“I was . . . numb. Terrified. But Peg was so good to me. She protected me, listened to me—she took care of me once we were in North Carolina. We found a doctor, and I helped her unpack the new house and set up everything. For a while, I thought everything was going to be all right. Peg was excited about the baby—I mean, it wasn’t what she had planned, but as she told me, a baby is a blessing at any time.”
Nash nodded. “And you and—and Ryan got married?”
“No.” I stopped walking and pivoted to face the ocean, letting the waves brush over my feet. “No, I never married Ryan. About a month after we moved to North Carolina, he was pulled over for driving drunk, and when the policeman who stopped him turned his back for a moment, Ryan knocked him down, jumped into his cruiser, and ran him over.”
“Peyton.” Nash stared at me, aghast. “You’ve got to be kidding. He hit a policeman?”
“Yeah. And then he kept running. They found the cruiser abandoned about twenty-five miles away, and then he stole another car . . . after they found that one, the trail ran cold. We never saw him again. Every once in a while, Peg will get a call or a postcard or a weird message on the internet, but that’s it.”
We were both silent for a long moment, with nothing but the waves between us. Finally, Nash spoke again.
“So all this time, you were alone?”
“No.” I felt a smile ghost over my face. “No, I was never alone. Peg was stalwart. She made sure I never wanted for anything, and when Charlie was born, she did the same for her.” I thought about those long-ago days, marveling that I had survived them. “About a month after Ryan took off, his father had a massive heart attack and died. Peg blamed Ryan, said he’d broken his father’s heart, and I couldn’t disagree.”
“He always was a selfish son of a bitch.” Nash bit off the words. “He was never worthy of you, Peyton. Never.”
“Not arguing with you, Nash,” I responded as lightly as I could manage. “But anyway, after that, it was Peg and me, just the two of us. We stayed in North Carolina until after Charlie was born, and then we moved down to Savannah. Peg’s family was there, and she had a yearning to go back to where she’d grown up. She thought it would be the best place to raise Charlie, so that’s what we did.”
“Your daughter—her name is Charlie?” Nash stuck his hands in the pockets of his shorts.
“Yes. Well, it’s actually Charlotte Marguerite, after my grandmother and Peg—her real name is Marguerite —but we’ve always called her Charlie. It fits.”
“Do you have a picture?”
I laughed, the sound carried away on the morning breeze. “Do I have a picture? Well, only about a hundred digital ones.” I stopped walking and glanced around. “Oh, look! My hiding place is still here—I was afraid with all of the changes, it might have gotten filled in or covered over or something. Want to sit down?”
Nash hesitated only a second, and suddenly, I remembered that our last conversation had happened here. I opened my mouth to say something—to apologize again, maybe—but Nash began to make his way to the carved out area beneath the cliff. I followed him, and we settled down on the cool, rough rock.
Pulling out my phone, I found my Charlie folder and passed it to Nash. “I scanned a bunch of her baby photos and school pictures so that I can have her whole growing up in one place.” I watched over his shoulder as my daughter’s beautiful smile filled the screen. “Isn’t she perfect?”
“She is. She looks just like you.” Nash took his time, studying each shot carefully. “Does she live near you?”
“Oh, yes. Charlie, Peg and I live on the same street in Savannah. Peg still lives in the house where we raised Charlie, and then about ten years ago, I bought a smaller place of my own a few doors down. After Charlie finished law school, she bought a townhouse on the next block. It’s a perfect set-up: we’re close enough to eat together when we want to, but we all have our own space.”
He turned, handing me back my phone, and faced me, his expression solemn. “And you’re happy, Peyton?”
I opened my mouth to reply in the affirmative and then hesitated. There was something about Nash—there always had been—that made me want to think about my response and answer him thoughtfully instead of just tossing off what I assumed others expected to hear.
“I’m . . . content, I guess,” I said at last. “Considering how I left Crystal Cove and what could have happened to Charlie and me, things worked out well, and I’m very grateful for that. My daughter has never known a moment of insecurity or lack. Even when I was stubborn about accepting help from Peg, I never hesitated to let her do things for her granddaughter.”
“And you own a business.” Nash snapped his mouth shut and grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that—but I’ll be honest, before I came down here, I confessed to my son and my business partner why I didn’t want to attend the reunion. Max—that’s my son—he looked you up, and he saw that you own a store in Savannah.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure how I felt, knowing that Nash had been thinking about me enough to mention me to his family and friends. “Yes, I do. It started out as a sort of side hustle, something I did to make extra money while I was working other jobs—you know, serving at restaurants, temping at offices, that sort of thing. But it grew until I could actually focus on it full-time, and then not too long after that, I took the plunge to buy a storefront. That was the first time I let Peg give me money that wasn’t strictly for Charlie, but I made her a silent partner in the business, too.”
“That’s wonderful, Peyton. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” I felt a little self-conscious and shifted the conversation to Nash. “You said you have a son. Are you . . . married?”
His eyes flashed down at me, a rush of emotion there, and then he shook his head. “No. I was—very briefly. But that’s a long story.” He paused. “Could I take you to breakfast so we can continue catching up?”
“I wish I could.” I felt a genuine fissure of disappointment. “I promised Sheri, Delilah and Emmy that I’d meet them this morning. I think we’re spending the day together.”
“Oh.” My disappointment was echoed in that single syllable.
“But maybe we could link up again later in the day.” I fumbled in my pocket for the crumpled paper that showed the day’s activities. “Oh, we could go to karaoke tonight!”
“Hell, no.” Nash shook his head definitively. “I’m not a karaoke kind of guy.”
