Page 4 of Hidden Vows
“Oh.”
It’s a silly thought, but I wonder if that’s some kind of privacy violation, the sheriff calling a friend about an emergency. Then again, Gage isn’t just a friend; he’s also a deputy. I’m sure there should be some kind of report about the call, especially when we don’t know the cause. Though, I think it’s safe to say there’s no foul play. Nothing is out of place in the bar, and Walt doesn’t look physically harmed.
“Abbey?” It’s Ava’s voice I hear this time, and when I focus back on my surroundings she’s the one in front of me.
I don’t know when that happened, but as I look around, I realize the paramedics are wheeling Walt out the door, Gage right behind them.
Without acknowledging Ava, I push around her and rush after them. I make it to the ambulance as they’re settling Walt inside.
“I’m going with you.”
“Abbey—” Gage tries to speak.
“No, I’m not leaving him alone.” I toss him my keys. “Lock up the bar and you can meet me at the hospital if you want, but I’m going with them.”
“Are you family?” one of the paramedics asks.
“Yes.” I don’t wait for them to say I can ride in the ambulance; I climb in and take the open seat in the corner.
“We’re taking him to Silverleaf Medical Center,” the paramedic tells Gage before climbing into the ambulance and pulling one of the doors closed behind her.
Gage gives a sharp nod, glancing at me briefly before closing the other door and tapping it twice. His eyes return to mine through the window as the ambulance pulls away, and I watch as Ava exits the door of Murphy’s, practically collapsing into Gage’s side when she reaches him.
two
JUDE
It’s funny;no matter what city I’m in, I always search for the bar that reminds me most of my father’s. Always searching for that feeling of home I’ve only ever found at Murphy’s, my childhood home, or with Abbey. That feeling I’ve only ever had back in Ashford Falls, Maryland. The place I want to be more than anywhere—and the place I’ll never return to.
The Old Whitaker Tavern doesn’t have the hallmarks of an Irish pub like Murphy’s, but it has the hallmarks of a small-town bar—just like the rest of Harborview, Massachusetts.
The conversations going on around me show how well the people of this town know each other.
The group of men and women in the corner laughing with each other and talking about an upcoming wedding of one of the couples. The old man at the end of the bar scowling at the empty glass in front of him. The performer for the night packing up his guitar while talking to the woman who stood up front during his whole performance. The bartender collecting empties the waiters gather and place on the bar while talking to customers closing out their tabs.
It all reminds me of evenings spent with my dad while we worked to close down Murphy’s. The camaraderie that can only be found with people you’ve known most of your life and feel comfortable with.
“Can I get you another one? Last call’s in five.” The bartender wipes at the now vacant spot next to me, offering a smile I imagine typically has men falling to their feet for her attention.
“I’m good.” I lift the pint to my lips, taking the last gulp before placing the empty glass on the bar. “Have a good night.” I tilt my head as a final parting, placing a twenty on the bar before heading out the door.
The sea air from the bay has me breathing deeply, and instead of heading straight for The Driftwood Inn, I find myself walking out to the empty dock.
During the day, this dock bustles with people, but at almost one in the morning it’s like a ghost town. The boats docked and slumbering for the night, waiting for the next day’s work to begin.
Staring out at the calm water, my mind wanders to the place it always does when I allow myself to sit in the stillness of a moment—to Abbey.
What’s she doing right now? Is she happy? Does she think of me as often as I think of her?
I can imagine her standing here with me, taking in the quiet calmness of the moment. The weight of her hand in mine feels so real, I stumble at the sudden breeze that rips through the air, bringing me back to the present.
I give myself a few more seconds to enjoy the evening air and the thought of Abbey by my side again before I turn and head back up the dock.
It’s late, but I’m not tired—unsurprisingly. Sleep and I haven’t been friends for a very long time. My options for where to go arelimited…I have one option: the inn. Though, I do have a choice between my room and the library.
Hoping the front desk will be empty at this time of night, I open the door to the inn as quietly as I can. While not technically a bed and breakfast, The Driftwood Inn gives off those vibes. Not really what I’m looking for when I land in a new place and need to work on a project, but it’s not the end of the world either.
Luck is on my side tonight—the front desk is empty and the inn is silent.
