Page 61 of Escape to Lighthouse Cove

And after a few endless seconds, Brad let out a huff, and then slouched out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

32

Noah felt both numb and reeling as he walked away from the lodge—from Grace and Jacob—back to Grayhaven. Brad, Grace’s horrible ex Brad, was Brad Bellingham, a shallow, irritating, self-aggrandizing jerk he’d palled around with back in the city, at various bars and clubs. Because he’d been stupid. And arrogant. And yes, stupid. So, so stupid.

And now it might cost him the woman he loved before he even got to tell her that he did.

Noah had seen the stricken look on Grace’s face when Noah had bumped Brad’s fist and said it was good to see him.Whyhad he done that? He didn’t even like the guy. He hadn’t liked him back in New York, and he definitely didn’t like him now, and when he pictured Brad Bellingham’s hands around Grace’s throat…

Well, he wanted to puthishands aroundBrad’sthroat.

Which made him not much better than Brad, but still.

Maybe he couldn’t change, Noah thought bleakly. And even if he could, maybe it didn’t matter, because other people wouldn’t let him. They wouldn’t see it or believe it, and maybe he wouldn’t even believe it himself. And maybe even if youdidchange, it didn’t matter, because of what you did and who you were in the past. Maybe no one got a second chance at anything, ever. Maybe life simply didn’t work that way.

It was a deeply depressing thought. He’d been so close to forgiveness, acceptance,happiness, all that good stuff. Now it felt as far away as ever.

With a sigh, he opened the front doors to Grayhaven, only to stop in shock when he saw who was standing there, a suitcase at her feet.

His mother.

She looked tired, and older than he remembered, although just as elegant, her silver bob without a single stray hair. She smiled as she saw him, a sorrowful curving of her lips.

“Hello, Noah.”

“Mom.” He felt blank inside, like certain things were not computing. “What are you doing here?” She must have come over on the same ferry as Brad. But why? The last time he’d seen or spoken to her, at Jem’s funeral, she’d said she never wanted to hear from him again. He’d obliged.

“I’m here to see you.” She paused. “Isaiah called me.”

“Isaiah…” Noah didn’t know whether to feel angry about that or not. Had Isaiah filled his mother in on what he’d been going through this last year and a half? The answer, he knew, was probably. He knew they’d been in touch, anyway. He shouldn’t even be surprised.

“I’m glad he did, Noah,” his mother said quietly. “I should have come sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t.” She paused as if working up the courage to continue. “You don’t know how sorry. Please, can we talk?”

So many revelations in one day. Noah started to shake his head—he was already in an emotional red zone—but then he shrugged. His mother had come all this way, and he didn’t think she’d done it just to yell at him some more. Hopefully, anyway. “Okay.”

“Shall we go outside?” she suggested. “There’s a little sunlight left, and I’ve missed the ocean.”

They walked in silence through the gardens, although occasionally his mother would give some little exclamation of surprise or delight as she studied some flower or bush.

“Isaiah’s been so faithful, tending this place,” she murmured as she broke off a stem of lilac and inhaled it. “I’ve always loved spring here, and we hardly ever came up for it. I’ve missed it so much.”

They’d reached the rose garden, so neatly tended, and his mother opened the gate, slipping through and then holding it for him afterward. “Come,” she said, beckoning toward the little bench where he’d found Grace just a month or so ago. “Sit.”

They sat. The sun was low in the sky, causing the placid surface of the ocean to shimmer with golden light. A slight chill had crept into the air, and his mother hugged herself as she breathed in deeply.

“There’s no smell like the ocean.”

Noah didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure what to say. His mother was talking to him as if things were normal—normal but a little sad—when eighteen months ago she’d told him she never wanted to see him again. That he was to blame for his brother’s death.

It was hard to forget that kind of stuff. To act like it hadn’t happened.

“I really have missed it here,” his mother said quietly.

Noah shifted on the bench. “I never understood why you closed this place up. I mean, I know Eleanor’s death was tragic, but even so, it seemed… extreme.”

“There were a lot of reasons.” His mother was quiet for a moment. “How much do you remember about that summer?”

“Remember? I don’t know.” Noah tried to think back. “It seemed like any other summer. Although I remember doing my college applications a lot of the time.” He’d been fixated on getting into MIT.