She stares out the window wistfully, as if she weren’t looking at the lake but straight into the past.
It’s a peek into the life she had before. I latch onto it.
“Where are you from?” I keep the question casual, but I’m desperate for any crumb of information.
Her expression turns even more distant. “California.”
One word. That’s all she gives me. No explanation. But it’s a start.
I brush last year’s dust from the filter. “Can I ask you something?”
“Depends on the question.”
“Why did you move to Blue Crescent Harbor?” I glance at her over my shoulder. “Rebecca told me you don’t talk about it. She said you’re a beautiful mystery that washed up on our shores.”
Faye’s eyes widen at the word “beautiful.” Like she’s wondering if that’s Beck talking or me.
My sister said it, but I’m the one who feels it.
“Your sister has a flair for the dramatic.” Faye takes a sip of coffee.
I wait. Sometimes silence works better than pushing.
Finally, she sighs. “It’s not that interesting. I needed a change. My last job didn’t… work out. I saw the posting for Harbor Point Elementary, and here I am.”
I turn to face her, leaning against the wall with one shoulder while I keep cleaning the filter. “Bullshit.”
Her startled laugh makes my chest tight. “Did you just call bullshit on my life story?”
“Someone like you doesn’t randomly end up in small-town Missouri.” I flip the clean filter in my hands. “You’ve got big city written all over you. The clothes, the attitude, the way you talk. So yeah, I’m calling bullshit.”
“Maybe I just really like lakes.”
“Maybe.” I don’t break eye contact. “Or you’re hiding in a place so small no one will find you.”
“Mmm, interesting theory.”
“I’m not judging. I meant that I get it. The need to escape. To start over where nobody knows your history.”
“I thought you Evanses, with your precious founders status, were happily beholden to this town.”
“You’re never going to let me live that comment down, are you?”
“Nope.” She pops the “p,” smiling.
“Fair enough.” I wince-smile back. “And you’re right. I love Blue Crescent Harbor. I’m not going anywhere. But that also means I’m stuck with my history. Born and raised here, will probably die here. Everyone knows every mistake I’ve ever made.” My turn to stare out the window wistfully. “Including marrying a woman who left me and our baby without ever looking back.”
Bitterness creeps into my voice. I can’t help it. Six years, and the wound still isn’t healed.
Faye loses her smile. “I’m sorry.”
Two words, but not the empty sympathy I’m used to. She means them. I can tell.
“Don’t be.” I shake my head. “Rhys and I are better off. Abigail left when he was barely walking. She disappeared one morning, leaving a note on the kitchen table, saying she was tired and that we needed more than she could offer.” I force myself to hold Faye’s gaze. “I haven’t heard from her since except to sign the divorce papers.”
“That must have been”—she stops, searching for words— “incredibly difficult.”
“It was. Rhys doesn’t even remember her. I’m all he’s ever known.”
