by Sophie Love
Emily shook her head. “Don’t. Please. There’s nothing to discuss.” She didn’t want to recall the humiliation she’d felt that day.
“But there is,” Daniel said. “A lot to discuss. I mean, we live together. We have Chantelle. Why shouldn’t we just… you know…” He scratched his neck again. “Do the deed.”
Emily paused and raised an eyebrow. Was Daniel broaching the topic of marriage? She’d been thinking about their future a lot, wondering about what would happen if they lost the house because of bankruptcy from the back taxes, wondering if marriage was right for them, whether they would expand their family at some point, or whether Daniel wanted any of that at all. He was always so hard to read.
“Do the deed?” she asked.
“You know what I mean.”
“You mean get married?”
Daniel nodded. Emily felt a strange mix of emotions. She sipped her water, her head suddenly swimming. She ought to be pleased that Daniel was bringing this up, only she didn’t feel that way at all. She felt cold, filled with doubt. It took her a moment to work out why, and realized that it was the way Daniel was approaching the topic that was upsetting her. There was no romantic overblown gesture. No getting down on one knee and professing his undying love. He was evasively and uncomfortably talking about “doing the deed.” It couldn’t really get much less romantic.
Daniel looked increasingly flustered. “I’m sorry. I’m doing this all wrong.”
Just then the server arrived with their starters, interrupting the conversation. Emily sat back, watching Daniel intently as the food was placed in front of them. As soon as she was gone, Emily asked, “Doing what all wrong?”
“You know,” Daniel said, fidgeting, staring into his food. “Proposing.”
Emily frowned. Was that what was happening? It certainly didn’t feel like it!
“I’ve just been thinking a lot about the future,” Daniel continued, his words tumbling out quickly. “Ever since that day in the shop I’ve been thinking a lot about it.”
Emily speared one of the langoustines viciously. “Marriage,” she corrected. “You can say the word.”
“Yeah. Marriage,” Daniel said, discomfort audible in his tone. “And I was thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to make it official.”
Emily chewed angrily. This was just getting worse and worse. Daniel was talking about committing to her forever and saying that to do so wouldn’t be “such a bad idea.” She felt the familiar sensation of humiliation sweep through her.
“I don’t want you to propose to me out of sympathy,” Emily snapped. “If you could even call this a proposal.”
Daniel looked suddenly surprised. He squirmed in his seat, clearly shocked by her reaction. She could tell he had no comeback to that, which confirmed that it was just as she’d feared; that his desire to commit to her had come about because of Chantelle and Chantelle only. If he was going to propose she would always worry that it was a wedding of convenience, that Daniel had decide to marry her just because she was a willing mom to his surprise daughter. She’d made this whole thing extremely easy on him.
She patted her lips with the napkin then let it drop onto the tabletop. “Excuse me,” she said, standing.
“Emily,” Daniel said with an exhalation, looking bemused and hurt. “Don’t leave.”
“I’m sorry, Daniel,” she said quietly. “I’d like to go home now.”
She was expecting to leave alone, to allow her tears to fall as soon as she’d left the restaurant. But Daniel wasn’t Ben and she should have known he would never let her leave like that, alone, with this issue hanging unresolved between them. He was by her elbow in a matter of seconds, having thrown down enough dollar bills to cover the meal with a generous tip for the bemused server, and was swiping his jacket around his shoulders as he appeared hurriedly at her side.
“Slow down, will you?” he said.
Emily did, the clack of her heels on the sidewalk slowing. She looked over at him, her vision swimming. Part of her wanted to throw her arms around him with relief because he hadn’t let her leave alone but the other part was so, so disappointed in him, so let down. Being proposed to should be among one of the most wonderful moments of her life, something to cherish and look back on fondly forever more. It shouldn’t be a garbled conversation in a restaurant, a resignation to the logical conclusion of their relationship. It should be a risk, a journey they’d choose to take together, not a lackluster stroll down the same path out of convenience. No matter what happened in their relationship Emily always had a shadow of doubt hanging above them, like a storm cloud threatening to rain. She wasn’t sure if it would ever leave.
“It was a bit much in there, wasn’t it?” Emily said.
Daniel let out an awkward laugh. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who was uncomfortable in that place.”
Emily paused then and turned to face him. “Why did we go there?” she asked. “Why did you choose that place?”
Daniel shrugged. “Because I wanted to treat you, to do something special. I wanted to show you how serious I am about our future together.”
“You don’t need a fancy restaurant to show me that,” Emily retorted, but her voice was growing quieter with every word. What did she need Daniel to do, really, to prove his commitment to her? Was there anything he could do to erase her fear of abandonment, the fear her father’s disappearance had created inside of her? They could be together for the rest of their lives, for fifty more years, and Emily would still be expecting Daniel to leave her.
They fell silent as they strolled the rest of the way back to the truck.
“I’m sorry the date was a bust,” Daniel said. He cupped her face in his hands. “I adore you, Emily Mitchell,” he said. “You do know that, don’t you?”
Emily nodded, her stomach swirling with confusion. On one level she did. All the evidence was there. The joy they had in one another’s company. The complete ease with which they interacted. Her inability to imagine a life without Daniel in it. Her overwhelming joy at raising his daughter and excitement at the prospect of adding to their family one day. Her desire to marry him. But there was another part of Emily that couldn’t accept that he did, because she couldn’t accept that anyone would. If she wasn’t enough to make her own father stick around, why on earth would anyone else think she was?
A tear wended its way down Emily’s cheek. Daniel wiped it away with his thumb.
“Do you think,” he said, his voice quiet and faltering, “that if I proposed properly, with the ring and getting down on one knee and all that stuff, that you’d say yes?”
Emily pressed a finger to Daniel’s lip. “Please can we just drop the subject? I’m not in the right mood to think about it.”
Daniel looked disappointed. “Is that a no?”
“It’s a not now, not like this.” She laced her fingers through his. “Can we just go home now?”
Daniel nodded. They climbed into the pickup truck and Emily thought she might just have caught the glimpse of Daniel shoving something deeply into his pocket. She let herself imagine it was a beautiful ring in a box, then berated herself. That was just wishful thinking. Daniel hadn’t really been about to propose, had he? She hadn’t just shot him down for real?
She felt suddenly nauseous and wrapped her arms tightly around her middle as it dawned on her that she might well have misread the situation, that she might just have ruined her one and only chance at getting what she craved.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The next morning, Emily lay in bed staring at the ceiling, reflecting on the disastrous failed proposal of the night before. She’d barely been able to sleep that night, constantly waking up and mulling over the whole thing. As she replayed the night in her mind, she wished she’d answered differently when they’d been outside the restaurant. She’d been too upset to consider a proposal at that point, but what if that turned out to be her only shot? What if she’d scared Daniel away and he would never do it now?
She looked over to where Daniel slept contently next to her. With a sudden pang of envy, Emily felt that life was far more simple for him, spending his days working on the carriage house and then coming home to a happy girlfriend and daughter, while she tried to make her ailing business profitable by redesigning the website and interviewing for a fancy new chef and constantly looking for improvements in décor and quality while also looking after a child. But as soon as she thought it, she berated herself. Daniel worked just as hard for their family, he just didn’t let his stress out in the same way.
Just then, Emily heard the doorbell. She glanced at the clock, seeing that it was not yet seven a.m.
The bell rang once more so Emily heaved her weary body out of bed, wrapped a dressing gown around her, and trotted down the steps.
When she pulled open the door she had to do a double take. Standing on the step before her was Trevor Mann.
“Um, what are you doing waking me up before seven?” she asked wryly, referring back to the time when Trevor had lain into Chantelle for doing the same. “Here to drop some kind of bombshell about my back taxes? Let me guess, you’ve found a way for them to be quadrupled and for the repayment time frame to be halved?”
“Actually,” Trevor began, “I wanted to speak to you. To thank you, for the other day, after the storm.” He smoothed his moustache down nervously.
Emily got the distinct impression that there was more to Trevor’s visit than he was letting on. She couldn’t help but feel suspicious.
“You’re welcome,” she said, folding her arms. “But that’s not it, is it? You didn’t just come around here at the crack of dawn to say thank you, did you?”
Trevor glanced over his shoulder. Here it comes, Emily thought, bracing herself instinctively for some terrible news.
“I also wanted to apologize,” Trevor said. “I haven’t treated you well.”
Emily was taken aback. First a thank you, now a sorry! Had Trevor’s ceiling beam knocked a new personality into him?
Just then, Emily noticed that Trevor was holding a piece of paper in his hands, fiddling with it.
“What’s that?” she asked.
Trevor thrust it to Emily. It was a letter from Dr. Patel. As her eyes scanned the paper before her, Trevor began speaking.
“After my fall I began feeling strange. I thought it was anxiety, panic, caused by the accident. So I went to Dr. Patel again.”
Emily gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth as she finished reading the letter and discovered the truth. Trevor had a tumor.
“I didn’t have anyone else to tell,” Trevor said in a thin voice.
“I’m so sorry,” Emily stammered. She instinctively wanted to hug him, to offer him some kind of physical affection. But she could tell from his posture that that was not what Trevor wanted at all. He was a practical man, a doer, a thinker. Hugs wouldn’t comfort him. And he certainly wouldn’t appreciate her tears.
“What are your treatment options?” she asked, trying to approach the whole thing in the practical manner she guessed Trevor appreciated. “If you need someone to drive you to appointments, Daniel and I would be happy to help. You can have breakfasts here if you’re having a hard time cooking, and—”
Trevor cut her off mid-sentence. “It’s incurable.” For the first time, Emily saw a flash of pain in his eyes and heard a waver in his voice. “I’m going to die, Emily. I’m going to die.”
Emily couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The once formidable Trevor Mann was dying. She’d seen him vulnerable after the shock of the storm but that paled in comparison to this moment. Trevor had never looked so frail and small. Her vision blurred over with tears but she forced herself not to shed them. That was the last thing a proud man like Trevor would appreciate.
“Why don’t you come in for some coffee?” she said, at a complete loss as to what to do or what to say.
“No, no, thank you,” Trevor replied, becoming suddenly formal again. “I need to get back to the house to make sure the repair work goes according to my expectations. I’ll trust you not to share this with anyone else in town.”
“Of course,” Emily said in a stunned whisper.
She handed the letter back to Trevor. He folded it slowly and tucked it into his breast pocket in an oddly rigid manner, before turning away.
“Wait, Trevor,” Emily suddenly blurted. “Why don’t you spend Thanksgiving with us?”
He paused, a look of genuine shock on his face. “I couldn’t. I’d be an imposition.”
“Our own families have refused to come,” Emily added. “I’m thinking of inviting everyone from town and it would mean a lot to us if you were amongst them.” It had only just struck Emily to do so and as the words tumbled out of her mouth it felt more obvious than ever that her Sunset Harbor friends should be present on Thanksgiving. They were what she was most thankful for.
Trevor cleared his throat. “I suppose I could pop over. Just for a bit.”
“Just for a bit,” Emily said, smiling.
She watched Trevor go before closing the door. As soon as it was shut, she felt the tears begin to fall from her eyes. She rested her head against the wood, taking deep breaths to calm herself.
“What’s wrong?” a voice said from behind her.
She swirled on the spot and for a brief moment thought she’d come face to face with Charlotte. But no, it was Chantelle. The doorbell must have woken her.
“I just found out some sad news,” Emily said.
Chantelle came up and hugged her around the waist. “Do you want to cuddle Andy the Pandy? He’s good at cheer-up hugs.”
Emily wiped away a tear and stroked Chantelle’s soft hair. That the child could be so caring after everything she’d gone through astounded her.
“I’d love to,” she said. “Oh, and Chantelle?” she added as the little girl began her ascent upstairs to fetch her toy. “Bring down your coloring pens and stencils. We have a whole bunch of Thanksgiving invitations to make.”
Chantelle’s eyes widened with excitement. “We do? For who?”
Emily smiled. “Everyone.”
Trevor’s tragic news had reminded Emily of how precious life was, how important it was to spend every possible moment surrounded by nearest and dearest. Her friends at Sunset Harbor felt like family to her now; indeed, many of them had stepped in to fill the shoes of her own absent relatives.
Chantelle returned with her box of crafts and Andy the Pandy tucked under her arm. She was right, he was good at giving cheer-up cuddles. As they sat together in the living room, Emily announcing the list of attendees to Chantelle, she felt her heart swell with gratitude. She had made some true friends in Sunset Harbor. She could make this a real community event, a party that everyone was welcome to attend. Owen could provide the music, of course, and Parker would be head chef alongside her new employee Matthew. Jeremy Jones, the young son of her dear friend Cynthia, could help with serving and clearing dishes so that Serena could have the night off to join in with the festivities; Emily was certain Jeremy would relish the opportunity to earn some pocket money.
But when she said Trevor’s name, she felt herself deflate again. That she was the only person he’d felt able to tell his news to deeply saddened her. How much time they’d wasted being mortal enemies when really he was just lonely and lashing out.
“Chantelle, do you think Andy the Pandy would mind spending a bit of time with a friend of mine? He’s sick.”
Chantelle looked up from her crafts table. “Of course not. But if he’s sick he’ll need more than cuddles. He’ll need a card and fruit too.”
Emily smiled, touched by Chantelle’s inherent kindness. “Let’s make him up a care package, shall we?”
They went into the kitchen together and started filling a wicker basket with goodies for Trevor. Emily loved being in Chantelle’s company, and began to relax in her presence.
But as they worked on their basket, Emily felt herself falling back into the past, into on
e of her previously lost memories. It was Charlotte, not Chantelle, who now stood beside her filling a basket with cans of chicken soup and bunches of grapes.
“Let’s tie it with a bow,” she heard Charlotte’s voice echo in her mind.
As the memory replayed, Emily could almost feel the satin sensation beneath her fingertips as she tied a beautiful purple ribbon around the handle of the basket.
She watched her little sister place a get well card into the basket, along with a handful of wildflowers they’d picked from the meadow. The name on the card was Mrs. East, and Emily suddenly remembered the face it belonged to, an elderly neighbor. It had been Charlotte’s idea to give the woman a care package. She hated to think of people being alone when they were sick.
Emily was so consumed by the memory that it was only when Daniel entered the kitchen that she snapped back to reality. She looked at the clock and realized how much time had passed. It was always jarring coming back into the present day, re-accustoming herself to reality. In this particular instance she had to readjust to the loss of her sister all over again and accept that it was Chantelle standing next to her working on the basket, that it always had been.
“Emily’s friend is sick so we’re making him a care package,” Chantelle explained to Daniel as he put on a fresh pot of coffee.
Daniel gave Emily an inquisitive look. She mouthed Trevor’s name. Daniel looked surprised.
“Chantelle, you’d better get ready for school,” he said.
The little girl ran off out of the room. As soon as she was gone, Emily sunk her head into her hands. Her heart was still beating too fast from the experience of the recovered memory and now she was confronted again with the memory of Trevor’s demise.
“He’s dying, Daniel,” she murmured. “Of a brain tumor.”
Daniel rubbed her back. “That’s crazy. I can’t believe it.”
“He doesn’t have anyone,” she added. “He told me because I was the only person he could think to tell.”
Chantelle appeared again, dressed for school, her backpack slung over one shoulder. Daniel took her out to the pickup truck. As soon as they were gone, Emily went over to Trevor’s house and popped the basket on his doorstep, Andy the Pandy poking out of the top, his arms wide open for a hug.