Chapter 1
If Maggie Reynolds could just make it past August 7, she would finally be able to breathe again. But nearly two months of bittersweet memories stood between now and then like an emotional minefield. She hoped returning to Seabrook, North Carolina, for the summer wasn’t a colossal mistake. Too late now.
At least she had her four-year-old in tow to distract her from all of the above.
As if on cue Zoey tugged Maggie’s hand. “That one next, Mommy.”
The canopied carnival ride spun in a slow circle, its young riders seated in sporty cars. “That looks fun, but we only have enough tickets for one of us. I guess you’ll just have to watch me ride.”
“Mommy.”Zoey rolled her eyes. “I should ride and you can watch. I can do it by myself. I’m a big girl now.”
“That’s right, I keep forgetting.”
Hand in hand they headed for the short line, pressing through the crush. Evenings on the beach boardwalk were the thing of legends in Seabrook, a sleepy seaside town poised between the more popular Outer Banks and Myrtle Beach. Here the stilt houses lining the beach passed from previous generations and were revered for the memories they held rather than each square foot of beach frontage.
But come summer, the island, separated from the mainland by a bridge, would be overrun with sunseekers and golf carts. Each morning the tourists took advantage of the generous ocean treasures—numerous shells, driftwood, even shark teeth—that washed ashore at high tide. The ocean currents favored the stretch of beach along Seabrook’s coast.
And each night the popular boardwalk would come alive with the sounds of blaring music, squeals of glee, calling carnies, and the mechanical whir of spinning rides.
Maggie absorbed the happy sounds, though the accompanying memories provoked a sense of melancholy: holding hands for the first time as they navigated the game alley, the two of them strolling the boardwalk, completely lost in each other, eating cotton candy from each other’s sticky fingers.
The cloying scent of funnel cakes wafted by on a breeze, turning her stomach. She and Zoey had indulged in the treat just before boarding the swing ride. Zoey’s young stomach seemed just fine—Maggie’s not so much. At thirty-five she was no longer an impervious teenager.
Parents stood outside the barricades, waving and capturing photos of their excited children. Beyond the ride the town’s iconic Ferris wheel lifted slowly overhead, its spokes sparkling with rainbow lights. Riders ascended high into the night sky, taking in the aerial view of the carnival, the boardwalk, and the beach beyond. At this hour the sea would be black and brooding, its white surf crashing the shoreline, rhythmic and relentless.
Maggie had wanted to share the view with Zoey, but her daughter had taken one glimpse of the soaring wheel and shaken her head.
As they settled in line, Zoey curled her small hands around the barrier’s top rail, watching riders go around under the twinklinglights. Her hair, the same chocolate brown as Maggie’s, was woven into two braids that hung over her shoulders. By the end of summer she’d have the kind of natural highlights Maggie paid good money for.
“This one’s my favorite, Mommy,” Zoey called over the cacophony.
Favoritewas her new favorite word. “I thought the carousel was your favorite.” They’d ridden it twice, Zoey choosing the white pony wreathed in pink roses both times.
“It was. But this will be my new favorite.”
“Oh, I see. I like your optimism.”
Wide brown eyes met Maggie’s. “What’s optism?”
Her daughter was a little sponge. “Optimism means having hope about how things will turn out. Like... I’m very optimistic this will be a wonderful summer.” She smiled through the lie. Tried to believe it, for Zoey’s sake if not for her own. She was ready to move on with her life. Desperate to do so.
Zoey’s brows furrowed. “I’m very optimistic... I’ll get to stay up late tonight.”
Maggie laughed. “Good guess since it’s already past your bedtime.” Tomorrow they’d get back on a regular schedule. They’d left Fayetteville only yesterday and were just now settled into her in-laws’ beautiful beach cottage. Brad and Becky had left last week for their long-awaited, extended trip to Europe.
When they’d offered Maggie their place for the whole summer, she turned them down. Wasn’t sure she was ready to return to Seabrook. Then she’d given it some thought. Maybe it would be good for her. Good for Zoey. It would soon be five years, after all. Time to say good-bye.
Maggie’s phone vibrated in her pocket and she checked the screen.
Save me!
A photo accompanied Erin’s text. Her best friend and sister-in-law stood alone in the gathering, looking adorable in a little black dress. She’d styled her sassy blonde bob in beach waves that complemented her pixie face. Erin wasn’t a fan of large crowds or small talk.
That’s what you get when you marry a pastor.??
Another text appeared.You’re no help!
Chin up. You can tell me all about it tomorrow.
