Chapter 23
Jason
She seems nervous. A little uncertain as she leads me back to our bedroom. I stop at the doorway, confused, as she kneels in front of the stacked bags and boxes she brought with her.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this. And I mean, I think it’s okay, but it feels a little strange.”
She looks over her shoulder in my direction without actually making eye contact.
“You asked me what I was doing here, why I came. And making sure that your family’s things were cared for was the truth… but I also came for this.”
I step closer as she unzips the large duffel and removes a bubble-wrapped bundle about the size of her thigh. From the way she’s handling it, it’s got some weight to it and is a little cumbersome as she pulls it into her lap to unwrap it.
I drop down beside her and watch as she removes the outer wrap to expose a shiny metal cylinder within. It’s topped with a solid cap and there’s a plaque with an inscription on the side that reads:
In loving memory of Ed Stanvic and the time he and the generations of Stanvics before him spent on this island. May their love and memories always be a part of this place.
My emotion grips my throat, and I turn to where Rowan is watching me.
“It’s a time capsule.” She opens the lid and sets it aside.
“It was the only thing I could think of to do for Ed. I knew what this place meant to him. To your family. And I thought, if I could leave something behind, even if my mother sold it, he’d—” She breaks off, blinking back the tears welling at her lids.
I somehow rough out the words to finish for her. “Always be a part of this place.”
She nods, running her fingers over the inscription. “I was going to bury it out by the thinking rock.”
“His favorite spot on the island.”
“Yeah. But when I actually saw what the ground was like… It’s so rocky.” She huffs a soft laugh. “There was no way I was going to be able to dig over there.”
And then it clicks. “Is that why you were crying?”
She glances around. “Maybe, a little. I just felt so stupid.”
“What? Why?” It’s the kindest, most loving gesture. Something my dad would have loved.
Her slim shoulder lifts into a shrug. “I had this idea in my head about how I was going to be able to do this one last thing for Ed. But I’d never even been here, and nothing was like I thought it would be.
I guess it just hit me again that I missed the chance to get to know this place with your dad being a part of it. ”
I take a slow, deep breath. Let it out. “Can I look through it?”
She reaches inside and carefully extracts a handful of photos.
I recognize the images. I’ve been seeing them my whole life.
Snapshots of my family, some dating from before I was born. Before my father was born. A collection of captured moments my dad held precious.
I turn over the first and read the neat script on the back:
Gram and Gramps Stanvic
Wedding day
He’d been asking her to marry him since they were five. After fifteen years, she figured he was probably serious and said yes.
“Rowan.” I can barely get her name past the emotions gripping my chest as I turn the next photo over.
Little Ed (age five, maybe?) with Mom after bringing home a skunk and promptly getting sprayed. Home remedy of tomato soup bath in baby pool, delivered by Dad.
And the next…
Gail Stanvic welcomed to the island for the first time (seven months pregnant with Jason) by husband Ed, Gramps, Gram, Bruce, and Sally
My dad loved that picture. It was my mother’s only visit. They’d met and been married within a month. Been expecting me the month after that. And then within two weeks of having me, she was gone. Complications.
Then more…
Gramps, Big Ed, and Jason (age eight— still waiting on first tooth lost to a puck to grow back in).
“Fish dinner tonight”
I laugh at the image of me, victoriously holding my three-inch catch up for the camera. My dad beaming down at me, his dad smiling at him.
Rubbing a hand over my chest, I hear his booming, joyful voice recounting each story to anyone he deemed worthy of hearing it.
I recognize every image. Know every tale. Except for one. A photo of my dad grinning down at Rowan, who was dressed in cap and gown.
“College grad now!”
I can hear my dad saying those words when he called to tell me she’d finished school. He was so proud. And the way she’s beaming up at him… I can see the love.
What I don’t see is a single picture of Marsha.
But these photos, with their clean matte finish, creamy cardstock mounting, and careful inscriptions capturing the heart of the moment on the backs…
Inscriptions I’ve never seen before that carry the echo of my father’s voice…
are copies of the worn snapshots that filled the heavily carved, ornate box he’d kept on his desk at home.
The keepsake box with his most precious, beloved memories inside.
The box that was delivered to me after he died. And held the keys to this cabin within it.
Swallowing hard, I turn to Rowan.
“The box didn’t come from the estate. It came from you.”
She nods, the subtle motion enough to send a single tear down her cheek. “It was yours. He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.”
I brush the tear away with my thumb, cupping her face in my palm as my fingers sift into the loose waves of her hair.
She lets me search her eyes… for the girl who turned my world upside down and changed the course of my life with her smile, for the woman I shut out for nearly a decade but who tried to help me anyway.
For the one person who might have loved my dad as much as I did.
I can see them all looking back at me.
I can feel the connection between us, this pull that feels deeper than the limit of her escape. A limit I told myself I could respect. But right now? I don’t know how to resist anymore…
And when her pale, pink lips part on a quiet breath carrying my name… I cover them with my mouth.
It’s a soft kiss. A press of my lips against hers. Tender and so emotional, it takes a minute before I can manage the words that have been running through my heart and head on an endless loop for the past two days. “Thank you.”
She swallows, and even without the eye contact I’ve been spoiled on these last days, I can see the emotions creeping in. Guilt. Regret. “Don’t thank me.”
I frown. “Rowan?”
“It’s the least I could do after what I did to your life. What I cost you.”
“No—” I start, but already she’s pulling away from me, her hand cutting through the air as she goes to her feet.
“Don’t say no. Don’t pretend it doesn’t matter. I ruined your life, Jason.”
I’m up too, shaking my head as I reach for her, then let my hand drop as she waves me off with an agonized plea.
“Please, just let me say this. I’ve regretted it for years. I never got the chance to say it to Ed, but I need you to know.”
It physically hurts to step back, but I do it anyway, stopping in front of the window to watch her pace. “Okay. I’m listening.”
“I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. My mom, Ed.
That first day when we came to your house…
I never should have told her about you bringing me home after the game.
I should have known why she wanted to go over and thank you and your dad in person.
But all I could think was that she seemed grateful that I was safe.
So relieved that someone had been there to help me.
And it just felt so good, so normal that she actually cared.
I should have known better, but then I wanted to believe it. And… I wanted to see you again too.”
Her eyes meet mine with such apologetic regret it nearly knocks me back.
“And once I realized what I’d done, the door I’d opened for her, it was too late.
I should have said something to warn you then, before your dad fell for her.
But it would have been… bad… for me if I was part of the reason she didn’t get what she wanted.
It would have been bad no matter what. But if there was even the slightest possibility that she could find a way to lay the blame at my feet?
I know I should have done something, said something anyway.
I was too scared. Too selfish. So I kept telling myself it wasn’t going to last. It never did. Not with the others.”
Because of course, she’d seen this play out before. Watched her mother manipulate her way into others’ lives. And she blamed herself for not stopping it.
Christ.
“Rowan, what happened isn’t on you.” It’s the first time I’ve actually said the words. And I mean them.
Her lips pinch between her teeth.
I take her shoulders. “I’m serious. My dad made his own decisions. And he was happy.” At least at the beginning. “He wasn’t a dumb guy. He wouldn’t have stayed with her if he hadn’t wanted to.”
“Your dad was an honorable man. I should have told him who she was before he married her. Who she wasn’t.
What she did to the people who trusted her.
But I didn’t. I just kept hoping he’d figure it out on his own.
And then they ran off and got married and then…
once she had everything she thought she wanted…
and so much to lose…” She looks at me, tears streaking her cheeks.
“I’m sorry. I’ve regretted my part in this from the minute I realized what she wanted.
And I’ll never forgive myself for what I cost you. ”
“What you cost me?” But I already know what she’s going to say.
“You lost your home because of us. The last years with your father.”
“That’s bullshit, Rowan. You aren’t the reason I left.”
“Can you really look me in the eyes,” she says, her voice level as she gives me back the words I threw at her the other morning, “and tell me that if I hadn’t come to you that night, you still would have moved out three days later?”