A Walk Along the Beach by Debbie Macomber Page 0,13

her, I was at her side almost twenty-four/seven.

“The thing is, I kept drifting in and out of sleep. After Lucas took Willa away, I felt this strange comfort. I still hurt and would have done anything to make the pain stop. That was when I felt a presence in the room. Not a physical presence, like a nurse checking on me. A spiritual one. Right away I knew it was Mom. I didn’t hear her voice, but I felt it in my heart just as if she had spoken. Mom told me I needed to hold on. That I would survive, and I did.”

“Yes, you did,” I said, blinking back my own tears. “And look at you now. You’re climbing one more mountain.”

Harper smiled at me through her own tears. “Yes, I am. Mount Rainier, here I come.”

* * *

—

Monday, I found myself waiting for Sean to stop by and was disappointed when the morning passed without my seeing him. Harper almost had me convinced that he was interested, and I’d been foolish enough to believe her.

Harper dropped in between classes, as cheerful as ever. “Has Sean been here today?” she asked, as I made her the drink she had created with kale, wheatgrass juice, and protein powder, then dished up her favorite whole-grain spelt brownie.

Doing my best to hide my disappointment, I shook my head. “Not today.”

“Oh,” she murmured, pouting a bit. “That’s disappointing.”

“I told you he wasn’t interested.” I was intent on making busywork at the counter. Alice had phoned in sick, but I had a feeling it had more to do with fun over the weekend than any virus. As a result, I was left manning the counter single-handedly. Shirley had made it clear when I hired her that she was no barista and preferred to bake and stay in the kitchen.

Harper finished her brownie and returned to work and I went about my day. Near closing time, Sean arrived. My heart did a little jig when I saw him. Thankfully, the business had died down and it was only the two of us in the café.

“Your usual?” I asked when he stepped up to the counter.

He nodded. I noticed he looked tired. “Busy day?” I asked.

“Busy weekend,” he answered, holding my look. “I was on a last-minute assignment. The timing couldn’t have been worse.”

I was curious and wanted to question him but wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate. I knew next to nothing about his work and wished I did. If I was more like Harper, who naturally engaged people, I would have encouraged a conversation.

He lingered for a moment and it seemed neither one of us knew what to say. “I suppose I should be going,” he said. “Before I do, I have something for you.”

“For me?” For the first time I noticed he had a yellow manila envelope with him. He handed it to me. When I opened it, I found a beautiful black-and-white photo of the front of Bean There. Staring at it for several moments, I didn’t know what to say. Even though the photo lacked color, the shadows and the lighting offered a warm, welcoming sensation. “Sean,” I whispered as I pressed my hand over my heart. “This is…perfect.”

“I wanted to be sure you liked it before I framed it.”

“I…love it. Thank you…I hardly know what to say.”

“No thanks necessary. It was something I wanted to do.” He turned away, prepared to leave.

More than anything, I wanted him to stay. “Ah, it’s pretty quiet, if you’d like to sit for a bit?” I asked, stopping him.

He hesitated. “Will you join me?”

“Um, sure, but if someone comes in, I’ll need to get up.” This would be the first time ever that I’d prayed for a lack of business.

“Understood.”

I made myself a latte and joined him, my hands trembling, nervous and feeling awkward. Sean didn’t seem any more at ease than I was.

He smiled when I sat down and I released a small sigh, wondering how best to start the conversation. I knew most everyone enjoys talking about themselves. When I heard that Sean was a photographer, I was intrigued, even more so now that I’d seen his work. I would treasure the photo he’d given me. With a single picture, he’d managed to capture everything I’d hoped my small coffee shop would be.

“How did you get into photography?” I asked. “Is it something you’ve done all your life? I hope you don’t mind me asking.” I glanced down at