Someone must have given this to Mariam—and if that was how she’d acquired it, there wasn’t much chance she had anything but the print she’d passed on to his daughter.
But it could be scanned. Should be scanned before the edges got any more ragged from handling.
“I would love to have a copy of this picture, Elisa. It’s exactly how I remember your mama.”
“You could ask Teta if she has another one.”
“I will—but if she doesn’t, I could make a copy of yours.”
She tucked it close to her chest. “I like to keep this here.”
“You could come with me while I get the copy made. You don’t have to give it to me.”
“I guess so.” She traced a finger over the image in the photo. “Mama was pretty.”
“Yes, she was.” He managed to keep his voice from cracking.
“Can she see us from heaven?”
“I don’t know—but I’m sure she can feel how much we love her.”
“She loved me this much.” Elisa spread her arms wide . . . then let them droop. “Like you used to.”
Past tense.
As if he too was dead.
And in truth he had been—in every way that counted.
“I still love you, Elisa.” The sentiment sounded empty even to him. Words without action meant nothing.
But going forward, there would be plenty of action to back them up.
“Are you mad at me for running away?”
“I’m more mad at myself.”
Her brow knitted. “Why?”
“Because if I’d been a better papa, you wouldn’t have wanted to leave.” He brushed her hair back with trembling fingers. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you every single day that I love you, and given you hugs, and read you bedtime stories, and kissed you good night. From now on, I’m going to do all those things—if that’s okay with you.”
She emitted a tiny, shuddering puff of air. “It’s okay.”
Her expression didn’t change. No smile chased away the somber demeanor he’d come to expect from her. But God willing, that would come in time—after she was certain her papa was really back.
He leaned toward her and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Good night, my little one.”
Rising, he smoothed out the blankets and reached over to flip off the lamp.
“Papa?”
“Yes?” He paused, his fingers on the switch.
She slowly held out her precious photo. “You can make a copy.”
As the significance of her simple gesture registered, the room blurred—and hope filled his heart.
Despite all he’d done to hurt this child, she’d accepted his apology, trusted him to honor his promise, and was willing to give him a second chance.
And as he took the photo, thanked her, and bent to give her another kiss, he sent a silent prayer of gratitude toward the heavens.
While his life hadn’t played out as he’d hoped, and there would be many challenges ahead, he had much to be thankful for.
And here in Hope Harbor, with the love of his daughter and mother to sustain him, he would remember each and every day to count his blessings and to focus on what could be rather than on what might have been.
27
Logan hadn’t contacted her all day.
And why should he, after her vague response when he’d called last night to tell her the girls had been found and invite her over?
The man wasn’t going to come begging for her attention. If she wanted to explore where their memorable kiss might lead, the next move was up to her.
Jeannette settled the last lavender wreath into its box, added it to the other two that hadn’t sold at the Friday farmer’s market, and gave the empty booth one last scan.
She was out of here.
And much faster than most of the other vendors. Rarely did she have much unsold merchandise to haul home, and the photos and lavender netting she used to decorate her booth were easy to take down. Fifteen minutes flat, she was ready to roll.
“You’ve got this routine down pat.”
She swiveled toward Marci, who waved as she jogged over.
“Comes from practice.” She set the wreaths into the trunk and closed the lid. “It helps that vendors are allowed to pull their vehicles up to the booths after the market closes. That expedites the process. What are you doing down here on a Friday night?”
“I’m writing a story for the next issue on the myrtlewood booth, and I need a few photos to go with it—which I almost didn’t get. I forgot the market was closing an hour early tonight so the town could set up for that 5K run tomorrow morning. Not that it would have been a big deal if I had to wait a week. I’ll probably bump the story to leave space for the big news in our little hamlet, anyway.”
“You mean the runaways?” What else could it be?
“Yes. I’m going to focus on the inspiring turnout of local citizens to assist with the search and tie it back to the outpouring of support the town gave to the idea of sponsoring a refugee family. We’re blessed to live in such a special town.”
“I won’t argue with that.”
“So how are Logan and Molly doing?”
Marci was the third person today to ask her that question.
Why did everyone in town think she had inside information about her neighbors?
“I haven’t talked to Logan since last night.”
“Oh.” Marci regarded her. “Well, I’m assuming everything’s fine. I saw his car at the urgent care center as I drove here. If there were any issues, I doubt he’d have gone in today.”
He’d been at work all day?
That could explain why she hadn’t heard from him—although he’d gotten off two hours ago, and he’d had plenty of time to— “—you think of him?”
Drat.
She’d been zoning out on conversations since the market opened—as more than one customer had noticed.
“Sorry. I, uh, was distracted for a minute.”
“I said, now that you’ve gotten to know our new doctor, what do you think of him . . . off the record?”
She busied herself sweeping a few cookie sample crumbs off the counter of the booth. “He seems very nice.”
“More than, from everything I’ve heard. Did you know he made a house call for Rose Marshall from the garden club? She has the flu and felt too sick to drive, so he swung by after work earlier this week.”
No, she didn’t know that.
But she wasn’t surprised.
Logan West was the real deal.
“I thought house calls had gone out with the dodo bird.” Jeannette kept her tone conversational as she brushed off her hands.
“My point exactly. If you ask me, he’s a keeper—just in case you happen to have any ideas along those lines.” Marci grinned and gave her an elbow nudge. “By the way, I haven’t forgotten about the feature on the farm and tearoom. You’re up next. Gotta run—Ben and I have a dinner date.” With another wave, she bounded off.
Lips flexing as the energetic editor disappeared into the crowd, Jeannette circled her car, slid behind the wheel, and twisted the key in the ignition.
As she slowly drove down Dockside Drive, taking care to edge around the vendors loading their vehicles, she couldn’t dispute what Marci had said about Logan.