He gave her a firm nod; then Maggie leaned back on the love seat. “What brings you by today?”
Louisa had been wondering that herself. Was he here to talk about the fundraiser? Maggie’s party? To tell Louisa he forgave her and wanted to rekindle all the love they once had?
What a stupid idea. She didn’t need a man to be happy. Eric had taught her that. Eric, the crusher of dreams. She was far better off on her own.
Remember that, Louisa.
“I see you dressed your best to come calling.” Maggie chuckled.
“I was out for a run.”
The image of him running alongside the ocean, like a model in a commercial for men’s aftershave, sprang to Louisa’s mind.
“Why?” Maggie asked. “You only get a handful of years on this planet. Running seems like such a torturous way to spend them.”
He smiled. A real smile. It was lovely. And it made Louisa’s toes tingle. For the briefest moment she wondered what the stubble on his chin would feel like underneath her fingertips.
We are not believers in love, Lou, the sensible part of her brain reminded her.
She shoved thoughts of his skin aside while simultaneously wondering how his face smelled after he shaved.
“You look like you have something on your mind,” Maggie said, focused on Cody.
Did he? Louisa studied him for a moment while he was looking at Maggie—tough job, but someone had to do it.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and stared at the ground.
Oh. Maggie was right. He did look like he had something on his mind. Maggie always had a sixth sense about the people she loved. She supposed Cody still fell into that category even though he’d been gone a long time.
It had to be difficult being back here after all these years. As far as Louisa knew, this was his first time back since his dad died.
How sad.
All at once his crabbiness seemed less about her and more about something much bigger. Her heart softened toward him. Was it wrong that she wanted to take him in her arms and hug that look right off his face? Or kiss him. Maybe she really just wanted to kiss him.
She shook the thought away and tried to stay in the room instead of daydreaming about something that was never going to happen.
“Out with it,” Maggie said.
He shifted, then reached inside the pocket of his gym shorts (gym shorts had pockets?) and pulled out a small white business card.
Probably McKenzie Palmer’s phone number and a request for him to call her.
He handed it to Maggie, and Louisa tried not to peek. But then she got so curious, she scooted closer and read the handwritten message, scrawled in black marker.
Miss you, Danny. IOU.
Louisa took the card and turned it over. Blank on the other side except for the spots where the marker had bled through. She scanned the card again. “Where’d you find this?”
Cody looked tense and out of sorts. Maybe he should request a transfer. This couldn’t be good for him.
“Do either of you know anything about a memorial down at the spot where my dad died?”
“The cross?” Louisa asked, and when he nodded, she said, “Not really. It kind of just showed up at the end of one summer.”
“When?”
Louisa’s mind ran through the years. It had been odd when that cross went up because it wasn’t something that happened immediately after Daniel’s death. “It was about two years ago.”
“So ten years after he died.”
“Right.” How had she not put that together? The cross went up around the tenth anniversary of Daniel’s death. Nobody knew who put it there.
“Was it you?” Cody asked, eyes trained on Maggie.
Maggie stilled. “I wish it had been. I wish I’d thought to do that for your father. He deserves to be remembered.”
He turned to Louisa. “You?”
She shook her head, longing for answers to soften that line of worry across his forehead.
It was strange. Daniel had known everyone on the island. He was charming and friendly and kind. He helped people whenever he could. But to see a memorial go up in the spot where he’d died without a single word—it had struck her as odd. She’d called her parents to tell them about it, and bringing it up seemed to upset her father. He and Daniel had been so close back in the day—Louisa thought maybe none of them had recovered from what they’d all lost.
But there was something else too, something about how quickly her dad changed the subject, as if talking about it was still too painful.
Shouldn’t they be able to discuss Daniel’s death by now? She and Cody weren’t kids anymore, and her parents had had years to process it. But it remained the elephant in every room. The wall of tension that kept them all frozen in time, paralyzed by a past that had once been full of joy. How was it that joy could be so haunting?
She’d always wondered what she and Cody didn’t know about the story because it certainly seemed like there was more to it than she’d been told. Why had her parents never reached out to Marissa in all this time? Why hadn’t they reconciled? What was it that still kept them apart?
She could see Cody trying to sort out the possibilities—where would his questions lead him?
“Your parents?” Cody asked, sounding hopeful.
“I asked them,” Louisa said. “They said no, and honestly that summer they didn’t make it to the island until late in the season. I remember because they asked me to go down there with them. We left flowers at the cross.”
“Do you think we could go talk to them about it?”
“They’re still in Boston.”
Cody looked at her, brow laced with confusion. “I just saw your dad at a coffee shop.”
Louisa’s heart sank. She wasn’t sure if she was embarrassed to admit she wasn’t close enough with her parents for them to tell her when they were back on the island or if she was simply hurt they hadn’t told her they were here.
“You didn’t know?” Cody’s gaze was too intent.
“I must’ve forgotten,” she said. A lie he’d surely see right through. “I can ask them again, I suppose, but I think they would’ve told me if they’d discovered anything.” She realized the irony of that statement given the fact that they hadn’t even told her they’d returned to Nantucket.
Did that mean they knew about her accident? Surely not—they would’ve shown up at the door the second they got wind of that. But she should probably tell them before someone else did. The thought made her groan. More proof that Louisa was a giant screwup.
After a long moment, he finally looked away. “Can you think of anyone who would’ve had that memorial made? Or anyone who might’ve left this note? It had to be recent—it looks brand-new.”
Maggie drew in a deep breath. “A lot of people loved your dad.”
“Right,” Cody said. “But twelve years later?”
“It has been a long time.” Maggie coughed again. “I really can’t think of anyone in particular.”
He sat unmoving for what felt like an eternity, then took the card back and stood. He tucked it into his pocket. “If you think of anyone or anything—let me know.”
“You don’t have to run off,” Maggie said.
“I still need to unpack,” he said.