The Secrets of Paper and Ink

by Lindsay Harrel

  I did not want that for myself. And I knew what I needed to do.

  “I surrender.” The words returned to me on the wind.

  Opening my arms wide, I twirled in the radiant sunlight, joyful and grievous tears streaming down my cheeks, a new sense of purpose burning in my soul.

  39

  SOPHIA

  “Holy cow, this place is gorgeous.” Sophia had never seen water so turquoise-blue, so clear except for the spots covered in white foam as they hit the brown and black rocks.

  “This is supposedly the birth place of the Arthurian legend—King Arthur, that is.” William pointed toward Tintagel Island, which was just across a footbridge from where they stood.

  “Thanks for bringing me here. I’d have kicked myself if I had missed a place full of such history and beauty—especially given how close it is to where I’ve been staying all this time.” Sophia studied the map they’d picked up from the visitors’ center. William had insisted they stop here on the way home from visiting Hugh Bryant. He’d said he didn’t want their day together to end.

  Neither did she. After all, she would leave England in a week.

  In front of them, the island was covered in lush green grass and stone ruins from a castle built by Richard, the Earl of Cornwall, in the 1200s. The island was small, a peninsula, really, and walking paths led to various gardens, courtyards, and even down to a beach and Merlin’s Cave. The sun was shining and the breeze fairly calm, and they had the whole afternoon to explore. They set out to do so, crossing the dramatic footbridge, a steel-and-oak structure that connected the mainland with the island.

  As they walked, surrounded by the ocean and raw land on all sides, Sophia should have felt at peace. She should have been ecstatic.

  Because as of an hour ago, she’d discovered that Emily Fairfax was a real person, that the story that had inspired her so much had actually happened. It wasn’t merely the rendering of a novelist who had created a character she deeply connected with. An actual woman had survived heartache and come out stronger on the other side.

  Together, Sophia and William had accomplished something she’d pretty much thought impossible a few months ago.

  So why were her emotions all over the map? Instead of freedom and calm, walls closed in on her. The task that had distracted her all summer was over. She was now left to face the reality that Joy was counting on her to buy the practice. That she wasn’t sure she really wanted to.

  And that she’d unintentionally fallen in love with the man standing next to her.

  A man who respected her, who understood her soul. A man she would do anything for.

  That was probably what scared her most. Even though William was nothing like David, there was a time Sophia would have done anything for her former fiancé too. A time when she’d lost herself.

  Figuring out how to move forward with William without that constant fear nagging her . . . In this moment, it made her feel like Houdini in an enclosed box filled with water, upside down, feet manacled. But unlike Houdini, she had no idea how to escape.

  William paused on the bridge, turned to her, pulled her close to him, and softly touched her lips with his own.

  The wind picked up, whipping her hair into her eyes as she pulled back and looked up at him.

  He pushed her bangs aside and tucked them behind her ear. “We did it.”

  Sophia turned, placed her hands on the railing of the bridge, and stared out at the endless ocean. “We did.”

  William settled into the spot next to her, their shoulders touching. “Thanks for letting me be part of all this.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  How she would have cringed at those words three months ago. But it was the truth. She never would have learned all she did about Emily Fairfax and Edward Bryant on her own. Relying on William had made her stronger.

  Still . . . What did that mean for their future? And her heart?

  As if reading her mind, William cleared his throat. “So what now?”

  “Now . . . now we soak in the time we have left together before I go home.” She no longer wanted to linger here. Sophia reached for his hand and they began walking again, toward the castle ruins on the other side.

  But William stopped in the middle of the bridge. His gaze penetrated her bravado, chasing it away, leaving only raw tenderness in its place. “I can’t stand the thought of you leaving, you know. We haven’t talked about it much, but . . .” He took a breath, grabbed her hands, held them steady in his. “I don’t want you to.”

  “I don’t want to either.” She’d thought getting her answers about Emily would change things, give her sudden clarity about her future. But nothing had changed in her life, not really.

  “So what can we do about that? Is this . . . good-bye?” The word held such a note of vulnerability, it made Sophia want to cry.

  “I don’t want it to be. These months with you have been wonderful. A dream, really. But I have to wake up from the dream and go back to reality. I have a job where I help people. And I’m planning to buy Joy’s practice. I won’t have the luxury of spending a bunch of time not working and pursuing whatever mysterious thing comes along next for the sake of my own curiosity.”

  “You weren’t ‘not working.’ You worked all the time in the bookstore.”

  “That didn’t count. That was for fun. For healing.”

  “Why does that make it any less real? What if this could be your new reality? For good?”

  Oh, what a thought. But . . . “I—”

  “I love you, Sophia.”

  The words made her world stop, lit it with fireworks, and thrummed a beautiful melody throughout her soul. “You . . . what?”

  “I love you.”

  She’d known it, really. In the way he looked at her, in the way he kissed her, yes, but more than that—in the way he treated her like a delicate flower opening for the first time in spring, watering her with gentle, steady drops without drowning her, helping her blossom and grow one day at a time.

  But it didn’t change the facts. She couldn’t stay, however much she might want to. Her plan had always been to return home, and she had to hold steady to that. And then there was the small fear in the back of her mind, one that had lingered with her all summer . . . What if her “healing” was only the result of running away? Would she still feel this whole once she returned home? Didn’t she need to go back to Arizona to find out?

  Perhaps they could do the whole long-distance thing, but for how long? Was that just delaying the inevitable?

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. I’m all turned around inside.”

  William’s hand caressed her cheek, and his thumb swiped away a tear as it fell. “Sophia, you have to stop fighting.”

  “Fighting what?” It felt like she’d given up the fight a long time ago.

  “Everything. Your past. God. Even me.” At her attempt to protest, he held his fingers against her lips. “Maybe I’m wrong. But perhaps it’s time to do what you came here to do.”

  “I came here to heal. And I thought I was heading that way.” Then why this inner wrenching of herself in two?

  “You are, love. But you specifically came here to write your story. And you chased Emily’s instead. You found out as much as you could about her story. It’s time to write the next chapter in yours. But how can you when you don’t really understand how the past chapters have affected you? I think maybe you need to finish what you started.”

  “Don’t you think I’ve tried?” Sophia turned, stared at the rubble of the ruins that stood in the distance. They had once belonged to a beautiful and grand castle, but had been reduced to a pile of rocks. People had been happy there once. Even sad. They’d experienced life.

  But all of that was just a memory now.

  “I can’t do it.”

  “Yes, you can. You said you felt drawn to Emily’s journal.”

  Sophia closed her eyes. “I do.”

  “Maybe you need to fi
gure out why.” Tugging her close, William pressed a kiss to her brow. “Pray. Search deep within. I’m betting the answers have been there all along.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. “I’ll take a taxi. You take my car home when you’re ready. And, Sophia?”

  She sniffled. “Yeah?”

  “When all is said and done, even if you do decide to go home, even if we . . .” He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Well, I’ll never stop loving you.”

  As he handed her the keys, their palms touched, sending a shiver down her spine. The scent of him lingered in the air around her even as he walked away.

  40

  GINNY

  Apologizing to a friend was never easy. But Ginny missed Steven too much to let another day go by without making things right with him. Three weeks had been long enough. It was shameful, really.

  She finished ringing up the last customers of the day and walked them out, flipping the sign on the door to Closed once they left. After she’d texted him earlier today, Steven had agreed to come over a little after closing. That meant she had about half an hour to figure out what she might say to him.

  It wasn’t as if she was still upset about him giving her the culinary institute pamphlet. She’d just gotten busy with the bookstore. And to be honest, whenever she thought about their near kiss . . . Well, it was better to give him some space, to let her feelings catch up with her head.

  Ginny balanced the register, her knee bouncing up and down while she did so. Another great day of business. Hard to believe this was the same store that she’d thought might close at the beginning of the summer. Nearly three months later, it was a booming tourist destination on its way to being one of the top online sellers of rare Cornish books.

  All of those years of Harvard business school had paid off in the end. That combined with the help of friends meant she hadn’t failed after all.

  Once she shut down the register and recorded all the information in QuickBooks, Ginny sat back in her chair and rubbed her neck. The day had grown quite warm—a storm was brewing outside and the humidity was at an all-time high—so she pulled her hair up. Her gaze landed on something sticking out from underneath her pile of business-related documents on the desk. The application for culinary school. She’d told Sophia over a week ago that she would think about it, and she hadn’t stopped. When Steven got here, she’d discuss with him her thoughts on possibly attending culinary school and running the bookstore simultaneously.

  How she’d missed their talks. Of course, she’d also missed his presence. The way he made her feel safe. Desired. Cherished.

  Blood whooshed to her cheeks. Her emotions clearly had not received her brain’s memo. Because she was still married, and it was much too soon to be thinking about another man in that way.

  The bell over the door jangled and she smiled. “You’re early—” Her words fell away as she looked up to find someone who was definitely not Steven standing in the doorway.

  “Garrett.”

  In the two months since she’d seen him, she’d pictured a moment like this so many times. He would come to the bookstore and beg her to take him back. She would open her arms wide—she was much more forgiving in her daydreams—and they’d both cry for what they’d lost and what they’d gained.

  But now that he was here, that was the last thing she felt like doing. In fact, she rather felt like threatening to call the cops on him if he took one more step inside the place. Of course, that was ridiculous. Despite the fact he’d taken a chunk of their savings to run off and do his own thing in London nine months ago, this place was half his. Still, his interest in the bookstore had clearly waned, considering he’d refused to talk to her about it, only saying his attorney would be in contact.

  “Hi, Ginny.” He pulled his eyes from hers and they swooped the landscape of the bookstore. “Wow. You’ve made some modifications.”

  Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. “I had to in order to keep the place afloat.” She couldn’t keep the tightness from her voice. So many months of pain and anger didn’t just vanish overnight, especially when their target had been out of reach for most of that time.

  Garrett’s lips flattened and he pinched his earlobe. “Well, it looks nice.”

  “Thanks.” She started toward the back of the store. “I’ll show you the new and improved loft.”

  He followed without a protest. She led him up the stairs. This was a calm and quiet space, and it felt slightly wrong to be here with anger zapping her insides.

  “This new sitting area has worked like a charm to bring new and old customers in.” From the abstract paintings on the wall to the comfy couch, beanbag chairs, and small, round tables, each with a different board game on top, this sanctuary provided a haven for locals and tourists alike.

  Immense pride ran through her veins. She’d stuck it out. It had been difficult to transform this place, but she’d done it. She was finally home.

  And it had nothing to do with her parents or Garrett. It was about her. Finally, a success.

  “I’m glad to hear you’ve done so well with this. I know I haven’t been the best co-owner lately.”

  Garrett’s words brought her back to the present.

  “Yeah, well.” Ginny headed back down the stairs before she could say something mean, her steps echoing in the space as she headed toward the front.

  Garrett kept pace with her. When they reached the front desk, he pointed to the pastry case. “Oh, did you contract with Trengrouse to bring in pastries? That was a smart idea.”

  “No, I bake them every morning.”

  “Really?”

  Ginny’s mouth nearly fell open. What did he mean, really? “Why are you here, Garrett?”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and took a moment before speaking. “Samantha lost her job. She was a barrister with a big firm. They messed up a case, and she took the fall for it. So it’s impossible for her to find something new now. She’s been trying for a month with no luck. And I’ve been working as a clerk at a nearby grocer, but that doesn’t pay much.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You need money.”

  He shrugged, a sheepish look on his face. “I waited as long as possible to contact you. But you know I poured my life savings into buying this place. I took a little to live on when I left, but I haven’t asked for a cent before now.”

  “There wasn’t a cent to be given until now.” She swept her arm across the room. “And guess what? Because of my hard work, we’re doing really well. No thanks to you.”

  She pulled up a document on the computer and pointed to the screen. “You left me with a mess. I turned it around. So yeah, I can give you some money, though I’ll carefully record what you take and I’ll fight for more than my fair percentage of bookstore earnings when it comes time for the divorce proceedings.”

  Garrett studied the computer screen, acting like he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. Maybe he hadn’t. “These numbers are awesome, Ginny.” Then he turned and looked her square in the eye. “I want to sell.”

  Nothing could have sent a jolt of surprise through her the way those words did. “What?”

  “I need the money, not just for the short term, but to invest in another bookstore wherever Samantha and I end up.”

  He dared to think that he could get rid of one bookstore in exchange for another? Just like that? “No, we are not going to sell. I’ve put everything I have into making this place successful. I had to sell my grandmother’s ring to get us out of the red. I’m not just giving it up.”

  “It’s my place too, Ginny. I appreciate all you’ve done for it, but I’ll fight you on this. You can’t continue to run it if I want to sell.”

  How was he so calm? “Watch me.” Ginny felt like picking up book after book and chucking them at Garrett’s stupid face. Maybe she should. She headed toward the nearest bookshelf, fists clenched next to her sides.

  Garrett swooped in front of her. “C’mon, Gin, I don’t want to fi
ght. I figured you’d be glad to get rid of this place. But I don’t want to kick you out if you really want to stay. Can you afford to buy me out?”

  Her shoulders slumped. “No.” It was possible for her to try for a loan again, but her first experience with Mr. Brown hadn’t been overly positive. Even though the bookstore was doing much better now, there was still a lot working against her—including that she was American.

  If she fought Garrett on this, would she even get a fair trial, being a foreigner? Would he have the hometown advantage?

  But how could she let it go? It was one thing for her to work at making the bookstore a success and end up failing. At least she could have blamed that partially on the poor circumstances Garrett had left her in. But it was another thing entirely to have built something wonderful and still fail to hang on to it.

  Once again, she was losing a home. Everything she’d worked for was being torn away.

  Some might say this was a sign that she was supposed to finally pursue her dream of culinary school. But what if she applied and failed to get in? What if her “dream” was just a safety net for her excuses? What if she failed at the one thing she was sure she’d be good at? That would mean the problem wasn’t people or circumstances—the problem was her.

  Maybe the real problem was that she was a screw-up without a place to belong in the world.

  Ginny squared her shoulders and brushed past Garrett. “You say you don’t want a fight, but buckle up, buddy. A fight is what you’re going to get.”

  41

  SOPHIA

  After William left, Sophia wandered Tintagel Castle for what seemed like hours, putting off just a little longer the task she’d avoided all summer.

  Finally, she plopped onto a bench. The stone was cold beneath her, seeping through her jeans. Clouds gathered in the distance, threatening an evening shower. But she still had time before they reached her.

  “You said you felt drawn to Emily’s journal . . . Maybe you need to figure out why.” William’s words echoed in her brain over and over again.