“No, you will not. You have a great figure, and you look beautiful. Please wear the dress. In fact, you should keep it because you look better in it than I ever did.”
Cait tucked her hair behind her ear and said, “I feel naked.”
“That’s because you’re used to the feel of denim hugging your skin. You don’t look naked.” Abby bumped her shoulder and said, “But I have a feeling Brant wishes you were.”
“He does not. He’s a big flirt.”
“Actually, he’s never been a big flirt. Wells is way flirtier than him. But for what it’s worth, I like them both a lot, so if there’s any interest on your part . . .”
Cait scoffed. “I’m not looking for a guy.”
“Okay, I get that. But I wasn’t looking when I met Aiden, either.” Anxiety prickled her limbs. She’d fielded good-luck texts from friends all morning, but she hadn’t heard from Aiden since Tuesday evening, when he’d texted, You’ve got this, Abs. No finger crossing necessary. She’d had no idea how to interpret such a generic response. But given her ricocheting emotions, she guessed that he was either on the same roller-coaster ride or he’d given up on her, which was why she hadn’t responded. She wasn’t ready to hear the latter.
Hope rose in Cait’s eyes. “Did you talk to him?”
She shook her head, and disappointment washed Cait’s hope away.
“Are you thinking about reading the letter from our mother?” Cait glanced at the letter Abby had forgotten she was holding.
“Maybe. I’ve been thinking about Mom and my dad a lot. I wish they were here.” She wished Aiden were there, too.
“They’re here in spirit.” She pointed at the letter. “Do you want me to be with you when you read the letter?”
Aiden’s voice traipsed through Abby’s mind. Do it when I get back, so you have me to lean on. She’d spent her life making sure she was never in a position to be so reliant on a man that she couldn’t stand on her own two feet if he left. And now here she was, standing on her own, doing all the things she needed to do, and doing them well.
Well enough, anyway.
But still she was swamped with longing, drowning in an emotional abyss caused by his absence.
“Abby?” Cait touched her arm, jerking her from her thoughts. “Do you want me to stay while you read it?”
“No, thanks. I think I need to read it alone.” To prove to myself I can get through anything.
“Okay, then I’m going to finish getting ready.”
Cait walked out, and Abby looked at the letter. She ran her finger beneath the sealed edge, opening the envelope, and heard the sound of tires on gravel. Aiden! She ran to the window and saw Brant’s truck backing down the driveway with a boat on a trailer. He was probably there to wish her luck. Or maybe he was there to see Cait.
She went downstairs and headed outside, waving as she descended the porch steps.
“Hey, Abby,” he said as he climbed from his truck. “Good luck today.”
“Thanks.” The grass tickled her bare feet. “That boat looks like my dad’s dinghy, except I think his is in dire need of repair.”
“I’m guessing Aiden didn’t tell you he asked me to clean her up for you?”
“He . . . ? No,” she said, choked up for the hundredth time in the last few days.
“Yeah, the morning after we all had dinner a couple of weeks ago. When he borrowed the pressure washer. The house looks great, by the way.”
“Thanks,” she said absently, trying to remember when she’d told Aiden about her dad’s dinghy.
“The trailer’s yours, too.”
“He bought me a boat trailer?” That was so Aiden. She blinked repeatedly to keep the tears burning her eyes at bay.
“Can’t get her down to the water without one. Fixed up the sail, too.” The sail was rolled up and secured to the boat with bungee cords, as were two new oars. “This little gal sure is a beauty. It was a pleasure cleaning her up. Where do you want her?”
“Um . . .” She was still hung up on the fact that Aiden had arranged for all of this and had never said a word about it. “You can leave it there. My garage is a mess.”
Brant unhooked the trailer from his truck and said, “Did Dee come in for the announcement?”
“No. She couldn’t get the time off work.”
“And Cait?” Interest sparked in his eyes.
“She’s inside getting ready.”
He straightened the bill on his blue baseball cap, grinning as he said, “I’ll be there pulling for you two. I promised Aiden I’d video the whole thing. He’s pretty bummed that he can’t be here.”
“You talked to him?” she asked, hope rushing through her veins. If he wanted Brant to video the event, then maybe he hadn’t given up on her.
“Not since he left. He just texted to confirm that I was still planning on videoing it for him.”
“Cait offered to video it for him,” Abby said as the thought popped into her mind.
“She can’t do that if she’s onstage with you accepting the award, can she?” He winked and said, “Good luck. I’ll see you there.”
“Thanks.”
As he drove away, Abby ran her hand along the wooden edge of the boat. It looked brand-new, with the upper third newly stained and gleaming and the lower section painted forest green. She realized she was still holding the letter from her mother. She’d been thinking about her parents so much, the boat felt like a sign.
She climbed carefully into the dinghy, settled into a small space between the sail and the side, and opened the letter. As she read, she heard every word in her mother’s voice.
My dear, sweet Abby,
If I know you as well as I hope I do, you’re reading this letter long after I’m gone. You’ve taken your time getting to a place in your life where you feel you can handle it. You’ve always been so sure of yourself and known exactly what you wanted and what you needed to do to get there. I was a little jealous of that. I’m sure you’re shaking your head right now.
Abby realized she was, and tears slipped down her cheeks.
Your downfall is putting others—and the need for stability (which is my fault)—ahead of your own dreams. But you’re stronger than you know, sweetheart. Even stronger than Didi, which I’m sure you won’t believe. The difference is that you face your insecurities head-on, and Didi has never been able to. Maybe one day you can help her with that. Like you, she’s terrified that some of my bad traits have rubbed off on her. (Yes, I am aware of your insecurities. I’m your mother, after all.)
Don’t worry, honey, they haven’t. They couldn’t. Neither of you is broken in the way I am. I’m not talking about alcoholism—that’s just a by-product of never really healing from my past. By now you’ve met Cait, and I’m sure you have a lot of questions. I’m sorry I’m not there to answer them. I had never loved anything or anyone as much as I loved Cait until I met your father. He saved me from myself. I started drinking right after I was forced to give up Cait. Your father gave me what I had always been missing. Unconditional love. He gave me a purpose and helped me live my life instead of hiding from it.