“And what’d that be?” Skip coughed loudly, clearing his throat. He picked up his water glass and downed a big gulp. “Other than embarking on illegal fishing expeditions?”
“He’s in boat sales.”
That tickle in Skip’s throat tried to choke him. “I beg your pardon?”
“He somehow got himself involved in luxury boat sales. I don’t know how. I’m sure his connections aren’t legitimate. But apparently, he’s been doing that for the last decade or so, and the captain of the boat that went missing is a long-time customer of his.”
“Are he and…” Camille wasn’t sure why she even started to ask the question. It was one of those situations where her mind didn’t filter her words before delivering them to her mouth.
“Are he and Darla still together?”
Just then, their server came by with a large platter of food, balancing the circular tray while he passed off the dishes to each person at the table. And just in time. Camille’s stomach had started to growl loudly, an echo she was sure everyone could hear, especially over the silence that fell when she’d uttered that ridiculously inappropriate question.
“They are not. They did get married soon after I was released from prison but divorced some time ago. Believe it or not, but they’ve actually got kids. Twins. A boy and a girl in their twenties.”
“Runs in the family, I suppose,” Camille said, knowing Foster had twins of his own.
“Apparently more than just twins run in the family. Sounds like Jim did a stint of his own in jail not long after mine. A drug bust at some warehouse in his name.” Foster lifted a slice of his pizza to his mouth, steam rising in curls. He waved a hand to cool it down before taking a bite. “He said that prison changed him. That he found God and vowed to clean up his act and change his ways.”
“I’ve heard of a lot of people having some sort of spiritual awakening behind bars.”
Foster cocked his head. “It does give you some time to reflect. And it also gives you some time to explore the ways you might be able to right your wrongs.”
Oh, how she’d wanted to ask her husband which way he leaned when it came to the transplant. But maybe he hadn’t even decided. It had been a big day with a lot of unexpected emotion. And it wasn’t even a decision he could fully make until he knew the results.
Edie looked across the table. “Was it good to see him after all of these years?”
“I wouldn’t say it was good. I wouldn’t even say it was cathartic. It kind of just was.” He set his pizza slice down. “But I will say, I wasn’t consumed with the hatred I once felt. When I walked in and saw him in that hospital bed, my mind flashed back to the time I took things into my own hands. It made me realize he’d ended up in a similar bed because of me. Because of my anger. That was an uncomfortable thought. So—if anything—I’d say the encounter was uncomfortable. But that’s honestly what I was expecting.”
Camille slid her hand into the crook of Foster’s elbow and leaned closer to him on their side of the booth. She loved this man and his transparency. The way he could express his thoughts and feelings verbally instead of keeping them tucked away. He was an open book. He’d been one since the night in the bar at the Villas when he’d told her all about his past, sharing with a tender vulnerability she had never experienced from a man.
“I’m really proud of you for not only going in to get the tests run, but for visiting with Jim, too.”
“Truth be told, I was more nervous about the latter part. I had built things up between us over the years. Let my anger simmer. But one look at him and that all just kind of faded away. He’s just an old man like me now. We’re not hotheaded young kids anymore. And at the end of the day, he’s still my brother.”
“Family means something,” Camille said.
“It does. I just need to figure out exactly what it means to me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Edie’s bedroom still smelled like the aroma of fresh paint, to the point that it gave her a dull headache right behind her eyes. But she was grateful nonetheless for Foster’s quick action to get her ceiling properly repaired. Crashing on the couch until the fumes faded wasn’t ideal, but quite honestly, the roll of the wind outside and consistent patter of rain against her windows was a calming, lulling noise. In fact, she felt like she’d slept better the last two nights than she had in a long while.
Which surprised her, considering today was the day that Hannah and Casey would find out the gender of their baby. Casey had originally wanted to keep it a secret until the delivery but had recently had a change of heart. Edie didn’t have an opinion on the matter—whatever the kids wanted was absolutely fine with her.
Back when she’d been pregnant with Hannah, she had wanted to find out the gender and Evan, true to his easy-going nature, said he’d wanted whatever Edie wanted. If she chose to wait, that would be fine. If she wanted to find out at her twenty-week exam as was the customary time to do so back then, that was also alright with him. He’d once said that Edie had to be pregnant for nine months carrying their child, that gave her atleast twice the decision-making power when it came to things like gender reveals and name choices and nursery décor.
But he’d been the one to choose Hannah’s name. It had been his mother’s, and she was a woman like no other in all the best ways possible. Supportive, joyful, and prayerful. In fact, that woman had prayed for baby Hannah each and every day until she was born. Rumor has it she even prayed the full duration of Edie’s labor, which had lasted a weary twenty-six hours. She was a devoted mother and grandmother, a life-giving person who brought a smile to the face of everyone she came in contact with.
She’d passed a little over thirteen years ago, and losing her felt like losing a piece of Evan all over again.
Edie wasn’t sure what compelled her to do it, but after making up her couch turned makeshift bed and putting a pot of coffee on, she pulled out the big family photo album she had stored in the hope chest in her spare room. The pages stuck together, the plastic protective sheets crackling with every turn.
She didn’t have a huge wedding album like the one she’d put together for Camille. Just a few pages within this family heirloom. But each photograph was worth a thousand words.
Goodness, they looked so young back then. So carefree. They’d had a small church wedding, followed by a reception at Evan’s parents’ coastal home. Edie remembered exactly how she felt that day when the doors parted and the bridal march began to play. Her eyes connected immediately with Evan’s tear-filled ones. The second they locked, he’d lost it. His chin quivered. His cheeks turned ruddy. She’d seen him cry before once at a sad movie about a beloved family dog, but these weren’t tears of sorrow. No, it was something else altogether. Hope. Love. An eager anticipation to start his life with the woman he’d promised it to.
Edie had practically raced down the aisle. She couldn’t wait to get to him. Couldn’t wait to say her vows. The congregationeven shared a few laughs over her enthusiasm. She’d rushed over her words, proclaiming “I do” so excitedly, she nearly squealed.
