My mind kept slipping back to him. He and Josephine watchingJeopardy!And I’d missed Halloween. I could almost picture him in some ridiculous costume handing out candy. Had the littlest trick-or-treaters liked Josephine’s haunted decorations, or were they too scared to come to the door? I felt a pang thinking of her, too.
I leaned my elbows on the counter, staring out at the rain, half-expecting some montage to play in my head, full of poignant moments reminding me why I’d walked away. But instead, all I felt was this ache, a quiet sadness I couldn’t shake. I should’ve felt stronger, freer. But the truth was, I couldn’t stop replaying all the silly, annoying, wonderful things he’d done.
I was wiping down the counter when I saw Josephine standing just inside the door. My heart skipped a beat, a knot of surprise and dread twisting in my stomach. I caught my manager’s eye, and she gave me a quick nod to take a break. I slipped off my apron, made two lattes, and joined Josephine at a quiet corner table.
We sat in silence for a moment, the steam from our cups swirling between us. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just waited, sipping my coffee and hoping she couldn’t feel the tension radiating off me.
She broke the silence, her voice soft, without a trace of anger. “I would have come to see you sooner, you know, but… I didn’t know where you’d moved. Not until I found out you were working at this coffee shop I love.”
My chest tightened, and I felt my throat go dry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave without saying goodbye…” Such a weak attempt at explaining myself. Not even worth finishing the sentence.
But Josephine reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “You don’t have to explain, sweetheart. I just wanted to check on you and see how you’re doing.”
The warmth in her voice was like a lifeline, and I found myself finally breathing a little easier. “I’m, uh, good.” I sounded steadier, but my heart was pounding.
Josephine offered a small, sad smile that twisted my stomach. She took a breath, then leaned forward. “I also wanted to talk to you about Topher. I thought you’d want to know about the trouble with his company.”
Her words felt like a splash of ice water down my spine. I tried to nod, forcing myself to appear calm. “I hadn’t heard anything.”
She gave me a long, assessing look, then let out a sigh. “His financiers are forcing him out. Apparently, he paid off some debt early. It was a tiny amount, compared to the company’s net worth, but it broke the company’s bylaws, and now they’re using it against him.” She shook her head. “He never trusted those partners and felt like they were always looking for a way to replace him and get the power for themselves. It’s sad because that company meant so much to him. He poured his life into it.”
I swallowed, feeling her words settle as the pieces started to click into place.Debt.I could feel the blood drain from my face as it dawned on me: He’d done it for me.
I struggled to process the weight of what she was saying. My heart dropped. Topher’s words came flooding back—how he’d told me he’d “moved heaven and earth” to cover my debt, and I’d scoffed, convinced he was exaggerating. But he’d been telling the truth. He’d risked everything for me.
Josephine’s gaze softened as she looked down at her cup, her fingers tracing the edge. “He’s been building that company since he was young, before he had anything to his name. It’s more than just a business to him; it’s his legacy, his proof to himself and everyone else that he could do something meaningful, something lasting.” She paused, her voice tinged with sadness. “Losing it now, I don’t know what he’ll do.”
She continued, her voice a little quieter, almost hesitant. “He’s gone back to New York, you know. He’s gone.”
It felt like I’d been punched in the chest.Gone.He was really gone. So the magazine was right.
I was silent, and Josephine just looked at me, as if she were expecting something more. “Anyway, I didn’t come here to burden you with all this,” she said, her voice gentler. “I don’t know everything that happened between you two, but I wanted to see how you’re holding up. I’m sure it’s been a tough road for you also.”
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to smile, though it felt like a lie. “I’m… good,” I murmured, even as the ache in my chest twisted tighter.
She reached across the table, placing her hand on mine. “Losing both of your parents so young leaves a mark. You carry that fear with you, don’t you? Afraid that if you let people in, you might lose them too.”
The truth of her words cut deep. I’d always tried to keep that fear hidden. I’d pushed Topher away, driven by a need to protect myself from exactly this—this ache, this feeling of being left alone again. But in the end, my own fear had caused the very thing I’d wanted to avoid.
As I sat across from Josephine, her hand still resting on mine, a strange sense of calm settled over me, though my heart was racing beneath it. She studied me with that motherly gaze of hers, her eyes filled with understanding.
“You’ve been through so much on your own. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been, but… sometimes, we can only carry that weight for so long before it starts pulling us under.”
Since my parents died, I’d spent so long building walls, protecting myself, convinced I’d be safer alone. But had I protected myself from anything, or had I just made it harder to let anyone in?
I forced a smile, feeling that familiar ache in my chest. “I just… I don’t like the idea of letting down my guard, you know?”
She nodded, squeezing my hand. “Sometimes we think we’re protecting ourselves by keeping everything closed off. But the truth is, Kathleen, facing what scares us is often the only way to set ourselves free.”
I felt the weight of her words settling in, and for some reason, my mind drifted to the dusty box in my closet—the one with all the papers and letters I hadn’t dared to open since my parents died. I’d told myself I wasn’t ready to see whatever I might find.
Josephine’s gaze softened, and she offered me a gentle smile. “You deserve peace. You deserve to let go of whatever’s keeping you locked up inside.”
A lump rose in my throat, and I forced myself to speak. “I miss you.”
We stood, and she leaned over and wrapped me in a hug, her warmth filling the empty spaces I’d been carrying around for weeks. “I miss you too, sweetheart. You became like a daughter to me, you know. I hope we can stay in touch, and that you find the peace you’re looking for.”
I watched her turn and walk away, each step taking her farther until she disappeared down the street.
