If Only Forever - Sophie Love

Finally it was time to put the angel on the top. Chantelle had spent a long time choosing which decoration would be given the prime position and had eventually chosen a fabric, hand-knitted angel over a robin, a star, and a fat, cuddly snowman.

“Are you ready?” Daniel asked Chantelle as he stood at the bottom of the stepladder. “I’m going to have to carry you up so you can reach the top.”

“I get to put the angel on the top?” Chantelle said, wide-eyed.

Emily laughed. “Of course! The youngest always gets to do it.”

She watched Chantelle clamber onto Daniel’s back, the angel clutched tightly in her hands so she wouldn’t drop it. Then slowly, one step at a time, Daniel carried her to the top. Together they stretched out and Chantelle popped the decoration onto the tall tip of the tree.

The second the angel sat atop the tree, Emily had a sudden flashback. It came on so quickly she began to breathe rapidly, panicked by the abrupt shift from her bright, warm inn to the colder, darker one of thirty years prior.

Emily was looking up at Charlotte as she placed the angel they’d spent all day making onto the tree. Her dad was holding Charlotte aloft, who at this point in time was a chubby toddler, and he wobbled slightly from the numerous sherries he’d drunk that day. Emily remembered a sudden, overwhelming emotion of fear. Fear that her tipsy father would drop Charlotte onto the hard hearth. Emily was five years old and it was the first time she’d really understood the concept of death.

Emily returned to the present day with a gasp to find her hand pressed against the wall as she steadied herself. She was hyperventilating and Daniel was there beside her, his hand on her back.

“Emily?” he asked with concern. “What happened? Another memory?”

She nodded, finding herself unable to speak. The memory had been so vivid and so terrifying, despite her knowledge that no harm had befallen Charlotte that winter evening. She cherished most of her recovered memories but that one had felt sinister, ominous, like a sign of the dark things to come.

Daniel continued rubbing Emily’s back as she made a concerted effort to slow her breathing back to normal. Chantelle looked up at her, worried, and it was the child’s face that finally brought Emily out of the grips of her memories.

“I’m sorry, it’s fine,” she said, feeling a little embarrassed to have worried everyone so much.

She looked up at the angel, at the sequined dress she wore. It had taken her and Charlotte hours to glue all those individual sequins onto the fabric. Now, with the ebbing firelight coming from the living room, they sparkled like rainbows. Emily thought it almost looked as though they were winking at her. Not for the first time, she felt Charlotte’s presence close by, communicating love, peace, and forgiveness. Emily tried to hold onto the feeling of her spirit, to take comfort from it.

“We should head off to the town square,” Emily said, finally. “We don’t want to miss the tree lighting.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Daniel asked, looking concerned.

Emily smiled. “I am. I promise.”

But her assertions didn’t seem to wash with Daniel. She could feel him watching her out of the corner of his eye the whole time they were wrapping up in their warm clothes. But he didn’t question or challenge her further, and so the family got into the pickup truck and headed into town.

CHAPTER FOUR

Despite the biting cold, the whole of Sunset Harbor had congregated in the town square to watch the tree lighting. Even Colin Magnum, the man who was renting the carriage house for the month, was there, enjoying the festivities. Karen from the convenience store handed out freshly baked cinnamon rolls, while Cynthia Jones walked around with flasks of hot chocolate. Emily took the drinks and food gratefully, feeling the warmth seep into her stomach as she consumed them, and watched Chantelle playing happily with her friends.

Amongst the crowds, Emily spotted Trevor Mann. Once, the sight of him would have filled her with dread; they had been enemies the moment Trevor had decided to make it his life’s mission to kick Emily out of the inn. But that had all changed over the last month when he’d discovered he had an inoperable brain tumor. Far from being Emily’s enemy, Trevor was now her closest ally. He’d paid all of her back taxes – hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth – and now welcomed her into his home on a regular basis for coffee and cake. It pained Emily to see him suffering. Every time she saw him he seemed more frail, more in the grips of illness.

Emily approached him now. When he saw her, his face lit up.

“How are you?” Emily asked, embracing him. He felt thinner, his bones protruding sharply into her as they hugged.

“As well as can be expected,” Trevor replied, lowering his gaze.

It shocked Emily to see him this way, to see him looking frail and defeated.

“Is there anything you need help with?” she asked, softly, keeping her voice hushed so as not to embarrass the man’s pride.

Trevor shook his head, just as Emily expected him to. It wasn’t in his nature to accept help. But it wasn’t in her nature to accept no for an answer.

“Chantelle’s been making snowflake chain decorations,” she said. “They’re just bits of glitter paper really but she’s really proud and wants all the neighbors to have one. Okay if we come by and drop one off tomorrow?”

It was a sly trick, but Trevor fell for it.

“Well, I suppose we may as well have some tea and cake,” he said. “If you’re already coming around, that is.”

Emily smiled to herself. There were ways through Trevor’s armor, and she resolved then to visit her neighbor at the next available opportunity.

“Anyway, I was hoping to see you here,” Trevor said, taking her hand in his. He was so cold, Emily noted, and his skin had a clammy feel. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow. “I have something for you,” he continued.

“What’s that?” Emily asked as he produced a piece of paper from his pocket.

“Blueprints,” Trevor said. “Of your house. I was going through my attic, trying to get everything sorted for… well, you know what for.” His voice grew quiet. “I’m not sure how they got mixed up in my things but I thought you might want them. They were drawn up by your father and his attorney, you see, and I know how much you want things regarding your father.”

“I do,” Emily stammered, taking the paper from his hands.

She gazed down at the faded pencil drawing. They were architect’s plans. She gasped as she realized that the plans were for entire property, including the swimming pool in the outhouse, the one that Charlotte had drowned in. A lump formed in Emily’s throat. She folded the paper quickly and shoved it into her bag.

“Thank you, Trevor,” she said. “I’ll look at that later.”

They parted ways and Emily rejoined Daniel and Chantelle.

“What did Trevor want?” Daniel asked.

“Nothing,” Emily said, shaking her head. She wasn’t ready to talk about it yet; she was still reeling from the experience. The paper seemed to beckon to her in her bag. Could it be another piece of the puzzle that explained her father’s disappearance?

Just then, the countdown for the lights began. Emily’s mind swirled with memories of being here as a child, a preteen, a teenager. She seemed to pass through all those forgotten moments, year on year. Some contained Charlotte, alive and smiling, but many more did not; many were just her and her father, sinking more deeply into depression and distraction.

Then white lights burst from the tree and everyone began to whoop and cheer. Emily was pulled back into the present day, her heart racing.

“Are you okay?” Daniel asked, concerned. “You keep blacking out.”

Emily nodded to reassure him, but she was trembling. Her mind seemed frantic. All these memories were suddenly resurfacing and she wondered if they’d been triggered by the discovery that her father was indeed alive. It was as if her mind had decided that she could now reach back into the past and remember her father because she wouldn’t be consumed with grief in doing so. Perhaps, if Emily were patient enough, she’d recover a memory that would help her in her quest to find him, something that would tell her exactly where he was hiding.

Exhausted from their evening of fun, Emily and Daniel tucked Chantelle into bed as soon as they arrived home. Chantelle asked for a story to be read to her and Emily obliged. But once the story was over, Chantelle seemed pensive.

“What’s wrong?” Emily asked.

“I was thinking about my mom,” Chantelle said.

“Oh.” Emily felt her stomach tighten at the thought of Sheila, back in Tennessee. “What about her, sweetie?”

Chantelle looked at Emily with her wide, blue eyes. “Will you protect me from her?”

Emily’s heart clenched. “Of course.”

“Promise,” Chantelle said in a desperate, pleading voice. “Promise me she won’t come back.”

Emily held her tight. She couldn’t promise because she didn’t know how the legal challenge to Sheila’s guardianship would go.

“I will do everything I possibly can,” Emily said, hoping her words would be enough to soothe the terrified child.

Chantelle lay back, her head on the pillow, blond hair splayed, and seemed to relax. A few moments later, she fell asleep.

Chantelle asking about her mom had awoken something in Emily. She and Patricia had spoken not that long ago when Emily had tried, and failed, to get her mother to join her in their Thanksgiving celebrations at the inn. Her mom refused to come and visit the house in Sunset Harbor; she viewed it as belonging to Roy, as a place she had been banished from. Even so, Emily thought, Patricia was still a part of her life. It was time to bite the bullet and tell her about the upcoming wedding.

Emily stood from Chantelle’s bed, wrapped herself in a shawl, and went out onto the porch. She sat on the swinging seat, tucked her legs beneath her, and took one look up at the shining moon and stars. Something in their twinkling light gave her courage. She scrolled through the contacts in her cell and dialed her mom’s number.

As always, Patricia answered the phone with a brusque, “Yes?”

“Mom,” Emily said, inhaling, trying to hold onto her courage. “I have something to tell you.”

There was little point in pretending to make polite conversation. Neither of them wanted that. May as well cut to the chase.

“Oh?” Patricia said flatly.

Emily had thrown a few curveballs her mom’s way over the last year, from upping and leaving her home in New York, breaking up with Ben after seven years together, running off to Sunset Harbor, opening a B&B, and falling so madly in love with Daniel that she’d agreed to help raise his child. Her mom had, unsurprisingly, disapproved of every single one of Emily’s choices. The chances of her accepting the engagement were slim to none.

“Daniel asked me to marry him,” Emily finally managed to say. “And I agreed.”

There was a pause, one that Emily had predicted. Her mom used silence like a weapon, always providing Emily with enough time to worry about the thoughts that were crossing her mind.

“And you’ve been dating this man for how long?” Patricia finally said.

“Coming up to a year now,” Emily replied.

“One year. When you have fifty or so to spend together.”

Emily let out a huge sigh. “I thought you’d be happy I was finally settling down. You always loved rubbing it in my face how long you’d been married by my age.” Emily could hear the tone of her voice and cringed. Why did her mom always bring out the belligerent child in her? Why did she care so much about getting her approval when Patricia herself seemed to care so little about her daughter?

“I suppose he needs a mother for that child of his,” Patricia said.

Emily spoke between her teeth. “Her name is Chantelle. And that’s not why he asked. He asked because he loves me. And I said yes because I love him. We want to spend forever together so you should just get used to it.”

“We’ll see,” Patricia replied in a monotone way.

“I wish you could just be happy for me,” Emily said, her voice beginning to waver. “You’re going to be the mother of the bride, after all. People will expect to see you proud and cordial.”

“Who says I’m coming?” Patricia snapped back.

The words stung Emily like a slap. “What do you mean? Of course you’re coming, Mom, it’s my wedding!”

“There’s no of course about it,” Patricia replied. “I’ll RSVP to my wedding invitation when I receive it.”

“Mom…” Emily stammered.

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Would her mom really not come just to spite her? What would people think? Probably that Emily was an orphan, without her dad there, without her mom. And no sister. In many ways, she was an orphan. It was just her against the world.

“Fine,” Emily said, suddenly hot-cheeked. “Do what you want. You always have.” Then she ended the call without saying goodbye.

Emily didn’t want to cry. In fact, she refused to. Not for her mom, it wasn’t worth it. But for her dad, that was another matter altogether. She missed him desperately, and now that she was convinced he was still alive, she wanted to see him badly. But there was no way of reaching him. The woman he’d been cheating on her mom with had passed away several years ago, and anyway, she’d been as stumped as the rest of them about Roy’s disappearance. All Emily knew was that while not having her mom at the wedding would be painful, not having her dad there would be devastating. In that moment, Emily doubled her resolve to track him down. Someone somewhere must know something.

Emily went back inside the inn. She was tired from the long day and climbed the stairs to bed. But when she reached her bedroom she saw that Daniel wasn’t there. Her momentary panic was quelled when Daniel entered the room, cell phone in hand.

“Where have you been?” Emily asked.

“I just called my mom,” Daniel replied. “To tell her about the wedding.”

Emily almost laughed with surprise. That they’d both call their moms simultaneously like that was more than a coincidence; it was clearly a sign of their connection to one another.

“How did it go?” Emily asked, though she could tell by Daniel’s expression that the answer wasn’t going to be good.

“How do you think?” Daniel said, raising an eyebrow. “She played the Chantelle card again, saying she’ll only come to the wedding if we promise to let her spend regular time with Chantelle. I wish she could see what a destructive force she can be and understand why I don’t want her meddling with my kid. Not while she’s still drinking too much. Chantelle needs to be around sober adults after what she went through with her own mom.” He slumped onto the edge of the bed. “She just can’t see my point. She doesn’t get it. ‘Everyone drinks,’ that’s what she always says. ‘I’m no worse than anyone else.’ Maybe she isn’t, but it’s not what Chantelle needs. If she cared about her granddaughter as much as she claims she does, she’d kick the habit for her sake.”

Emily climbed onto the bed behind him and rubbed the tension from his shoulders. Daniel relaxed beneath her soft touch. She pressed a kiss onto his neck.