Page 3 of The One that Got Away

Ava nodded, relief seeming to settle over her features as she ushered her son inside. Lisa watched the boy's hesitant steps, saw the way his gaze lingered on the wooden sailboats displayed on the shelves—Oliver's handiwork—and something protective welled up within her. This was their life, their sanctuary, and yet she couldn't ignore the tremor of uncertainty that whispered through her veins nor the compassion that urged her to extend kindness to this ghost from Oliver's past.

"Make yourselves comfortable," Lisa said, gesturing toward a cozy corner table. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? We have some freshly baked scones, too."

"Tea would be wonderful. Thank you," Ava said, the tension easing from her shoulders as they sat down.

The boy looked up at Lisa with curiosity, and she gave him a reassuring smile, the same one she reserved for her own children when they were wary of new situations.

Lisa watched them settle in, her mind whirling with questions and what-ifs. The scent of wood shavings seemed to cling to the air, a reminder of Oliver's presence even in his absence. She thought of him out there, somewhere between the ocean he missed and the life they were trying to build together—a life that now felt as precarious as a ship caught in a sudden storm.

Chapter Two

Lisa wiped her hands on her apron, the fabric a poor sponge for the clamminess of her palms. Every tick of the clock above the café door reverberated through the small space, marking the agonizing passage of time as she waited for Oliver. The low murmur of conversation from Ava and the boy was a distant hum in Lisa's ears, drowned out by the thumping of her heart.

She cast furtive glances at the pair, studying the boy's profile, and watched as Ava sipped at the tea she had accepted. Her demeanor was calm, but her eyes were holding stories yet untold.

Ava leaned against the polished wooden table, her hands casually wrapped around a warm mug, the steam curling like whispers into the air.

"I forgot how cold it gets here," she said, her voice as smooth as the tea in her cup, and Lisa couldn't help but notice how the morning light played with the edges of Ava's dark hair, lending her an ethereal quality.

"Yeah, it can get rough around here," she replied, matching Ava's smile with one of her own—a practiced gesture that reached her eyes more easily than she expected.

“I don’t think this café was here when I was here last, but then again. It was also a lot of years ago,” Ava said. “It’s new? Someone told me Oliver started it up?”

"Yes, he and I started the Seabreeze Café together,” Lisa said, trying to make sure the woman understood that they were a couple. Then she added: “He took our youngest for a small walk so she could nap. She’s six months old. He’ll be back soon. What brings you to our little corner of the world?"

"I guess I needed a change of scenery," Ava confessed, her gaze wandering toward the window where the ocean danced with the shore in an endless waltz. "There's something about the simplicity here, the way nature is so intertwined with life… It's captivating."

Lisa nodded, understanding the lure all too well—the same siren call of the waves had anchored her here. The rhythm of the rolling tide was like a steady heartbeat beneath the bustle of the café, grounding them both in the moment.

Lisa had used the same lie when she came here, using the phrase that she needed “a change of scenery” when, in reality, she was running from her past, an abusive husband—Ethan and Abigail’s father. Lisa knew Ava was lying, too. It was very obvious. And now she wondered what the woman really was doing here. And why was she asking for Oliver?

"Nature does have a way of casting its spell here," Lisa agreed, briefly snagging on the sight of Oliver's latest wood carving displayed on a nearby shelf. His craftsmanship was another echo of the town's raw beauty.

“How do you know Oliver?” Lisa asked, even though she already knew.

The name dropped between them like a stone into still water, sending ripples through Lisa's composure. Her heart hitched, the easy cadence of their conversation disrupted by a sudden surge of surprise.

A subtle shift in Ava's blue eyes suggested layers yet to be uncovered, but whatever lay behind those depths remained hidden for now. In the charged silence that followed, Lisa's thoughts tumbled over one another—curiosity, concern, and a protective instinct she wasn't fully aware she possessed until this very moment.

Ava's lips parted, then closed, as though deciding how much to divulge, and Lisa held her breath, waiting for answers that seemed as vast and deep as the ocean itself.

Ava's fingers traced the rim of her teacup, a small gesture betraying an inner turmoil that belied her calm exterior. Lisa watched, a knot tightening in her stomach as the seconds stretched into a silence thick with unspoken words. The cadence of waves outside seemed to pause, waiting for Ava’s revelation.

"Oliver," Ava began, her voice a soft wisp of sound that barely carried over the murmur of the cafe, "he's from my past." She met Lisa's gaze squarely, the determination in her eyes clashing with the vulnerability of her confession. "I need to talk to him."

The words hung in the air, each syllable laden with implications that sent Lisa's mind spinning with a jealousy she hadn’t encountered before.

Lisa's heart thrummed in her chest, a staccato beat echoing the relentless crash of waves. She couldn't shake the image of Oliver on his old boat, the one he spoke of with a mix of longing and resignation. Had Ava stood beside him on that weathered deck, sharing the triumphs and trials of his past fisherman's life? Or was she the one waiting for him as he docked after a hard day’s work, dreaming only of throwing himself into her warm embrace?

Lisa's thoughts tumbled and quickly became a cascade of doubts and fears. Her love for Oliver was a lighthouse in her life, guiding her through the fog of past hardships. The idea that Ava might be a link to a part of him she never knew—a part he never shared—sent a cold shiver down her spine.

Each possibility held its own form of suspense, a narrative thread that could unravel the tapestry of the life she had carefully woven with Oliver. Lisa's nurturing instincts warred with a protective urge, the latter a fierce flame fanned by the unknown elements of Ava's story.

"Did he ever mention me?" Ava's question broke through Lisa's reverie, pulling her back to the moment where questions demanded answers and the past threatened to collide with the future.

"Oliver keeps his cards close," Lisa replied, her voice steadier than she felt. She lied. Oliver had mentioned Ava on one occasion when they had talked about loves lost. She had offered him comfort, thinking—and hoping—they’d never see this woman again. The grief of the lost love visible in his eyes was one she never wanted to see again.

"But I'm sure he'll want to see you when he returns."

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