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In closing, if I never got the chance to tell you in person, read my words—I love you, Kent Wagner. I don’t remember when I fell, but I fell hard. Thank you for catching me.
Until we meet again,
Palmer Sinclair
Kent flipped through the journal and read some of her other entries. He laughed at the doodles she’d made and looked at the souvenirs she’d added to the pages. When he came to the middle of the book, an envelope fell out. Kent set the book down and opened what he thought were her DNA results. He read the words, and then read them again. He was the beneficiary to her life insurance policy and retirement plan, as well as the co-owner of her apartment. He read the papers for a third time, making sure he hadn’t missed anything. It was then that he remembered she had put her lawyer’s name in his phone. Kent was supposed to call him and had forgotten.
The next letter was for Baby Girl Wagner on her 5th birthday. He wondered what Palmer could’ve possibly written to his unborn daughter, and when. He’d rarely left her side, other than to shower or get food. Kent had no idea how she had done any of this.
He stood and went into the bedroom. Her bed was made perfectly, as if she’d expected to return. Kent turned on the light in her closet and saw that it was bare. All her clothes were gone except for what he had at his apartment. He’d bring them over and hang them up where they belonged.
Kent sat on the edge of the bed and opened his phone. He went to the video of her he’d taken on the beach in Chatham. The sun glowed off her face, and he wished he could go back to that moment and tell her he was in love with her.
He paused the video on her face, and she stared back at him. “I’m so sorry,” he said to her image. “I promised you tomorrow, but tomorrow never came.”
EPILOGUE
Five years later
“Sinclair, are you ready?”
“Almost, Daddy. I can’t find my bear.”
Kent went into his daughter’s room and stood in the doorway, watching as she frantically looked for the teddy bear he held in his hand. “This one?” He gave the bear a little shake. Her eyes widened, and she let out a screech.
“Where did you find him?”
“Right where you left him.”
She put her free hand on her hip and tapped her toe. “Daddy . . .” This was her warning tone.
Kent scoffed. “He was on your suitcase. Now, are you ready?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Do you have your letter?”
Sinclair thought for a moment and then nodded. “I believe it’s in my bag. I’ll check.” She ran to the kitchen, came to a screeching halt, and dropped to her knees to go through her bag. “Yes, it’s right here.” She pulled out the envelope he had saved for her birthday, over five years ago.
“Okay, let’s hit the road.”
He loaded his arms up with their luggage while she opened the door. “Goodbye, apartment, see you on the flip side,” she said as she exited. Sinclair Wagner was a free spirit. That was the only way Kent and her mother, Maeve, could describe her. Sinclair marched to the beat of her own drum and loved everyone and everything, including but not limited to every animal on the planet. She was a devoted daughter who loved her parents and who had learned the art of pitting them against each other when she didn’t get her way. Maeve and Kent had to learn a long time ago that effective communication between them was the only way they’d survive their daughter.
The day he’d met Sinclair in the hospital, he’d had no idea what to expect. Kent and Maeve were on speaking terms, but her husband was not impressed with their relationship. He wanted Kent gone as the baby’s father, and he wanted to adopt the child as his own. Kent refused, and Maeve sided with Kent.
When he held his daughter for the first time, he thought his heart would explode. He had fallen in love all over again, but this was a different kind of love—a love only he and his daughter could share.
“What’s her name?” Kent had asked. He’d never expected to be part of the naming process or even in the room during the birth. He wanted Maeve as comfortable as possible, and the tension was thick between Kent and Maeve’s husband.
“Well, I was wondering what you thought about naming her Sinclair?”
Kent’s eyes went from his daughter to Maeve. “As in Palmer’s last name?”
Maeve nodded. “I like the name, and I suspect you’d like to include her in all of this somehow.”
Kent said her name quietly. “Sinclair.” The baby in his arms opened her eyes. “Palmer would be honored, Maeve. Thank you.”
