Love on a Spring Morning (27 page)

He immediately regretted the decision.

“Owe me enough to talk about your woman?”

“So the job talk was a ruse?”

Jake shook his head. “Nope. I’ve just got things to say on this front, too.”

“I thought you didn’t. I preferred it when you didn’t.”

“Well, bully for you. I’ve lived it, remember? My dad raised us all by himself.”

“I know.” Ryan scrubbed his face with his hands. “I do, okay? I’m just trying to keep it together for my kids, so they don’t fixate on Holly being gone like everyone else seems to be.”

“What exactly happened? In hindsight, it was so obvious that you guys were into each other.”

“We were in different places, that’s all.”

“And you couldn’t find a way to get in the same place as her?” Another head shake.

Ryan was so done with being judged. By his father-in-law for falling for Holly, and by everyone else for not falling hard enough. “It’s not that easy. I’ve got kids to consider—”

“It’s better to have loved and lost applies to kids, too,” Jake said quietly. “I know that’s hard to believe now, but you’re not doing them any favours by shutting her out of your life. Because you’re shutting her out of
their
lives.”

“They don’t love her yet.”

“But you do.”

“No.”
Yes
. Maybe. Just maybe…he’d walled up his heart enough that he wasn’t sure. “No,” he repeated, glaring at his friend. “And if I got too wrapped up in her, then that’s even more to the point—I don’t want my kids to fall in love with her only to have her leave them. And I can’t bear to see them lose someone else they love.”

“I don’t know, the way she looked at you, I didn’t think she had any plans to leave.”

But she did.
In the end, she’d gone without another word.
Because she said the most important words of all and you threw them in her face.

“Sometimes it’s not a choice,” he ground out. His eyes were getting hot and itchy and he was done with this conversation.

“Lynn didn’t leave you.”

“Yes she did. She left our marriage, in her head and in her heart, long before she was killed. And I couldn’t get her back. I couldn’t fucking reach her.”

“You guys had problems.”

“I don’t want to talk about Lynn.”

“Then let’s talk about Hope.”

“Her name is Holly, and I don’t want to talk about her, either.”

“You just want to be a miserable ass?”

Yeah
. “You know what, Jake? You don’t need to tell me how I could be a better father. I don’t need that shit from you or anyone else. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.”

He watched his friend shrug and turn to leave. As soon as he was gone, Ryan went to the cupboard where his bottle of scotch had sat untouched for a month.

Pulling it out, he rocked it back and forth between his hands. Then he twisted off the cap, walked over to the sink, and dumped it down the drain.

— —
 

June had faded into July. The kids were out of school and into camp, which was a relief, because he wasn’t doing a great job of being fun these days, although he was trying.

His friends were still around, hovering on the periphery of his sadness, but they’d stopped talking to him about almost anything that wasn’t kid-related.

He’d bought another bottle of scotch. It sat, still sealed, waiting for his father-in-law to ask for a drink.

Mike and Gloria hadn’t been over a lot, though. They took the kids a fair bit, but always when Ryan had something to do. He’d been doing odd-jobs here and there for Jake, and ran a short weekend course for the Army.

None of it distracted him from how much he missed Holly.

He’d started a dozen emails to her. Some were complete, others just a random thought. All sat, unsent, in his Drafts folder. He’d deleted her contact profile from his phone, then added it again immediately.

He kept waiting for clarity to set in. Faith gave him a knowing look when he showed up to the July meeting, but nothing new dawned while he sat there, quiet the entire time except for his introduction.

Jake had no more wisdom to share, either.

His friends had all tried. He could feel that in them, a frustration with him that he wasn’t getting it, but he wasn’t sure what
it
was.

In the end, clarity came in a laundry basket. He’d come home after dropping the kids off. Did the dishes, put on a load of laundry, and grabbed the basket of clean stuff that had been sitting on the dryer for a few days. Carrying it into the living room, he plopped it on the couch and started tossing clothes into different piles. Boys size large soccer shorts—Jack.
Star Wars
t-shirt—Gavin. Maya’s new size-five sundress.

Size five, Lynn. Our baby is growing up
. He glanced up at the photo array above the couch. Lynn wasn’t going to talk back to him, but he wanted to see her face anyway. What he saw instead were babies.
They’ve all grown up
. There weren’t any new pictures to show that, though. The entire wall was a shrine to a time when Lynn was alive.

He needed to let that time go.

He’d been an idiot. Holly had told him exactly that.
Forgiveness means letting go of the hope for a better past
.
 

Heavy, angry regret pulsed in his gut, and he lifted Lynn’s picture off the wall. Cradling it to his chest, he sat heavily on the couch and flashed through fifteen years of memories.
 

I’ll always miss you. Always love you, baby.
But it wasn’t the same love any more. He could remember the passion that started their marriage. But the special part of his heart that ached for a partner was one hundred percent Holly’s now. Cruel irony to realize that four weeks too late.

A knock at the kitchen door interrupted his fugue. “Come in!” he hollered.

Carrying Lynn’s picture, he headed into the kitchen, slowing when he realized his visitor was his father-in-law, and he didn’t look good.
 

Ryan took in the drawn expression on Mike’s face and rocked back on his heels. “What’s wrong?”

“Gloria told me to do this weeks ago, I want you to know that,” the older man said, exhaling roughly.

“Do what?” Ryan set Lynn’s photo on the kitchen table and crossed his arms.

Mike glanced at the picture, then back at Ryan. Unease was written all over him. “When the movers brought our furniture back, they found this in the house.”

Ryan took the plain white envelope. It had his name and the kids’ names written in neat letters on the front. His heart pounded in his chest. “I did a walk-through before they arrived. I didn’t see anything.”

“It was in one of the kitchen drawers. Maybe she didn’t want you to find it right away.”

Ryan bristled, his fingers itching to open the envelope, but he didn’t want to do it in front of Mike. “And you decided to keep it from me?”

“I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. It was wrong.”

“You’re damn right you shouldn’t have.” Ryan heard his voice crack; it was like he was listening to himself have this conversation, when in his head he was just yelling
get out get out get out
so he could open it up. “You have no idea what’s in this envelope. It has your grandchildren’s names on it. You kept it from
them
.”

It was lucky for Mike that Ryan was all out of fiery outbursts. He watched with a sense of cold detachment as his father-in-law left, but as soon as he was alone, something inside him snapped and all the fear he’d locked away—the fear that had pushed Holly away—flooded his body. Shaking, he opened the envelope.

Inside was a letter for the kids, thanking them for the card, and promising to always respond if they sent her more. She included her Los Angeles address. Behind that letter was another, thicker one. Ten pages, written on notepad paper, and one short note on plain white paper attached to the front.

Ryan,

This is the first apology note I wrote you, that I didn’t give you because it ended up being so much more than just
I’m sorry
. I should have given it to you earlier. I was wrong when I said we don’t know each other that well. I think you know me better than anyone else in the world.

When you’re ready, I’m still yours.

Always,

Holly

Blindly, Ryan pulled his phone out of his pocket.
 

Olivia answered on the second ring. “Hi Ryan, what’s up?”

“I need to book a flight to Los Angeles.” He could practically hear Olivia’s fist-pump in the air. “And I need you to keep it a secret.”

“For just you?”

“No, I need to take the kids with me.”

“Do they have passports?”

Shit
. “No, and neither do I.”

“Okay. So the first thing we need to do is…”

— —
 

Ryan scowled at the nail he’d just driven too hard into the drywall. He’d brought home a big painting of a hockey skate to hang over the couch where Lynn had hung their family pictures. He wasn’t putting them away—he was moving them to the stairwell, where there would be more room to add photos to the collection. Their kids hadn’t stopped growing when she died, and he needed to keep up that tradition.

Across the room, his phone vibrated insistently. He set down the hammer and stomped over to it.
Jake
. Damn it. He’d been hoping it was the post office. They were going to call as soon as the expedited passport delivery arrived.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Got a different kind of job for you,” his friend’s voice crackled over the line. He was driving and talking through the speakers in his truck.

“Shoot.”

“I need you to go take a look at a house for me. The buyer just wants a builder’s opinion, not a formal home inspection, but she wants it today.”

“Today?”

“It’s a last minute thing, no report needed. Just a yay or nay, and if it needs work, how much work.”

“Can it wait until tomorrow, because—”

“Sorry, bud. And she said something about the school bus pick-up, if it was in a good spot for that.”

“How the hell am I supposed to know that?”

“I don’t know, man. You’ve got kids. I don’t. Just go and give it a once-over, okay?”

“That’s the thing, Jake. I’ve gotta pick up the kids from camp in twenty minutes. I’m sorry.”

“Take them with you. Please? I’d go do it myself, but this is the only night Dani’s got off all week.”

“You’re whipped.”

“Happily so. I’ll owe you one, thanks!”

Ryan stared at the phone. He didn’t remember actually saying yes, but his friend was gone and…well, fuck it. It was time he got back on the horse, started doing more than odd-jobs. He’d been thinking about going to work for Jake in a bigger way anyway. Better than Zander’s security gig—he’d always liked construction. Maybe this was a first step in the right direction.

He grabbed his tool belt from the basement, making sure it had a little notepad and the pens in it still worked. The flashlight’s batteries were dead, but he stole two from a toy that made too much damn noise anyway, and headed for his truck.

By the time he had the kids all buckled in after picking them up from camp, Jake had texted him an address just north of town.
Swanky
. The only properties up there were high-end “cottages” owned by people with more money than sense. They’d all be great year-round homes, but the people who bought them only showed up for a few weekends a year.

At least they provided some employment—part-time housekeepers, landscapers…people like Jake who’d charge five hundred bucks to say the perfectly good house was, in fact, perfectly good.

The address was for the first of the so-called cottages. The smallest one, actually, although it was still bigger than his place. And unlike the others, it wasn’t that secluded. Just a short lane, not a long windy road. The bus would go right past at the highway, but still be visible from the house. A short walk up if her kids were small, or she could watch from the kitchen if they were bigger.

He unbuckled Maya, and waited for all three kids to line up in front of him before he reminded them he was there to do some work, and they needed to stay close but not touch anything.

“Actually, there’s nothing inside. The place is empty,” a female voice called from behind him, and he froze. “They can come inside and run around. Go berserk. Whatever they want.”

Blinking hard, still speechless, he glanced down at his kids. All three of them were staring past him at Holly, wide-eyed to see their friend again. They didn’t know he’d been planning to take them on an adventure to find her—he’d told them the passports were for a trip in the winter with their grandparents. No point in getting their hopes up.

He’d done a good job of that for himself, too. So good that he couldn’t turn around, even after they sprinted away and he could hear her let them into the house. As her footsteps crunched toward him on the gravel drive, he stood stiffly next to his truck. Now that the moment was upon them, and it wasn’t how he’d envisioned it at all—she’d come to him, when it was him that needed to beg her forgiveness—he found himself frozen like a statue.

Maybe because if he turned around—if he saw her face—he’d be a goner, and he needed to be sure that was okay. He cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I was getting a home inspection.” She stopped behind him, close enough he could feel her energy lifting all the hairs on the back of his neck. Tugging him back into her orbit.

“So you’re buying a cottage?”

“Bought, actually. It’s a done deal.”

“Not a lot of movies shot in Pine Harbour. Just one that I can remember.”

“So I’ll have to travel for work.”

“Not a lot of agents or movie premieres, either.”

“I already have an agent and I’ve never been a fan of red carpets.”

“Cottages are a lot of work. You can’t just come and go a few times a year and hope it’ll still be in the same condition when you get back.”

“What if I spend most of my time with the cottage, and only go away when I need to?”

He felt her hands first, tentatively touching his back, and he stiffened against her as she pressed her face between his shoulder blades. “That’s outside the scope of a home inspection report. I wouldn’t know.”