Promises of the Heart Page 3

  “Mace,” Ben had said, pulling her to a stop.

  She’d turned and realized his hands were trembling.

  “I told you to wear gloves,” she’d teased with a grin as the wind whipped all around them, blowing her hair in every direction. She’d reached up and tried to tuck it behind her ears, but it was hopeless, and Ben had smiled, gently placed his hands on the sides of her head to hold it in place, and searched her eyes.

  “What’s the matter?” she’d asked, frowning, suddenly worried.

  “Nothing,” he’d said. “It’s just . . . Mace, I hope you know how much you mean to me.” He’d lightly traced a finger over the speckled map of freckles on her cheeks. “I want you to know that I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Even though we were just friends when you went away to college . . . and then to Paris, I felt lost without you. I felt like I’d lost my best friend, and I don’t ever want to feel that way again.” He’d paused and smiled. “I also want you to know that I already talked to your dad . . . and your mom, of course, because she refused to be left out”—he’d grinned—“and they . . . well . . . they approved.” Then he’d let go of her hair so he could reach into the pocket of his jacket.

  Suddenly, Macey realized what was happening and felt her heart start to pound.

  What came next, she would never forget: Ben had knelt on the wooden pier, mustered a brave smile, and said, “Mace, I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you in the eighth-grade lunch line . . . and I will always love you.” He’d opened the small black box and held it out, revealing a gorgeous pear-shaped diamond. “Macey Lindstrom, will you marry me?”

  “Oh, Ben,” she’d said, tears filling her eyes. “Yes, yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

  Ben had stood up and held her face in his hands again and kissed her for a very long time.

  They’d both been shivering when they finally got back to his truck. “This is so perfect,” she’d said, admiring her new ring. “Now we can tell everyone at my parents’ tonight.”

  Ben had looked over and smiled—it was all part of the plan.

  Macey slowly turned the ring on her finger now, wondering, as she did every time she lost a baby, if Ben had any regrets. They’d talked so often about having kids. “A whole basketball team,” he’d joked, smiling. But in the years that followed, she hadn’t been able to give him a single point guard, and she’d often wondered if he’d have been happier if he’d married someone else—someone who didn’t cause him so much heartache.

  She slumped back into the chair, closed her eyes, pulled the soft afghan Grandy had made around her shoulders, and drifted off, temporarily leaving her struggles and her sadness behind.

  6

  BEN REACHED UP TO FIT THE NEW FRONT DOOR ON THE HINGES OF THE entrance to the stately Federal-style home he and his crew had been working on for the last year. The restoration had been challenging because the owners were constantly making changes to work that had already been completed, and now, Mr. Jackson, a prominent attorney in town, had informed him that he and his wife hoped to move in before the holidays. Ben had advised his crew that they would need to put in some overtime, and even though they had three months, when he thought of the old oak flooring that still needed to be sanded and refinished; the Sheetrock that still needed to be taped, plastered, sanded, primed, and painted; the kitchen overhaul—cabinets, granite countertops, and new retro appliances that still had to be installed; and the tile floors in the bathrooms that still needed to be laid, he felt overwhelmed.

  He finished hanging the door, gathered up his tools, and locked the house. Climbing into the cab of his truck, he looked at his phone and realized how late it was. He quickly pulled out of the driveway and turned toward home, but as he drove along the Savannah River, he slowed down. The luminous pink-and-coral sky reminded him of the day he’d finally found the courage to ask Macey to marry him, and the memory made him smile. It seemed so long ago . . . and to think it almost hadn’t happened.

  All through middle school, Ben had been the shortest boy in class. His mom even had him tested because he was so much shorter than Henry, but when the results came back, they said he was a perfectly healthy late bloomer. This revelation, though comforting to his mom, was little consolation to a five-foot-two boy in love with a five-foot-eight girl. Being small hadn’t helped his aspirations on the cross-country team, either—as it turned out, having short legs was a handicap.

  In his junior year, though, Ben had a growth spurt and grew six inches! It was a boon to his self-esteem, but the miles of running he’d been logging also triggered Osgood-Schlatter disease, a common condition among growing teens—especially boys—where the tendons attached to the knees become stretched, inflamed, and tender, making it painful to run.

  Undeterred, Ben soldiered on, and by his senior year, the condition eased and he became one of the team’s top runners. He was tall, lanky, and handsome, and although Macey couldn’t help but notice the change in his stature, she didn’t let on . . . and she still called him kiddo.

  In the summers, Ben worked for his dad’s construction company, and although his high school guidance counselor tried to get him to consider college, Ben loved Tybee Island and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. He also loved working with his hands while figuring in his head. “Measure twice, cut once,” his dad always said, and although the long days left him exhausted, they also left him fulfilled. He found satisfaction in doing a job well and completing it with precision and meticulous care.

  Macey, on the other hand, had a heart for wanderlust. She applied to several colleges and ended up venturing off to Bowdoin, where her grandfather still lived. In the summers, she stayed in Maine, keeping him company, helping him on his farm, and exploring the rugged coastline with her college friends; and since her parents always returned to Maine to visit her dad’s dad—and only surviving grandparent—during the holidays, Macey never came home.

  Ben had been lost without her, and although they exchanged letters—her letters always closing with the words: Leave a light on for me, kiddo! xo Macey—he missed riding bikes and going to the beach with her. He missed talking late into the night and hanging out. But most of all, he missed her wild, free spirit, so different from his own. For four long years, Ben wondered if Macey was ever going to come home. He counted the days until she would graduate and then learned her parents had given her a trip to Europe as a present. He shook his head in dismay—he needed to, once and for all, let Macey Lindstrom go—he’d already wasted too much time waiting. And since this had still been his mind-set that fall when their high school classmates decided to have an impromptu reunion at Doc’s the night before Thanksgiving, it had been fairly easy for Henry to convince him to invite someone.

  “Like a date?” Ben asked skeptically as they’d run along the river.

  “Yeah. I’m bringing Lindsey,” Henry panted, referring to his new girlfriend. “We could double. It’d be fun.”

  “And who, exactly, do you have in mind?”

  Henry pulled to a stop and leaned on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “Hayley,” he puffed.

  Ben stood next to him and frowned. He’d always thought Henry’s little sister was cute, but she was still Henry’s little sister. “Nah,” he said.

  “Why not?” Henry pressed. “She just got home from Tulane and . . .”

  “Wait . . . Hayley’s in college?” Ben looked dumbfounded. He still thought of her as a high school kid.

  “She is,” Henry said with a laugh, “and she’s old enough to drink!”

  “No way! Little Hayley is twenty-one?”

  “I know, hard to believe, right? You forget . . . she’s only two years younger than us, and she knows just about everyone in our class. She would love to go.”

  “She can go . . . but she doesn’t have to be my date,” Ben said, shaking his head. “Sheesh, I can’t remember the last time I saw Hayley. It must be at least three years. Does she still wear those bright red Chuck Taylor Converse high-
tops?”

  Henry laughed, remembering his sister’s signature footwear when she was younger. “No, she traded those in for high heels a few years ago, and her hair is longer.”

  “Wow, I can’t picture her with long hair. She always wore it short.” He remembered hearing how Hayley had stepped up and filled Macey’s shoes on the basketball court after they’d graduated and eventually became one of Maeve’s best friends. “Does she play at Tulane?”

  “Nah,” Henry said, starting to trot along again. “She was good, but she wasn’t D-One material. She’s focusing on her studies . . . or so she says.” He laughed. “Honestly, Ben, you wouldn’t know her, and she’s always thought the world of you.”

  Henry was right. When Ben knocked on the Sanders’ front door that night and Hayley opened it, he didn’t recognize her. Gone was the cute athletic look she’d always sported in high school. Gone were the red high-tops and the Nike sweatshirt. And gone was the short—almost boyish—haircut. Now, dressed in a casual outfit that included black suede boots, tight jeans, and a burgundy curve-hugging V-neck sweater, along with a stylish silky haircut that fell at her shoulders, she had the sophisticated look of a young college undergrad. “H-hey, Hayley,” he stammered shyly.

  “Hi, Ben!” she gushed, wrapping her arms around his neck, and Ben, who—because he’d been waiting since middle school for Macey to come to her senses—didn’t have much experience with girls, felt awkward and uncomfortable. He gently pried himself from Hayley’s embrace, and then saw Henry and Lindsey standing there. Thank goodness!

  When they got to Doc’s, Henry pointed to an empty table, and Hayley and Lindsey hurried to grab it while Ben and Henry headed to the bar to order drinks. On the way, they stopped to shake the hands and slap the shoulders of several old classmates, but it was the familiar voice Ben heard as he reached for his wallet that made his heart stop. Without turning, he felt a lump forming in his throat because—after waiting for so many years—he suddenly wished he had come alone.

  “Well, well, look who’s here,” he heard Henry murmur under his breath.

  Ben slowly turned and saw Macey making her way through the throng of their classmates.

  “Hey, kiddo! Look at you!” she’d teased, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek and realizing he now towered over her.

  Ben blushed and felt his heart resume beating, but now at a ferocious rate. “Hey . . . look at you! I . . . I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

  Macey grinned. “I know. I wanted to surprise you.”

  7

  “I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU, GIRL! WHY DO YOU INSIST ON making trouble everywhere you go?” Cora asked.

  “Connor started it.”

  “Well, how come I’m picking up you instead of him?”

  Harper stared out the window and didn’t answer.

  “I think you like spending time with me.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well, child, I cannot adopt you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I have three kids of my own, I don’t make enough, and you’re white.”

  “I don’t think that’s politically correct.”

  “What’s not?”

  “You can’t adopt me because I’m white.”

  Cora Grant chuckled. “I’m sure it’s not.” She looked over. “So Mrs. Lewis said you didn’t feel good. You all right now?”

  Harper shrugged. “I guess.”

  “One thing’s sure—you don’t eat enough,” Cora said, reaching into her purse. She pulled out a candy bar. “Want this?”

  Harper looked down at the Snickers bar. “You trying to kill me, Cora? I’m allergic to nuts, remember?”

  “Oh, that’s right—I forgot. I’m sorry. Too many damn kids to remember who’s allergic to what.”

  “I am hungry, though,” Harper added, spying a McDonald’s ahead.

  Cora chuckled. “Does that mean you want the golden arches?”

  “Only if you do.”

  Cora shook her head. “I could use a nice big-ass coffee,” she mused.

  “Me, too.”

  “You don’t drink coffee.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Lordy, girl, you are ten years old. . . .”

  “Nine,” Harper corrected.

  “Nine . . . ten—don’t matter, you should not be drinking coffee.”

  “It’s my source of comfort,” Harper said, repeating the words she’d often heard Cora say.

  Cora looked over and chuckled. “We need to find you a home. You’re way too smart for your own good.”

  “So find me one.”

  Cora turned into McDonald’s and as she pulled up to the drive-through, she rummaged in her purse. “What do you want?”

  “Chicken McNuggets, fries, and a big-ass coffee.”

  “You’re not having coffee.”

  “Coke, then.”

  Cora shook her head. “That’s probably worse.”

  “Probably, because it’s like drinking straight sugar.”

  Cora edged up to the speaker to place their order: “A six-piece McNugget, value fry, value Coke, and a large coffee—light and sweet.”

  “Barbecue sauce,” Harper whispered.

  Cora nodded. “And barbecue sauce.”

  “You’re gonna hafta stop and pee if you drink all that coffee,” Harper teased after they’d picked up their order.

  “Probably,” Cora said, chuckling again as she reached for a fry.

  “I thought you gave up fries,” Harper said, eyeing her.

  “That was the other day. Today, I’m hungry.”

  “Well, have some more, then,” Harper said, holding out the bag.

  Cora looked over and took a handful. “You only live once!” she said with a sigh.

  Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the DFCS parking lot and Harper sighed. “Home sweet home.”

  “Girl, if you didn’t have such an attitude, you’d have a home sweet home.”

  “Yeah, yeah, that’s what you keep telling me, but if people weren’t such a-holes, I wouldn’t have such an attitude.”

  “There you go again,” Cora said, scooping up her purse, paperwork, and coffee. “You can’t go ’round calling people a-holes.”

  “I’ll just call them by their full name, then—because, unfortunately, the world is full of ’em.”

  Cora sighed. “Please grab your garbage. I have to hurry inside.”

  “I told you you’d have to pee,” Harper called, laughing as Cora waddled across the parking lot. Harper stuffed her wrappings into the McDonald’s bag and threw a fry she found on the floor out into the parking lot. Almost immediately, a seagull swooped down and snagged it while three other gulls cried out indignantly. Harper looked up and thought of the seagulls in her two favorite movies, Finding Nemo and Finding Dory. “Mine! Mine! Mine!” she mimicked in her best seagull voice, and then she noticed the sunset. The rain had stopped, and the bright orange sun, slipping below the horizon, was turning the lingering clouds purple and pink and coral. She stared at it and then crumpled the bag in her hand and slammed the car door. She looked back at the ever-watchful gulls. “Mine! Mine! Mine!” she teased again.

  8

  IT WAS STILL DARK WHEN BEN GOT UP THE NEXT MORNING. HE DRESSED quietly and headed down the stairs to make coffee. When it finished brewing, he filled his thermos, but left enough in the pot for Macey to have a cup. An hour later when she found it, she smiled. Ben knew she wouldn’t make a full pot just for herself, and his kind gesture provided just enough caffeine to get her day started. She warmed it up in the microwave and then headed back upstairs to shower.

  Ben was usually off on Saturdays, but the Jackson house was taking up all his time, and she missed him. After she showered, she stood in front of her bureau in her underwear and pulled out her favorite T-shirt. The heather-gray V-neck had a picture of Tybee Island’s famous lighthouse on the left chest and, on the back, “From Rabun Gap to Tybee Light”—referencing the diverse geo
graphy of Georgia—from a steep mountain pass in the state’s northernmost tip to the historic island lighthouse. Even though it was a tourist shirt, it had fit her perfectly—soft and not too tight. The instant she saw it in Tybee Tees she’d had to have it, but lately she’d been wearing it so much it had started to look a little tattered. Maybe she’d see one today if she could convince Maeve to go into some of the souvenir shops.

  She sat on the bed, pulled on her jeans, now too loose—she hadn’t had much of an appetite since her doctor’s visit—and slid her phone into her pocket. She hurried downstairs, slung an oversize canvas bag over her shoulder, slipped into her flip-flops, grabbed her keys, and glanced in the mirror. Her eyes were still puffy, but at least she’d stopped crying.

  Twenty minutes later, Macey turned into the historic section of downtown Savannah, skirted Ellis Square—one of the twenty-four squares originally laid out by James Oglethorpe, founder of the colony of Georgia and designer of the city of Savannah—pulled onto Barnard Street, and got lucky with a spot right in front of Goose Feathers Cafe, her sister’s favorite breakfast spot. She looked over and saw Maeve standing out front and waved.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Macey called.

  “No worries. . . . I just got here,” Maeve said, giving her a hug. She stepped back and searched her eyes. “How’re you doing?”

  “Okay,” Macey said, mustering a brave smile.

  “Yeah?”

  Macey nodded. “Want to go in?” she said, blinking back tears.

  “Mmm, I’m starving,” Maeve said, “and I desperately need some coffee,” she added with a grin.

  As they turned to the door, an older gentleman came out and held it open for them. “You two must be twins,” he commented with a smile.

  “Sisters but not twins. Believe it or not, there’re two years between us,” Macey said.

  Macey and Maeve were used to being mistaken for twins—they’d been cut from the same cloth, and it hadn’t helped that when they were younger their mom had dressed them in identical outfits. By the time they were in high school, though, their true colors had started to shine through. Macey was taller and wilder while Maeve was petite and quiet. She was also a better ball handler, and when she made the varsity basketball team as a freshman, the Lindstrom sisters—Maeve at point and Macey at center—became an indomitable force dreaded by opposing teams.