“I’ve been here ever since,” Ivy stammered.“I holed up in this town.I committed myself to the Bluebell Cove Inn, and to Dad, and to our memories.”
“But…” Celia said, gesturing toward the journal, “But there are memories you don’t know about!Mom’s thoughts, her dreams, her anger…” Her heart thumped.
Ivy closed her eyes.“It is one of the biggest tragedies of my life that our mother died.My memories of her are beautiful, Celia.They’re stunning.I remember picnics on the beach.I remember her stories, her laughter, her songs.I don’t want to taint those memories with whatever this is.”She glared at the journal, as though she wanted it to catch on fire.
Celia burned with all the things she wanted to say but knew she shouldn’t.She considered belting Ivy with,You could have left Bluebell Cove.You could have made something of yourself.Maybe then you wouldn’t hate me for leaving so much.Perhaps then you wouldn’t hate yourself for staying.But before she could muster the strength to respond, before she could find the perfect way forward, a shadow flickered in the doorway.
Ivy’s eyes widened.Frightened, Celia spun around to find Wren, hunched over, her cheeks hollowed out, her eyes dim.She looked like a ghost in a dream.
“Wren!”Celia cried before closing the distance between herself and her baby sister and catching her right before she fell to the ground.
ChapterFifteen
It was five thirty that same evening when Landon met Sophie at his house to fact-check the science in the article.There on the front porch of his place, Sophie looked exhausted, her hair hanging in strings that suggested she’d been working too hard to take good care of herself.It reminded Landon of Celia, of the version of Celia who’d thrown herself completely into writing, researching, and dreaming up new ways to push the world of journalism.Immediately, he invited her inside for tea and sandwiches.He felt fatherly, far more fatherly than James Harper ever had been.He wanted to make sure she was all right.
Mallory and Isaac were already hard at work on their grilled turkey-cheese sandwiches, scraping butter over bread and dancing around to Isaac’s music.Landon watched Sophie take in the scene, a smile fluttering over her lips.Mallory and Isaac turned to look at her, bug-eyed with curiosity.
“Guys, this is Sophie,” he said.“Sophie’s a journalist.We’re working together on an article for theBluebell Cove Gazette.”
Mallory hurried over to Sophie.“But you’re not that old!”
Sophie laughed.“I’m older than you.”
Isaac raised his eyebrow.“You sort of look like that lady who was here when we were sick.”He flipped his sandwich and gave Landon a crooked grin, as though he knew he’d betrayed him.
Sophie’s cheeks went pale, proof that she didn’t know that Celia had been here.“I guess you’re talking about my mom?Everyone says we look the same.She’s a journalist too.”It was then that Landon got a full picture of how desperately Sophie had always wanted to become her mother.Celia was her number-one role model, her best friend.
As Mallory and Isaac prepared Sophie’s sandwich, they peppered her with still more questions, creating a funny little party in the kitchen that didn’t allow Landon space to think.He disappeared into his study to reread Sophie’s article several times, considering what she was saying and how to describe the biology behind it.The truth was obvious.Sophie wasn’t yet the journalist her mother was.But there was potential there.
Landon suddenly felt a wave of fear that he’d never speak to Celia again.Something about the afternoon they’d spent weeks ago had frightened her away from him for good.He’d texted her and tried to see her again.But it was like she’d put up a temporary wall.
After another reread of Sophie’s article, Landon reached for his phone and called Celia.His heart pounded in his fingertips.He guessed she wouldn’t answer, that she’d text him later and say,Sorry I missed your call.You okay?But he had to try.
When she answered on the third ring, he nearly fell to the floor.
“Landon, hi.”Celia’s small voice sounded soft and tired.“It’s good to hear from you.”
Landon’s own voice felt lodged in his throat.“I’m sorry to call out of the blue like this.”
“It isn’t out of the blue,” Celia said.“Um.How is the article going?”
So she knew about it.Landon filled his lungs and gave her a few details about Sophie’s work, tiptoeing around the idea that Celia was a far greater journalist than her daughter, if only because she had more experience.“I think she needs your eye, CeeCee,” he said, breaking his own heart.
“Have you ever tried to advise a young person like that?”Celia laughed.
Landon groaned.“I know what you mean.But I know she respects your opinion more than anyone’s.I know she wants you to be involved, one way or another.”
Celia sighed.“I said some things to her that I regret.I told her I didn’t think being a journalist was a good idea anymore.I told her that the world has changed.Or maybe I just know too much about the world to put my trust in it.I don’t know.I feel like she’d be better off doing almost anything.Finance?Or real estate?Listen to me!I sound so nihilistic.I don’t like this side of myself.”
Landon tilted back in his chair, listening as Sophie, Mallory, and Isaac burst into a raucous round of singing.It was almost as though Sophie was their older sister, back from college, here to regale them with stories from far away.Here to excite them about their future.
“Do you hear your daughter laughing with my kids?”Landon asked.
Celia took a sharp breath.“Is that what that is?”
They sat in silence for a long moment, both craning to hear their children singing.Landon blinked and blinked and told himself to keep it together.
“Listen,” Celia said.“I’m wrapping up a few things with my sisters here at Ivy’s place.But I’d really like to see you, if you have time.”
