifted from her shoulders and a small part of her heart began to heal. Forgiving wasn’t easy, but it was freeing.

  One down, two to go.

  13

  Present Day: Beacon Bay, Maine

  Logan flipped the steaks he had seasoned and placed on the grill beside the roasted corn and buttered baked potatoes out back on his concrete patio. He had a small, fenced-in yard with a patio table, umbrella and chairs, but it was enough for Trevor and him. A little bit of room for his boy to run around, shaded by a large oak tree. His house was small. A two-bedroom single bath, but that too had worked for them. He knew he didn’t want any more children or to get married again, so what would be the point in getting something bigger? Besides, it was right in town and close to the hospital.

  Logan lifted his face to the evening breeze, inhaling the smells of fresh-cut grass and wildflowers. Someone’s dog was barking a few houses down and the sounds of children laughing made him smile. He took a sip of the Cabernet he’d opened and thought about how proud his mother-in-law would be of him. He was actually doing something for himself. Taking a night off and treating himself to a home-cooked meal.

  Logan enjoyed cooking and used to surprise Amanda with a meal whenever he got home from work first. She often said she was the luckiest woman alive. His smile lingered, and he realized it was getting easier to think about her and even talk about her these days. It was a Saturday night, and he hadn’t volunteered to be on call this weekend. Shocking for him, but then again, he’d done a lot of surprising things this summer, and he owed it all to one person.

  Emma Hendricks.

  Emma had shown Logan how to live again. How to take chances and be in the moment, to think about something other than work or helping people. To think of himself for a change. He would be forever grateful to her for that, because it would make him a better father to his son, Trevor. He missed his son something fierce and couldn’t wait to see him again in a couple of weeks.

  Speaking of Emma, Logan hadn’t seen her in almost a week. Ever since they’d found the map and letters buried beneath the bench at Lighthouse Lane Park, she’d been distant. He’d encouraged her to talk to her mother. She hadn’t spoken to her all summer. He knew Emma was mad at her, but he also knew she didn’t realize how lucky she was to have parents of any kind, let alone ones who cared about her.

  Emma had become a good friend to him, and he didn’t want to see her stubbornness get in the way of her happiness. She needed to forgive in order to let go and move on. That’s all there was to it. She had thanked him for his advice and then had left, saying she’d be in touch when she was ready to set out on their next adventure.

  He hadn’t heard a word.

  “Knock, knock,” came a familiar voice from behind him.

  He turned around in surprise. Speak of the devil, he thought and had to smile. He’d recognize that silky auburn hair and those amber eyes that haunted his dreams every night anywhere. Emma’s face barely reached over the top of his fence. He walked across the lawn and let her in.

  “You’re just in time,” he said, admittedly way too happy to see her.

  “For what?” she asked as she walked into his yard, carrying a six pack of beer.

  “Dinner.” He held up his wine and smiled.

  She’d probably assumed a guy like him drank beer, as he stood there in his charcoal gray dry-fit shorts and white tank-top undershirt. Same way he had assumed a woman like her only drank martinis and wine, all decked out in her short white mini-skirt with wedged sandals and chartreuse silk blouse. Yet he preferred wine and she preferred beer. Guess they’d both judged each other unfairly. Before he’d met her, he wouldn’t have looked twice at her, sensing they were from two very different worlds. Now he felt like he couldn’t exist in any world without her in it.

  “You cook?” She blinked, staring at him all wide-eyed with wonder as if he were a foreign species the likes of which she’d never come across.

  “You don’t?” He raised a brow in mock horror but then winked. Damn he’d missed her. And she looked way too good.

  “Never had to cook.” She shrugged. “Grew up with nannies, housekeepers, and cooks because of my parents. Probably why I don’t care for people in my house now.”

  This time he did stare at her with genuine surprise. “You didn’t cook even after you lived on your own?”

  “More hired help. Mark’s idea, not mine. He’s the dependent one. And no, I didn’t move out until I met Mark.” She held up her hand. “Don’t judge.”

  Logan slapped a palm over his heart. “I would never think of it.”

  “Where would you like this?” she asked as she held out the beer.

  “You can put it in the fridge. Straight through the sliding glass doors to your right. I’m grilling steaks, so I’ll stick with red wine if you don’t mind, but help yourself to whatever.”

  “That would be beer for me.”

  She carried the beer inside and spent longer than she needed to, which meant she was either checking out his place or checking out her reflection in the bathroom off the kitchen. Moments later she emerged with her hair scooped up into a messy knot at the back of her head and a beer mug in hand and a longneck bottle of beer, indicating she had done a little of both.

  “Hope you don’t mind. I helped myself. Cute place by the way.”

  “Thanks.” He flipped the steaks, turned the corn over, and poked the potatoes then lowered the lid. “It’s small, but it’s perfect for Trevor and me.” He faced her and reached out for the bottle in her hand. She handed it to him a little too eagerly, indicating something was bothering her, just as he’d suspected. He popped the top and filled her mug, then handed it back to her, studying her curiously but not saying a word.

  “Thank you.” She eyed him discreetly, which gave him hope she might be checking him out as well. He still didn’t know if he was ready for anything more than friendship with any woman, but it was nice to know he wasn’t alone in recognizing something was happening between them. She took a big drink before speaking again. “Everything looks great, but I have to ask. Why’d you cook so much if you planned to dine alone? Or did I interrupt something?”

  He let out a laugh at that. “No, no. There hasn’t been something to interrupt in quite some time.”

  “That’s what I thought,” she blurted, and then flushed pink, probably over her mouth running away from her again. She took another big drink of her beer. He was starting to love her mouth, especially when she bit her full bottom lip. He tore his gaze away and had to stifle a groan. “I mean,” she hastened to explain, “you pretty much said so yourself when you mentioned it had been six years since…well…you know.”

  “No, I don’t know. Whatever do you mean? Please, enlighten me.” He tried like hell not to grin, but it was difficult, so he took a drink of his wine.

  She lightly punched him on the arm and gave him a sarcastic smirk. “Very funny.”

  “I like to think so.” He laughed on a choke and then wiped his mouth with a napkin. “And by the way, I haven’t heard from you all week. Seems to me you’re the one with something to interrupt.” He eyed her pointedly.

  “Trust me, that’s so not the case.” She shook her head as she made a beeline for his kitchen and returned with plates and silverware and another beer—an obvious avoidance tactic.

  He puckered his brow and stared at her, studying her for a moment before saying, “Okay, I’ll bite. A pretty, young woman like you is here at a pathetic widower’s place—who still cooks as if his wife were still alive—on a Saturday night, with alcohol in tow. What’s up, Hendricks?”

  “You think I’m pretty?” Emma asked, and then frowned immediately after. “And for the record, you’re hardly pathetic.” Her gaze met his, locked, and held. “More like lonely, as am I, Doc.”

  “
Touché.” They clinked his glass to her mug. “And for the record, yes, I think you’re pretty. Beautiful, in fact, but I imagine you’ve heard that plenty of times.” She flushed and looked like she sincerely wasn’t used to receiving compliments, which floored him. There was so much more to her than he’d ever imagined. “Seriously though,” he tried to steer the conversation back to safer waters, “I can tell something is eating at you, so spill it.”

  “I needed a friend, that’s all.”

  He dished up dinner on their plates, shut off the grill, and carried the plates over to the patio table, trying to think of how to convince her to open up to him. Sitting down across from her, he finally replied, “Don’t we all, Lois. But as your friend, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Okay, so I admit it.” She cut her steak, not meeting his eyes. “I’ve been avoiding you all week.”

  “Why?” He dug into his own food, enjoying the savory steak seasonings mixed with melted buttered corn and baked potatoes.

  “Because I feel like I let you down,” she said after she finished chewing. “This is delicious by the way.”

  “Thank you, and that’s crazy, by the way.” He took another sip of his wine and studied her. “You could never let me down.”

  She finally met his gaze. “You know the advice you gave me?”

  He raised a brow. “Yeah?”

  “Well, I took it to heart.” She set down her fork and sat back, swirling her mug of beer and staring off as though thinking carefully about her words. “As hard as it was, I called my mother.”

  “And?”

  Emma looked him in the eye. “And I forgave her, just like you said to do.”

  “And that’s bad how?”

  “It’s not bad. I felt much better after forgiving her, even though she doesn’t have a clue what I forgave her for, but I have learned that’s her issue and not mine.”