Page 36 of Eight Years Gone

“I could tell you they did.”

He shook his head. “I want you to tell me the truth.”

Aunt Maggie sighed. “I’m not sure what magic Asa worked, but one afternoon, he and Grace showed up at the shop. Grace didn’t have a lot of energy. Her clothes mostly hung on her tiny little frame, but she helped me with the flowers for a few hours. That night, she took a couple of bites of the meal I made instead of pushing it around on her plate. She started coming in every day after that. I think being creative was her salvation.”

“What about school? When did she go back to Syracuse?”

“She didn’t.”

He restlessly scratched at his jaw with the next shock. That was all Grace had ever wanted—to study photojournalism at the best program in the country. She’d been working toward her goal long before they ever met. “She didn’t finish school?”

“She did. But not the way I wanted her to. About six months after everything changed, I thought we were finally getting somewhere. Grace was eating regularly, and she didn’t cry nearly as much. She slowly started innovating and updating the business end of the shop. Christy and Gabby convinced her to go out with them for a movie or dinner every now and again. I was certain that I would be able to convince her to head back to school for the fall semester, but then I got my MS diagnosis. I think it scared her more than it did me—another major blow to her already-shaky foundation.”

Maggie paused for a sip from her glass of water. “It wasn’t until our argument two years later when I told her that it would break her mother’s heart as much as it was breaking mine that I was the reason she wasn’t going back to school. That sparked something in her because she came home later that day with a full course load of classes for the fall semester at Timmins.”

The shitty four-year party school twenty minutes up the road. “Timmins?”

Maggie rolled her eyes as she shook her head. “Don’t get me started. Grace changed her major to business and breezed through the classes. She lived here with Asa and me and helped me keep the shop open during my spells.”

“What about her pictures? Her photography?”

“She didn’t take pictures for a long time, honey. I think it was about a year and a half before she picked up her camera again.”

The idea was unfathomable. Grace’s camera was practically an extension of her.

“Christy asked her to photograph Brennan’s birth. I think Christy knew she wouldn’t be able to refuse.”

Christy had always been an excellent friend.

“Grace has kept a few of the connections she made at Syracuse,” Maggie continued. “One of her friends is an editor at Travel. He loves her work, so she does some freelancing for him. More often than not, he buys whatever she gives him—the pictures she takes when she goes off on one of her adventures.”

Maggie settled herself more comfortably after she put her glass back on the end table. “I know Grace was offered a job with one of the international magazines, but she turned it down. She bought her house instead. She refuses to leave me and the shop for longer than a four- or five-day trip now and again.”

He stood, walking over to the fireplace, studying the pictures of Grace and Logan on the mantle. She’d been so sure of herself once upon a time—so bold and ready to take the world by storm. “Everything was supposed to have been better…”

“Oh, honey, I think there have only ever been two people who thought you weren’t good enough for Grace: yourself and Steven.”

He turned to face her.

“Ben’s a nice man—calm and steady. But Grace was made for adventure. She needs someone who challenges her as much as he loves her. You never had any trouble keeping her on her toes.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. He had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do.

“Grace’s friends have introduced her to several men over the years, but it’s never taken her more than a day or two to find something wrong with every single one of them. I think the only thing that has ever been wrong is that they weren’t you.”

He swallowed. “I don’t want to hurt her again.”

“Then don’t. You’re here, Jagger. Grace is here. Second chances are a rare thing. I hope you don’t let yours slip away.”

Maggie stood with the help of her cane. “Come with me for a minute. I have something I’ve been holding on to for a while.”

He followed her down the hall to the room he’d slept in every summer night that he hadn’t snuck up to Grace’s bed.

“If you open the closet door, there’s a box in there that belongs to you.”

He frowned. “A box of mine?”

“It’s some of your stuff from the house in Wakeview.”

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