Maybe We Will (Silver Harbor)

by Melissa Foster

  Shelley disappeared through a door, and Aiden said, “I love her energy.” He put his arms around Abby and added, “Almost as much as I love yours.”

  He pressed his lips to hers just as Shelley returned carrying a big covered basket.

  “Okay, smoochers,” she said. “Follow me.”

  Abby put on her sweater, and they followed Shelley out the back door. The winery was U-shaped, with a gorgeous patio between the two wings of the building. The sun was making its descent, hovering in the distance, trailing ribbons of gold and fire-orange across the sky.

  Shelley led them past the stone knee wall that separated the vineyards from the winery as Archer, Jock’s twin, walked out from between two rows of vines. Archer was much brawnier than Jock, with a thick chest and bulbous biceps. He kept his brown hair military short, though he was never in the military.

  Archer nodded at Abby and said, “Great to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you, too.” Abby embraced him. It was like hugging stone.

  He lifted his chin in Aiden’s direction, offering his hand. “Archer Steele. You must be Aiden. I like your style, dude.”

  Abby looked at Aiden’s touristy baseball cap, wrinkled linen shirt and pants, and wondered if Archer was making fun of him. If he was, it didn’t appear to bother Aiden.

  “Thank you,” Aiden said, shaking Archer’s hand. “Your winemaking reputation precedes you.”

  Archer cracked a proud grin. “Thanks. We do all right.”

  “I’d say a gold Sommeliers Choice Award for your cabernet sauvignon is better than all right.”

  Leni had told Abby about the award he’d won last August, but Shelley hadn’t mentioned it during the tour, and Abby didn’t remember seeing the award or a plaque announcing it inside. Aiden must have noticed one, or done his research.

  “We’ll see how we do this year,” Archer said. “Enjoy yourselves tonight.” He glanced at Shelley and said, “You’re all set.”

  “Thanks, honey. Tell your father I’ll be right in.” As Archer walked away, Shelley handed the basket to Aiden and said, “Everything you need is here. If you go right down that row and take a left at the end, you’ll find the perfect spot for your wine tasting. And when you’re done, leave everything where it is. We’ll take care of it.”

  “Aren’t tastings typically done here?” Abby pointed to the courtyard.

  Shelley leaned closer to her and lowered her voice to say, “Honey, I think your new beau has already figured out that you are anything but a typical woman.” She gave her a quick squeeze and said, “Go have fun. Stay all night if you want to.”

  As Shelley headed into the winery, Aiden said, “Let’s go, babe. Our sunset awaits.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked as they walked between the tall vines.

  “You’ll see.”

  “What will I see? You’re carrying a huge basket, and we’re walking through the vineyard without Archer or his parents, which everyone knows is not allowed. He’s more protective of these vines than you are of Remi.” Suddenly strings of lights strung from the tall posts of the vine fencing bloomed to life, illuminating their way. “Whoa. Aiden . . . ?”

  He motioned to the end of the row and said, “Left, babe.”

  Abby stepped past the last of the vines and turned left. Her thoughts fell away at the sight of shimmering lanterns hanging on the tall wooden posts at the end of each row of vines, leading up to the most romantic picnic she’d ever seen. A rustic wooden table sat low to the ground atop a gorgeous decorative rug with large colorful pillows along one side for them to sit on. A bouquet of red, white, and pink roses graced the center of the table, with two elegant place settings and fancy wineglasses side by side. More lanterns twinkled in the grass.

  “Aid . . . ?” she said, utterly awestruck. “I feel like I’m on an episode of The Bachelor. Where are the cameras?”

  “No cameras. You’re stuck with a regular guy chillin’ on Silver Island with his beautiful girl.” He put the basket and his sweater down, thrilled that the Steeles had made their picnic as special as he’d requested.

  “I can’t get over this. When did you have time to meet with Shelley and set this up?”

  “When we were cleaning yesterday and I went on that coffee run.”

  She gasped. “You sneaky little fibber! You said the line was out the door.”

  “I didn’t fib. The line was out the door. But since I supply my own coffee beans, all I had to do was call Keira and pick it up at the side counter, so I came here to meet with Shelley before picking it up. I just used my time creatively.”

  “Like your creative repayment options? Well, I hope you know that you didn’t have to do this. I’d have been happy with grilled cheese on my front porch.”

  He took her hand, tugging her into his arms, and said, “Your easy nature is just one of the reasons you’re becoming so special to me. I would have been happy with grilled cheese on your porch, too. But if the way you work on the restaurant is any indication of how you live your life—and I fully believe it is—then you’re as much of a workaholic as I have always been. That’s a great thing, Abs, and it’s appealing to a guy like me, who enjoys putting my nose to the grindstone and rarely coming up for air. But you’re helping me discover that perfect days like today are even better than burying myself in work. I wanted to do something special for you, and selfishly, I wanted to see that look on your face.”

  “What look?”

  “The look of wonder, appreciation, curiosity. The look that asks why I did this, but at the same time, shows me how much you love it.”

  “Oh. That look,” she said softly.

  “Yeah, it’s a great look, babe. Grilled cheese is awesome, and we’ll have our grilled cheese dates, but this is what you deserve, Abigail de Messiéres, and I think it’s time you stop telling me what I don’t have to do and start enjoying what I want to do.”

  She looked at him for a long moment, as if she were mulling over his words, before saying, “You must have girls falling at your feet.”

  “Jesus,” he said, frustrated. “I must really suck at this wooing thing. After everything I said to you, you still think I do this type of thing willy-nilly? For just any woman?”

  “Well, no, but . . .”

  “But?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, her cheeks blushing. “I guess I’m not used to being wooed.”

  “Then get used to it. I might not be the best at chilling with my feet in the sand, but I was raised right. And at almost forty years old, I know the difference between spending time with a woman to scratch an itch and being with someone who makes me feel and think and want things I have never wanted before.” He tossed his hat on the blanket, realizing he’d said more than he’d intended, and by the intense look on Abby’s face, she’d heard every word. Well, hell. He didn’t know how he felt about that.

  That was a lie.

  He knew exactly how he felt. He’d wanted her to hear it. But that was a slippery slope, and though he wasn’t sure he wanted to plant his feet on stable ground, he wasn’t looking for a landslide that could bury them both.

  Forcing those unfamiliar and overpowering emotions down deep, he tried to play it off in a lighter way. “What do you say, Runner Girl? Think two workaholics can enjoy tonight without picking it apart, or are we going to stand here talking and miss our sunset?”

  “We are not missing our sunset after how hard you’ve worked at my restaurant,” she said emphatically.

  “Attagirl. Now, get your sexy ass over here, and let’s see what Shelley put together for us.”

  They sat on the pillows, and Abby peered into the basket. “Why do I have a feeling you told her exactly what to put in this?”

  “I can’t imagine why you’d think that.” He took out a charcuterie tray with four types of cheese, prosciutto and four other types of meat, dried apricots, assorted berries, cherry tomatoes, baguette slices, artisan crackers, nuts, black olives, pickles, and three differen
t dips.

  “This visual feast is gorgeous enough to grace the cover of a magazine,” Abby said as Aiden poured them each a glass of wine.

  Loving her excitement, he handed her a wineglass and said, “So are you, Abby DM.”

  “You make me sound like a social media message. Hey, did you get that Abby DM spam that’s going around?” They laughed and she said, “Oh my gosh, Aiden. If I’m Abby DM, you’re AA.”

  “If Remi’s comments about me hold any weight, you might need a support group after hanging out with me for a few weeks.”

  She popped a raspberry into her mouth and said, “I’m pretty sure I need a support group anyway. What harm can it do to add a little more crazy to an already wacky woman?”

  “We’ll soon find out.” He lifted his glass and said, “Here’s to you, Abs. You can spam my in-box anytime.”

  “Why, thank you, AA. I plan on doing just that, so maybe we should add find a support group to our list.”

  “I like that.”

  “What?”

  “Our list instead of my list.” He leaned in for a kiss.

  They drank their wine and made tiny sandwiches, feeding each other tastes of their creations as they watched the sun setting in the distance. Everything they did together made him realize how much he’d been missing out on. He couldn’t remember ever watching a sunset, much less enjoying a picnic.

  After they ate, Aiden put his arm around Abby, and she settled in against him. He kissed her head, realizing how often he’d done it and how natural it felt.

  “It’s been so long since I’ve watched the sunset, I’d forgotten how beautiful they are,” she said with a sigh.

  “I know after your father died you were too focused on keeping a roof over your heads and worried about your mom to take time to watch a sunset. But did you watch many before your life was turned upside down?”

  “Not as many as you’d think. Sometimes we’d watch them as a family if my parents could get off work. And after my dad died, I managed to sneak time in with friends, but I was too anxious and guilt ridden to enjoy it.”

  He kissed the side of her head, holding her tighter. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s different being back on the island without my mom to worry about. I loved her. I truly did, despite her alcoholism, and I don’t mean this as harsh as it’s going to sound, but the truth is, without the stress of worrying if she’ll drink herself to death or everything else that goes hand in hand with alcoholism, I feel like I can finally breathe. I can finally see the island and all its beauty as I remembered it. Maybe I should feel guilty for admitting that, but I did my best to help my mom, and I believe she knew I loved her.”

  “Of course she did. You put your life on hold to care for her.”

  “She left us each a letter,” she said softly, tracing his fingers with hers. “I haven’t read mine yet.”

  “Why not?”

  She sat up, and before she even said a word, he saw so many questions swimming in her eyes, he wished he had the answers.

  “Because that letter is the end of everything,” she said passionately. “Do I want her to apologize? To acknowledge the hurt she caused? Or am I past that? I think I am. I don’t feel angry toward her, just hurt that she didn’t tell us she was sick. But Shelley already explained that my mom didn’t feel strong enough to face doing that, and I can understand that because I can’t imagine knowing you’re going to die and having to tell your children. But what if I’m wrong? What if she doesn’t apologize and I’m not past it? What if the letter makes me mad? It’s not like I can look her in the eyes and tell her what I’m feeling or what I need to hear. And what if she says something I don’t want to know? Not that I think there are more family secrets, but who knows?”

  He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “What if you read it and it’s everything you never knew you needed to hear?”

  “What if . . . ?” Her smile snuck out.

  “I would give anything to have known my parents’ final thoughts. But I understand your hesitation. I’m here for you either way, whether you decide to read it or not. And if you need to cry, yell, or stare out at the ocean and just be held, I’ve got a great set of ears and strong arms.”

  “You forgot a comforting heart.” She held his gaze and said, “Thank you. I appreciate that. I don’t know when I’ll feel up to reading it, but I know I don’t want to read it around Deirdra. She has too many bad feelings toward my mom.”

  He took her hand in his and said, “That’s probably wise. When I met Jock today, I asked him how he felt about moving back to the island, and he said he believed the island has a bit of healing magic if you’re open to it. Now, if you ask me, as a man who believes in hard-core facts and statistics, I think it was that little lady in his arms and his beautiful wife who had worked their magic. But if he’s right and if that letter holds words that hurt, then maybe being back on the island will help you heal.”

  “That’s an old wives’ tale,” she said. “My mom used to say if you wish upon the right star, the island can help you heal and make your dreams come true.”

  “There’s no harm in believing it, and wishing on a star is on my list.” Aiden didn’t believe in magic or wishes, but the hope brimming in Abby’s beautiful eyes had him hoping he was wrong. “What do you say, Abs? Want to give it a shot?”

  “Only if you’ll wish with me. You can make your own wish, of course.”

  He took her hand and said, “On the count of three?”

  “We have to close our eyes,” she said excitedly.

  She was so cute. She closed her eyes, her long lashes sweeping her cheeks. They counted to three, and he tossed his wish up to what he hoped were the most powerful stars that existed—I hope all of Abby’s dreams come true and her mother’s letter leaves more love than loss behind.

  Aiden’s phone dinged with a text message. “Excuse me.” He pulled it from his pocket and saw Remi’s name on the screen. “My sister,” he said as he opened her message. Are you still alive? He shook his head and started to put his phone away.

  She touched his hand, stopping him. “Don’t you want to answer her?”

  “And interrupt our first real date?”

  “I don’t mind. It’s your sister.”

  “I mind—” Several more messages came in in rapid succession, and he quickly read them. You haven’t returned my texts since yesterday morning, and I realized that you didn’t tell me anything about this Abby chick. What if she’s psycho? He turned his phone so Abby could read the message.

  “Hey, I’m not psycho,” she said as more messages rolled in.

  Aiden, please answer me.

  If I didn’t answer you, you’d send an army after me.

  Abby looked amused. “An army?”

  “She exaggerates. Remi loves drama.”

  More messages came in rapid-fire. Can you just tell me if you’re still alive?

  OMG you’re not answering. I’m calling the police.

  Wait . . . is Abby even real? She added an angry emoji face. Or is she like the hairy feet in the sand?

  “Hairy feet in the sand? Do I even want to know?”

  “She wanted proof that I was relaxing, so I took a picture of some guy’s feet in the sand and sent it.”

  “That’s hilarious. Does she do this a lot?”

  “She gets anxious when I travel. She’s always been that way.”

  “You should answer her. She’s obviously worried about you.”

  Another message rolled in. Maybe you’re getting your groove on. I hope you are! She added a heart-eyed emoji. But what if you’re bleeding out in a ditch? What if she poisoned you?!

  I think I understand why you worry about me so much.

  I’m getting you a bodyguard.

  He chuckled at her persistence. “I could send her a message saying I’m alive and I’ll call her tomorrow, which I guarantee will be met with a dozen more questions.” He had never once introduced Remi to any o
f his lady friends, and he wasn’t going to dissect the urge to introduce her to Abby. He went for it. “There’s only one thing that will stop her, and that’s full disclosure.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Would you like to meet my sister over FaceTime?”

  Excitement sparked in Abby’s eyes. “Are you kidding? I would love to.”

  He navigated to his camera on his phone and pulled Abby closer for a selfie. “Babe,” he said to get her attention. When she looked over, he kissed her lips and took the picture. “Okay, brace yourself for the whirlwind that is Remington Aldridge, aka Remi Divine.”

  “I’m sorry, Aiden. I know she’s your sister and I shouldn’t be overly excited, but I am!”

  He kissed her smiling lips. “I love your enthusiasm. I watched Remi blossom from a broken twelve-year-old into one of the best actresses of her time. I’m proud of her. She deserves the fanfare.” He sent the picture and said, “Three. Two. One—” A FaceTime call rang through with Remi’s picture on the screen.

  Abby’s hand flew to her chest. “It’s her!”

  “Man, I’d give anything to get that response when I call you.”

  “Trust me, when your name pops up on my phone, you get a much better response. A full-body response.” She tapped his arm and said, “Answer it before she hangs up.”

  He answered the call, and Remi’s beautiful face appeared. People said she looked like Natalie Portman, but Aiden thought his sister was far more unique, with her slightly pointy chin, emotive eyes, and feisty personality. “Hey, Rem.”

  “Hi!” Remi’s eyes lit up. “Is that Abby? Are you Abby? Holy cow, you look just like the singer Lauren Daigle.” She hollered over her shoulder, “Mason! She’s real!”

  “Yes! I’m real. I mean, I’m Abby. It’s nice to meet you. I’m a huge fan, and I promise I’m not psycho.” Abby bounced beside him.

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Remi joked. “Wait, my brother’s not paying you to pretend to be his friend, is he? Because whatever he promised you, I’ll give you double to tell me the truth.”

  “Remi,” Aiden chided.