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Chapter 29
“Brooke will not break the story unless she has all the facts.” Her voice low, Bee handed Grace a stack of books. “She told Sam because he’s her fiancé, and she thought Lincoln already knew. Have you talked to her yet?”
“I left her a message, but she’s out of town for a few days.” Grace sighed and put the books in her bag. “There’s no way I’ll be able to keep this under wraps. I can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” Bee squeezed her arm. “Maybe it’ll get buried under all the end-of-year craziness.”
“Maybe.”
She sounded unconvinced, even to herself. She usually enjoyed the energy and excitement of the last few weeks of the year, with graduation preparations, class trips and parties, sports finals, and, of course, the play opening. But if any salacious gossip about her started, it would spread like wildfire through all the social activities.
She said goodbye to Bee and walked back out to her car in the charcoal-gray dusk. She checked her phone messages and responded cheerfully to a text from her father.
She hadn’t seen Ray all week, though he’d asked her to put aside a ticket for opening night ofA Midsummer Night’s Dream. She knew Lincoln wouldn’t have told him about anything that had happened.
Her father was yet another reason she dreaded the idea of a hearing. Though he’d always been relatively placid about life and all its unexpected events, having to see his daughter publicly defend herself against unfair accusations would cause him profound stress. She’d never forgive herself if she was the reason his health took a turn for the worse.
She started driving back home. Though she’d always loved her little cottage, it felt vast and empty without Lincoln.
She hadn’t spoken to him again, though she’d texted him a “have a safe trip” message before his flight left. She tried not to think of how everything—the town, her classroom, her life, her heart—would feel without him, but it wasn’t as if she hadn’t known what would happen.
Well. She hadn’t known she’d fall in love with him. She hadn’t known that falling in love was actually a wild, free-fall tumble into another person, which somehow ended with you discovering so much more about yourself.
She hadn’t known that love was a whirlwind of feelings you couldn’t even name because the right words didn’t exist, despite all the poems written. The effort alone would be like trying to capture sunbeams or jump on a cloud.
At home, she checked the cat food on the back porch and made sure the door was still propped open. As she returned to the kitchen, she saw a key on the table.
The house key she’d given to Lincoln.
The sight of it—a plain silver key on the table where he’d brought her coffee and granola with the exact right amount of brown sugar—elicited a surge of heartbreak. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She wiped them away with her sweater sleeve.
This was what she’d wanted, right? To gain sexual experience and return to her single, cat-lady life as a teacher devoted to her work and her students?
Except now she didn’t know if she’d even have her work and students for much longer. She’d lost her cat. And now she’d lost Lincoln too.
Had he been right? Had she been too scared of moving past the boundaries of her own life? She didn’t want a “bigger” life in a city or prestigious school. She didn’t want to climb mountains or live in the Amazon or move to Europe.
She just wanted to make a difference in her own little corner of the world, to have dinner with friends, read good books, and introduce her students to a fascinating historical tradition.
But for the first time, she wished she’d had more courage to risk love. She wished she’d gone out and looked for the “right lightning” instead of waiting for it to strike. She wished she’d reached for the stars more often instead of just assuming she could never grab them.
A knock came at the front door. Grace wiped her eyes again and went to answer it. Her father stood on the front porch, holding a paper bag.
“Dad.” She blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“What, I can’t visit my own daughter?”
“Of course.” She stepped aside and pulled the door open wider. “I just wasn’t expecting you. Come in. Did you eat dinner?”
“Girl, I’m almost sixty. Not six.”
“Sorry, but with your new boxing routine and all this healthy eating, you just seem to get younger every day.”
He snorted. She smiled, feeling the tension ease from her shoulders.
“So really, what are you doing here?”
“I thought you might want some company.” Ray shuffled into the kitchen and set the bag on the counter. “You get the leak in the ceiling fixed?”
