The Sweetheart Secret Page 27

  Earl sighed and shook his head. “I’d taken him fishing the last two weeks before, when you were . . . away. Just him and me. He kept telling me he was older now, Let me drive the boat, Grandpa, let me throw out the anchor. So I let him. You know, that’s how boys learn. You let them try, let them fail, and they learn. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

  Colt put an arm around his grandfather’s shoulders. Earl seemed ten times more frail, a hundred times more heartbroken. “You were. You couldn’t have known he would try to go out by himself.”

  “I never should have shown him. I should have made him wait till he was older. Ten, eleven.” Grandpa’s voice cracked and when he turned to Colt, his eyes were filled with tears, his face washed with regret, sorrow. “He was too young, Colt, too damned young.”

  “I know. I know.” Colt’s voice broke.

  “I miss him, like somebody tore off my left arm and just left me to bleed to death. Every day since that boy died, I’ve felt like that. Hell, half the time I wanted to die myself. The only thing that kept me going was Nancy. Then she died and . . . I didn’t see the point anymore.”

  “So that’s why you won’t take your medicine or go to the specialists. Just let it happen.” Colt shook his head. Tears burned at the back of his eyes, but he didn’t give a damn. “Didn’t you ever think that maybe I need you, too?”

  Earl scoffed. “You don’t need me. Hell, you’re ten times smarter than I ever was. You always have been.”

  “Every boy needs his grandpa,” Colt said softly. “You’re the one who taught me everything I know.”

  Earl scoffed again and shook his head.

  “About girls and engines and fixing broken water pipes. But most of all, Grandpa, you taught me that it’s a good thing to find a job you love and be the best damned one at it that you can be. People come up to me every day and tell me what a good mechanic you were. How you fixed their car when they were out of work, and wouldn’t take money from them. How you rebuilt an engine or pulled out a dent late on a Saturday night because someone needed to go out of town on Monday to visit their sick sister. I can only pray I turn out to be half the man you are.”

  “You really mean that?”

  “Hell, yes. You’re my hero, Grandpa. You always have been.”

  Earl dropped his gaze. A tear puddled on his leg. He swiped at his face. “Thank you, Colt, but I don’t deserve that. I just fix cars. You fix people. Save their lives. If anyone’s the hero here, it’s you.”

  “The only life I care about saving is yours, Grandpa.”

  Earl raised his gaze to his grandson’s and held it a long while. His vision blurred, his throat closed, but he let those words sink into him, before he nodded and said, “Okay, Colt. Okay.”

  Colt drew his grandfather into a long, tight hug, the kind that reminded him of when he’d been a little boy and had grabbed his grandfather at the end of those Sunday fishing trips, wanting so bad to stay in that warm maple-syrup-scented house with his indulgent grandparents, instead of going home to a pristine world of rules and expectations. He held on to his grandfather for as long as he could, because it was all he could do, and all he’d ever really wanted.

  Twenty-six

  Emma had spent two weeks at the Hideaway Inn. Her quick weekend away had turned into an extended stay, and now with bookings starting to fill the calendar, Daisy was going to need Emma even more. The renovations were nearly complete, and there was a crew working on the patio today, setting up chairs and tables for Luke and Olivia’s wedding later today.

  She had called her mother a couple times, keeping the conversations upbeat and short. Still, half her mind was back in Jacksonville, knowing that she eventually had to return and make a final decision about her marriage.

  A car swung into the circular drive of the Hideaway. It took her a second to realize it was Roger’s sedan, dusty from the four-hour trip from Jacksonville. Her heart leapt to her throat. Was he here to tell her in person that he’d filed for divorce?

  Roger stepped out of the car, sunglasses hiding his eyes. He started toward the front steps of the Hideaway, then saw her standing on the beach and detoured in her direction. As he approached, she saw that he wasn’t dressed in the neat, perfectly pressed clothes he normally wore. Instead, he wore rumpled shorts and an old faded T-shirt she remembered buying for him years ago. She stayed where she was, cemented in place, until Roger reached her.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Looking for my wife.”

  The words caused a little hitch in her breath. “I’m not your wife, Roger. We’re separated. You made the announcement yourself.”

  He sighed. “I did it because I was frustrated. I felt like we weren’t going anywhere and I might as well accept the inevitable.”

  “Inevitable? You’re the one who moved out. You’re the one who gave up. I’m the one who kept trying.” She turned away, cursing the tears that burned at the back of her eyes.

  He circled around to stand in front of her. “You’re right.”

  The two words hung in the air between them. Said so simply, so sure, that the argument she’d been bracing to launch died in her throat.

  “I’m sorry,” Roger said. “I let us slip away, a little at a time. I got consumed by my job, by that book contract, by all the things that I thought would make me happy. Then we had that night together . . . and then you proposed the weekend away, and I blew it. I thought I couldn’t have both.”

  “Both what?”

  “Both the career I’d always dreamed of and the marriage I’d always wanted. So I moved out, and moved on, and then I was sitting there in my apartment by the campus, spending two full days wandering around like a lost puppy. I couldn’t understand what was missing, why I felt so . . . derailed. And then I realized something.”

  She couldn’t read his face. “What?”

  He took off his sunglasses and tucked them in his pocket, then clasped her hands in his own. His dark eyes met hers, and held, for the first time in forever. “That the career didn’t matter. Didn’t mean a damned thing. Not without you by my side.” He shook his head, and sadness filled his features. “How did we get so offtrack, Emma?”

  “We stopped trying. Both of us.” She’d been just as guilty as Roger, letting her marriage wither away rather than fighting the inertia that had crept in like a slow flood. “We never should have quit.”

  A sad smile stole across Roger’s face. “Quitting’s so much easier.”

  “So . . .” She let out a breath. “What now?”

  “I unload my car and set up my computer.” He brushed the bangs off her face and rested his palm against her cheek. “I booked a room at the Hideaway Inn for the next twelve months.”

  “You . . . what?”

  “I took my sabbatical, packed up my car, and came here to be with you, Emma. I’ll write and help you, and we’ll try again. If . . .” He hesitated, and Emma realized she had never seen her driven, confident husband so unsure before. “If that’s okay with you.”

  She drew in a breath. “Before I answer, I have something to tell you.”

  His touch fluttered. “Okay.”

  “Remember that night a couple months ago? Well . . .” She exhaled the breath. “I’m pregnant.”

  Roger’s dark eyes searched her face. Confusion filled his eyes, then yielded to joy. “Really?”

  She nodded. “Listen, I understand if this changes things. I know you didn’t want kids while you were still trying to build your career at the university and—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. “None of that means a damned thing without you. And”—he dropped his hand to her belly—“our future.”

  They stood there a long time, enjoying each other, kissing, talking, laughing, then Roger told her to stay where she was while he unloaded the car and got them both some ginge
r ale for a toast.

  When Roger was gone, Emma stood on the beach and looked out at the ocean. She wrapped her arms around herself and smiled. The sun warmed her face, her hands, and filled her chest. She watched the water wash in and out, in and out, and for the first time in months, felt . . .

  Peace.

  It wasn’t perfect, and there were still a lot of unanswered questions and decisions that lay ahead of them both, but for now, this would do. She’d have to call her mother and tell her that she wasn’t coming back to Jacksonville. If there was one thing sure to cheer Clara up, it was being told she’d been right all along.

  “There you are,” Daisy said, coming up beside Emma. “I can’t believe we’ve finally reopened this place.”

  “You did it, Dase. It was all you.”

  She waved that off. “It was Nick and his crew, and you, and a big fat loan.”

  Emma turned to face her cousin. “None of this would have happened without you. You believed in it, you believed in me, and there were times when you believed enough for all of us. You got that first event booked, you managed to get that loan, and you brought the Hideaway Inn back to life, and in a way, you brought me back, too. Don’t discount that. It’s a big deal. A really big deal.”

  Daisy watched a sailboat cutting through the water, as easily as a knife through melted butter. “I never imagined I would do anything that mattered. I mean, I’ve been a waitress most of my life. I never served anyone a cheeseburger that changed their life.” She laughed a little. “But I’m glad this changed things for you. I’ve been worried about you, cuz.”

  Emma drew in a long breath and let it out. “I’m better now. Or I will be. And if you still want me to run the inn with you, I’m going to stay.”

  “Really? But what about Roger and your job in Jacksonville?”

  “I hated my job in Jacksonville. I never liked working at that insurance company. And my photography business can go where I go. As for Roger . . .” She watched the water for a while more, then a smile bubbled to the surface of her face. “He’s here. He wants to stay and try again. He took a sabbatical, so we have a whole year to figure this out.”

  Daisy draped an arm around Emma’s shoulders and drew her close. “That’s wonderful. I’m so glad for you.”

  “Are you staying here, too?” Emma asked.

  Daisy shrugged. “I’m thinking about it. You know me and settling down in one place. I don’t do it well.”

  “That’s because you’ve never tried. And you’ve never had the right incentive.”

  “Incentive? Right now, all my incentives are telling me to leave.” She glanced down the beach, in the direction where Colt’s house lay.

  “Well, what if I gave you an extra reason to stay and help me?”

  “Extra reason?”

  Emma drew in a breath again, and faced Daisy. The joy in her heart threatened to burst. “I’m . . . pregnant.”

  Surprise dawned in Daisy’s face, followed by a giant smile. “Really? I can’t believe it. Oh, when, how? Never mind, it doesn’t matter.” She drew Emma into a tight hug. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with my best friend.”

  “And running the Hideaway Inn together? Resurrecting a little of the past?”

  “While also changing our futures.” Daisy gave Emma a happy, goofy smile. And in the conviction in Daisy’s eyes, Emma found hope.

  * * *

  Either Daisy was hormonal or she was getting sappy in her thirties. Late on Saturday afternoon, when Olivia stepped barefoot onto the flower-strewn trail on the beach and walked toward a beaming Luke, something caught in Daisy’s throat. The music swelled, then Olivia and Luke took each other’s hands as the minister called for everyone to be seated.

  True to Olivia’s word, there were only about fifty people in attendance at the wedding. Greta and the girls, Walt, Harold, and the rest of the poker gang, as well as Diana and Mike and his daughters. Earl had arrived just a few minutes before the ceremony and taken a seat with Daisy, Emma, and Roger in the back row. She’d asked him where Colt was, and Earl just shook his head.

  She tried not to think about Colt, tried to pretend she didn’t care that he wasn’t here. She had divorced him, and that meant she was supposed to let him go, not let every word the minister spoke to Luke and Olivia remind her of her own wedding.

  The sun kissed the horizon just as the minister pronounced them man and wife. Luke cradled Olivia’s face in his hands, then leaned in and kissed her, slow and sweet, like she was a treasure he had waited a lifetime to find.

  Daisy looked away, and told herself it didn’t hurt her heart. Didn’t make her want to dive into the ocean and lose herself in the deep blue nothing.

  When the music swelled again, Daisy forced back the lump in her throat, plastered a smile on her face, and rose to give Olivia a hug as she and Luke headed back up the aisle. The guests began to mingle and head toward the reception on the patio, while Emma and Daisy picked up the flowers. Roger kept his eye on his wife, as if he couldn’t believe she was really here. It was such a sweet sight, and one that sent another lump into Daisy’s throat.

  “Beautiful wedding,” Emma said.

  “Absolutely.”

  “And it made you miserable the entire time.” Emma put a hand around Daisy’s shoulder. “Why don’t you just tell him that you are madly in love with him?”

  “Because I’m not. He’s all wrong for me. All rules and organization and permanence.”

  “Sounds to me like a list of things you’ve been looking for all your life, all rolled up into one handsome package.”

  “I miss the man I did fall in love with. The risk taker. The motorcycle and the leather jacket. That Colt was the one who understood me.”

  “Just because a man trades his motorcycle for a suit and tie doesn’t change who he is inside. I think you’re just scared and looking for an excuse.”

  “I think I better get these flowers up to the reception before they wilt.” Daisy started forward, then hesitated when she heard a guttural roaring sound, thudding like a heartbeat, increasing in volume, rumbling the air, the ground. A low-slung black motorcycle prowled down the circular drive of the Hideaway Inn, then came to a stop. The driver kicked out the stand on the side, then swung his leg over the silver and black beast.

  “I’ll take those flowers,” Emma said. She gave Daisy a nudge. “And you better go see who’s late to the wedding.”

  She walked up the path that led to the front of the building, waiting, her breath caught in her throat, for the driver to take off his helmet. He just leaned against the bike and waited for her. He had on dark-wash denim jeans, a thick black leather jacket, and—

  A button-down shirt and tie.

  Daisy started to laugh. She shook her head, sure she was seeing things, then he took off the helmet and gave her a grin.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Colt said.

  “You’re not late. You only missed the wedding, not the reception.” She tried not to read anything into his appearance. After all, Olivia and Luke had invited him, so that didn’t mean he was here for any other reason than to celebrate a friend’s marriage. Except . . . he was riding a motorcycle and wearing a leather jacket, as if she’d conjured up the old Colt by talking about him. “What are you doing with all . . . this?”

  “Showing you that I’m not just a khakis guy.” He flicked at the Windsor knot. “Though I didn’t give up the tie.”

  She grinned. “It is a wedding, after all. Ties are appropriate.”

  “That’s what I hear.” He hung the helmet on the handlebars, then closed the distance between them. “So, too, is having a date.”

  So he had come for her? Joy burst in her heart, chased by the familiar fears that had ruled her life for so many years. “Oh, Colt, I’m working and busy and . . .”

  Her voice trailed off when he took her
hand, put something in her palm, then closed her fingers over it. “Remember when you made me buy you one of these? Maybe we both should have taken that promise to heart. Always remember to take chances, Daisy.”

  She opened her fingers. A pair of black and white plastic dice dangled from the ring holding the motorcycle’s key. Plastic and cheesy, and just like the pink ones that she had kept all those years. “Colt . . . I don’t know what to say to this.”

  “Come for a ride with me. Just for a little while.”

  She flicked a glance at the inn. “There’s the wedding and—”

  “I have it all under control,” Emma said, coming up behind them.

  Roger stepped into place beside her. “And whatever she needs help with, I’m here to do.”

  Emma grinned. “So go, you two. But be back before they serve the cake, or I’ll eat your piece.”

  Daisy laughed, then turned back to Colt, and handed him the keys, because right now she was trembling, whether from fear or elation, she wasn’t sure, and in no condition to drive a motorcycle. “You heard the woman. I’m serious about my cake, so only a few minutes.”

  “Hopefully that’s all I need.” He climbed back on the bike, settled the helmet on his head, then handed an extra one to her. A moment later, Daisy had her arms wrapped around Colt’s waist and they were flying down the road, while the wind whipped at them and the heat of the bike wafted over their legs.

  It was just like the old days and if she closed her eyes, she could pretend they were running away, off to a new life filled with unknowns. A life that had included a whirlwind courtship, marriage, and ending.

  This time, there wasn’t going to be a marriage at the end of the road. She had divorced him—the papers were signed and all Colt had to do was file them with the court—so there was nothing left to bind them. Yet she had climbed on his bike anyway, her thighs anchored against his, her arms locked across his chest, her cheek pressed to his back, and she wasn’t quite sure why.

  He turned off on a side street, and brought the bike to a halt in a small shaded park. They got off the bike, set down the helmets, and crossed to a grayed picnic table, scarred and dented from years by the seashore. “Why are we here?” she asked.