A brief look passed between them. Understanding. Both of them valued history, tradition, and roots. Before Jane could examine the warmth that understanding brought, Maddy asked a question about a building they were passing, and the moment broke.
But the warmth lingered.
The driver stopped at a small café, giving them time to stretch their legs and warm up with hot cocoa. Trinity and Maddy immediately spotted a shop window next door displaying ornaments, toys, and holiday decorations that made them gasp with delight.
“Can we look?” Trinity asked, already pulling Maddy toward the window.
“Stay where we can see you,” Gabe warned, his father-voice coming out automatically.
The girls promised and ran off, leaving Jane and Gabe alone for the first time all evening.
They stood side by side at the outdoor window of the café, waiting for their cocoa orders. Jane was acutely aware of how close he stood, how she could smell his cologne. Something woodsy and clean that made her want to lean closer rather than maintain proper distance.
Gabe broke the silence first. “Thank you for doing this. Trinity’s been so happy here at the inn.” He paused, and when Jane glanced at him, she saw genuine emotion in his expression. “It’s clear she adores you.”
Despite the walls Jane had built around her heart, she couldn’t help but respond to the gratitude in his voice. “She’s a wonderful girl. You should be proud.”
“I am proud,” Gabe said, and his voice carried a weight of guilt beneath the words. “It’s just hard being away so much. Missing things. Important things.”
“She understands,” Jane heard herself say, surprising herself with the reassurance. She didn’t usually offer comfort to virtual strangers. But Gabe didn’t feel like a stranger somehow. “She’s proud of you, too. She talks about you constantly.”
“It’s hard,” Gabe said quietly, staring at the menu board without really seeing it. “Being a parent. Trying to do the right thing when you’re never quite sure what the right thing is.”
A brief moment of understanding passed between them. Both of them had lost spouses. Both carried grief likestones in their pockets, weight they’d learned to walk with but never quite set down. It wasn’t mentioned. Didn’t need to be. It underlay everything, the way loss always did.
The weight of it. Trying to move forward when part of your heart remains buried with the person you’d lost.
Trinity and Maddy came running back before Jane could examine the feeling too closely, their faces bright with excitement.
“They have snow globes!” Maddy announced. “Real ones with St. Augustine scenes inside them!”
Gabe’s smile came easier now, the heaviness lifting from his expression. “Want to get one?”
Both girls nodded eagerly, and he gestured for them to lead the way.
“I’ll watch the cocoa,” Jane offered, grateful for a moment alone to catch her breath and settle her racing heart.
By the time they returned with carefully wrapped snow globes, Jane had almost managed to rebuild her composure. Almost.
They returned to the carriage with hot cocoa warming their hands and snow globes safely stowed. The girls settled into their bench, but this time they arranged themselves differently. Maddy sat with Jane while Trinity chose to sit beside her father.
The girls still chattered, but their energy had softened. The long day was catching up with them, excitement giving way to comfortable tiredness.
Within minutes of the carriage starting to move again, Trinity’s chatter began to fade. Her head drooped slowly until it came to rest against Gabe’s shoulder. He adjusted carefully, making sure she was comfortable, one arm coming around to hold her secure.
He looked down at his daughter with an expression so tender it made Jane’s throat tighten painfully. That’s what love looked like. Pure and uncomplicated and fierce. The kind of love that would move mountains and weather any storm.
Maddy’s head lolled to the side, and Jane gently guided it to rest in her lap. The girl curled instinctively into Jane’s warmth, settling with a small contented sigh.
Something inside Jane stirred. Sharp and painful and overwhelming. She had to swallow hard against the lump forming in her throat as feelings threatened to break through the walls she’d built.
This. This was what she’d lost. What she would never have. The weight of a sleeping child, warm and trusting. The simple joy of being needed, of providing comfort and safety. Of building a family and a future.
She’d had it for such a brief time. Darren’s hand in hers. Taylor growing inside her. A future spread out before themlike a promise.
And then twisted metal and sirens and a hospital room where futures went to die.
Jane looked across the carriage at Gabe watching his sleeping daughter, and something wistful crossed her expression before she could stop it. She allowed herself this moment. This glimpse of a life that might have been. The baby she’d carried would be...
