At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories) - By Barbara Bretton Page 0,79

love had come a miracle. Their daughter.

She didn't think she could hurt this much and still live. The pain was white-hot. It sliced through all the protective layers she'd built up over the years and split her in two. He had gone on with his life. He had picked up the pieces and moved forward the way she had said he should, the way she had told herself she had wanted him to do, the way she had lied to herself about every single day for the last eight years.

Sophie should have been theirs. She would have been theirs if—

Don't think about it. There's nothing you can do about any of it. You had to leave... you had no choice... you never had any choice...

Noah was an impossible dream and it wasn't because he had a wife and child. It was thanks to Simon Chase and her mother.

#

For eight years Noah had wondered what he would do if he ever saw Gracie again. Let her walk away again had never been one of the options.

He collared Andy. "Watch Sophie for me. I won't be long."

"She bites," Andy said, looking nervously in Sophie's direction.

"You're fifty-three," Noah said. "She's five. I think you can handle it. Get Sarah from accounting to help you." He was out the door.

Morning traffic rolled slowly down the rainy street. John Templeton and Myrna DeGrassi waved at Noah then disappeared into Patsy's for morning coffee and town gossip. A big yellow school bus idled at the corner, its exhaust sending puffs of grey smoke into the chill air. Stan Foxworthy bent down to retrieve a copy of the Gazette from a stand at the opposite corner. Tess Moore waved at him then unlocked the front door to the jewelry shop.

And there at the far end of the block was Gracie, bent over double in front of Sam's bridal shop, swamped inside that big coat. Every line of her body was familiar to him. The graceful curve of her back, her long slender arms, the spill of golden brown hair. His anger began to shift and sharpen as he ran toward her. He bridged the last eight years in forty-six strides.

"Don't do this, Noah." She said it without looking up, without looking at him. The weariness in her voice sharpened his anger yet again.

"You owe me." He didn't recognize his own voice. It held a mix of sorrow and pain held close for too long.

She lifted her head and met his eyes. "No," she said. " Not anymore"

"The hell you don't."

"It's over. It's been over for a very long time. Let it rest."

"Tell me why. That's all I want to know. Give me a reason and I'll turn and walk away." He needed answers. He had spent too many years wondering what he had done wrong, wondering if he had imagined love, wondering if there had been one moment when he could have turned left instead of right and none of this would have happened.

"I left you a letter."

He slammed his hand against the window of Samantha's Bridal. "That letter was bullshit."

He reached for her arm as she pushed past him, but she was too fast. All he got was a fistful of sleeve. She broke into a swift, spare run, dodging puddles, darting around knots of children, ignoring the fact that he was in close pursuit. There was no hesitancy, no uncertainty about her flight. She wanted to put as much distance between them as she possibly could.

He took ten steps, and then the absurdity of the situation stopped him cold. He'd been looking for answers and he'd found them. They weren't the answers he had wanted, but that was life. Icy rain stung his face and arms but still he stood there, watching her run out of his life for the second time. She'd answered all of his questions without saying a word. The sight of her slender body in retreat told him everything he needed to know and more.

This time, though, he had Sophie. Sophie would keep him from disappearing down that black hole of loneliness and anger. Sophie needed him, almost as much as he needed her. A child didn't care if your whole world was falling apart. A child's needs were immediate and all-encompassing. Unconditional love, every day for the rest of your life. Once you had that worked out, then you could start worrying about everything else.

He would never know what made him turn back at that exact moment, just in time