His dissatisfaction couldn’t be rooted in the town itself. Tourists flocked to Rockland because it was so picturesque. “How do you spend your days there?”
“When I’m not at the medical center, I watch a lot of TV. I never missDays of Our Lives,Jeopardy, orWheel of Fortune. I read my shipment of Harlequin Love Inspired romances every month.” After a lifetime of heavy writing, he’d come to adore light reading at this stage of his life.
“What else?”
He shrugged. “The things I listed are about it.”
Remy knew him well enough to know he flourished in the company of others. His life on the mainland sounded relaxing but entirely too lonely. “What can you and I do to make your life in Rockland worth loving?”
“Eh?”
“What can we bring into your life there that would add meaning and joy?”
A pause. “I have no idea.”
“There must be something that you want. Right? What is it that you really, really want?” He needed to see he still had things to live for.
“I can’t think of anything.”
“Then think harder, please.”
He munched on a cookie morosely. She sipped her tea. Beyond the cabin, a seagull flapped past.
“There is one thing,” Wendell said reluctantly.
“I’m listening.”
“I’m afraid to say it. You’ll think I’m a foolish old man.”
“No. I won’t.”
He bought himself time by piling his hands in his lap. “There was a woman, once. Her name was Marisol.”
Remy worked to keep her expression placid and encouraging. This, she had not anticipated. “Tell me about Marisol.”
“I was eighteen when we met. She became . . . everything to me. Softhearted, wise, generous. The best person in the world. I fell in love with her, and I asked her to marry me. She said yes.” He appeared to lose himself in memory.
“What happened?”
“She was a few years older than I was and had had a child out of wedlock—a two-year-old boy. She was Hispanic. My family didn’t approve of her. Her family didn’t approve of me. My parents insisted I was too young to marry and too young to know what I wanted.” He sighed. “Maybe Iwastoo young to marry. The fact that I let them come between Marisol and me indicates that. But time has proven them wrong when they said I didn’t know what I wanted. Ididknow. I knew then and I’ve known for the sixty years since that I loved her.” He frowned. “I should have fought for her, you see. Instead, we went our separate ways.”
Remy was no stranger to living with regret. She understood how it could drag at every step you took.
“I met Ruth Ann years after Marisol,” he continued, “when I was finishing my graduate degree. We made a wonderful life together. We raised a wonderful family.”
“You definitely did.”
“I was very loyal to Ruth Ann.”
“I know you were. You made her happy. She couldn’t have asked for a better husband.”
“Since Ruth Ann died, I’ve been wondering more and more about Marisol. If she’s still alive. If so, how she is. Whether she married a spouse who was as good to her as Ruth Ann was to me.”
She confronted him, eyeball to eyeball. “Obviously, we need to find Marisol.”
He blanched. “Oh no. I’m scared to do that.”
“Why?”
