“I don’t wantanything from you, Dianna,” he told me. “I swear. I just want to behere for you. Maybe, in time, you’ll open back up to me. Maybe youwon’t. But I won’t go anywhere, not unless you want me to.” Johntook a deep and nervous breath as he inched even closer. “I can’tbelieve it took you becoming a missing person for me to realizewhat I could lose. I never want to feel that way again. I don’twant to lose you.” He leaned down, then, and placed a gentle kisson the side of my mouth.
John pulledaway and released my hand from his. “I’m fixing the patio door,” hetold me and cleared his throat. “The window and door arrived thismorning and I’m just putting in the last of the framing right now.Should be done this afternoon.”
“Thank you,” Ireplied, “Let me know how much it cost, I’ll pay you back.”
He waved hishand. “No need.”
“No,seriously,” I insisted, “Insurance will pay for it.”
“Oh, sure,”John replied awkwardly, “yeah that works.”
“I’m going tomake some breakfast,” I changed the topic, attempting to cut theweird tension in the air. “Want some?”
He brightened,probably remembering how much he loved my cooking. “Yeah! Thatwould be awesome.” Happily, he scooped up his work gloves and gaveme a wink before slipping out the small opening that ledoutside.
It didn’t takelong for me to settle back into the thing I loved so much; cooking.While the omelets fried on the stove, I popped some homemade breadin the toaster and then stood at the island where I could stare outat the open house before me. Myeyes scanned the gorgeous interior, the built-in shelving, thegorgeous beach rock hearth that surrounded the wood stove, theweathered and slightly warped farmhouse wooden floor that touchedevery corner of the house.
I loved thisplace. So did Mom. I remembered then, a secret little nook Mom hadmade over by the woodstove. One of the stones came loose and sheturned it into a hiding place for me to stash my beach glass.
I left thekitchen and strolled over, knowing exactly which stone it was. Myfingers grasp the edges and gave a slight tug. It resisted atfirst, but I could feel that it was loose, the grout surrounding itlong crumbled away. With a bit of force, the stone came out, andthere was my beach glass. Green, white, and brown shards softenedby the tumbling waters.
As a kid, Iwas convinced they were jewels and Mom told me that I had to keepthem safely hidden. I scooped the tiny pieces into my hand andreturned the stone to its nook. Then, as I turned around to facethe house, something dawned on me. Nooks and crannies. Hiddencupboards. Secret panels.
Mom loved thatstuff.
The house hadto be full of them. If there was something worth hiding, like thekey to time travel, she’d never have kept it out in the open in heroffice. A new hope washed over methen and I came alive with purpose. I began frantically searchingthe house, every inch, every ledge, pushing on panelboard, pickingat the seams of moldings, and knocking on walls.
Eventually,after finding nothing more than a few toys, more beach glass, andsome old books, I planted myself on the stairs, ridden with defeat.What was I doing? Did I really want to waste my life searching forsomething that possibly didn’t exist? Did I want to become myparents, both lost down two different roads in life?
“Dianna!” Johnshouted from the kitchen, “Jesus!”
I descend thestairs into a cloud of smoke and suddenly remembered theomelets.
“Shit!” Iyelled and grabbed a towel to help fan the smoke out the opening inthe dining room. “I’m sorry! I was looking for something. I gotdistracted.”
After tossingthe burnt frying pan into the sink, I expected John to snap. Toyell at me and tell me to get my crap together. But I was surprisedwhen he turned, fanning the smoke, and began to laugh. “Guess we’rejust having toast.”
I couldn’thelp the smile that spread to my lips and let out a laugh.Together, neither of us unable to stop laughing, we grabbed thecold toast and headed out to the front porch to sit down with ourcups of coffee. I could see then how easy it would be to just…be with John. Memories washed over me of all the differentreasons why I fell for him in the first place.
The sparklingblue eyes, his infectious laugh and the warmth that always radiatedfrom him. John was like the center of gravity and people easilyfell into a comfortable rotation around him. I let him throw an armaround my shoulders and we both sat in silence as we sipped coffeeand chewed the dry toast. It was a tiny taste of what my life couldbe like if I ever decided to letgo of the past.
Just then, acar came down the gravel road toward us and I saw that it was AuntMary’s. She pulled to a stop and got out, waving before duckingback in to grab something. As she walked up to the front steps, Isaw that it was a book.
“Goodafternoon, you two,” she greeted and took off her over-sizedsunglasses, noting our unexpected embrace. “Dianna, dear, can Ispeak to you for a second?”
“Uh, sure,” Ireplied, breaking free of John’s arm and standing up. “Iseverything okay?”
Mary grippedthe book tight and smiled. “Yes, everything’s fine. Just havesomething to show you.”
John sensedthe strange air between us and stood to meet our faces, rubbing theback of his neck nervously. “I’ll head out and grab some realfood.”
I nodded.“Thanks.”
As I watchedhim drive off down the old gravel, I turned to Mary. “So, what’sup? What’s with the book?”
Mary reachedinto her pocket and pulled out a large bottle of pills. “These areprenatal vitamins,” she told me and handed the bottle over. “Takethem, it’ll give the baby all the stuff it needs.”
“Thanks,” Ireplied and motioned to the book. “What’s that?”
She heaved aheavy sigh and held the old book out to me. I took it in my handsand admired the worn red leather of the cover and the intricatesymbol of a sun and moon burned into the front.
“This,” shestarted, “is your mother’s journal.”
My breathcaught in my chest as my eyes flicked
