by Bella Andre
But as he’d told his mother, he would never give up on Zara. Never.
“Thank you for being honest with me and baring your heart to me the way you just did,” he said softly. “Now I’m going to do the same for you, because I love you, and that’s what love is all about. Sharing the good and the bad, no matter how hard or scary.” Though he didn’t reach for her hand, he scooted closer, needing to erase as much distance between them as he possibly could. “I screwed up, Zara, by wanting so badly to believe that falling in love and agreeing to move in together meant everything was resolved. I knew that you couldn’t simply shake off the guilt and grief you feel over losing your mom, but I still hoped that if I just kept loving you with everything I am, and if I made sure you were always laughing, that I could heal your pain. I also hoped that after you spent time with my family, you’d see that not only do I have your back, but all of the Sullivans are now on your team as well. Because the truth is that instead of freaking out about how much you like my family, few things could make me happier. At the very least,” he added with a smile that was difficult to muster when everything that mattered was at stake and he was horribly afraid that he was blowing it, “it will make fifty years of Friday night dinners so much easier for all of us.”
At last, Zara couldn’t restrain her response. “Fifty years?”
“At least.” Though he was as scared as he’d ever been—absolutely terrified that he would lose her if he didn’t get this right—he smiled into her beautiful eyes. “Do you remember when we were listing the reasons we’d fallen for each other on the drive to Camden? We might have tried to act like we were pretending, but both of us were telling the truth all along. I meant every word I said about admiring your fierce determination to pursue your dreams without letting anyone, or anything, get in your way. And I know that if anyone is strong enough to heal from the pain of losing her mother—if anyone can forgive herself for what she said and did on the day her mom passed away—it’s you.”
When the silence stretched between them, he racked his brain for another way to convince her to let him past the emotional walls she’d thrown up to protect herself. And then he remembered the hope chest on the floor beside them.
“I made you something.” He picked up the chest and held it out, but she didn’t take it. Praying he wasn’t making things even worse, he told her, “I know how much the hope chest your mother gave you means to you. I want you to have one that will last forever. And I want you to know that your mom isn’t the only one who wanted all of your hopes and dreams to come true—I want that too. I would give up everything I have, if only I could give that to you.” And he would always look out for her the way her mother had obviously intended to.
“Rory…” She heaved in a breath, and when she let it go, her entire frame shook. “It’s beautiful.” But the hint of a spark in her eyes had gone out by the time she said, “It’s too beautiful for me. I can’t take it. I don’t deserve it.” She closed her eyes, looking utterly defeated. “Please, I need to be alone.”
The very last thing he wanted to do was leave her. But he knew he couldn’t force her to change her mind. All he could do right now was let her know one more thing. “The night you told me about your mother, I promised you I wasn’t going anywhere. And I have no intention of being any less bullheaded and stubborn than I’ve always been. I’m not giving up on you, Zara, and I’m not giving up on us either. I’m going to keep loving you, whether you want me to or not, whether you think I should or not. I’m going to hold faith that you still love me too. And every single day, I’m going to show up at your house with a chocolate cake and tell you I love you.”
With that, though it was the hardest thing he’d ever done, he made himself walk out into the raging storm.
* * *
Beth and Ethan Sullivan were getting ready for bed when he moved behind his wife and put his arms around her waist at the bathroom sink. “Everything is going to be okay with Rory and Zara.”
Beth laid her head back against his chest. Looking at the two of them together in the mirror, she gave silent thanks for the millionth time that he’d traveled to her sleepy Irish town nearly forty years ago. She couldn’t imagine what her life would have been like without her amazing Sullivan hero and the family they’d created together that was absolutely everything to her.
But then she sighed as she thought again about the distraught expressions on Rory’s and Zara’s faces before dinner. “I hope it will be.”
Gently, Ethan turned her to face him. “We might not have done everything right as parents, but the one thing I know we nailed was teaching our kids how to fight for what really counts. Even,” he added, “if it’s going to take some of them longer to figure it out than we’d like it to.”
She knew Ethan had shifted to talking about Hudson now. Their eldest son and his marriage woes had kept Beth up many, many nights. Unfortunately, he’d come to Bar Harbor without his other half again. And he definitely hadn’t looked happy about it.
“Moms should be given magic wands,” Beth noted, “like the one Kevin was playing with tonight, so that we can fix whatever our kids need fixed.”
“Don’t you know?” Ethan asked as he put his hands on either side of her face. “You’ve never needed a wand to bring magic into our lives. You do it every single day, simply by being you.”
And as he kissed her, the magic between them was even stronger now than it had ever been.
CHAPTER THIRTY
12:01 a.m.
It was Saturday. The day Zara and Rory had agreed to break up.
For a while there, it had looked like they were going to go back on their agreement—and that true love might prevail in the end.
Only for their relationship to fall completely apart because Zara didn’t deserve him.
When she had first climbed into bed, she’d been too numb to think about everything Rory had said to her before she asked him to leave. Too numb to rewind back to the moment when she’d freaked out in front of Beth Sullivan and fled dinner. Too numb to do anything but stare at the ceiling, which was blurry without her glasses, and listen to the loud sound of her own breathing in the too-silent room.
Even though she knew there was no chance of sleeping without Rory there to be her full-body pillow.
After her mother had died, Zara had tried to drown her grief and guilty conscience by pouring herself into her schoolwork and then her career. But at two a.m., when she finally gave up on sleep and went out to the kitchen table to try to get some work done on her laptop, she not only couldn’t focus on the content of the new emails in her inbox, she also couldn’t stop herself from opening the folder containing the pictures she’d taken for her ads.
Each photo broke her heart a little bit more. The ones where she and Rory were laughing. The ones where they were staring into each other’s eyes. And especially the ones where he had his hands threaded into her hair and was kissing her.
She remembered the way she’d felt that day. As though she’d been riding on a wave of bliss so sweet she’d been sure she would never come down.
No fall had ever been more brutal.
So brutal that she had barely been able to function hours ago when he’d come to find out why she had freaked out at his parents’ house.
She had seen how alarmed he’d been by her calm, matter-of-fact responses to his questions. If only he knew that she’d had to shut down absolutely every bit of her feelings. Otherwise, she would have crumbled completely. Crumbled into so many pieces that no one, and nothing, would ever be able to put her together.
Yet again, Zara wished she could talk to her mom. Because she’d never needed her help more.
A bright flash of lightning lit up the room. Having grown up in Maine, Zara had seen plenty of storms. But none had ever seemed as fierce as this one. Almost as though the heavens were directly connected to the dark storm of her emotions.
It wasn’t until a second bolt of lightning flashed that she finally saw it: The hope ch
est Rory had made for her was sitting on the coffee table.
Zara’s heart beat unsteadily as she walked across the open-plan room to pick it up. My God. It was a thing of beauty, with stunning inlay forming a lighthouse on top and a hand-hammered latch.
But there was more. Rory had also carved a phrase into the side: Tá mo chroí istigh ionat.
Zara felt like her heart was about to leap out of her chest as she typed the Gaelic phrase into her web browser. The translation sent a sob breaking free from her chest.
My heart is in you.
As she brushed aside her tears to read further, she learned that Tá mo chroí istigh ionat was not only a way to say I love you in a romantic sense, but that it could also be used to encapsulate a parent’s love for their child.
Trust Rory to know exactly what her hope chest meant to her—that it wasn’t only about her mother’s love, but that Zara’s own heart was in it too. And still, there was more. Because hours ago, when he’d tried to give the chest to her, he’d said, Your mom isn’t the only one who wanted all of your hopes and dreams to come true—I want that too.
He’d been trying to tell her that his heart was in the chest too, but she hadn’t been able to hear him.
She ran her fingers over the carving. My heart is in you.
Her mother would have loved that. And she would have loved Rory for understanding Zara better, almost, than she knew herself.
She went to the closet and brought out the old, cracked hope chest she’d treasured for so many years. But it wasn’t the cheap wooden box that had mattered, it was everything inside. And as she went through the silly photos, the sweet postcards with inspirational sayings, the delicious recipes, the small watercolors they’d painted together, and an old, well-worn copy of The Forgiving Tree—Zara finally understood that everything Rory had said to her the night she’d told him the story of her mother’s accident was right.
Zara’s mother had wanted only happiness, joy, hope, and optimism for her daughter. She wouldn’t have wanted her to beat herself up for fifteen minutes, let alone fifteen years.
Carefully laying the book in her new hope chest, along with all the other memories, Zara closed and latched the top. Inside the chest was room for more hopes, more dreams, more love—if only she could be brave enough to let herself have them. If only she could finally push herself out of the self-imposed exile from happiness where she’d lived for so many years.
Finally ready to break the chains she’d locked herself in at fourteen, Zara was tempted to rush through the storm to Rory’s lighthouse to beg him to keep showing her the way.
But now that she was finally being honest with herself, she knew it wasn’t that easy. There was something she needed to do first—someone she needed to talk to—before she could be ready to ask him to give her another chance.
Picking up her new hope chest, she brought it into bed with her. And even as she fell asleep, her hand remained over the lighthouse inlay.
* * *
By six thirty Saturday morning, the rain was coming down even harder than it had during the night. The wind was whipping through the treetops and sending white caps racing across the ocean’s surface, as well.
As Zara approached the Sullivan Café, she hoped Beth hadn’t changed her morning schedule at the last second. Fortunately, she’d barely knocked when Rory’s mother opened the door.
“I’m so happy to see you.” Beth’s relief was obvious. “Come in. Can I make you something to eat or drink, or both?”
Zara was about to shake her head when her stomach growled at the delicious smells coming from the kitchen. She hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since lunch the day before.
“That would be lovely. Thank you. I’d like to help, if that’s okay.”
Beth nodded. “I’d love that.”
While Beth brewed two hazelnut lattes, Zara toasted bagels and laid out smoked salmon, cream cheese, and capers. When they were both settled in a booth with breakfast, Zara took a deep breath and began.
“I’m sorry for the way I behaved last night. You were so gracious to invite me into your home. I never should have run off the way I did.”
“No apologies are necessary.” Beth was kind and full of warmth. “We’re all entitled to a good freak-out every now and then.”
Zara nearly apologized again before she realized that she needed to begin as she meant to go on. And that meant not blaming herself every time she messed up. Instead, she would start trying to forgive herself, then move forward.
Still, she wanted Beth to know something important. “You have raised a wonderful man. Rory is…” Her heart lodged in her throat. “He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known. Not only loving, but also brave enough to see that we were meant to be together—and to stand behind it even when I wasn’t sure I knew how to do that. If my mom were here…” She needed to pause to collect herself again. “I’d ask her how to make things right with him. But since she isn’t, I was hoping…” She looked into Beth’s eyes. “I was hoping you could help me. After all, you’ve raised seven great children. Surely you know everything by now. Surely you can tell me what to do.”
“I’d be happy to help in any way I can.” Beth reached across the table to put her hand over Zara’s. “But first, I’d love it if you could tell me about your mum.”
Tears sprang to Zara’s eyes as she told Rory’s mother about how much she’d loved her own. Beth held her hand while she spoke, squeezing her fingers tightly as she recalled the day of the car crash.
“I certainly don’t know everything,” Beth said when Zara had finally finished speaking. “Not even close, I’m afraid. What I do know for sure, however, is that love is capable of healing even the deepest wounds—but only if we let it.” Beth smiled. “It’s easy for me to say I believe that you and my son were meant to find each other, meant to heal each other, meant to love each other. But the truth is that the only thing that matters is what you believe…and how much you’re willing to stand behind those beliefs.”
From the moment her mother died, Zara hadn’t believed that she was worthy of a future full of love and happiness. Not when her mother didn’t have a future. Zara had stood behind that belief with fierce determination for half her life.
Only now, as she sat with Beth, did she fully understand what Rory had meant when he’d said that he believed she could be just as fiercely determined to allow herself to be happy, and to love and be loved, as she had been determined to remain in happiness exile.
“Thank you, Beth. For everything.” Zara might never fully get over her mother’s death, but with help from Rory, his family—and the strong, capable, loving woman it had taken Zara three decades to become—right here, right now, she was going to stop hating herself. “I’ve got to talk to Rory.”
She knew exactly where she’d find him. At the top of his lighthouse, standing watch over the storm the way he’d stood watch over her heart.
Zara was just heading out the door when Kevin and Ashley came into the café. That was when it hit her—there was one more thing she could do to make absolutely sure that Rory would never doubt how much she loved him.
“Kevin,” she said, “could I ask you a huge favor?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
In the time Rory had lived in the lighthouse, he’d never seen a storm like this.
All night long as he stood in the watch room, the sky and the sea had raged. Only the revolving light was powerful enough to pierce the darkness and guide home sailors who had been caught unawares by the storm.
As the clock ticked slowly on, Rory held on to his faith. Faith that everyone on the ocean would escape the storm unscathed.
And faith that Zara would find a way to break through her own storm too.
Three in the morning rolled around. Then four. Five. Six. Seven. And still there was no sunrise, not so much as a hint of light on the horizon.
Until, suddenly, a ray of sunlight miraculously broke through.
But what caught Rory’s
attention even more was the sound of footsteps on the metal, circular stairs that led up to the watch room.
He would know those footsteps anywhere—the purpose, the determination in every step. The hat was the first thing he saw rising out of the stairwell.
A magician’s hat.
He wanted to throw back his head and laugh. He wanted to dance one of the Irish jigs his mother had taught them all when they were kids. He wanted to sing every cheesy pop song ever written.
Because Zara wearing a magician’s hat could mean only one thing.
Thank God.
“I knew you’d be here.” With her glasses all wet and steaming up, in mismatched sweatpants and sweatshirt, wearing Kevin’s hat and holding his wand, Zara was the most beautiful sight in the world. “Guiding lost sailors home.”
He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her. The only thing that could possibly stop him was the knowledge of how much they needed to say to each other first.
Still, he couldn’t resist telling her, “That’s because you know me so well.”
She smiled, although it fell away too quickly. “I wish I had known myself better. Then I might have realized that once my mother died, and I blamed myself for it, I no longer liked myself. That’s why I chose to go out with guys who didn’t like me very much either. Guys like Cameron. It’s also why I let Brittany get away with so much over the years—I thought being her doormat was no better than I deserved. It wasn’t until you came along, and were such a force of nature, that you yanked me out of my happiness exile, whether I was willing to leave it or not.”
“You yanked me out too, Zara. Just reached right into the heart I was planning to keep locked away forever and made me love you. Although I have a confession about last Saturday night: I never wanted to break up. I planned to wow you so much with my moves that you’d change your mind about ending things today.”