CHAPTER 2
Dear M.,
I can’t pretend that I understand your sense of loss regarding your foster mother, but I do understand your mixed emotions. I think it’s probably quite normal to want to see an end to her suffering, yet mourn your loss of her at the same time.
It’s moments like these that make me wish we had never promised to remain strangers. I’d like to help, but I’m not certain I know exactly how. All I can do is send you virtual support and let you know that my thoughts are with you right now. You’re not alone.
Sincerely,
S.
Randi sighed as she read the entry from her pen pal, feeling just a little bit better after reading his words. The email was short, but somehow comforting. Whatever S. said in his messages, she always sensed that he was sincere.
Her foster mother, Joan Tyler, had passed away not long after the beginning of the new year from heart failure, and Randi knew she’d be mourning the loss of the last person on earth who would love her unconditionally for a very long time. Her foster father, Dennis, had died a few years ago, and Joan had never been the same after his death. Her heart problems had escalated, and she’d been declining since Dennis’s death. Sometimes Randi wondered if she’d actually finally died of grief rather than advanced age.
Joan and Dennis had been in their early seventies when they’d brought Randi to Amesport, and both foster parents had lived a long, happy life—well into their eighties. Knowing that still didn’t lessen the pain of losing them for Randi, or make her wish any less that she’d had more time to spend with them.
Nothing had prepared Randi for the deep emptiness she’d experienced since her loss. Dennis’s death had been heartbreaking; Joan’s had been unbearable. She wasn’t sure if the uncontrollable ache she felt every time she thought about her would ever go away.
Looking at the note, she smiled sadly. Her correspondence with S. was more like a continual conversation. Their entries often weren’t long, and sometimes they wandered into subjects that weren’t really important, but that was part of the fun of having a secret friend.
I still can’t believe that I’ve befriended a person who started off as such an asshole!
Her buddy, formerly known as Unsympathetic in Boston, had been a jerk in the beginning, but what had started off as what she assumed was a practical joke soon turned into a conversation, and eventually mutual admiration. Randi felt a connection to the author of these emails that made her laugh and cry, and were sometimes so thoughtful—like his email in front of her—they made her melancholy.
She shared mostly thoughts and emotions, something that was easier when she could be anonymous. She suspected he’d felt the same way in the beginning. Lately, he’d been hinting at the possibility of the two of them meeting in person.
“Do I ever really want to meet him? Do I ever want to reveal my identity to him?” she whispered to herself as she stared at the screen in the Center.
Yes.
No.
Oh hell, she didn’t know. She’d shared more with S. than she’d ever shared with anyone about her true thoughts and emotions. They never shared details. About the only few facts he knew about her were that she was in her late twenties and that she had been fostered by a loving, elderly couple when she was fourteen, a life-changing event that had brought her from California to Maine.
The only information she knew about him was that he was male, worked for the Sinclair Fund, was entering his midthirties, wasn’t married, and seemed to be around a computer when he probably should be out dating. He’d captured her interest when he’d simply replied to her snide return email, complimenting her intelligence and humor, telling her she’d made him laugh, like it was a very rare occurrence for him. She assumed it was something he didn’t do often.
He’s listened to me through my grief, trying to understand my pain and fix it. Somehow, he always seems to know I feel alone now.
Dennis and Joan had brought her into their home fourteen years ago, and she’d felt the sense of actually being “home” for the first time in her life. She’d only left Maine for college, returning home with her teaching degree. The Tylers had been so proud of her, so encouraging. They’d never been able to have children of their own, and they didn’t have close family. They weren’t rich, but they’d been happy together for almost sixty years. Randi hoped she’d find a love like theirs someday. “Everything I am, I owe to them,” she said softly as she clicked the “Reply” button on her friend’s thoughtful email.
Dear S.,
Sorry it’s been a few days since your email and I haven’t answered. I’ve finally tackled the task of going through my foster mom’s things. She wouldn’t want them to be wasted. I’ve donated as much as I can, and kept the things that are sentimental. Everything feels more final now, and I still feel alone in my parents’ empty house. But thank you for your kind words. I don’t feel as conflicted anymore. I’m glad the suffering is over, though the loneliness remains. I try to just focus on my job, and appreciate my friends. I think it will just take time.
Speaking of parents, are yours still alive? We’ve never spoken much about family.
Hoping you’re staying warm in this incredibly cold winter!
M.
Randi sent the email, hoping she hadn’t crossed the invisible line that she and her pen pal had drawn by asking for personal details. She’d shared her situation with her foster parents willingly, though she’d left out the particulars. They shared thoughts and feelings, but never details.
He had recently said he sometimes wished they could meet face-to-face. Sometimes Randi wanted that, too, and more often than not she wanted to know more about the man who had been her confidant through some very difficult times.
“The mysterious man in my life,” Randi murmured under her breath. “What’s his first name? Starting with S?” Stewart? Sam? Sylvester? Scott? Seth? Randi had gone through the list many times. None of those names had ever quite fit.
Her heart accelerated as she saw an answer pop into her mailbox almost immediately. She clicked on the mouse to show his response.
Dear M.,
I’m glad you’re feeling a little less conflicted, but sorry you are feeling so alone. Please let me know what I can do to help you. I know we’ve never met in person, but you’ve been more of a friend to me than anyone else in my life in the past year.
Are my parents living? Yes . . . and no. My father died when I was in college and I haven’t seen my mother for many years. She doesn’t want anything to do with me or my siblings. The last I heard, she was living with a guy in Europe, probably trying to forget about my deceased, alcoholic father. He wasn’t a pleasant man. Perhaps that’s too much information, but it’s the truth.
I’m not in Boston at the moment, but I haven’t gone to a warmer climate, unfortunately.
Hope you manage to stay warm, too.
Sincerely,
S.
Randi had to read the email twice, surprised that S. had shared so much personal information. Then again, maybe she shouldn’t be shocked. She’d certainly poured her heart out to him about her foster parents over the last few months. Maybe he felt more comfortable. She hit “Reply,” somehow knowing he was waiting for her response. Sometimes it played out that way. They had a back-and-forth discussion when both of them happened to be on the computer at the same time.
Dear S.,
Where are you now?
She didn’t bother to sign the reply because they were in conversation mode at the moment. He answered within a minute.
Maine. And can I just say that it’s pretty damn cold here.
“He’s here,” Randi whispered, tracing her finger over his answer on the screen. His reply could have been creepy, since she lived in the state he was visiting, but it wasn’t. Whatever his reason might be for visiting Maine, it wasn’t because of her. He’d always known what town she lived in, and she’d been writing to him for over a year. “Don’t do it, Randi. Don’t ask him to meet up. He’s probably here on business or fundraising. Most likely in some rich area where donors can be found,” she reasoned to herself quietly. Her fear of meeting an unknown male overrode her desire to see him, no matter how much she’d like to know him in person.
Randi typed back a quick reply.
Why are you here? BTW . . . there’s a storm coming. I hope you don’t get stuck here.
His response came back quickly.
I have family in Maine. I’m just visiting. And no, I didn’t know we were expecting bad weather. But it’s not a problem if I have to stay here a little longer. I have a place to stay.
It made sense. He was in the area for a family visit, and he hadn’t said a word about meeting her in person. Seeing each other face-to-face would be as unlikely as it was inadvisable. With a major storm coming their way, they could hardly meet. She answered him for the last time, knowing she needed to get moving.
I have to get going, but I hope you have a good time with your family. Maybe we can talk if you get bored during the storm.
She moved her mouse to sign off the Center’s computer, but she saw a reply pop back into her mailbox almost instantly.
Hot date?
Randi laughed aloud, glad there was nobody else in the Center’s computer room at the moment. It was Friday night, and the two of them often caught up and went into conversation mode on date nights, razzing each other because they were both alone when most single people like them were out on the town. Unable to resist answering, she typed a response.
Actually, I do have a date, but whether it’s hot or not is still in question. A high school friend of mine wanted me to meet her brother. She thinks we’d get along well. We’re meeting up in a few minutes. So I have to go. Talk to you soon. Stay safe during the storm.
She really did have to go, so she shrugged her jacket on as she stared at the screen, almost wishing she didn’t have a kind-of-a-date with Liam Sullivan, her friend Tessa’s brother. She knew of Liam, but she’d only said a handful of words to him in the past. After months of Tessa’s nagging, Randi had finally agreed to have coffee with him at Brew Magic. If she didn’t move her rear, she’d be late.
She didn’t really expect a reply from S. since she’d basically said good-bye, but she got one anyway.
You have a date with a local guy on a Friday night? I think I’m jealous. I hope you have a lousy time while I’m sitting here alone working. Be careful and email me when you get home.
Randi smiled at the computer screen. She was used to her mystery man’s quirky humor. But the demand that she email him was . . . different. He didn’t know that she never sent him an email except when she was volunteering at the Center. It was more out of habit now than the concern about him tracking her down. It was kind of sweet that he was actually concerned about her safety.
Okay.
She sent the one-word email and forced herself to shut down her computer. She’d have to sprint down the street to Brew Magic or Liam would think she’d stood him up. From what she’d heard, he was a pretty nice guy, and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. How could he not be nice? He’d given up a promising career to move back to Amesport to watch over his deaf sister. Not that Tessa would accept any help. Her friend didn’t think she was any different just because she’d lost her ability to hear.
Randi was meeting with him mainly to get Tessa off her back; she had a feeling Liam had agreed for the same reason. Her friend Tessa might be deaf, but she was a master at manipulating people. She could be like a dog with a tasty bone when she wanted something, and she wanted her brother Liam to be happily settled with a woman of his own. Tessa loved her brother, but he was incredibly protective since she’d lost her ability to hear. Since Liam blamed himself for Tessa’s condition, he’d moved from California back to Amesport several years ago.
He gave up a career he loved to look after his sister. I know he’s a nice guy, but I’ve just never really felt a connection with him.
The few times she’d met up with Liam had been at his and Tessa’s restaurant, Sullivan’s Steak and Seafood. Randi knew a lot about Liam because Tessa talked about him a lot, but they had only spoken to each other in passing.
Maybe there will be something more if we have a private chat . . .
Randi was an optimist, and more than anything else she wanted to feel loved. Sure, she’d had boyfriends, but they’d never amounted to a serious relationship. She liked sex as much as any other female her age, but she was burnt out on meaningless relationships that involved nothing but sex. There had to be something more. She’d seen it between her foster parents, and she saw it every day between her married friends and their spouses. Unfortunately, she’d never experienced that white-hot connection with anyone except the one man she couldn’t stand: Evan Sinclair.
Don’t think about him. He’s an arrogant, insufferable asshole.
She shuddered as she thought about how hard she’d tried to get to know Evan in the beginning, only to be soundly rejected. Obviously, a lowly teacher in a small town wasn’t worth him putting out the effort to even be polite. It wasn’t like she’d wanted to jump his bones. Well . . . maybe she had wanted to, but at the time she was just trying to be nice to a man she knew she was going to have to deal with for Emily’s wedding. She had managed to shrug off the first snub during Emily’s nuptials, thinking maybe Evan was just having a bad day. But when he’d responded the same way when Sarah and Dante had gotten married and the two of them had found themselves paired once again, Randi had finally realized that Evan simply didn’t like her. By the time Mara and Jared got married, Randi had completely ignored him except for the necessary superficial smiles and robotic motions she’d made as a bridesmaid to Evan’s groomsman. Since all of the married Sinclairs had wanted to be paired with their wives, Randi had ended up being a bridesmaid by default, as Mara’s best friend’s broken leg hadn’t completely healed in time for her to be part of the ceremony. She didn’t regret having been a bridesmaid so many times. Through the ceremonies, she’d made an incredible circle of female friends who had been there to support her during the last few dark weeks. Unfortunately, those friendships had come at the price of putting up with Evan Sinclair.
Too bad he’s such a self-involved dick, because he’s majorly hot. I wish I could figure out why I’m so damn attracted to him when I can’t stand him.
She was still contemplating what it was about Evan that irritated her when she left the building. The Center was busy as Randi exited, deciding to walk down to Brew Magic instead of taking the time to clean the snow off her car. Friday night saw a lot of activity at the Center, especially since Grady had married Emily and so many new programs and changes had occurred.
Shoving her cold hands into the pockets of her jacket, Randi gripped the Apache-tear crystal that Beatrice had given her months ago when she’d stopped by the elderly woman’s store, Natural Elements, to chat. Beatrice had been friends with Randi’s foster mother, and she’d stopped into the eclectic shop whenever she had the chance to update Beatrice on Joan’s medical condition. It was on one of those visits that Beatrice had made her prediction and handed Randi the crystal along with her predictions.
Joan will pass in the winter, but you’ll open a new chapter in your life soon after with a man who needs you even more than you need him. He’ll be your soul mate, and you’ll finally become a bride instead of a bridesmaid.
Randi shook her head with a sad smile, remembering the certainty on Beatrice’s face that day.
Picking up her pace, she trudged quickly through the lightly falling snow on the sidewalk. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe that supernatural talents could exist, but she didn’t take the elderly woman’s words too seriously. She’d known Beatrice since she’d moved to Amesport as a teen. Some of her predictions were eerily accurate, some of them weren’t. Randi’s rational mind was telling her that the accurate predictions Beatrice made could simply be coincidence. They had to be flukes. Randi was open-minded, but she had to draw the line at somebody knowing her future. She believed in people deciding their own fate or destiny. Anything else was just . . . chance.
She waited for traffic to clear before she sprinted across the street, her boots sliding in the snow as she stopped breathlessly in front of Brew Magic. She ignored the sensation that the crystal in her pocket appeared to warm beneath her fingers, before she jerked her hands from the warmth of the fleece compartments to hastily attempt to right her damp, wind-tossed hair.
“Beatrice’s stone is not magic, and her prediction is nothing more than nonsense,” she told herself forcefully as she brushed the snow from her head and tried to make herself presentable to go chat with Liam. “Things like that don’t happen to women like me. I make my own luck and my own future.”
Considering her past, Randi was happy with her life, even though she was still grieving for Joan. She had a good education, a good job, and friends who meant everything to her. If she was lonely sometimes now that her foster mother was gone, she’d get through it. Her earlier childhood had taught her that life was tough, and wishes didn’t often become reality. Dennis and Joan coming into her life had been her miracle, if there was any such thing. She didn’t need any more than what they’d given her: a home for a homeless girl with no hope for the future.
Randi tried not to remember that Beatrice had predicted that Dennis and Joan would still have a child, even after all hope of Joan getting pregnant was long gone. Before her foster parents had left on vacation to California, Beatrice had reminded them of her prediction, saying her spirit guides had told her that they’d find their daughter while they were on their Southern California sightseeing tour.
Joan had been a firm believer in Beatrice’s gift of premonitions. Being a realist, Randi had always been on the fence.
“Beatrice runs about fifty-fifty on her predictions,” Randi whispered to herself. “She was right about Jared and Mara, so she’s due to be wrong about mine.”
Chastising herself for standing in the brutal weather contemplating a silly rock, Randi hurried into Brew Magic, determined not to regret the fact that she’d had to cut her conversation short with her pen pal because of her prior engagement.
She tried not to think about what S. was doing right at the moment as she searched the crowded coffee shop for Liam.