Page 44 of His Heart

“I don’t blame her,” I said. “If I were in her shoes, I don’t think I’d want to meet me either.”

Mr. and Mrs. Harper exchanged a sad look.

“I wish I’d have done more for her,” Mrs. Harper said.

“Grief can make it hard to do the right thing for the living,” Mr. Harper said. “We did our best at the time.”

“Yeah, Mom, you need to stop beating yourself up about her,” Olivia said. “It’s not your fault.”

“You’re right, I know,” Mrs. Harper said. “We’ll give her more time. Maybe she’ll still come.”

They asked me more questions and the conversation lightened. They wanted to know about Iowa, and my family. Turned out Mr. Harper was a sports fan, and he chimed in with more questions. I told them about losing to Charlie junior year. How we’d become friends after I’d gotten sick, and how he’d come to Phoenix with me.

Then we talked about Liam. I wanted to know all I could about the man, but I hadn’t been sure if they’d want to talk about him. But rather than being sad or somber, their reminiscing was filled with fondness. They brought out some pictures. Told me what he’d been like as a kid. The sports he’d played as he got older. About meeting in Brooke in high school, and how she’d eventually come to live with them.

We ate and talked and even laughed. I loved hearing about Liam, and the more we talked about him, the more the sadness seemed to lift.

When our meal was finished, and the server had cleared our plates, Mrs. Harper reached out and touched my hand again. “Thank you, Sebastian. This meant so much to us.”

“Me too, Mrs. Harper,” I said. “I’m really glad I got to meet all of you.”

As we said our goodbyes, the Harpers all glanced toward the front door several times. Probably hoping Brooke would show at the last minute.

I couldn’t explain why, but I hoped so too. Every time they’d mentioned her name, I’d felt a tightness in my chest. A tingling in my limbs. Like a foreboding, a sense that something was about to happen. But she hadn’t come, and I was filled with an inexplicable sense of disappointment. I had no idea why. I didn’t know her. I had no reason to be so concerned.

But I was. I was filled with unease. Why hadn’t she come? Was it simply that she’d decided it would be too difficult to meet me? That was understandable. But I couldn’t get rid of the sense that something deeper was wrong. Not as we finished up our conversation, talking about meeting again, maybe in Iowa this time. Not as we stood and exchanged long hugs, the embraces bringing both Mrs. Harper and Olivia to tears again.

Mr. and Mrs. Harper opened the door, but Olivia hesitated.

“I’ll be right there,” she said to her parents, then turned to me. “Look, I know this doesn’t really matter, since you’ll probably never meet Brooke. But I don’t want to give you the wrong idea about her. I knew she wouldn’t come, but it’s not because of you. It’s because of me.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighed and glanced down at her feet. “The last time I saw her was… it was bad. I was so angry after my brother died. I said things to her that I really regret. Well, we both said things, but there’s no excuse for how I treated her. And I haven’t seen her since.”

“So, you didn’t just lose your brother,” I said.

“Exactly,” she said. “I was hoping she’d be here. I owe her an apology, and I thought maybe today would be the day I’d have the chance. Anyway, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. It’s not your problem. I just didn’t want you to leave thinking she was a flake.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I hope you get the chance to talk to her.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said. “Thanks again for coming. I’m glad I got to meet you.”

We hugged again and said one last goodbye.

I stopped in the restroom, then left the restaurant. I was still thinking about Brooke. Wondering what had become of her—of the woman Liam Harper had loved. Wondering if she was okay.

I was still thinking about her when I turned up the sidewalk, heading to where I’d parked. Still thinking about her when I saw a woman across the street, sitting at a little café table, looking at her phone. She was dressed in a tank top and shorts, long dark hair spilling down over her shoulders. I paused and watched her glance up, looking in my direction.

And I knew, with every ounce of my being, that she was Brooke.

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