A glass of something amber-toned was sitting on her desk, the light from the lamp casting a warm glow over her features. She seemed smaller than he remembered, hunched almost as if the life had been sucked out of her.
“Come here,” she said, motioning with one work-worn hand. “Sit.”
He hesitated. Ethan wasn’t sure he wanted to go down this rabbit hole anymore. What if he found the truth he’d wanted so badly when he boarded an international flight last year and it was nothing but more unanswered questions and disappointment? Whoever said ignorance was bliss was smarter than they sounded.
“I don’t want to argue with you,” she said, her voice sharp like a whip. “Now hurry up.”
She was a crotchety old woman, he’d give her that. But there was something in him that responded to it—maybe he liked that she wasn’t what people thought she should be. That she marched to the beat of her own drum, that she was resilient.
Like Monroe. Like his mother had been, despite her flaws.
“I know you went and spoke with Mike,” she said, as he walked into her office. He always felt like a bear in an enclosure in the tiny space, like the walls were pressing in.
“Does nobody mind their business in this town?” he grumbled.
“Never have, never will. Here.” She shoved a second glass of what smelled like a peaty Scotch toward him. He hadn’t even noticed the second glass until now.
“How long have you been waiting?” he asked.
“Since Mike called me. Seems he ran his mouth a bit and then felt bad about it.” She sighed. “So before you can go poking your nose into my business, yes…I was in a relationship with Mary Brewer.”
“That’s none of my business.”
Lottie held up her hand. “Let me finish.”
Ethan leaned back, nursing the Scotch in one hand and swirling it so the liquid clung to the edges and let out a smoky aroma into the air. He forced himself not to knock the whole thing back in one go out of self-pity.
“Mary and I, we…” Lottie sighed. Suddenly she seemed very old and very tired, like the past had finally caught up with her. “I loved her so much.”
Ethan swallowed, a lump blocking his throat.
“She was my first and only love, but back then folks weren’t quite ready for two women to be together. Not here, anyway. So we kept things secret, but I was troubled back then. Unsure of myself. We…we broke up. Her parents pressured her to get married and she did, then she had Matthew a few years later.” She sipped her drink. “Her husband ended up leaving Mary to raise Matthew by herself. He was a handful, that boy. But Mary and I started seeing each other again and I felt like my life was back in one piece.”
The way Lottie spoke about it—the soft, dreamy quality of her voice—was surprising, but he supposed that given she’d had to keep her relationship a secret for so many years hiding her romantic side must have become habit.
“Those were the happiest days of my life and we were together for the rest of her time on this earth.” She swirled the glass, her eyes fixed on the way the liquid moved. “It was tough, sneaking around, and Mary often left Matthew by himself, so she could be with me. That boy didn’t really know what a family looked like growing up. His father was never around, even before he officially left, and his mother was always torn between two worlds—wanting to fit in and wanting to be true to herself.”
Lottie reached into the top drawer on her desk and pulled out a letter. She slid it across the table toward Ethan. He stared at it for a moment, unsure that he wanted to know what information it contained.
He was at a crossroads now.
“If you want to know for sure, then read it,” she said.
His mouth was dry. The whole year had been pushing him to this point and now he was here it felt like…fuck. He was scared. The tumbler shook in his hand and he placed it down on the desk with an unsteady thunk.
Then he snatched up the letter without giving himself a chance to overthink it anymore and started reading.
Dear Mom,
I know what you told me, that people like us don’t make for good family. But I love Marcie. I shouldn’t have sent her away when I knew she was going to have my baby. I let the fear get to me and your words, as well. But I’m going to be a dad and I want my child to have a father, unlike what I had growing up.
I’m leaving for Australia in three days and Marcie is meeting me at the airport in Melbourne.
I love you, Mom. Please be happy.
Mattie.
ps. Marcie tells me the little boy is going to be called Ethan, after her great-grandfather. I like that name.
The letter was dated five months before Ethan’s birthday. For a moment, he felt nothing but ice-cold numbness filtering through his body. It wasn’t a legal document to prove anything, but in his mind this was the closest he would get. Proof in the only form that likely existed.
He’d finally found his father.
“There are more letters,” she said. “I’ve had them in a box for years in my bedroom closet, along with other things that belonged to Mary. Some photo albums and such. It’s all I have left of her.”
Ethan was still staring at the letter. “Do you know whether he made it to Australia?”
“He got thrown into lockup the night before he was supposed to leave—drunk and disorderly. Far as I know, he never made the flight.”
Ethan let out a breath. He could imagine his mother standing around the Tullamarine airport, waiting and waiting. Back then they didn’t have cell phones—at least his mother wouldn’t have, because they wouldn’t have been commonplace yet. Did she know Matthew wasn’t coming after all?
“When did you know it was me?” he asked.
“The day you mentioned the letters something clicked. I went digging around in those old boxes. Funny thing was, I was pretty sure the story about the letters was bullshit…but then I found ’em.” The older woman’s steely gaze met his. “Your mom told you the truth before she died?”
“Some of it. She was pretty drugged up by then, so I’m sure some parts of the story are lost forever. All I knew was that my family was not what I thought it was. And so I came looking—to find my father, to see if I had any real family left…”
Lottie looked sad for a moment, a crease deepening between her brows. “I’m sorry to tell you, there’s no one from that family left. Mary was an only child and so was her husband. There’s some cousins out West, but…nobody they ever spent time with, you know.”
So that was it. Mystery solved.
His father couldn’t stay sober long enough to hop on a flight and be there for his girlfriend and future son. And there was nobody left to grieve his loss.
Ethan bobbed his head, feeling utterly hollowed out. “Well, I guess that’s it then. Looks like I can head home.”
“What about the girl you’ve been seeing?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re just going to up and leave without saying goodbye?”
“I already said goodbye.” He pushed back on his chair and bumped right into the wall. Cursing under his breath, he stood for a minute, unsure what to do next.
It was like the entire driving force that had propelled him the past year was suddenly stolen away and now he didn’t know how to keep himself moving. Lottie watched him, as if waiting for something to happen. When he stood there, rooted to the spot like an old tree, she sighed.
“I’ll dig out anything I can find that might help you,” she said, standing and coming around the side of the desk. “I don’t know that there’s much, but if I think it might help then you can have it.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry that you lost Mary.”
“I didn’t lose her, boy. We came back to each other before it was too late, and I’ll always be grateful for that. We had twenty good years together.”
She placed a hand on his shou
lder for a brief moment, before leaving him alone in the office. For the first time in as long as Ethan could remember, he had nothing in front of him. No dreams, no purpose, no future.
Heading home felt like his only option…but where was home? That was a problem he needed to figure out.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The following week…
Monroe sucked in a deep breath as she walked through the door of the Sunshine Diner. Darlene waved as she served a couple at one of the booths, and Monroe quickly scanned the room. It was about 30 percent full, not bad for a Tuesday morning given it was barely eight thirty. She was confident that more people would roll in across the next hour, filling up even more tables.
But did that keep each step from feeling like she was dragging a concrete block behind her? Nope. Every day she waited for the pain to ease, for the great chasm in her heart to start closing over, and every day it was even worse than the one before it.
Darlene came over and placed a motherly hand on her arm. Today she was wearing bright yellow, which looked great against her brown skin, and Monroe was thankful for the little bit of brightness. And for Darlene’s support. She needed it.
“You look like hell,” Darlene said.
“Gee, thanks.” Monroe tried to laugh but it came out more like a wheeze.
“I could hunt that boy down for hurting you.” She pulled Monroe into a hug and squeezed. “Nobody messes with my boss.”
“Thanks, but don’t think badly of Ethan.” She pulled back. “It was nothing to do with me. He…”
Ethan’s parentage and history were still a secret in Forever Falls. Monroe suspected she and Lottie may be the only two people who knew for certain that Matthew Brewer was his father—and it would likely stay that way.
“He had things back home to deal with,” she finished.
Darlene raised an eyebrow. “You’re far more understanding than most people, Monroe. I could see how much you cared about him and I saw that he cared about you, too.”
Tears pricked the backs of Monroe’s eyes, but she blinked them away. “Yeah, I know he did.”
At least Ethan had called her right before he left for Australia and told her everything he found out. She’d hoped it would feel like closure…but it didn’t. Saying goodbye had been brutal. The pain in his voice was etched into her memory, and it echoed whenever she had a quiet moment. It was hard seeing him so broken down, when she knew he deserved so much more. So much love, so much support, so much belonging. But no amount of rationalizing had convinced him to stay.
He needed to be alone and figure out what was next.
Monroe respected that, even if she’d cried and he’d sounded as though he felt sick with guilt over it. Fact was, he was a good person, through and through. He just wasn’t her person. And she wasn’t his.
Ethan is gone. You need to get over it.
“If we’d met at another time…” She scrubbed a hand over her face, willing herself to feel better. But there was no point thinking this way—she could drown herself in an ocean of what-if’s.
“Oh, honey.” Darlene’s eyes watered. “I wish I could make it better. You deserve someone who’s going to stick around.”
How did the saying go? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…
Well, Monroe had gotten herself into this mess. She knew from the start Ethan had an agenda and it was one that she could empathize with—the truth was important. Family meant everything to her. Maybe the healing process would have been easier if she could hate him for leaving, but the fact was she couldn’t. It wasn’t his fault she’d fallen for him.
Fallen head over heels right off the edge of a cliff.
Deep down she knew that no other man would come close to what she’d shared with him. That was love. Real love. And knowing what she had lost was like wearing rocks on her back.
But life had to go on, even if she had about as much enthusiasm for it as she did a plate of over-boiled Brussels sprouts.
“Monroe, get your butt back here,” Big Frank called from the kitchen.
Shaking herself, she sucked in a breath and tried to put her game face on. Today was her check-in with Mr. Sullivan regarding the health and future of the diner, where she would present that her campaign with Ethan had worked to bring in more people to the diner and increase the spend per table. His tech skills had also helped them implement a better inventory tracking system, with much less manual work thereby reducing the hours she spent doing that each month.
Blowing out a long breath and shaking her hands, she made her way through the diner and into the kitchen out back. Mr. Sullivan was chatting with Big Frank, a smile on his face, though he looked tired.
Ethan’s words swam back into her mind, about the older man perhaps being ready for life to slow down a bit.
“Hello, dear,” Mr. Sullivan said as she walked into the kitchen. “Shall we go for a walk while we have our meeting? It’s lovely outside.”
“Sure.” She held her arm out and helped him through the kitchen and out the back door, which was a bit unstable and in need of repair.
They wandered down the narrow street behind the back of the diner and out onto the side road. There was a park a block down the street, and they headed in that direction. Spring had well and truly sprung, and bright green leaves filled the trees, some also blossoming with tiny white buds. The air was still crisp, but the sun was out in full force.
“So, I hear you’ve achieved quite a lot this past month,” he said, looking up at her. His eyes crinkled at their edges as he smiled. “Big Frank said you’ve been working very hard to make positive changes.”
“That’s right.” Monroe ran him through some of the activities they’d tried and the results—mostly improvements, although a few things hadn’t shifted the needle as much as she’d hoped. “Overall, I think the business will be more profitable for everything we’ve done. And there are still more things we can try. I’m sure Big Frank told you that we keep a list in the office for anyone who has an idea for improvements, and if that idea is implemented and it makes a good saving then we reward that person with a small bonus in their next pay.”
“That’s a very good idea.” Mr. Sullivan bobbed his head. “Anything that encourages innovation is always good for the workplace.”
“I agree.”
“That’s great, Monroe. You’ve done a wonderful job and you should be very proud of yourself.”
“Thanks.” She tried to feel excited about it—this was what she wanted, right? To make an improvement and see the diner performing better and to have job security and…
To stay the same.
Funny how that didn’t sound as appealing as it once did.
“You don’t look like someone who just achieved their goal,” Mr. Sullivan said as she helped him down to one of the benches at the edge of the park. Ahead of them, a few children were playing on some equipment, hanging upside down and racing around with seemingly boundless energy.
“I don’t feel like it, either,” she replied quietly.
“Talk to me.” He reached for her hand and she stared at it, how weathered and wrinkled the skin was and yet how strong his grip felt. “I never had the chance to build a family of my own and you’re the closest thing I have to a granddaughter.”
“Are you saying you have two generations of advice and wisdom saved up?” She smiled.
“I do.”
“I’m sad.” Her voice wavered and she tried to fight the rush of resistance up the back of her throat. Being vulnerable, even with those she trusted, didn’t come easy. And that voice that told her no one would care was only a reflection of her doubt, not the truth. “I lost someone important and I don’t know what to do.”
“Ah.” Jacob nodded. “Thor.”
Monroe laughed. “How did you know about us?”
“You can’t put a man in
a superhero costume outside my restaurant and expect me not to hear about it.” He chuckled. “I got notified by at least ten different people.”
“Really?” She snorted. “Slow news day, huh?”
“Something like that. So, tell me about Thor.”
“Ethan,” she corrected with a sigh. “He was…”
How was she even supposed to describe him? Everything felt too raw, too soon. Too damn much.
“You know I never dated anyone after my marriage broke down. I didn’t think I wanted to fall in love again, because the first time had been such a monumental disaster and I was afraid to get hurt like that a second time.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “But there was something about him that made me wonder if…”
“What?”
“He made me wonder if I might be able to be my old self again. If maybe I was only bruised instead of broken.”
“Of course you aren’t broken. My dear, I knew your grandfather when he was alive, God rest his soul, and that man was one of the strongest people I ever knew. There is no way someone who shares his blood would be weak.”
A cool breeze brushed past them, and the sun shined bright overhead. Spring was in the air, and yet Monroe had none of the hope budding in her heart that she should.
“I felt weak,” she admitted.
“No, you felt afraid. It’s different.” He looked at her and for a moment, she saw all his history in his eyes. All his experience. “Feeling emotions does not make you weak, it makes you human. Getting out of bed every day and facing the world when you would rather not—taking action even when you are afraid—is the epitome of strength. You have a warrior’s spirit, my girl, and the heart of a lion.”
A tear dropped onto her cheek and she brushed it away with the back of her hand. “I wish I could believe it.”
“Those who have the capacity for great things are often plagued by doubt and those who boast the loudest often have little substance underneath the noise. It’s a funny thing.” He shook his head. “But in one month, you’ve managed to keep a dying business from going under. You’ve done that all while supporting your father and your sisters and while falling in love.”
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