Page 127 of Beautiful Place By the Sea

I’d gone to Charlie after that. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I’d told him. “There is no other way to fix this.”

He’d held me while I cried, whispering against my cheek, “It will be okay, Ellie. There’s always another way.”

August 30, 1953

Charlie and I had a long talk today. He’s revealed a big secret about himself, too—he and Simon are in love, but they’re forced to hide it for their own safety. Not to mention, Simon is studying to become a lawyer like his father. He loves what he’s learning, but he would be disgraced, or possibly even jailed, if anyone knew that he was breaking the very laws he’s promised to uphold. It tears my heart in two to think that they cannot be together.

Charlie thinks he has the perfect solution to our problems. He will marry me and raise my child as his own. We’ll be happy together, he says, because we already love one another in the way that’s most important—as soulmates.

I cried when he offered. I told him I couldn’t ask this of him, but he begged me to think it over. “I love you, Ellie,” he’d insisted. “I want to protect you, and I promise to love your child. No one ever needs to know the truth.”

“But what about your happiness with Simon?” I’d asked him. “No matter how much you love me, it isn’t the same.”

“It isn’t the same,” he admitted. “But I can love you in this way and him in another; they’re not mutually exclusive. Perhaps we can move to your hometown to keep suspicion low, then vacation to Ogunquit each summer to visit Simon?”

“Would that be enough for you?” I’d asked. I didn’t see how it could be.

“This would be a sacrifice for us both,” he’d said. “Though if you ever fell in love with another man, I’d do whatever it took to ensure your happiness. We could divorce, or you could see him secretly. I’d be okay with any of it.”

“This is too much, Charlie,” I’d said. “These are huge sacrifices you’re proposing.”

“But if the sacrifices make us each whole,” he’d replied, “then they’re worth it.”

He gave me time to think about it. As much time as I needed, he promised.

But I don’t have all that much time. Soon, my secret, at least, is going to be out in the open, whether I like it or not.

November 2, 1953

Charlie and I are getting married tomorrow. My parents are over the moon, because they’ve loved him like a son since we were children. He’s always been the best companion to me.

Janie knows the truth, as does Simon, of course. My mother has made a few comments about how I’ve been putting on weight, and that maybe I should stop enjoying the chocolates Charlie brings me from his family’s store, but I don’t think she suspects the real cause.

It’s taken me some time to come around to this ruse, but it’s felt less and less like a ruse as the wedding planning has moved forward. Charlie’s secreted me away to my doctor’s appointments and helped pick flower arrangements. His parents are paying for the whole wedding because they know mine can’t afford it, though my father insisted on covering the cost of my dress.

It’s a gorgeous white boat-necked gown that flows just to the ankle. I’ve embroidered flowers along the hem—one for every flower Charlie’s brought me since he proposed. He’s been visiting us in our hometown every weekend, and he’s already found a home for us to buy just a few blocks away from my parents.

Truly, I couldn’t ask for anything more in a husband. I’ve thought a lot about what he said—that a sacrifice is worth it if it makes both people whole. And while our union wasn’t what I anticipated, I’m actually excited to spend my life with him. I love him, and he loves me, and this sacrifice has made us each more than whole.

“Wow.” I look up from the pages and see that Dad’s eyes are misty. I can’t tell if he’s reacting to my own tears, or if he’s reading Eleanor’s words from across the table.

“Wow is right,” he says, sniffing back his grief.

“I can see why you hid these,” I offer. “But I’m also so glad you shared them with me.”

“Yeah?”

I nod. “Yeah. Because Eleanor’s words have given me what no one else could—the assurance that this life they chose truly was the best choice for both of them.”

“Well, given the circumstances,” my father adds.

“Right. I’ve really been struggling with that, since I started to unravel the truth.” I run my thumb absently over the torn edges of the last sheet of paper. “The why. Why it was worth it to them—to all three of them—to make this kind of sacrifice for each other. But I suppose that embracing the complexity of the situation, their vulnerabilities, helped them all to heal and ultimately find exactly what they needed.”

Dad’s eyes well up again. “That’s such a beautiful sentiment, Ivy Bean.”

“And I think that they did something right. Something you and Mom haven’t been able to figure out just yet. And something I’ve done wrong with Oliver.”

“What’s that?”