It Had to Be You and All Our Tomorrows Read online

  Unless...unless it was the Lord’s way of letting Jake show his true character now, before they formalized their commitment, she thought, searching desperately for an explanation that made some sense. She supposed it was better to find out now how he reacted in adversity. But frankly, at this moment, it didn’t give her much consolation.

  “Maggie?”

  Jake’s concerned voice drew her back to the present. The familiar warmth and tenderness were back in his eyes, and for just a moment she was tempted to tell him she’d do whatever he wanted, just so long as they could be together.

  But with sudden resolve, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. She’d already practically begged him to rethink his decision, and he’d rejected her plea. Well, she had some pride. If Jake didn’t love her enough to stick by her through this, then she didn’t want him, either. She could survive on her own. Okay, so maybe she’d relied too much on Jake to take care of things, make all the decisions. That didn’t mean she couldn’t learn to do those things herself. Especially since it was clear she had to. She needed to take her life in her own hands. Beginning right now.

  Abruptly Maggie rose, and Jake stared up at her, startled by her sudden movement.

  She took a deep breath, willing herself to get through the next few minutes without breaking down. Her heart might be tattered, but there would be time for tears later, when she was alone. Plenty of time, in fact. Like the rest of her life.

  “Jake, I don’t see any reason to prolong this, do you? You’ve said what you came to say. It’s obvious you’ve set a new course for your life. I have to accept that. And I wish you well.”

  Jake rose more slowly, his face troubled. There was a quality in Maggie’s voice he’d never heard before—a quiet dignity, tinged with resignation. This wasn’t at all the reaction he’d anticipated. He’d expected tears and pleading right up to the final goodbye.

  “Look, Maggie, I don’t want to just walk out and leave you to totally fend for yourself. I’d like to at least help you out financially, make sure you’re settled.”

  As far as Maggie was concerned, offering money was the worst thing Jake could have done. Maybe it would appease his conscience, but she wanted nothing from this man who, until half an hour ago, had been the center of her world, whose love she had mistakenly believed to be unshakable and true.

  “I don’t want your money, Jake. I have a job. A good job. Graphic design is a growing field. I might even branch out into illustration. And Becky and Charles had insurance, so the girls will be well provided for. We’ll be fine.”

  Jake looked at Maggie, noting the uncharacteristic tilt of her chin. She’d always been so compliant, so accepting of his help, that he was a bit taken aback by her refusal. And he was even more surprised when she removed her engagement ring and held it out to him.

  “I think this is yours.”

  “Keep the ring, Maggie,” he protested, surprised at the unevenness of his own voice.

  “Why? It’s a symbol of something that no longer exists. I’d rather you take it back.” She reached over and dropped it into his hand. Then she walked to the door, opened it and turned to face him. “I don’t think we have anything else to say to each other, do we?”

  Jake looked at Maggie. Her beautiful eyes were steady, and for once he couldn’t read her feelings in their depths. But he knew she was hurting. Knew that she must feel exactly as he felt—devastated and bereft. But she was hiding it well. Slowly he followed her to the door.

  “I’ll take care of canceling all the...arrangements.” He could at least spare her that.

  “Thank you,” she said stiffly.

  “I’m sorry, Maggie.” He knew words were inadequate. But they were all he could offer.

  “So am I.” Her voice caught on the last word, and for a moment he thought she was going to lose it. He almost wished she would. He didn’t know how to deal with this aloof, controlled Maggie. He wanted to take her in his arms one last time, wanted to cry with her at the unfairness of life, wanted to mourn the passing of their relationship. It was clear, however, that she had a different sort of parting in mind.

  “Well...I guess there’s nothing left to say.”

  “No.”

  “Maggie, I hope...” His voice trailed off. What did he hope? That someday she would find it in her heart to forgive him? Unlikely. That she would eventually be able to remember with pleasure their good times? Again, unlikely. That a man worthy of her love would one day claim her heart?

  That thought jolted him. No, that wasn’t at all what he wanted. His Maggie in the arms of another man? The idea repelled him. And yet, how could he wish her less? She deserved to find happiness with a man who would love her enough to stand by her through the tough times as well as the happy ones. Someone who would do a much better job at that than he had.

  “What do you hope?” she asked curiously, a wistful note creeping into her voice.

  He considered his answer, and settled for one that didn’t even come close to expressing the myriad of conflicting emotions in his heart. “I wish you happiness, Maggie.”

  The smile she gave him was touched with bitterness, telling him more eloquently than words that she considered that a vain hope. “Thanks, Jake. Goodbye.”

  And then she very gently, very deliberately, shut the door behind him.

  Maggie walked numbly back to the couch and sat down. She felt chilled to the bone and suddenly she began to tremble. For the first time in her life she was truly alone. She’d told Jake that she would be all right. But those words had been spoken with more bravado and pride than confidence. She didn’t have a clue how she was going to cope. Not without Jake.

  Jake, with his gentle touch and laughing eyes, his confidence and optimism, his sense of adventure. He had filled her world with joy and brightness. The events that had transpired in this room during the last hour couldn’t erase the memory of all they’d shared, of the love she had felt for him. Without Jake, the future stretched ahead like a dark, aching void, filled with overwhelming responsibilities, yet empty of the warmth and companionship and love that made all trials bearable. How could she go on alone?

  And then she thought of the twins. They needed her. Desperately. They, too, had been deprived of the people they loved most. She had to be strong for them, if not for herself. Together they would move forward. For the three of them, love had died—for the twins, physically; for her, emotionally. But the death was equally final in both cases.

  Which meant that, for the first time her life, her future lay solely in her own hands. She had no one to consult, no one to make decisions for her, no one to reassure her that she could handle the task before her. It was up to her alone.

  Well, maybe not quite alone, she reminded herself suddenly. There was Someone she could rely on, Someone who would stand by her through whatever lay ahead. And so she took a moment, before the demands of her new life came crashing down on her, to close her eyes and ask for His guidance.

  Please, Lord, show me what to do. Help me be strong. Help me to know that I’m never truly alone. That You’re always with me. And help me to accept, even without understanding, the hardships You’ve given me, and to believe in my heart that You would never give me a cross too heavy to bear.

  The short prayer brought Maggie a momentary sense of peace and renewed confidence. She could almost feel the Lord’s loving presence beside her. And for that she was immensely grateful. For she knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that she would need Him desperately in the months and years to come.

  Chapter One

  Twelve Years Later

  Give it up.

  The word’s echoed in Jake’s mind as the swirling Maine mist wrapped itself around his small rental car, effectively obscuring everything beyond a thirty-foot radius. He frowned and eased his foot off the accelerator. Should he cont
inue the short distance to Castine or play it safe and pull in somewhere for the night?

  A sign appeared to his right, and he squinted, trying to make out the words. Blue Hill. He glanced at the map on the seat beside him. Castine was less than twenty miles away, he calculated. But he suspected that these narrow, winding—and unfamiliar—roads weren’t too forgiving, and dusk was descending rapidly. Not a good combination, he decided. Besides, he was tired. He’d driven up from Boston, then spent what remained of the day exploring the back roads and small towns of the Blue Hill peninsula. If he wanted to feel rested and fresh for his interview at the Maine Maritime Academy tomorrow, it was time to call it a day.

  As if to validate his decision, a sign bearing the words Whispering Sails B&B providentially loomed out of the mist. Talk about perfect timing! he mused. He pulled into the gravel driveway and carefully followed the gradual incline until he reached a tiny parking area, where one empty space remained. Hopefully, the space was a good sign.

  Jake eased his six-foot frame out of the compact car and reached into the back seat for his suit bag, slinging it effortlessly over his shoulder. As he made his way up the stone path, he peered at the house, barely discernible through the heavy mist. The large Queen Anne-style structure of weathered gray clapboard was somewhat intimidating in size, its dull color offset by the welcome, golden light spilling from the windows and the overflowing flower boxes hugging the porch rail. Definitely a haven for a weary traveler, he decided.

  Jake climbed the porch steps, read the welcome sign on the door and entered, as it instructed. A bell jangled somewhere in the back of the house, and he paused in the foyer, glancing around as he waited for someone to appear. The house was tastefully decorated, he noted appreciatively, with none of the “fussiness” often associated with this style of architecture. In fact, the clean, contemporary lines of the furnishings set off the ornate woodwork beautifully, and he found the subtle blending of old and new eminently pleasing. A soft, warm color palette gave the house a homey feel—no small accomplishment for high-ceilinged rooms of such grand proportion. Clearly the house had been decorated by someone with an eye for design and color.

  His gaze lingered on the ample fireplace topped by a marble mantel, which took up much of one wall, and he was sorry the month was July instead of January. He wouldn’t mind settling into the large overstuffed chair beside it with a good book on a cold night. There was something...restful...about the room that strongly appealed to him.

  As Jake completed his survey, a door swung open at the back of the foyer and a young woman who looked to be about twenty hurried through.

  “I thought I heard the bell,” she greeted him breathlessly, her smile apologetic. “I was on the back porch changing a light bulb. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  He returned the smile. “Not at all. I was hoping you might have a room for the night. I was trying to make it to Castine, but the weather isn’t cooperating.”

  She made a wry face and nodded. “Not exactly Maine at its best,” she concurred sympathetically as she slipped behind a wooden counter that was half-hidden by the curving stairway. “You’re in luck for a room, though. We’re always booked solid in the summer, but we just received a cancellation.” The young woman smiled and handed him a pen. “If you’ll just fill out this card, I’ll help you with your bags.”

  “No need. I just have a suit bag. But thanks.”

  He provided the requested information quickly, then waited while the young woman selected a key and joined him on the other side of the desk.

  “I’ll show you to your room. It has a private bath and a great view of the bay-well, it’s a great view on a clear day,” she amended with a rueful grin over her shoulder as she led the way up the steps. “Maybe by tomorrow morning it will be clear,” she added hopefully. “Anyway, breakfast is between eight and nine in the dining room, which is next to the drawing room. Checkout is eleven. My name’s Allison, and I’ll be on duty till ten if you need anything. Just ring the bell on the desk.” She paused before a second-floor door at the front of the house and inserted the key, then pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him enter.

  Jake strolled past her and gave the room a quick but thorough scrutiny. It seemed that the hand of a skilled decorator had been at work here, as well. The room was done in restful shades of blue. A large bay window at the front of the house would afford a panoramic view of the sea in clear weather, he suspected, and a cushioned window seat beckoned invitingly. A four-poster bed, antique writing desk, intricately carved wardrobe and comfortable-looking easy chair with ottoman completed the furnishing. His gaze paused on the fireplace, noting the candle sconces on the mantel, and again he wished it was cool enough for a fire.

  “I hope this is all right,” Allison said anxiously.

  He turned to her with a smile. “Perfect. The room is very inviting.”

  Allison grinned. “My aunt has a way with color and such. Everybody says so. And she makes all the guests feel real welcome. That’s why we have so many regulars. You know, you’re really lucky to get this room. It’s the most requested one. Especially with honeymooners.”

  Jake grinned. “I can see why. It’s quite...romantic.”

  Allison blushed and fumbled with the doorknob. “Well, if you need anything, just let me know. Have a pleasant evening, Mr. West.”

  As the door clicked shut, Jake drew a deep breath and stretched tiredly, flexing the tight muscles in his neck. He’d been on the road since early morning, but the time had been well spent. Before he decided to make this area his permanent home, he intended to check it out thoroughly.

  He strolled over to the window and stared out thoughtfully into the gray mist. Home, he repeated silently. Surprisingly enough, the word had a nice sound. After twelve years of roaming the globe, his worldly possessions following him around in a few small boxes, the thought of having a home, a place to call his own, had a sudden, unexpected appeal. But he shouldn’t be too surprised, he supposed. For the last couple of years he’d been plagued with a vague feeling of restlessness, of emptiness, a sense of “Is this all there is?” Even before his brother’s phone call, the notion of “settling down” had crept into his thoughts, though he’d pushed it firmly aside. It wasn’t something he’d seriously considered—or even wanted to consider—for a very long time. In fact, not since he was engaged to Maggie.

  Jake frowned. Funny. He hadn’t really thought much about Maggie these last few years. Purposely. During the early years after their breakup, she’d haunted his thoughts day and night, the guilt growing inside him with each passing month. It was only in the last three or four years that he had met with some success in his attempts to keep thoughts of her at bay. So why was he thinking of her now? he wondered, his frown deepening.

  His gaze strayed to the chocolate-chip cookies, wrapped in clear paper and tied with a ribbon, resting between the pillows on the bed. He’d noticed them earlier, had been impressed by the thoughtful touch. Maybe they had triggered thoughts of the woman he’d once loved, he reflected. She used to bake him chocolate-chip cookies—his favorite—he recalled with a bittersweet smile.

  But Maggie was only a memory now, he reminded himself with a sigh. He had no idea what had become of her. She’d moved less than a year after their parting, breaking all ties with the town which held such unhappy memories for her. Even his parents, to whom she had always been close, had no idea where she went. It was better that way, she’d told them. They understood. And he did, too. But though he’d initiated the breakup, he had nevertheless been filled with an odd sense of desolation to realize he no longer knew Maggie’s whereabouts. He didn’t understand why he felt that way. Didn’t even try to. What good would it do? All he could do was hope she was happy.

  Jake walked over to the bed and picked up the cookies, weighing them absently in his hand. Here he was, in the honeymoon suite, with only memories of a wom
an he’d once loved to warm his heart. For a moment, self-pity hovered threateningly. Which was ridiculous, he rebuked himself impatiently. His solitary state was purely his own doing. He’d known his share of women through the years, even met a few who made him fleetingly entertain the idea of marriage. But that’s as far as it ever went. Because, bottom line, he’d never met anyone who touched his heart the way Maggie had.

  He sat down in the chair and wearily let his head fall against the cushioned back. He’d never really admitted that before. But it was true. Maybe that was the legacy of a first love, he mused, that no one else ever measured up. Most people got over that, of course, moved on to meet someone new and fall in love again. He hadn’t. As a result, he’d never regretted his decision to remain unmarried. Until now. Suddenly, as he contemplated a future that consisted of a more “normal” land-bound existence instead of the nomadic life he’d been living, the thought of a wife and family was appealing. For the first time in years, he felt ready to seriously consider marriage—and fatherhood.

  Of course, there was one little problem, he thought with a humorless smile. He hadn’t met the right woman.

  Then again, maybe he had, he acknowledged with a sudden, bittersweet pang of regret, his smile fading. But it was too late for regrets. To be specific, twelve years too late.

  * * *

  “I mean, this guy is gorgeous!”

  Abby looked at her sister and grinned as she scrambled some eggs. “Are you sure you’re not exaggerating?” she asked skeptically.