Chapter 28
Present day
It was bitterly cold.
Julia sat on the dock, staring out at the lake, a scarf wrapped twice around her face obstructing her nose and mouth from the wind.
There was a single Adirondack chair that had been left out from better days, and she had quickly occupied it, needing the comfort of the seat enveloping her as she tried to discern the horizon line from the differing grays of the sky and water.
She absently thought to herself that she would need to bring the chair back with her before the snow started.
But maybe not just yet.
She experimentally turned her ankle, moving her foot back and forth.
There was no longer any pain, though she did feel a mild twinge on one of the interior turns that reminded her she wasn’t one hundred percent better yet and perhaps never would be.
It had been three weeks since the incident, and she mentally bemoaned the idea that she had caused permanent damage to herself.
A laugh interrupted her morose reverie, and she looked behind her to see Katy and Maggie ambling toward the dock, hand in hand. She couldn’t help the smile that formed under her scarf.
“Don’t you two look like you can’t feel this horrendous cold!” she called, causing both women to look up at her in surprise and then giggle at seemingly being caught.
“I didn’t know you were out here, Julia,” Maggie said, her face practically luminescent with her joy.
It had been like this for almost a week now, since Katy had returned to the area for an extended visit.
It was an interesting endeavor, keeping her away from the influx of guests who had arrived at the B and B over the last few weeks, but staying at Maggie’s parents’ place certainly helped, as well as infrequent visits to the house proper and trips to the less popular spots, particularly for this time of year, like their precipitous arrival at the lake.
At least some privacy and crowd avoidance had likely been the idea, without the expectation of having their day date ruined by Julia’s presence.
Still, if Julia was unwelcome, she didn’t feel it. Both women beamed at her, appearing happy to see her there.
“Bit cold for a swim, no?” Katy asked, sidling up beside Julia, who still sat all bundled up in her spot.
“Bit cold for anything,” Julia responded, wrapping her arms tighter around herself.
“I can’t believe this is supposed to be mid-October weather and not…
Well,” she conceded, “I guess this is actually on track for early mid-October. It just always feels like it happens earlier and earlier each year. Soon I’ll have to start planning for Christmas. ”
“It’s not even Halloween,” Katy said incredulously.
“I know,” Julia groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’m already behind.”
“Wild,” Maggie mused. “What happened to waiting for Thanksgiving?”
“Dollar Tree, radio stations, and the Hallmark Channel all defy your logic,” Julia said. Then, with another groan, she stood up, adjusting the scarf around her neck and giving the chair another long, contemplative look before deciding it could probably withstand a little snow.
“How are things back at the house?” she asked, gingerly stretching out her ankle.
“Fine,” Maggie replied, shrugging. “I have dinner all prepped and ready. No paps to speak of, but lots of questions about the ‘Katy and Noah Tour.’ ”
“The— What?” Julia said incredulously. “What’s this now?”
The two women giggled. “Oh, you haven’t heard? All our new guests this week are part of the same fan club—people who think Katy and Noah are soulmates and meant to be together forever.”
Julia just shook her head, thoughts drifting to her previous worry that the bed-and-breakfast would become a tourist pit or a joke. But it didn’t feel that way anymore; she had a softness in her heart for anyone who wanted to come, for any reason.
Let them, she thought, marveling at this newfound warmth.
Maggie turned to look at Katy. “Where is Noah this week?”
Katy shrugged affably. “Iceland, maybe?”
“Are you upset with the way things played out?” Julia asked, trying to be mindful of any sensitive subjects.
Katy snorted. “No. Not at all.” She leaned in conspiratorially.
“I always knew Noah wasn’t one to settle down and loved him anyway.
As a friend!” she clarified quickly, perhaps at Julia’s surprised double blink.
“We’ve always been really close, ever since the first film, and he’s like a brother to me.
No romantic feelings whatsoever.” Waving her hands as if to banish the thought.
“Ever! Just a very, very good friend. So when Ethan suggested we do this thing to help us all out, we were completely on board.
“It was actually perfect,” she mused. “Because there was no risk of us falling in love or things becoming complicated, and it was really just win-win-win.” She shrugged.
“At least I hope Ethan won in the end. I haven’t really spoken to him, to be honest. It just seems like things went well, based on the positive press and all that. ”
Maggie turned to Julia. “Do you know anything about how things went for Ethan, Julia?”
No. Of course she didn’t. She hadn’t spoken to Ethan in weeks, not since he’d left that day—the day they had all left, the day Hank had arrived. Not that she had expected to hear from him. His departure had been final, his goodbye clear. They had both decided, in a way, that it wouldn’t work out.
And that was fine. Everything was fine.
She shook her head. “No, actually, I don’t.”
Katy nodded thoughtfully, but Maggie’s look was a bit more abstract.
She had never asked Julia what had happened that day in the shed, never pried.
Just said she’d be open to talk if Julia ever needed to, which Julia expressed appreciation for but never took her up on.
It was too…much. Too painful, too raw. Too personal.
She felt like she had spent more than thirty years thinking about Ethan.
She was done for now. Maybe one day she could talk about it more, when it hurt less.
But for now, dwelling on it was the last thing she needed.
Luckily, Maggie understood. And as luck and life would have it, she was wrapped up in her own happiness and didn’t need Julia bringing her down, at least in Julia’s mind.
“Anyway, I’m going to head back,” she told the other two women, who had moved closer together. “Enjoy the refreshing breeze.”
“We will.” Maggie giggled, and Katy wove her arm through hers, resting her head on her shoulder.
Julia felt warmth bloom inside her at their obvious adoration and joy, and she smiled in a way that she hoped reflected that rather than the sadness that creeped in now and then. Everything felt especially close to the surface.
She hadn’t come to the dock to escape. Or to freeze. She had wanted to reflect, which was something she’d always done best near the water. There was something about a lake, a body of water, that grounded her. Made her feel like she was home—the only home where she’d truly felt she belonged.
Her own father had come up to see Donwell only sporadically over the course of its existence.
He had also, in fairness, come up for the first two Christmases so that she wouldn’t have to leave during a busier time of year for the business and they could still enjoy the holidays together.
After those first two visits, though, which had been awkward and stilted, her dad hadn’t come up again, citing bad weather or the potential contagiousness of a persistent cold.
Ethan’s parents had also made the journey a few times, staying more frequently and admiring all she had done to fix the place up and turn it into what it had become.
Even if there was a bit of unspoken melancholia around the absence of their son.
It had always felt a bit awkward to Julia—she wondered if they regretted their decision to sell it to her rather than having it stay in their family since things hadn’t worked out the way they had thought they would.
It made her think about her family’s cottage, the way it existed now, full of warmth and love again, so close but not.
She was happy its walls could shine with the warmth of family and affection, of Maggie’s mom’s cooking and her dad’s hearty laughter.
It made her sad that it was no longer her family filling the rooms with life—had they ever really?
—but at least it hadn’t just been left there to rot.
She did wonder about whether it contributed to her father’s absence, though.
Or the fact that it was the other cottage that had become Donwell, and it wasn’t hers or theirs in the same way.
She suspected that the reason he hadn’t come was more likely because he wasn’t interested in another stilted holiday with the daughter he barely spoke to and the people she employed, but perhaps that wasn’t being fair to him, either.
She would never really know. She understood it was a bit far for him to drive these days, now that he was no longer in the prime of his life with 20/20 vision, but it still stung a bit in a way that no weekly phone calls could really, truly replace.
Those ruminations and regrets were why, after Hank had gone back to New York following his brief stay—barely even twenty-four hours—she had called her dad. And she had told him everything.
He had already known, of course, about the presence of Hank in her life.
Had known when he’d had plans to reveal himself to her, had had to give him his blessing, in fact, as Hank hadn’t wanted to overstep.
But with the support Hank had offered her, Dad had likely felt hard pressed to say no.
Whatever his true feelings were, Julia couldn’t know.
So when she had called him and told him—not just about Hank but about Donwell suffering financially, about her falling-out with Ethan, about the whole Katy-and-Noah situation—her dad had been stunned into silence.
“I had no idea, Julia,” he’d said quietly after a few moments to collect himself.
“About the financial troubles, about Ethan…I figured you guys had just drifted apart after all those years, like how these things happen sometimes.” He’d sighed heavily.
“You should have told me. I could have helped. Even Hank would have—”
“Come on, Dad,” Julia had scoffed. “You know me better than that.”
“Yeah.” Her father had sighed again. “You were certainly never one for handouts. I just wish I had known. Maybe I could have helped somehow.”
“You haven’t even been up here in ages.” The words had come out unintentionally accusatory. Though she’d felt the abandonment of it, she hadn’t planned on making it known.
There’d been silence for a long moment. And then: “I know. I shouldn’t let my own fears prevent me from being a good father. From doing what’s right.” His voice had got deeper, cracked. “I’m a coward.”
“No, Dad!” That hadn’t been what she’d wanted at all. “That’s not what I meant. I just—I miss you.”
“I miss you, too, believe me.” He’d sighed.
“I was planning on coming this year for Christmas. Last year was…a lot. The anniversary of your mother’s passing, over twenty years since she left us.
It all just came to a head. But this year, Julia, I promise I’ll be there this Christmas. If you’ll have me?”
Julia hadn’t replied right away, the pain of his reminder still prominent despite the time that had passed. There was so much sorrow in her family history. So much hidden for the sake of protecting her, when really it was the truth that would have helped the most.
But she had a choice now. She could simmer in the bitterness of it, could think about how different life might have been if things had happened differently.
Or she could simply live. She could revel in the burst of the new business she was experiencing, in the possibility that things might actually be okay financially.
She could look forward to her dad’s supposed Christmas arrival.
She could celebrate Maggie’s new love and admire Norman’s hostas and be grateful for the people she had in her life who loved her and wanted what was best for her.
And she could keep Ethan in her heart, a memory forever, to pull out in the times when she needed a reminder of how good things had once been.
That was the type of life she wanted to lead. No more living in the past, instead only looking ahead to the future.
“Yeah, Dad,” she’d said finally, hoping he could hear only the smile in her voice and not the tears, “Christmas would be great.”