Evan heaved his bag over his shoulder and carried his case in his hand, reaching him before he could change his mind and walk away.
“This had better be good. This is the second time in two months someone’s asked me to meet them off a plane. Last time didn’t go so well.”
Sawyer hadn’t changed. There was still that animosity between the two of them that had always been there.
“Did you know? Did you know about Violet?”
Evan shook his head. “I had no idea, Matt. Truly, I didn’t. I only found out when we were over there.”
Sawyer’s eyes ran up and down his body then lingered on his face. Obviously trying to decide if he believed him or not. Finally his shoulders sagged a little. “Well, that’s okay, then.”
He turned toward the exit. “What is it you want to talk about, Evan? We’ve never exactly been friends.”
Evan stomach churned. He wanted to get this over and done with. He should have done this years ago—but Sawyer hadn’t been around.
His throat was dry and his mouth parched. Nineteen hours of travel could do that to you.
A red neon sign caught his eye and he said the last words in the world he thought he ever would. “Sawyer, let’s get a beer.”
Sawyer raised his eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
They waited a few minutes while the bartender got their beers then sat down at a table in the corner of the bar.
“So what’s the story with you and Violet?”
Evan felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Sawyer was her brother. It was an obvious question. He took a quick swig from his bottle then put it back down on the table. Maybe he should have waited. Waited until he’d drunk a few more of these before talking to Sawyer. “Nothing. I’m not here to talk about Violet.”
“You’re not? What do you want to talk about, then?” Sawyer looked confused.
“Helen.”
“What?”
He looked across the table at Sawyer. He had the same pale green eyes as his sister. It was kind of disturbing.
“I need to talk to you about Helen.”
“You’ve left it kind of late. It’s been six years, Evan.”
“I know exactly how long it’s been.” His words were curter than he’d intended. But he could feel the pressure building in his veins. He had no idea what Matt’s reaction would be.
Sawyer’s finger was running round the top of his bottle. As if he was trying to decide what to say next.
It was now or never.
“Helen told me she wasn’t feeling well.”
Sawyer’s head shot straight up. “What?”
There was no need for any preamble here.
“That day—of the mission—I was checking the inventory and Helen said she wasn’t feeling one hundred percent.”
Sawyer’s eyes fixed on the table. “And what did you do?”
There was silence for a few seconds. He’d started now and he had to finish. No matter what the outcome.
“Nothing, Sawyer. I did nothing.” His finger traced a circle on the table of the wet outline from his bottle. “I have no excuse. I didn’t pick up on it until later. I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t remember what she’d said until it was too late.”
“And you’ve waited six years to tell me that?” The tone in his voice was clear.
“I didn’t know what to say.”
“Sorry would have been a start.”
“You think I’m not sorry? You think I haven’t gone over and over this in my head? That if I’d stopped and asked Helen more questions that day she might still be here, still be married to you?” His voice was rising and heads were turning in the bar.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I wish I could turn back time. I wish I could go back to that day and that throw-away comment and stop. Stop and ask her what was wrong, why she didn’t feel great. If there was anything else. If there was a possibility that she was pregnant.”
Sawyer leaned back in his chair. His fingers hadn’t moved from the top of his bottle. “You think you’re the only one, Evan? The only one who hasn’t gone over that day time and time again, wondering if there was anything different you could have done, different you could have said? Welcome to my life, Evan Hunter.” He picked up his bottle and took a long slug.
Evan hesitated. “Violet said...Violet said you had no idea Helen was pregnant.” He met Sawyer’s eyes. “For a long time I thought you did know. I thought you and Helen might have been keeping the news under wraps. I’m sorry.”
Sawyer stared at him for the longest time. “I know. Violet told me.” He took off his baseball cap and flung it on the table.
“She told you?”
Sawyer nodded.
“What else did she tell you?”
He shook his head. “Only that. I knew there had to be more to the story. But she only told me that you thought we’d kept you out of the loop. She also told me she put you straight.”
Evan felt a little flutter of relief. And he couldn’t help the wry smile on his face at the mention of her name.
Sawyer straightened up. “Let me be frank. I agonized over Helen’s death for six years. She was the light of my life. My reason to get up every day. When I married Helen I truly believed that we would grow old together. That we would end up with a pair of rockers out on our porch.”
Evan smiled. He could almost picture the scene in his head.
He leaned across the table. “The only person I blamed for Helen’s death was me, Evan, not you. I should have figured out my wife was pregnant. I should have stopped her going on that mission. I should have been able to save her. Not you. Not anyone else. Because I was the person she trusted most.”
The color was building in his cheeks, the blood obviously pumping in his veins. But he stopped and took a deep breath. “But you know what? It’s been six years. And I’ve got past it. I’ve had to get past it. Because there’s a whole other life out there, Evan. And I know that Helen would have been the first person to tell me that.”
Evan listened to the words. Even he could see the change in Sawyer. “Callie?”
Sawyer nodded and took another swig from his bottle. “Callie.”
There was an inevitability about all this. A natural way for this conversation to go.
The tightness that had been in his stomach for the past six years was finally starting to unfurl.
“I didn’t get it, Evan. I didn’t get everyone else’s loss. I was selfish. I was too focused on myself. Then I met Callie and my whole world changed.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance of something like that again. I didn’t think I’d ever deserve it. Being with Callie has changed everything for me. I’ve got a reason to get up in the morning again.” He paused. There was regret written all over his face.
“When I think about what Violet has gone through on her own I feel so helpless. And so angry at myself. She’s my sister. She needed me and I wasn’t there.”
Evan nodded slowly, raising his eyes. “Kind of angry with you about that myself.”
Their eyes met. In quiet understanding.
And they sat for a few moments in silence.
“About Violet...” Evan started.
“Yeah, about Violet,” countered Sawyer.
“What are we going to do about that?” The words hung in the air between them.
Sawyer took a final slug of his beer and stood up, stretching his back and sticking his baseball cap back on his head. “Guess you’re going to have to stop hating me so much if you’re going to be part of the family.”
Evan raised his eyebrows. “I’ve never hated you, Sawyer.” He stood up too and threw some bills on the table. “I just never liked you much.�
��
Sawyer threw his head back and let out a laugh. They walked toward the door.
Evan put his hand on Sawyer’s arm. “Violet? Where will I find her?”
Sawyer quirked his lip and touched the peak of his cap. “You’ll figure it out.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
VIOLET WALKED SLOWLY along the path. It was another beautiful day in Atlanta. It seemed as though the sun had been shining constantly since she’d got back.
Almost as if something was trying to remind her that she should still be in Africa.
The garden was quiet and she was grateful. The last few times she’d been here her mom and stepfather had been with her. They needed time and a place to grieve too, and the memorial garden was probably the most appropriate place.
But she was still trying to adjust. Trying to adjust to sharing her grief with other people. She was used to the calm of the garden, the tranquility. The first few times her mom had come with her it had almost felt like an invasion of her privacy.
Her family was still tiptoeing around her. Even Sawyer. Which was strangely uncomfortable.
She wasn’t quite sure if it was what she’d told him or the presence of Callie in his life that was keeping him so even-tempered. But he’d changed. Changed in a good way.
It was good having her brother back in her life. And he was slowly but surely finding a path back into the DPA. Which was just as well, as she’d taken a leave of absence for a while.
The director had been very understanding. He’d told her to take as much time as she needed, had offered her counseling and let her know that any career path within the DPA was open to her.
Violet approached the little granite plaque. It was attached on the wall next to hundreds of others. Sometimes she stood and read them all. But today she was only interested in her own.
She ran her fingers along the letters. Feeling the bumps and outlines beneath the pads of her fingers.
Daisy Connelly.
Born May 16th. Died May 16th.
A little flower lent not given, to bud on earth and bloom in heaven.
There was a lump in her throat—there would always be a lump in her throat when she came here—but today, for the first time, she wasn’t crying.
She arranged her flowers in one of the little vases underneath the plaques. There were too many plaques for everyone to have an individual memorial flower vase, so the people who visited had to share.
She always brought the same flowers, a mixture daisies and violets for her daughter from her mommy.
A little array of pink flowers caught her eye with a little white card attached. She couldn’t help but peek at the text. Today I brought you petunias. They were cute. Obviously hand-picked due to the haphazard way they’d been placed in the vase.
Her eyes looked along the line. There were more of them.
Today I brought you marigolds.
Today I brought you sky-blue pansies.
Today I brought you poppies.
Today I brought you Livingstone daisies.
They were beautiful. Flowers everyday. Were they from a newly bereaved parent?
She could feel the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. And she knew. Instantly.
Her head whipped around and her breath caught in her throat.
Evan.
Sitting on one of the benches. Watching her. Waiting for her.
Her legs were on autopilot. She was standing in front of him before she knew it.
His tan was deeper, his hair lighter, his eyes just as blue as she remembered.
He gave her the smile she loved so much. “Hi.” After two months. One word.
“Hi.” Her voice croaked. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch him. But she couldn’t. Not yet.
“I came to meet Daisy. To talk to her.”
She felt her heart squeeze in her chest. “The flowers are from you?”
He nodded.
“But they’re so unusual. Where did you find them?”
He gave a little shrug. “My mom has a beautiful garden of flowers. When I told her why I needed them she made sure I had something different every day.”
Wow. He’d told his mother about her. She didn’t dare to think what that might mean. She counted along the wall. Ten lots of flowers that were obviously from him—some looking a little worse for wear.
She felt a little startled. “You’ve been coming here for ten days?”
His eyes met hers. “I knew that I’d meet you here eventually. I just had to learn a little patience.”
She sat down on the bench next to him. Her eyes fixing on the wall covered in hundreds of individual plaques. So many little lost lives. So many families grieving.
His hand slipped into hers. It felt so natural, his fingers intertwining with hers.
But she held her body rigid. Keeping a wall up around herself.
“When did you get back?”
“Ten days ago.”
Ten days. As soon as he’d got back he’d brought some flowers for Daisy.
One of his fingers started tracing a little circle inside the palm of her hand. It was comforting. It was soothing.
“I met your brother.”
“What?” Her head shot up.
He nodded slowly. “I called him. Asked him to meet me at the airport.” He lifted his eyebrows at her. “We had a beer.”
She was imagining this. This couldn’t really be happening. This was like one of those crazy dreams that woke you in the middle of the night.
She could feel her heart fluttering in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly. Maybe she would wake up now and everything would go back to normal.
But all she could feel was the cool summer breeze skittering across her skin.
“Violet?”
She opened her eyes again. The glare from the sun made her blink. She definitely wasn’t imagining this.
She was scared to ask. It would have been a showdown between two of the most important men in her life. Surely that couldn’t have gone well?
“How did it go?”
She held her breath. Sawyer hadn’t said a word to her yesterday. Why not?
“Better than I could have expected. We talked about Helen. Sawyer told me he’s tortured himself enough and it’s time to move on.”
“Oh?” If she held her breath much longer she would burst.
“He mentioned something about being part of the family.”
That was it. This must be a dream. This couldn’t be happening. She grabbed hold of a little bit of skin and pinched. “Ouch!”
“Violet? What are you doing?”
She jumped up and rubbed her leg. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m pinching myself, trying to work out if this is real.”
He stood up next to her and put his hands at her waist. “Oh, it’s real all right. Can I do something else to convince you?”
She didn’t have time to answer. Because his lips were on hers. Kissing away any doubts. Kissing away any fears.
His warm body was pressing against hers. One hand at the back of her head and the other on her cheek.
“I want to spend the next fifty years convincing you, Violet,” he murmured in her ear.
She could feel herself melting. The past two months had been the longest of her life. Working through the grief with her family had been tough. But it was the final act. The final piece of the puzzle.
She wanted to go forward. Go forward and embrace life.
And this was the man she wanted to do it with.
He started kissing around her neck and ears, sending tingles down her spine. “So, this thing with Sawyer, it’s over? It’s really over?”
His lips moved back to her face, dropping kisses
on her nose and eyelids. “It’s really over.”
A warm wave washed over her. She believed him. She really believed him.
Maybe they could all finally start living their lives again.
She pulled back a little. “Then there’s something I want to do.”
Her voice was serious and she could see the instant wariness in his face.
She slipped her hand into his and walked back over the wall.
It was time. It was truly time.
She lifted their hands together and placed them on Daisy’s plaque.
“Daisy, honey, there’s somebody I want you to meet...”
EPILOGUE
“WHAT’S GOING ON? A C-section doesn’t take this long.” Sawyer paced up and down the corridor.
Callie gave her husband a smile and adjusted the toddler in her lap. “Sit down, honey.” She glanced over to where an elderly couple was sitting. “You’re making the expectant grandparents nervous.”
The doors burst open behind them. “It’s a girl!”
Evan’s face was scarlet, as if he was about to burst with excitement.
Sawyer was up at him in seconds. “Is everything okay? Is she okay? Is Violet okay? What took so long?”
Evan put his hand on Sawyer’s arm, his voice steadying as he spoke. “Everything’s fine. My wife is beautiful. My daughter is beautiful. Six pounds three ounces, with a perfect Apgar. Her mom’s just given her her first feed. I just didn’t want to leave their sides. I didn’t want to miss a second.” He pulled his scrub hat from his head and opened the door behind them. “But now the newest member of the family would like to meet everyone else.” He bent down and swooped up the toddler from Callie’s lap. “Particularly her big cousin, Riley. Want to see the baby, Riley?”
Riley wrinkled his nose. “Baby,” he repeated. “Baby.”
Callie laughed and grabbed her husband’s hand, holding the door for Sawyer’s mom and stepdad. “Let’s go, folks. Let’s meet the newest family member.”
* * *
Violet stared down at her daughter. Perfect in every way.
She stroked her finger across her pale skin and downy hair. Leaning forward and taking a deep breath. She just didn’t want to let her go.
THE MAVERICK DOCTOR AND MISS PRIM/ABOUT THAT NIGHT... Page 32