The next pages showed the two of them on the first morning they’d ever spoken; in the sketches, he was holding Scottie and her concern was evident in her worried expression. The next two pages showed them walking back toward the cottage; those were followed by drawings of the two of them drinking coffee on the back deck. The images blended together like a series of screen shots in a movie. Hope took a long time to work her way through to the end. When she finally did, he noted a tear track on her cheek.

“You captured all of it,” she said.

“Yes,” he said. “I tried to, anyway. It’s for you.”

“No,” she said. “This is a work of art.”

“It’s us,” he said.

“When did you…”

“It took years,” he said.

She ran her hand over the cover again. “I don’t know what to say. But there’s no way you can give this to me. It’s…a treasure.”

“I can always make another one. And ever since I finished, I’ve been dreaming of the day I would see you again, so I could show you how you’ve lived on in my soul.”

She continued to hold the book in her lap, clutching it as though she never wanted to let it go. “You even added that moment on the beach, after I told you Josh had proposed, when you held me…”

He waited as she searched for the words.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about that,” she said in a low voice. “As we walked, I was trying to figure out a way to tell you, and I was so confused and scared. I could feel this void already beginning to form because I knew we were going to say goodbye. But I wanted it to be on our terms, whatever that meant, and it felt like Josh took that away from me…”

He could hear the plea in her tone. “I thought I understood how much I hurt you that day, but seeing the drawing of you in that moment is devastating. The expression on your face—the way you drew yourself…”

Her voice trembled, and she trailed off. Tru swallowed, acknowledging the truth of her words. It had been one of the most painful renderings in the entire book, one he’d had to walk away from more than once.

“And then, do you know what you did? You didn’t argue, or get angry, or make demands. Instead, your first instinct was just to hold me. To comfort me, even when it should have been the other way around. I didn’t deserve it, but you knew it was something that I needed.” She fought to keep her composure. “That’s what I feel like I missed out on when I married Josh—having someone who would comfort me when things were at their worst. And then, today, at the mailbox, when I was in shock and had no idea what to say or do, you took me in your arms again. Because you knew I felt like I had fallen off a cliff and needed you to catch me.” She shook her head sadly. “I don’t know if Josh ever held me like that—with perfect empathy. It made me think again how much I gave up when I drove away that day.”

He watched her without moving, then finally reached for the box and placed it on the table. He put his hand on the book of sketches he’d created, loosening it from her grip, and set it beside the box before putting his arm around her. Hope leaned into him. He kissed her hair softly, just as he’d done so long ago.

“I’m here now,” he whispered. “We were in love, but the timing wasn’t right. And all the love in the world can’t alter timing.”

“I know,” she said, “but I think we would have been good together. I think we could have made each other happy…” He watched as she closed her eyes before slowly opening them again. “And now it’s too late,” she said, her voice desolate.

Tru used a finger to gently lift her chin. She faced him, as beautiful as any woman he’d ever seen. He leaned closer, their lips coming together. Her mouth was warm and eager.

“It’s never too late to hold you,” he murmured.

Rising from the couch, he reached for her hand. The moon had risen, casting a silvery beam through the window to compete with the molten glow of the fire. She rose, slowly, and he kissed the hand he’d been holding. Languorously, he pulled her toward him. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling as her arms twined around his neck. She rested her head against his shoulder, her breath fluttering against his collarbone, and he thought to himself that this was all he’d ever wanted. She was all he’d ever wanted. He’d known she was the one since the moment he’d met her; he’d known since then that there would never be another.

From the porch, he heard the distant tinkle of wind chimes. Hope’s body swayed against his, beckoning and warm, and he gave in to everything he was feeling.

Her mouth opened beneath his, her tongue flicking against his. It was hot and moist, the sensation unchanged after all this time, ageless and elemental. He tightened his arms around her, melding her body to his. His hand roved over her back and into her hair, then caressed her back again. He’d waited so long for this, reliving it on so many lonely nights. When the kiss ended, Hope rested her head on his chest, her body beginning to shake.

He heard her sniff, and with alarm, he realized she was crying. When he pulled back, she refused to meet his gaze. Instead, she kept her face buried in his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so, so sorry. I wish I had never left you. I wish I had found you earlier, I wish you had gotten on that plane…”

There was something in her voice, a fear he hadn’t expected. “I’m here now,” he said, “and I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s too late,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’m sorry, but it’s too late now. I can’t do this to you.”

“It’s all right,” he whispered, feeling the first inkling of panic. He didn’t know what was wrong; he didn’t know what he’d done to upset her. “I understand why you had to leave. And you have two wonderful children…Hope, it’s all right. I understand the choice you made.”

“It’s not that.” She shook her head, a deep weariness weighting her words. “But it’s still too late.”

“What are you talking about?” he cried, gripping her arms and pulling back. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me. Please talk to me, Hope.” Desperate, he tried to peer into her face.

“I’m afraid…and I have no idea what to say to my kids…”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“But they won’t,” she said. “I remember how hard it was for me.”

Tru felt a shiver go through him. He forced himself to take a deep breath. “I don’t understand.”

Hope began to cry harder, great gasping sobs that left her clinging to him for support. “I’m dying,” she finally said. “I have ALS like my father did, and now I’m dying.”

With her words, Tru’s mind emptied, and all he could think about were the shadows cast by the fire and the way they seemed almost alive. Her words seemed to ricochet inside him…I have ALS like my father did, and now I’m dying.

He closed his eyes, trying to offer strength, but his body seemed to be weakening. She squeezed him hard, whispering, “Oh, Tru…I’m so sorry…It’s all my fault…”