Christopher hated standing by and watching.
He’d spent so much of his early life at the mercy of others’ whims, that staying silent was second nature. As a teen, when he had first started seeing Ashley as something more than a friend, he slipped into his old patterns of letting her call the shots. However, in the years since she’d been gone, he had assumed control of his life.
And now, as everything he’d so carefully worked for hovered near total ruin, he had to take charge.
She didn’t fight him about staying put.
He gave her hand one last squeeze, instilling his touch and smile with every promise he had. They couldn’t go back. He was sorry to ruin her final impression of her father. But if doing so cleared the air for them to move forward, he could be grateful for the chance.
She was safe.
He strode toward the burning island. He wasn’t foolish. He wouldn’t attempt to fight the fire himself. If Lonnie and Zach had set the explosives to cover their tracks, they would be in for bad news. As soon as the fire department had the situation under control, Christopher intended to level additional charges against the pair. Trespassing, arson, and attempted murder. He hadn’t thought Zach hated him enough to kill. But he’d been wrong.
“Mr. Willie,” Christopher called as he neared the groundskeeper blocking the bridge with his crossed arms. “Thank you.”
With a nod, Mr. Willie turned and faced the smoldering ruins. “Never thought I’d see this.”
“Me either.”
“D’you suppose there is a ghost?”
Christopher stared straight ahead, unseeing. He didn’t want to respond to the man. While he appreciated Ashley’s creativity and whimsy, he didn’t need her working the whole community into a frenzy. He had been a hypocrite to her, berating her for the ghost while encouraging the myth of Soupy. Ashley deserved his sincerest apology.
“Stand back,” a voice called.
Christopher stepped to the side, breaking from Mr. Willie to allow several volunteer firefighters in full gear to race down the bridge, carrying a hose. He made his way back toward the crowd, reassuring the guests that the Inn was safe, the fire was under control, and that they could all return to their beds.
He was eager to do just that but waited to be sure the staff had corralled the guests back inside. Exhaustion crept up his body until it threatened to pull him down to the ground to curl into a little ball on the soft grass. He dragged his heavy feet and hung his head, too weary to lift his chin, too tired for more pleasant small talk.
She must be exhausted, too.
He reached the side of the Inn. Away from the curious gazes of visitors and staff, he lifted his head and smiled. Coming back to her felt good, natural, and cozy. Like coming home. But where was she?
He rubbed his eyes and looked again at the spot where she had been. The side of the building was empty. No one loitered nearby. Perhaps she’d gotten sleepy and went inside to rest after the truck arrived. He pulled open the door to an empty back hallway and darkened stairwell.
The hair on the back of his neck rose on end. She hated being in the building without the lights on. If she’d headed upstairs, she would have left the switch for him to turn off. No, she wasn’t inside. He shut the door and strode around the building, first taking large lunges. By the time he reached the front door and still hadn’t found her, he was jogging. His blood pumped through his veins at top speed; the sluggish feeling evaporated in the wake of the horrible pins and needles sensation pricking every inch of his skin. At the back of the Inn, on the patio, he nearly collided with Mr. Willie.
“Have you seen Ashley?” he shouted at the groundskeeper, panting.
“What?” Mr. Willie twisted his head from one side to the other. “Ashley? Ashley Hale-Lewis? Your Ashley?”
She’s never been mine.For a second, he’d stood before her with no more secrets. They’d approached either the end or the beginning. And disaster struck, killing his second chance. “Yes, my wife.” He bit out the words.
“No. Haven’t seen her.”
Oh no. Christopher couldn’t lose her now. He couldn’t come so close to getting her back to miss out on the rest of his life with her. And he hadn’t really said everything, had he? Fear held his tongue. Regret would be his constant companion.
“Sir? Are you okay?” Mr. Willie grabbed him by the shoulders. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
In another circumstance, Christopher might have laughed at that turn of phrase. All he wanted to do was cry. “Come with me.” He continued around the side of the Inn toward the spot where he’d last seen her. Had he missed her? Was she curled up against the building?
He pulled out the flashlight from his back pocket, glad he’d kept it after the commotion, and powered on the thin beam of light, shining it in every direction.
Mr. Willie turned on the flashlight app on his cell phone and did the same on the other side, facing the trees. “Over there. I see something.” He headed into the tree line edging the lawn.
Christopher followed and felt his heart drop.
Mr. Willie held a brightly colored, fluffy hair tie.
