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Arthur is a handsome man, someone I know I can be happy with. He’s sweet, funny, and very caring. If I had met him sooner, maybe things would be different. Thomas is who I love, though. Luckily, I caught him in the front yard before he could reach my door, but I wasn’t the only one out there. My father saw us together, and I’d never seen him so angry; it terrified me. He told Thomas that I could never be his, that he was a lowly fisherman who couldn’t give me the life I deserved. I wanted to defy my parents and follow my heart, but I loved them. It was either them or Thomas. That was the choice my father gave me. I didn’t want to lose my family. The hurt on Thomas’s face when my father sent him away is something I’ll never be able to erase from my mind. I watched in horror as he walked away, his shoulders hunched and his head down. The rest of the evening was a blur. I couldn’t eat, breathe, or even think, because I knew tonight was the last time I’d ever see Thomas. My family was going to make sure of it.
I rubbedmy aching chest and met Jensen’s gaze. “T stands for Thomas,” I said.
It was good to finally have a name to go with the letter. Jensen’s eyes narrowed curiously as he focused on the diary.
“Did she give his last name anywhere?”
I shrugged. “Not in the entries I read, but I’m sure it’s somewhere. Why?”
He reached for the diary, and I gave it to him. “This Thomas guy was a fisherman, right?”
“Yeah,” I answered, wondering where he was headed with the questions.
He flipped through the diary and then reached into the box where he pulled out a stack of photos. The second his eyes widened, I knew he’d found something.
“What is it?” I asked, leaning toward him.
He turned one of the photos around and pointed at the man standing beside my grandmother. My heart stopped the second I looked at the man’s face; it was as if I was staring at a picture of Jensen.
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
A sad sigh escaped his lips, and he ran his thumb lightly across the photograph before turning it back around to look at it again.
“That’s my grandfather, Everleigh. Thomas McLean.”
I could feel the world spinning around me as I looked from Jensen to the photo and back again. Jensen’s grandfather was the man my grandmother had written about in her diary. He was the man she had been in love with.
My grandmother’s words in her letter to me finally made sense. She’d written that the world wouldn’t have aligned for me if things had worked out for her and Thomas. It meant that Jensen and I wouldn’t be together.
I reached over and placed a hand on Jensen’s. “I’m sorry my great-grandparents didn’t approve of him. I have no doubt your grandfather was an amazing man.”
I didn’t know much about him, nor did Jensen since he never met him. His grandfather had died at sea when Jensen’s father was a little boy. McLean Charters ended up going to Thomas’s brother, Matthew, and it was he who had helped bring Jensen’s father into the fishing business.
Matthew was going to pass down McLean Charters to his sons if he ever had any, but he was given just girls. That was how the business went to Jensen’s father.
Jensen set the picture down with the others and sighed. “I wish I could’ve met him.”
Nodding, I looked at all the photos and smiled. “Me too.”
I reached into the box and pulled out the large brown envelope and a newspaper clipping. It was Thomas’s obituary.
My heart hurt for the man in the photo.
He had eventually married and had Jensen’s father, but it made me wonder if his heart still belonged to my grandmother at that time.
“He was so young,” I said, tracing my finger over the date Thomas had died. He was twenty-eight years old.
Jensen nodded. “Yes, he was. Hopefully, he’s proud of what my dad and I have done with the business.”
A sad smile spread across my face. “I have no doubt.”
Jensen tapped a finger on the large envelope. “What do you think this is?”
“There’s no telling,” I said, sliding my finger underneath the flap to open it. Whatever it was, there were a lot of papers. However, when I slid out what was inside, my breath caught in my lungs. “Oh my God.”
“What is it?” Jensen asked, anticipation in his voice.
My mouth gaped as I stared at the words on the cover sheet; it was a manuscript . . . and it was written by my grandmother. I recognized the title immediately.One Dayby Rachel Holt. Then below her name were the words:written under Ellen Thomas.
