Caitlin’s head throbbed when she shook it. “No, thanks. I think I need time to process all the things you just told me.”
“Makes sense, but if you change your mind, I’m a good listener and my gut tells me I’d probably understand how you feel better than a lot of people would,” he suggested, and judging from what he’d shared about himself, Caitlin figured he was right. “You’ve got my number, so you can call any time.”
“I appreciate it. And thank you for being so honest with me.”
“Like I said, I wanted to spare you more grief if I could. But it was also a matter of self-preservation,” he admitted. “My sponsor helped me see that unless I made amends for lying to you, and unless I acknowledged how broken up I was when I realized Nicole was trying to track me down and dealt with those feelings, I’d be on the path to self-destruction again.”
“Well, it was still very brave. And rest assured our discussion will stay between the two of us. I won’t tell a soul.”
“That’s too bad,” he said, and she thought he was joking. But then he placed his hand on her shoulder and gently added, “Because confiding in someone trustworthy about this stuff might help you a lot, Caitlin.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she gave him a weak smile and nodded. Then she extended the photos and the placemat. “I think these belong to you.”
He shook his head. “They belong to the past. I don’t want them.” But to her relief, he took them from her hand anyway. “I’ll destroy them before they do any more damage tous, okay?”
After Craig left, Caitlin stayed on the staircase, contemplating their conversation. It was so easy to recognize he was bearing the burden of false guilt, but until she’d spoken to him, she hadn’t fully realized the same had been true for her.
Looking at him was like seeing my reflection in a mirror, she thought. Not just his wounded face, and his hurt, angry, and ashamed expression, but the way he felt responsible for Nicole drowning.It wasn’t his fault, and it wasn’t mine. And even if Nicole shouldn’t have been on her way to see him, I can’t blame her, either. She never intended to fall in the current. It was an accident, a foolish, tragic teenage accident…
For the past twenty years, Caitlin had trained herself not to think or talk about what had happened that summer. She was convinced that putting it out of her mind was the only way she could cope. But now she saw that the deeper she’d pushed down her grief and guilt, the more they’d become a part of her, shaping her perspective.
It suddenly struck her that even though Shane had been unkind, he’d also been right.I’ve literally been “playing dead” about so many aspects of my life—my career, my housing situation, my relationships… And it’s all linked to Nicole’s drowning and how I responded to it emotionally.
As the realization sank in, Caitlin felt like weeping, but she was sure that if she did, her tears would freeze on her face. As it was, the stairs she was sitting on were so cold her bottom was going numb, so she stood up.
Maybe now I can finally start to make peace with what happened, instead of just suppressing my emotions andtrying to avoid everything that reminds me of that summer—including Dune Island, she thought as she tromped through the woods.Not that I’ll have a cottage anymore, but maybe I can rent a place and bring the children here sometime in the future…
Shortly after returning to the cottage, Caitlin heard another knock on the door.Marion?she wondered, but it was the mail carrier with a large, certified envelope—the paperwork from the estate attorney. She signed for confirmation of receipt and tore open the packet as soon as she shut the door.Maybe something in here will also help me defend my right to the cottage, she thought.
As she sat down and began flipping through the imposing legal documents, a lavender envelope slipped from the stack of paperwork. Caitlin turned it over to see her name written in familiar cursive.
“Aunt Lydia!” she exclaimed aloud and tore it open.
As quickly as she could, she devoured the letter, which read:
Hello again, Caitlin,
Congratulations on completing the windmill remodel! Thank you for all the time, thought, and energy you poured into converting the loft. I’m sure the sitting room is every bit as charming and the view is just as magnificent as I always pictured they’d be.
However, now that the project’s finished, I have to make a confession: as much as I appreciate you fulfilling my dream, overseeing the remodel wasn’t the only reason I wanted you to return to Dune Island. The truth is, I believed being there would give you the clarity you’d need to make the best decision about whether to sell or keep the property.
I’m sorry if that seems like a cruel trick, but I promise I only have your best interest in mind. Please, let me explain.
In the years following Nicole’s death, I longed for you to visit us at the cottage again, but I understood why you couldn’t. Even though you denied it, I recognized the accident had a devastating and far-reaching effect on you. I tried my best, but I couldn’t seem to break through your resilient façade and help you heal.
Unfortunately, when I told your father and stepmother how worried I was about you, my concerns fell on deaf ears. As you got older—and when I became increasingly consumed by Albert’s care—I backed off. But deep down I always hoped if I didn’t push too hard, you might eventually change your mind and talk to me or to someone else about it.
As far as I know, that still hasn’t happened—and I still wouldn’t want to force the issue. But neither would I want you to make a decision about the cottage based on unaddressed feelings from your past. So, that’s why I drew you back to Hope Haven, and I deliberately left the timeline open-ended, so you wouldn’t feel pressured to undertake the project until you were ready to return.
Even so, I recognize how courageous you were to go back there again, and I hope your visit hasn’t been too painful or stirred up troubling memories that outweigh the good ones. My deepest desire is that staying in the cottage has somehow freed you from the emotional burdens you’ve been carrying. At the very least, my wish is that being there again has given you true clarity about what to do next.
Life can be so hard, Caitlin, so grievous. But it also can be filled with wonderful things if our hearts are open to receiving them. Whatever you decide to do with your inheritance, as long as it brings you joy, you have my blessing.
Love,
Aunt Lydia
Caitlin dabbed her eyes and then she reread the poignant letter a second time, lingering over her aunt’s words. Lydia shouldn’t have worried that her niece would feel as if she’d played a “cruel trick” on her, because all Caitlin felt was gratitude for her aunt’s concern and sensitivity.
