At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories) - By Barbara Bretton Page 0,94

other people's lives.

She couldn't undo any of it. She wasn't a good enough woman to wish that she could. Her life had been an imperfect one but it had been her choice each step of the way. She had stayed with Simon because she loved him. She would make no apologies for that. But Simon was gone and she was here and her mistakes were settling in around her in a way she could no longer ignore.

Chapter Fifteen

He wrote about a Thanksgiving ten years ago, about turkey sandwiches and clam chowder at a little hole-in-the-wall in Plymouth, about watching the snow fall while they cuddled in a booth and talked about their future.

She wanted four children, two boys and two girls. I said I would settle for six. We would live in a house by the ocean and we would be happy together for the rest of our lives.

Gracie sat on the edge of her bed Thanksgiving morning and saw it all through Noah's eyes. She hadn't thought about that day in many years. Like so many other days, it had been lost in the daily rush of living and her powerful need to forget. With six hundred perfectly chosen words, Noah had given that snowy Thanksgiving Day back to her, with all of the sights and sounds and smells as real and vibrant as they had been at the time.

She saw him with Sophie last night. She had been standing in the doorway, looking out at the rain while Rachel pressed some seams when he pulled his rental car into the driveway. The rain had finally stopped and a few stars twinkled tentatively overhead. She closed her eyes for a moment and made a wish, the same wish she had made every night since she was five years old and starting kindergarten. Keep him safe from harm.

The rhythmic sweep of the lighthouse's beam washed the sky, punctuated by the occasional bleat of a foghorn in the distance. She was half-drunk on the sheer smell of the night, a potent combination of wet leaves and pine and the ever-present smell of the sea.

He flung open his door then climbed out of the car. She watched, scarcely breathing, as he looked up at the sky. She knew what he was doing. He was wishing on a star too. She had taught him that their first summer together in the shadow of the lighthouse, in their summer of love. It's the same for you, isn't it, Noah? No matter how far we run, this will always be home. He had wanted to see the world, to shrug off the traces of Idle Point and create himself anew. Are you happy, Noah? Is it all you thought it would be?

She had watched, scarcely breathing, as he opened the back door and, after a minute or two, lifted a sleeping Sophie out of the car. The little girl murmured something—the soft sweet sound lifted and rose on the wind like a prayer—then curled up against Noah's chest. All of her fire, all of her fears, forgotten in the secure circle of her father's embrace. One day when Sophie was all grown up, she would remember that feeling of being deeply loved and she would gain strength from it.

I see her as she was then, reflected unexpectedly in my daughter, and I want to make things right for both of them...

Noah didn't know what he was doing, dredging up all of these memories. There could be no happy ending, not the kind of romantic resolution they had dreamed about years ago. He needed to know that and he needed to know why or none of them would ever find happiness. Sophie deserved a family, a real family, with a mother and father who loved her and each other, and that was something that could never happen unless she told Noah the truth.

Ben knew the truth. He had told her as much yesterday afternoon. She was reasonably certain Ruth Chase suspected the truth as well. She would ask Noah to help her shield them as much as possible but hurting them was a chance they had to take for Sophie's sake.

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One thing Noah had learned since he became an instant daddy three months ago was that Murphy's Law was not only true, it had probably been discovered by a single father. No matter how much time he allotted to getting Sophie ready, he always fell short by at least twenty minutes. He wasn't taking any chances