Page 112 of Free to Believe
Since we’re at a stoplight, I reach over and squeeze her hand. “I look forward to it, sweetheart.”
Her smile stops my heart, even as the car behind me honks at me to go.
* * *
It’s freezingcold on the beach. There’s nothing worse than the gusting wind coming off the ocean making the low forty-degree temperature feel much colder, but Emily has something she needs to do.
She wants to spread some of Mugsy’s ashes here.
Emily has borrowed a pair of Jenna’s high laced-up L.L.Bean boots to keep the freezing cold, wet sand out. Between that, her own coat, and scarf, she should be warm enough. Sliding into my own coat, I reach for her hand. “Are you ready?”
She nods, but it’s with a sad smile on her face.
Quietly, we make our way out the back door and down the deck stairs to the beach. Once we hit the sand, I wrap my arm around her to give her more support, both emotionally and physically. “Do you know where…” My voice trails off.
“Closer to the apartment? This way he’ll always be right where he first fell in love with the beach,” she chokes out.
We walk for a few minutes in the uneven sand until Emily says, “Here’s good.” Digging around in her pocket, she pulls out the packet of ashes. “I guess…I guess I just throw them?” she says uncertainly. Tears are falling behind her glasses and freezing to her cheeks.
Slowly, I shake my head. Softly, I begin to sing to her a song by Luke Bryan about dogs growing old. Even as I’m changing the words to suit her and Mugsy, Em sobs as she lays her head on my chest. When I finish, I ask, “What’s your favorite memory of Mugsy, Em?”
“There are too many. It would take me forever to tell you all of them.”
I kiss her forehead. “Then let’s add that to our talks each day. You can tell me a Mugsy memory each day.”
Her breath catches and doesn’t release. Did I say something wrong? I begin to panic until her mitten-covered hand slides up to my jaw.
“And that right there is the reason I took a chance back at the Skylight.” Rising on her toes, she brushes her first kiss since she left the island against my lips. Falling back on her heels, she gives me a wobbly smile. “I’ll be right back.”
She strides away to say goodbye to Mugsy here where so many hurts were perpetrated and maybe are starting to heal.
69
Emily
“Iam freezing cold,” I declare to Jake.
His laughter is followed by “It isn’t a picnic here either, baby.”
I frown. “What do you do on the island when it’s that cold?” I’m on what should—thank God—be my last trip before I head home to Connecticut until after April’s Bridal Fashion Week. Where all this will begin again.
He shrugs. “Stay inside. Drink a lot of hot drinks. Read a lot. Grade papers.”
Something has bothered me for months, but I haven’t asked him about it. “Have you been playing?” Other than Jake singing to me when we spread Mugsy’s ashes, I can’t think of a single time he’s mentioned music other than teaching. And we’ve talked every single day.
He opens his mouth and then closes it. “What is it, Jake?” I ask, concerned.
“You know how you have to be inspired to draw?”
“Yes.” Boy, do I understand that feeling.
His eyes can’t meet the phone’s camera. Uh-oh. What on earth? “Em, I haven’t been able to play since the accident. After the first few weeks, I just stopped trying.”
I freeze in the act of taking a drink of hot chocolate to choke out, “And this hasn’t come up before, why?”
“Because the most important thing in this world was to heal what I did to you, Em.”
I close my eyes. Conflicting emotions are raging through me right now. I whisper, “Why are we so far away right now?”
