Page 117 of Courage, Dear Heart

She laughs. I can’t help but laugh, too.

Jamie, at my side, looks up at us.

When we get to the restaurant, I’m surprised to see Elliott is already there. Then I remember his office is a ten-minute walk away. He must have hurried to beat us here. As soon as Jamie sees him, he lets go of my hand and takes off running. Elliott scoops him up into a hug and holds him tight. His head touches Jamie’s. Elliott hugs my son like he loves him. Like he almost lost him. Like he needs to hug him to make sure he’s safe.

A sob escapes me.

Sheila pulls me into her, an arm around my shoulders. “I don’t know how you can have any doubts about that man’s love. He’d step in front of a train for the two of you.”

Somewhere in my soul, I know Sheila is right, even if he’s never said the words. But there’s a part of me that’s afraid and full of doubts. And until I know for sure Elliott and his father had nothing to do with the fire, I can’t let go of the fear and doubt.

SIXTY-SEVEN

Elliott

I holdJamie in a bear hug. Grateful he’s unharmed. This boy found the cracks in my armor and snuck right into my heart. Him and his mother. I never imagined myself like this—wanting to be a father to a child who’s not mine. Never thought about being a father at all. Not in any concrete way.

Jamie kicks his legs, and I settle him down. He takes my hand and walks me back to Jillian. Then takes her hand and we stand there, with him between us, our gazes locked on each other as the awkward silence grows heavier and heavier.

Sheila points over her shoulder. “I’m going in to see if Leonora is already inside.”

Jamie tugs at both our hands and pulls us together. “Hug.”

His command leaves no room for disagreement. Not that I want to. I pull her into my arms, tentative, giving her space to escape, but she doesn’t. At first, she’s stiff in my arms. We both are. Then she sighs and lets go, herhands grasping at my suit jacket, her head resting on my chest. I pull her in closer, drop my head next to hers. Breathe her in. I want to keep her in my arms forever, but after a moment, I relax my embrace and she steps back.

Jamie’s open right hand touches his chin and drops to his open left hand. “Good.”

A shiny, black Lincoln Navigator parks at the curb, and a uniformed driver comes around to open the back door. Leonora steps out with his help. She looks much younger than her age, dressed in a blue pantsuit. She could be a model for a senior fashion magazine. She reminds me of my grandmother, and it brings a smile to my face.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Mr. Foster.”

I didn’t expect to see her either. “Call me Elliott, please.” Mr. Foster reminds me of my father. I’m starting to loathe my own name.

Jillian approaches Leonora and hugs her, talking low. “Sorry, I didn’t have a chance to tell you. It was a last-minute decision.”

She didn’t mean for me to hear the whispered words, but they carried in the breeze. My chest contracts with a pang of pain—the tip of a blade pushing between my ribs. Jillian didn’t intend for me to be here.

Leonora’s gaze is fixed on my face. Her all too knowing eyes seem to read every thought in my mind. Giving her my elbow, I force a smile and turn on the charm. “May I chaperone you?”

The four of us walk into the restaurant, and Sheila flags us from a table toward the back. When we approach her, she taps the chair next to her. “Sit next to me, Jamie. I got you crayons and paper.”

Leonora taps my arm. “I’ll take the chair at the end. These old bones need extra space.”

I mentally thank them both for orchestrating this sitting arrangement that puts me next to Jillian. The chairs are not crammed, but the space in between is narrow enough that involuntary touching or an accidental brush of arms is likely to happen.

A waiter comes and gives us menus, and as soon as he leaves, Leonora puts a hand up, and we all stop to look at her. “I want you to know that I’m still holding onto my word. I don’t want to sell the building. But now we’re facing a bigger problem. I may not be able to keep it.” Her gaze finds me and she sends me a silent message. Confirmation of the secret conversation we had earlier today. She looks at the rest of the table and then at Jillian. “I’m so sorry, Jillian, for the loss of your home and the flower shop.”

“You lost the flower shop, too,” Jillian says.

Leonora waves her hand in dismissal. “Oh, sweet girl, it hasn’t been my store in years. The place held many good memories for me. As it did for you. But memories are a funny thing. You can take them with you wherever you go.”

SIXTY-EIGHT

Jillian

That was a very awkward meal.After that comment about memories, Leonora kept the conversation well off the building and the fire topic.

I tried to direct it to what’s next a couple of times, but she kept saying, we’ll wait and see.

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