If I Could Turn Back Time
Page 25
“Oh, no, I’d never try anything like that. It’s just that I’m working a job here and I would never have expected to see anyone familiar, and there you were. I almost didn’t even come here, but something told me…” He shook his head. “This all sounds dumb. I’m sorry. So you’re from Potomac, huh?”
“I am.” He came into focus, and, sure enough, I knew I knew his face. I watched him sit down, marveling at how familiar his movements were, the way he held himself. “Joe?” I asked, disbelieving.
He blinked and half glanced over his shoulder. “Me? No, my name is Jeremy. Jeremy Norton.” He put his hand out.
“No way!” Jer! It was him. It was Joe from my dream. Joe the contractor who’d worked on the garage. It was completely unmistakable. Somehow I’d put a few years on Jer and put him into my dream, although I hadn’t gotten his name right. Joe was Jer!
Somehow I’d had him right, even if I’d had his name wrong.
“I think we went to school together,” I fumbled, so he wouldn’t feel like he was hanging out there on a limb. “I’m Ramie. Ramie Phillips. We drank Zima together.”
He snapped his fingers. “That’s it. Ramie Phillips.” He gave a laugh. “Twelfth grade. Man, I had such a crush on you.”
“I know.” I raised an eyebrow, but we both laughed.
“I wasn’t too subtle.”
“That’s okay, I wasn’t too smart.”
The conversation took off from there. He’d been married for like three years out of college, but it hadn’t worked out and they’d parted ways, no hard feelings. Since then he’d been working as a master craftsman, all up and down the coast. For a long time he’d been working in my mom’s neighborhood, where he’d lived when I’d met him, but finally he realized—as I had, once upon a time—that he was self-employed and could live anywhere, so why was he living and spending winters in such a mercilessly cold (or hot, depending on the time of year) part of the country?
We finished our coffees and decided to walk along the waterfront, even though I had work to do and I was quite certain he did too. He’d said he’d just stopped for a quick cup of java before getting back to work on a large project, but as soon as we started talking, he made a call to someone and then asked if I had time to go for a walk.
It was perfect. Unexpectedly perfect. The weather, the timing, and, I knew now, the person. Because this was who I’d dreamed about all those times, the man whose face I could never see. It was Jeremy Norton. The whole time.
Even though we weren’t touching, I knew from the feeling I had, walking by his side, that this was the guy.
Finally.
I wanted to catch his hand in mine, to tell him we had a lot to catch up on, because that’s the way it felt. Like I’d known him forever. Like he was meant to be, all of this was meant to be, just like my father had said. I felt this strange sense of urgency, like we’d waited too long and I didn’t want to waste even one more second.
But that would have seemed crazy. And, besides, I knew there was time now. That was the one thing I had learned for sure.
There is always time.
EPILOGUE
We get more chances than perhaps you might think to go back and revisit our loved ones after we’re gone. Generally speaking, communication is difficult, and often goes unnoticed or dismissed as “coincidence” or “imagination,” and those who know and tell the truth are too often called “frauds” and “opportunists.”
But sometimes—some rare times—when a soul has left in its own time, it leaves a loved one wholly unprepared. Unruddered. Missing some of the most important lessons that were meant to be shared.
And in those cases, sometimes—some very rare times—a soul can find its way back to communicate in a less subtle way. To remind their loved one of those things they must know in order to find their own fate, rather than running around in pointless circles, only to have to start over again.
And so the soul that was Robert watched his daughter walk away, down a brightly sunlit Florida sidewalk, with the man she had been longing for in her soul for all of her life. Finally her life was beginning in earnest, her purpose destined, and sure to be fulfilled. There was love in her future. So much love.
He concentrated on her for a moment, and sent one last signal to her. It was an easy one. Anyone could have done it. Elementary.
He smiled when he saw her stop, frown, and look around. She’d gotten his sign. Smelled it.
The faintest waft of Aqua Velva on the warm breeze.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BETH HARBISON is the New York Times bestselling author of Driving with the Top Down; Chose the Wrong Guy, Gave Him the Wrong Finger; When in Doubt, Add Butter; Always Something There to Remind Me; Thin, Rich, Pretty; Hope in a Jar; Secrets of a Shoe Addict; and Shoe Addicts Anonymous. She grew up in Potomac, Maryland, outside Washington, D.C., and now divides her time between that suburb, New York City, and a quiet home on the Eastern Shore. Visit www.bethharbison.com. Or sign up for email updates here.
ALSO BY BETH HARBISON
Driving with the Top Down
Chose the Wrong Guy, Gave Him the Wrong Finger
When in Doubt, Add Butter
Always Something There to Remind Me
Thin, Rich, Pretty
Hope in a Jar
Shoe Addicts Anonymous
Secrets of a Shoe Addict
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Beth Harbison
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
IF I COULD TURN BACK TIME. Copyright © 2015 by Beth Harbison. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Olga Grlic
Cover photograph © Herman Estevez
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The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-04381-8 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4668-4219-9 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781466842199
First Edition: August 2015