Chapter 21
Present Day
By the time Wren finished her heartbreaking story of loss, Celia, Juliet, and Ivy had their arms around her.
Wren was so exhausted by the telling that she couldn’t cry, but her three sisters wept openly and dotted their eyes with a tissue, which Ivy, of course, had in her purse.
Nobody could believe what Wren had gone through.
Nobody could believe that Wren’s life had flipped upside down so dramatically.
“Oh, Wren,” Ivy whispered, “why didn’t you tell us when you got here?”
Wren wasn’t sure about that. She remembered that first day in August, two months after she’d discovered Angelos’s death, when she was nearly three months pregnant.
She remembered not eating enough during her journey, feeling overheated and dehydrated.
She remembered collapsing in front of all of Bluebell Cove, only to be carried into her sister’s house and reprimanded for not taking care of herself. But she wasn’t angry, not anymore.
“It was too much to say aloud,” she said. “And I didn’t want to face it. I think a part of me hoped he would find a way back to me soon. That it was all a stupid story.”
Ivy pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead. “I feel so cruel,” she said.
Celia squeezed Ivy’s shoulder. “It’s in the past now. We’re here for Wren. We’re here for every step of the story now. Aren’t we?”
Ivy and Juliet nodded. Wren felt a warmth through her chest and stomach. She willed herself to accept their love, as it was all she could do, now that she’d lost so much.
“Mom kept so many secrets from everyone,” Wren breathed, looking down at the letter their mother had written to Nelly Winston so many years ago. “I don’t want to be like that. I think it made her miserable, the fact that she couldn’t be herself around anyone.”
Juliet nodded. “I want you to know you can tell us anything, Wrennie. Really.”
“You can tell me anything, too,” Wren said, although she knew it would be hard for all of them.
“Let’s make a pact to do that,” Ivy said.
The four Harper sisters put their hands in the center of their circle and made a promise. It looked childish but felt holy. Wren blinked away tears.
“You know,” Wren said a few minutes later, “I keep thinking about Angelos’s parents. I don’t know where they ended up.”
“Are you angry with them?” Juliet asked.
Wren shook her head. “I can’t be. They lost their son. It’s hard to fathom what that must feel like.”
“But they blame you,” Ivy said darkly.
Wren raised her shoulders. “I can’t help but think they deserve to know about their grandchild. Maybe it would offer them a little bit of hope.”
Her sisters considered this.
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Celia said softly.
“I don’t think this is really about me,” Wren said, her hand stretched across her pregnant stomach. “Or it’s bigger than me, now.”
Celia closed her eyes for a long time. Headlights from out on the street swept across their faces before the car passed them by. Wren wasn’t sure how she would allow any of them to go home and leave her here in this house by herself tonight, but she knew she had to let it go.
“I think I could track them down,” Celia said finally. Wren knew that Celia was a brilliant journalist, that there was nothing she couldn’t research, nothing she couldn’t get to the bottom of. “If you tell me to look for them, I can find them.”
Wren’s throat tightened. She stroked the top of Pierre’s head and told herself not to panic. “I think it has to be done,” she said.
Before they left, all three of her sisters hugged Wren tightly and made her promise to call if she needed anything “tonight or any other night.” Wren felt the warmth and the tenderness of their embraces.
But later, when she lay in bed, listening to the rain outside the window as Pierre slept on the pillow beside her, her chest felt heavy with an ache she couldn’t name.
She was alone in a house for the first time in ages.
She supposed she would be alone forever.
Several days later, the rain cleared. Wren took Pierre for a walk through downtown, where they sat in the October sunshine with a coffee and a croissant that Wren shared too much of with Pierre.
As it turned out, Pierre was just as much of a sucker for pastry and butter as Wren was.
As they ate, Wren flicked through the new photographs of the Eco-Lodge, which Celia had posted online for marketing purposes just that morning.
Already, the likes were piling up, and prospective guests were writing in the comments, “I NEED to book a night here. I can’t wait. ”
It surprised Wren to admit how gorgeous it was to help her family out in this way.
Just then, something caught Wren’s attention out of the corner of her eye, and she turned and watched as Ben and Landon strode toward her.
They wore raincoats and hiking boots, as though they’d just spent a day in the forest or along the coast. Wren’s heart pumped harder.
She hadn’t seen Ben in a little more than two weeks, and that meeting had been awkward, heavy with memory of their conversation before that: the conversation during which Wren had asked if they could remain friends.
The truth was that since that day, thoughts of Ben had never been far from her mind.
She’d considered picking up the phone and asking him to go for a coffee or out to dinner numerous times.
But she suspected that Ben had true feelings for her, feelings that could grow to something more, and she didn’t want to tempt fate.
Certainly, she didn’t want to tempt his love when she was pregnant with another man’s baby, even if that other man was dead.
From half a block away, Ben spotted her and seemed taken aback. Pierre stood, seeming to smile at him, beckoning Ben with his dark, happy eyes. Landon waved and headed straight for her, as though he didn’t know anything of the awkwardness between them.
“Hey there,” Landon said, sitting at the little table next to Wren’s. “How’re you doing?”
“Great,” Wren said, her eyes flashing to Ben as he walked slowly toward Landon’s table and sat down. “Where are you guys coming from?”
They told her they’d been at the park, hiking and hunting for mushrooms. Ben showed her the bag in his backpack, which was filled with oyster mushrooms.
“Our mother taught us when we were young,” Landon explained. “Usually I go by myself, or with Celia, but Ben and I thought we’d go together this year. It was a blast.”
Ben nodded nervously. His cheeks were pale.
“We’re probably going to cook a big dinner with mushrooms and maybe chicken or steak,” Landon continued. “Should we get the whole gang together?”
“I would be down,” Wren said.
Ben’s eyes were illuminated. He bent to stroke Pierre’s head. Wren ached to ask Ben how he was doing and if he was angry with her. But she knew they couldn’t have an honest conversation, not with Landon here.
For the next half hour, they committed to small talk.
It felt cozy, if slightly empty, and Wren laughed many times.
Landon was in good spirits. When he stood, she assumed he was heading to the bathroom, that he’d be back later, but he announced that he had to meet his daughter somewhere.
“I’ll catch you guys later,” he said. “I’ll text about the mushroom dinner. ”
Wren’s stomach tightened with panic. Ben looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin. He was also sitting kitty-corner from her, at the table beside her, which made it awkward to talk.
“Do you want to sit here?” she asked, gesturing toward the chair across from her.
Ben moved over, his chair squeaking horribly as he pulled it out. His cheeks reddened. Wren began to think everyone in the coffee shop was looking at them, preparing to gossip later. Her tongue felt tied.
Ben said, “You know, I’m getting antsy.”
Wren knew he wanted to get out of there, to get away from her. “Of course. But it was good to see you.” Sorrow rippled through her.
“I thought we could go for a walk.” Ben shrugged. “If you want.”
Minutes later, Wren, Pierre, and Ben wandered through downtown quietly. Red and yellow leaves twitched on the branches overhead and turned to mush under their feet. Pierre looked happy as ever, panting and smiling. Wren yearned to know what it would feel like to hold Ben’s hand.
They talked about simple things at first. Wren asked him about work, and Ben asked her about photography.
“It’s been much more lucrative to stay in Bluebell and take pictures here,” she admitted. “I even got my own place. It’s month to month, but it’s mine.”
Ben gave her a curious smile. “You’re sticking around?”
Wren laughed. “I can’t believe it, either.”
“How does the feeling to leave usually strike you?” Ben asked. “Does it happen all at once, or is it like an itch that bothers you for months before you tend to it and get out?”
Wren considered this. “Because I was always leaving and leaving and leaving, my life felt more like a river that was always flowing forward.”
Now that she was pregnant, she felt more like a tree, rooted into place. Could she tell Ben that? Was it too loaded? Did he deserve her truth?
“What happens if a river gets stopped up?” Ben asked. They’d reached the trail that led down to the cove, which they took, stepping delicately over tree branches and making sure not to slip on the mud and sand. Twice, Ben turned to take Wren’s hand to make sure she didn’t fall.
Wren couldn’t answer this, not till they were on the beach, watching Pierre bolt across the sand and drop his nose into the edge of the water. It was maybe fifty degrees, and fog rolled out from the waves and filled the beach.
The rest of her future felt just as opaque as this fog.
“Ben,” she whispered, unable to keep it in a moment longer.
Ben turned to look at her. There was true feeling in his eyes, a feeling that reminded her of those brief times with Angelos, when she’d been so sure they were falling in love.
“Ben, you should know something,” she offered. “I imagine most people will know soon, no matter how well I try to hide it. But I’m pregnant.”
Ben’s eyes widened just the slightest bit. But he didn’t look frightened or shocked. After all, he was a veterinarian. Life cycles were part of his trade.
“Wow,” he said.
Wren blinked away tears and continued. “I met someone in Greece. It was all very spontaneous. But right before I found out about the baby, he died in a sailing accident.”
Ben’s mouth hung crookedly. A gust of wind swept between them, but Ben remained solid before her. “Wren, I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe that happened to you.”
Wren bowed her head. There was nothing left to say, really. Except for this.
“The thing is,” Wren continued, “that you’ve been on my mind a lot recently.
I know I asked if we could be friends. But I also know that, at the time, I didn’t want to complicate your life with someone else’s baby.
I didn’t want to ask you to take all that on, especially when we didn’t know each other very well.
” She smiled. “We still don’t know each other very well. I know that.”
Ben was quiet for a moment, thoughtful, as though he didn’t want to say the wrong thing.
“You don’t have to say yes,” Wren continued. “But I’d love to go on that date, sometime. It can be now, or six months from now, or a year from now. It’s up to you. But know it isn’t just me anymore. It’s a baby and me.”
Wren knew that most men would not go for that, that it was a heaviness most couldn’t carry.
At this, Ben reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. A shiver went down Wren’s spine. Was he going to let her down easily? Or—more complicatedly—was he going to say yes?
Instead, what he told her surprised her most of all. “I need to be honest about something, too,” he said.