I hesitated for only a moment, then found myself telling her the entire story as we worked on changing the tire; the real reason why we came to America, and how Mom and Dad died when I was still in high school. When I finished, she lowered the wrench and turned toward me.
“Have you ever stopped blaming yourself?” she said quietly.
“I never...” I sighed. Grace had asked me the exact same question. “No, and thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not saying I shouldn’t feel responsible.”
“Only you can decide that,” Emily said softly, that sadness creeping back into her eyes, a silent ghost emerging from the shadows. “We all have our regrets, things we wish we could go back and change. Some of us more than others.”
She stared at me. A little smudge of dirt from the tire had found its way to her cheek, and I wanted to reach out and gently wipe it away. “Do you want to talk about yours?”
Emily shook her head, looked away. “You’ll be late for your date with Felicia—”
“It’s not a d—”
“—and I’d better get going. It was nice seeing you again. Thanks for your help.”
A minute later she was back in her car, leaving me standing on the side of the road, wishing she and I were going out for dinner instead.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Back at the cabin I had a quick wash and changed my clothes, noting I was down to my last clean shirt. Once done, I followed Felicia’s directions to her house, an unassuming bungalow with a low pitched, gable roof and a yellow-and-green swing set that stood next to an abandoned pink space hopper on the lawn. A copper umbrella stand in the shape of a swan guarded the front steps, making the place look even cozier, quite the contrast to Emily and Tyler’s place. Emily. I had to stop thinking about her, so I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.
Within two seconds the door flew open and a blue-eyed, blond-haired girl stood in front of me. I took in her corkscrew ringlets, her Wonder Woman costume, rubber boots and the plastic sword in one hand, the other on her hip.
“Do you come in peace?” she said, pointing the sword at me. “Or are you the enemy?”
“In peace, of course,” I said, trying not to laugh, “and I surrender, Your Highness.”
Her hands flew to her face as she covered her mouth, burst into a squeal and took off down the hallway as Ethel appeared with a deck of cards in her hands.
“Hello, Josh, how are you, dear?” she said, a wry smile playing on her lips. “I see you met Lydia. She’ll rule the world one day, let me tell you. In the meantime, we lesser mortals have to try to keep up.” Without taking her eyes off me, she called out, “Felicia, Josh’s here.”
“Be right there,” I heard Felicia call back from somewhere inside the house.
“No rush to get home,” Ethel said, leaning toward me. “I taught Lydia how to play chess a few weeks ago. Now I have to practice after she goes to bed if I ever hope to win again. Mind you, chasing after a superhero is exhausting. I’ll end up falling asleep in front of the TV.”
“I don’t think we’ll be late. It’s just dinner.”
Ethel smiled. “Want to come in while you wait?”
“No need. I’m ready,” Felicia said, appearing behind her, wearing a pair of jeans and a blue-and-white-striped T-shirt that made her wide eyes pop. I knew she was attractive, but the online pictures hadn’t done her justice. Her face was perfectly symmetrical, her cheekbones high, and the way she’d cropped her blond hair into a bob suited her way more than the longer style I’d seen her with. She looked younger, healthier and happy.
“Weren’t you going to change?” Ethel whispered, still loud enough for me to hear.
Felicia rolled her eyes. “Bye, Ethel.” She kissed her on the cheek before calling out, “Bye, munchkin!” and closing the door behind her. As we headed to our vehicles, she stopped and turned to face me. “So you know what you’ve signed up for, most people will tell you I’m very blunt but I need us to be clear about something.”
“Okay...”
“Ethel has always been more of a mother to me, really—” Felicia tucked her hair behind her ears “—but she doesn’t understand, or accept for that matter, that I’m not interested in anything, you know, romantic.”
“Thank God, because me neither,” I said with a grin. “And, by the way, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with your being blunt about that.”
“Great.” Felicia smiled. “So now that awkward bit is out of the way, what do you say we get out of town and away from the gossipers? Faycrest can be a bit of a viper’s nest at times.”
“Lead the way. You’re in charge.”
“Oh, I like you already,” Felicia said. “But don’t tell Ethel or she’ll bake the wedding cake. Anyway, I have to stop at my clinic after dinner, so can you follow me to The Storyteller? Have you heard of it?” When I shook my head she added, “I think you’ll enjoy it. It’s a pub a few miles out. Best food I’ve ever tasted, and don’t tell Ethel that, either.”
“My lips are sealed.” I opened her car door for her, and then got into my truck.
It had been a long time since I’d been out to dinner with a woman other than Grace, and I’d never been particularly talented at dating before that, either. Most of the time I’d stuff my big feet into my even larger mouth, or my dark and rather obscure English sense of humor missed the mark completely. Then again, it didn’t matter this time, and I was relieved Felicia had been clear about her expectations, or the lack thereof. Even if the circumstances had been different, if we’d met at a bar or through work, I doubt there’d have been a spark. While Felicia was obviously smart, attractive and, from the little I’d seen so far, funny, too, she also reminded me way too much of Lisa. I let my shoulders drop as I drove, told myself to relax. I should at least try to enjoy the evening despite my highly questionable motives.
I followed her out of town, past Bill’s and a farther ten miles past that. One turn and another narrow lane later, she pulled into a small but busy gravel-filled lot surrounded by cornfields. My eyes widened as I looked up at the pub, taking in the smooth, white stone walls and thatched roof. For a moment I thought I’d been teleported back to the English countryside, half expected a man in a flat cap and a pair of wellies to stroll past with a shotgun, offering to take us clay-pigeon shooting.
“Quaint, isn’t it?” Felicia said as I walked over. “An American built it for his English fiancée over a hundred years ago, but on her way over the ship sank and he never got over it. Rumor has it his ghost roams the house at night, waiting for his true love to arrive.” She shuddered, rubbed her arms. “Don’t let that put you off. The fish cakes are fantastic.”
“Didn’t you say you don’t eat meat?”
Felicia wrinkled her nose. “I’ll eat anything I don’t operate on, so I’m good with fish.”
The pub was dark inside, and it took my eyes a few moments to adjust to my new surroundings. Its low, pale ceilings and dark-stained beams, the swirly patterned carpet, brown leather seats, deep mahogany tables and delicious smell of comfort food reminded me of The White Swan, a place Mom and Dad had taken Lisa and me for Sunday lunches when were kids.
While The White Swan had been a somewhat dark and dingy affair, The Storyteller’s bar was lit with twinkling fairy lights that made the bottles, glasses and mirrors sparkle like a crystal cave. A large clock with Roman numerals hung above the empty fireplace on the back wall, and it was easy to imagine how the place would feel at Christmas, decorated in all its festive glory, the pub-goers boozed-up and warm as an unrelenting snowstorm raged outside.
“Felicia!” A tall, wispy woman with olive skin and long black hair and a collection of silver hoop earrings rushed over for an embrace. “Good to see you. How have you been? And how’s your gorgeous girl?”
“Lydia’s great, thanks,” Felicia said. “Found her
at the top of our tree again over the weekend with a penknife. Honestly, she’ll be the death of me, I’m sure.” She laughed and turned to me. “This is Miranda, proud owner of The Storyteller and chef extraordinaire. Miranda, this is Josh. He’s thinking of moving to the area, and he’s helping Ethel.”
“Welcome, welcome.” Miranda shook my hand. “Lovely to meet you. I’ve prepared a table for you inside, or would you prefer the terrace?”
“Inside,” Felicia said. “Do you mind, Josh? My hay fever’s really bad at the moment.”
My mind raced back to how Logan had sneezed on the phone, how I’d heard him sniff a dozen times in the few minutes we’d spoken. The pollen this time of year always bugged him. Grace had never suffered from allergies, so I’d assumed Logan had either inherited them from his dad, or it was simply one of those things. But...what if it was from Felicia?
An image of her discovering Logan was her son surged from the middle of my brain and hurtled around my mind. I imagined Felicia falling to her knees in front of him, pulling him in for a desperate embrace. She’d hug him tight before examining his face, unable to believe he was truly Alex, her aching sorrow and yearning turning to disbelief at first, and then to unbridled joy. She’d take him home, watch his every move, unable to sleep until he was back from school or soccer practice, safely tucked up in bed. There wasn’t just Felicia to consider, but her ex-husband, Gavin, too, and Lydia. Did she know about her older brother? How would she react to his return? Would she accept him with open arms, make room for him in their lives?
I’d hardly spent any time with Felicia, but one thing was becoming crystal clear. If Logan was Alex King, I’d have no choice but to step up and confess. I had no right to stop them from being reunited. Felicia wasn’t like the Abbotts. As far as I could tell, there’d be no valid objection, nothing but my own selfishness and heartache standing in the way of them being together again, and that wasn’t the kind of person I wanted to be.
“Josh?” Felicia touched my arm. “You okay with a table inside?”
“Sure, sure,” I said, plastering a smile on my face I hoped would somehow cover the cracks within me, too. “That would be great.”
“Perfect, follow me.” Miranda guided us to a table at the back of the pub, next to a window with the best views of the rolling fields and gentle hills beyond. Clouds had partially obscured the blue skies, and they looked gray and heavy. Miranda followed my gaze. “A storm’s coming,” she said. “It’s supposed to rain for the next three days straight, at least. I hope summer isn’t over already. Anyway, I’ll be right back with menus.”
“This is a great place, Felicia,” I said as Miranda left. “I feel right at home.”
“It was the obvious choice when Ethel told me you’re British. I’ve been coming here for years. I love it...” She paused, tucked another stray lock of hair behind her ear, looked like she might say something before reconsidering.
“What is it?” I asked gently. “Is everything okay?”
She nodded, and her smile might have accentuated the fine lines around her eyes, but it still made her look younger. For the first time since we’d met, I was close enough to notice the smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose...a pattern almost identical to Logan’s.
“Do you think we should let the elephants in the room loose?” she said.
“The elephants...?” I said, my eyes darting to hers. “I don’t think I understand...?”
Felicia opened her mouth but closed it again when Miranda came over.
“Here you go,” she said, setting glasses of water on the table and handing us a rolled-up, parchment paper menu each. “Would you—” The sound of porcelain shattering on the floor filled the air, and Miranda pulled a face. “Uh-oh. New dishwasher started yesterday. Not going so well. Be right back.”
After she’d dashed off, Felicia looked at me and I shifted in my seat. “I know Ethel told you about Alex,” she said. “She told me you lost your partner, too, in an accident?”
The breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding rushed from my lungs. Of course that’s what she’d meant. She wasn’t onto me, or my secrets. If she were, she’d have called the cops, not agreed to have dinner. I nodded. “Yes, last March.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Josh. How are you coping?”
I shrugged, drank some of my water while deciding how to respond. “I’m doing okay.”
“Is that why you’re living in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere, hiding out in a cabin that smells of rotten feet?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “When you said you were blunt, you meant it, didn’t you?”
Felicia smiled and set her glass on the coaster. “After Alex disappeared I wanted to hide, too, believe me, but it was all about keeping him in the public’s mind, constantly reminding them he was missing. Appeals, TV shows, interviews, candlelit vigils...” She paused. “None of it helped, in the end.”
“I wish it had,” I said, a pathetic offering in a desperate attempt to disguise how uncomfortable I felt. As I tried not to squirm in my seat, I almost wanted to open up, tell Felicia everything, get her DNA and run a test right there, in the middle of The Storyteller.
“What was she like?” Felicia said. “Your partner?”
I tried to erase the last few months from my mind, think about the Grace I’d thought I’d known, the woman I’d fallen in love with and declared my soul mate to anyone who’d listened. “She was incredible,” I said, which had been my truth not that long ago, and fell silent again.
“But you don’t want to talk about her?” Felicia said, and when I didn’t answer she nodded, gently aligning her silverware with her fingertips. “Then we won’t.”
As Felicia sipped her water, it reminded me I’d need a strategy to steal her glass before the end of the evening, seeing as she didn’t smoke and hadn’t chewed gum. Taking the glass from the table during the meal would be too obvious, so I discreetly pulled my phone from my pocket and set it on the bench beside me, ready to put my plan into action.
“How do you know Miranda?” I said.
“Oh, we go way back. We both grew up here. Went to the same high school.”
“And did you always want to be a vet?”
“If my parents were to be believed. I operated on all my stuffed animals from the tender age of five. What about you? Have you always been into landscaping?”
“Well, the fresh air and the physical side are great—”
“Not the original dream then? What did you want to be when you were growing up?”
“A civil engineer.”
“Really? How come?”
“We went on holiday to Wales a lot when I was a kid, and we’d drive over this massive bridge that goes over the River Severn—”
“The Severn Bridge,” she said. “I’ve heard of it.”
“I thought it was the most amazing thing. It was the highlight of my trip, and I always dreamed of building one.”
“So why the landscaping?”
I shrugged. “Life threw me a few curveballs and instead of running with them, as they say, I dropped them all, and that was that. Game over.”
“Totally understand,” Felicia said. “I had the perfect life, everything I’d ever dreamed of until Alex disappeared. Then it all fell apart until Lydia came along and glued me back together.”
“She seems quite the character.”
“Honestly, I wouldn’t have made it through without her.” Felicia put an elbow on the table and rested her hand under her chin. “I found out I was pregnant five months after Alex was taken. And you know what? Back then I worried he’d come home and think we’d tried to replace him. That was when Gavin and I were convinced he’d be found.”
“Were?” My hands trembled, so I put them palms down on the table. “You’ve lost hope?”
“I know I should say I haven’t,�
� Felicia answered. “It’s what the parent of any missing child is supposed to say, how they’re sure their baby is alive, that one day they’ll be found.”
“It does happen,” I said gently, wanting to lean over and touch her arm, but worried what she might make of the gesture. “I’ve read about cases where the kids have been found years, or even decades, later. He could still come back.”
“Yes, I know that, technically, but I don’t feel it—” she put a hand to her chest “—in here. I can’t feel my little boy anymore.”
I didn’t speak, could barely look at her, couldn’t bring myself to see the sorrow that had been etched into her eyes, and I bit down on my tongue, hard, tasted a hint of blood.
“God, Ethel was right,” Felicia said suddenly. “You are easy to talk to. But this is getting very heavy for what’s supposed to be a fun night out, isn’t it? We haven’t even ordered yet.” She picked up her menu, let a breezy smile slide across her face. “Let’s take a minute.”
I perused the choices of fish, steak and pasta, which all would have sounded amazing if I hadn’t a lump the size of a baseball lodged in my throat. Felicia pointed out her favorite dishes, and I followed her recommendation by ordering the fish cakes, lamb and homemade, thick-cut fries I already knew I’d mostly leave on my plate. We moved on to other subjects, which led to me tiptoeing around her questions about Logan, telling her more about England and asking for details when she mentioned a trip to Europe a decade earlier.
“I fell in love with Paris,” Felicia said, sipping her Sprite. I’d been relieved when she’d declined a glass of wine because she was driving, and heading back to work later. If I’d ever had a reason for not being tempted and making sure I kept a clear head, then having a casual dinner with Logan’s potential mother was definitely it. “I always wanted to go back to France,” she continued, “but then life happened, you know? Within a few blinks I’d got married, opened the practice and had Alex.”
“I’ve never been, but it looks great.” I took another bite of the fish cakes Miranda had put in front of us, and which truly were spectacular, and was about to ask what Felicia’s favorite part of the trip had been when my phone sprang to life.
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