Second Chance Summer

“So,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing in the woods? Are you lost?”

“No,” I said, and as I did, I realized just how true this was. “I’m not lost.” I took a breath. I realized that what I was about to do went against everything I’d ever done. It was confronting everything I was the most scared of. But my father had wanted me to move past this. And I knew, somewhere inside, that it was time. And that this was the place, and Henry was the person. “I got scared,” I said. “And I should never have pushed you away like that.”

Henry nodded and looked down at the ground. There was a long silence, punctuated only by the rustling of leaves and the occasional bird call, and I knew I had to keep going.

“I was just wondering,” I said, “how you felt about second chances.” As I waited, I could feel my heart pound hard, wondering what he was thinking. As excruciating as this was, I had a feeling it was better to be facing it full-on—not running away and hiding and ducking. But out in the sunlight, putting my heart out and watching to see how it was received.

He looked up at me, then started to smile. “I guess it would depend on the context,” he said slowly. “But generally, I’m in favor of them.” I smiled back, for what felt like the first time in days. I knew we still had things to talk about, and so much to figure out. But I had a feeling that we could manage it together.

As I took a step toward Henry, closing the distance between us, I thought about those words we’d carved, years ago, on the dock—our names. And Forever. In the instant before I stretched up to kiss him, I hoped that they just might turn out to be true.

Chapter forty

I PULLED MY SWEATER A LITTLE MORE TIGHTLY AROUND MY shoulders and sat back on the damp grass. It was almost September, and already starting to get chilly. The leaves that had been so brilliantly green all summer were starting to change just slightly, edging toward oranges and reds and gold. Even though I’d been coming here often since they put the marker in, it managed to still make me smile, groan, and miss my father, all at the same time.

We’d found his instructions for it with his will. Though he would be buried in Stanwich, he’d wanted a marker here, in Lake Phoenix, where he’d spent some of his best days. Warren hadn’t believed that he was serious about what he wanted on it, but as I’d told him, there was nothing my father took more seriously than puns. So here, in the small Lake Phoenix cemetery, was the single punny epitaph: ROBIN EDWARDS. BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER… THE DEFENSE RESTS.

I looked down at it, and could still practically hear his words, see his smile. Hey, kid! What’s the news? So I’d done my best to try to tell him, keeping him informed about our lives—how Warren and Wendy were still going strong and had worked out a detailed visiting schedule, on a spreadsheet, for when they both started college. How my mother was going to start teaching dance again. How Gelsey was already planning on spending her spring break in Los Angeles with Nora, meeting movie stars. That Murphy had, against everyone’s expectations, learned to fetch. And that I was doing okay too.

I looked back and saw Henry’s car pull into the small parking lot just down the hill from the cemetery. I knew he’d give me all the time I needed—and sometimes it was a lot of time, as I found this spot to be a place where it was easy to cry—not to mention totally expected. It wasn’t like everything was fine, not by a long shot. There were still moments I missed my dad so much that it hurt, physically, like someone had punched me. There were moments that I got so angry, I was liable to snap at the wrong person, just to release some of the rage at the unfairness of it all. And there were days when I woke up with my eyes puffy and swollen from crying. But we—the four remaining members of the Edwards family—had somehow, against all odds, become okay with talking about our feelings. And on days when it was particularly bad, I knew that there were people I could turn to.

I pushed myself up to standing and looked down at the grave for a long time. “Bye, Daddy,” I whispered. “I’ll see you soon.”

I turned and headed down the hill, where Henry was leaning against the car. “Hey,” he said, as I got close enough to hear him.

“Hi,” I said, giving him an only slightly trembling smile. It hadn’t been simple, finding our way back to being together, especially with my loss so raw. But one thing that I was learning about what happened when you stuck around—it usually seemed that other people were willing to stick by you as well. Even though we were heading back to Connecticut soon, and he was staying here, the distance wasn’t worrying me. We’d been through too much together to let a few hours’ separation split us up now. He leaned down to kiss me, and I kissed him back, making it count. I had a feeling my dad would understand.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked when we stepped apart.

I nodded. We were having a dinner at our house, a good-bye event before everyone started leaving. Lucy and Elliot, who hadn’t stopped holding hands—and making out—once he finally got up enough courage to tell her how he felt, were bringing the cups and plates (stolen, I was sure, from the snack bar). Fred and Jillian were bringing fish. Warren and Wendy were in charge of the seating plan, and I’d no doubt my brother would tell us all how the first one was invented. Kim and Jeff were bringing their finalized screenplay for some after-dinner entertainment, as well as a sneak peek at their pilot, Psychic Vet Tech. Henry was bringing the dessert, and I had picked up the final element that afternoon at Give Me A Sign.

I pulled it out of my purse now and held it out to Henry, who smiled when he saw it. SOARING ROBIN, it read, with a bird in flight etched beneath it.

“Very nice,” he said. He glanced back up to the hill for a moment, then back at me. “I think he’d like it.”

“I think so too.” I glanced up and saw that it was getting dark quickly; I could see the very first stars starting to appear. “Come on,” I said. I smiled at him as I threaded my hand through his. “Let’s go home.”