Page 15 of The Beach Cottage
“What, honey?”
“I don’t want to lose you. Not when I feel like I’ve only just found you after too many years away.”
He shook his head, eyes glistening. “You’re not going to lose me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Well, no one lives forever.” His voice was soft and his eyes kind, but his words pierced her heart. She did know that; she knew it better than most. But she also knew she’d never recovered from her mother’s death. How could she face another loss? Once again, she was getting ahead of herself. It was how she worked herself up into an anxious frenzy — by imagining things that didn’t happen. It’d been something she’d struggled with ever since her mother’s funeral. Images of that time flashed across her mind’s eye — her father, pale faced and dressed all in black, leading Bradford by the hand through the cemetery; Bea’s red-eyed reflection in the mirror as she steeled herself for the service while her heart pounded with pain in her chest.
Tears snaked down her cheeks.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Dad’s eyes narrowed with concern.
“Thinking about how you might be sick brings back memories of Mum’s funeral.”
Dad ran his fingers through his hair. “Don’t go bringing all that back up again. We don’t need to dredge old memories. We’re okay, aren’t we?”
“Yes, we’re okay. I’m happy, really I am. But being on the island again, seeing you, fearing for your health, even spending time with Aidan and my friends — it’s made me think about things I haven’t pondered in decades. Most of all, Mum’s death and what it meant to me and to all of us. How it changed the entire course of my life and the person I became—the daughter, wife and mother I’ve been. I still miss her.”
She went into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. Dad followed and enveloped her in his arms. She cried against his shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s silly. It happened so long ago.”
“Not silly at all. I used to have a cry every now and then over her. I let myself grieve, and now I can remember the good times without it hurting that way anymore.”
“I thought I’d moved on as well, but for some reason, it’s coming back to the surface now.”
“I suggest you let yourself face those feelings and deal with them.” He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb, then kissed her forehead. “Let’s finish eating.”
They sat together and ate the rest of the pancakes. They talked about the café and the kids, anything other than his health or their past. By the time they were done, Bea was ready for a run on the beach. She told Dad goodbye and headed back to the cottage to change into a long-sleeved shirt and to apply sunscreen to her face and legs. Then she took off along the beach at a jog.
She rounded the end of the cove and jogged slowly along the beach that sat at the base of the cliff beneath her father’s house. She made her way along the stretching golden expanse of sand beyond. The sun was glaringly hot and glanced off the sand like a bright light.
The depth of the pain in her gut shifted, as though a ball of emotion had been wedged there and was slowly unwinding as she ran.
“Beatrice, are you okay?” Aidan’s concerned voice broke through her reverie. She could barely see, with the glare of the sun off the white sand in her eyes.
She pivoted to look for him. He stood near the water’s edge in a wetsuit that was shucked to his waist. His muscular torso glistened with sea water as he set his surfboard down on the beach and walked towards her.
Tears threatened again at the sight of him. She missed him so much. All these years, she’d pushed her feelings for him beneath the surface. He’d left her — walked away when she needed him most. He didn’t want her, and she’d had to move on with her life. But now she knew better — he’d been just as confused as she was, just as unsure of how to act or what to say. Keeping her distance now felt impossible.
She stumbled towards him and fell into his arms. She pressed herself to his chest, feeling the saltwater seep through her running clothes.
“What is it? What’s happened?”
She shook her head, unable to speak.
He studied her face a moment, one hand beneath her chin, then pulled her to him and wrapped his long arms around her. He held her tight until she felt as though she might have to gasp for air. She pressed an ear to his chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It soothed her grief, and slowly she emerged from the pain of her sorrow into the bright, sunny day with the man she loved.
She knew that now. She loved him. Always had. It didn’t take away from what she’d had with Preston — she’d loved him too, but this was different. With Aidan, it was a deep friendship built on a knowing. They’d spent so many of their formative years as friends before their dynamic changed to a romantic one. There was no one in the world who knew her better than he did back then. And in the end, she hadn’t changed much. She was still that little girl he’d carried over the rocks when she’d cut her feet on oyster shells in the cove behind them. She was the girl he’d kissed right there on that beach for the very first time. She felt like a teenager all over again in his arms.
His voice was low, soft. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Dad’s had a health scare, and it’s making me recall Mum’s death,” she murmured.
A headache had begun to pound at the base of her skull.
Aidan pulled back and looked down into her eyes, his own dark with compassion. “Your dad is going to be okay.”
