At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories) - By Barbara Bretton Page 0,71

share of gossip about both of them. Still, there was no denying that something about them seemed right, as if each supplied what the other lacked, and together they were stronger than anything life could throw their way.

Rachel had mentioned that Ben invited Gracie home for the wedding. Once, a very long time ago, Ruth had seen Gracie and Noah together, embracing in the shadows of the lighthouse and she had felt a pain in her heart that still had the power to take her breath away. They 'd never stood a chance, of course—Simon would have seen to that—but the sight of them together had reminded her again of how powerful young love could be.

Ruth had been a widow now for a little over eight years and in that time she had discovered many things about herself. She had learned that the human heart was very adaptable. The pain of losing Simon so suddenly had never really left her but the unbearable grief had faded with time until it became as much a part of her being as her pulse or respiration. You could live with pain, Ruth discovered. To her surprise, it was possible to go on.

Living with regret was something else entirely. She had many regrets. Some of them were as wide and deep as eternity.

The first year without Simon had been difficult. In one tragic afternoon she lost her husband to death and her son to circumstance, leaving her to deal with the aftermath alone. Simon had always been the one to deal with the unpleasant aspects of life. He paid the bills. He took care of keeping the cars in good running order, made sure insurance policies were up to date, kept tabs on household repairs, and still managed to write for and publish the Gazette even though readership wasn't half of what it used to be.

"Sell, Ruth." That had been Ed Hinkemeyer's advice when they met to discuss her financial future a few weeks after Simon's funeral. He showed her the latest offer from the Boston newspaper syndicate that had been their most persistent suitor. "You want my advice? Take the money and run."

She had come very close to doing just that. The Gazette had fallen into disfavor. The reputation it had enjoyed during those heady days after Simon's Pulitzer was a thing of the past. Now it was just another daily tabloid dose of town news, police blotter updates, and supermarket circulars, like every other small town New England paper. Letting it go had seemed the better part of valor and Ruth had been prepared to do exactly that until the day she went into the office to speak to the employees. Bare unadorned numbers in a ledger were replaced with names and faces who came with families and stories, and she knew she had no choice but hold onto the Gazette a little bit longer.

For one thing it made her feel closer to Simon, as if she were somehow making up for a lifetime of mistakes. They had both been very good at making mistakes. She was grateful he went to his grave not knowing anything about hers.

Her broken hip this spring had slowed her down but so far it hadn't stopped her. She had let Noah think she was more frail than she was, which was probably being manipulative but she was certain the circumstances warranted such measures. She had caused so much damage already. She wouldn't cause any more. This was a time for healing. Her last chance to get things right, to know that just once she had thought of Noah's happiness before her own.

She had asked him if he would take over some of her responsibilities while he was home and he agreed. He needed a place to be right now, both for his own sake and for Sophie's, and that place might as well be Idle Point. It would do him good to drop in at the Gazette, to take Sophie to school in the morning and pick her up in the afternoon, to show her where he used to go sledding on the rare Christmas break when they stayed home. It would do them all good to be a family again.

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"Take a seat, Gracie," Ben said after she took off her coat and let a suspicious Pyewacket out of his carrier. "I'll fix you a cup of coffee."

"You don't have to do that," she said. "I can—"

"Sit." He pointed toward the beautiful pale cream and yellow