Yes, she had Aubrey, but even that had not been by choice. Of course, she’d become like a mother to her niece, but only in exchange for losing Lizzy and her husband.
How brief life was. Her parents. Lizzy and Daniel. Even Connor, standing once on the brink of happiness with Violet only to have his world pulled out from under him. What was it that still haunted him from that life? It wasn’t the loss of his considerable land or his title or even his faithless brother. It was the loss of the woman he’d loved. Her heart ached for him, even though she barely knew him.
Emma?Aubrey had told the police officer.She was—is—married to her job.
She supposed Aubrey was right. The truth was, she was a coward when it came to love. She’d never really risked what Connor had. Aside from Aaron, there had been two men with whom she’d dabbled in love. Stephen Black and Cody Burrows. Both years ago. Neither one substantial enough to earn more than a season of commitment from her in her early to mid-twenties. Stephen had wanted much more than she’d been willing to give him at that point, and the last time she’d seen Cody, he’d been straddling her best friend, India, in Emma’s own bed, in the middle of an afternoon which she was, in hindsight, grateful she hadn’t spent at the university library.
Maybe that was what had made a coward of her. Despite how other people saw her and the life she’d built, they didn’t see the real her. Maybe she was no better than Connor’s Violet. One thing to the world and another altogether deep down.
But something about that whole story he’d told her made her wonder. She had no reason to believe he could be wrong about it. He was an angel, after all. If anyone should know, he should. But something niggled at her. Something was off. Or maybe she just couldn’t imagine hurting him the way Violet had. Or believe any part of her could have been responsible for such a thing.
“Where to?” he asked.
“A place I know.” She took his hand, closed her eyes focused intensely on a place she knew, picturing herself there, feeling the grass beneath her feet. Moments later, they found themselves in Schooner’s Bay, standing under a sprawling oak tree at the center of the park.
Connor stared at her in surprise. “How did you—?”
“Traveling’s not that hard, is it?” she said. “You just have to think yourself somewhere. I just watched you do it.”
“And yet,” he said with a slow grin, “ye surprise me.”
“Just keeping you on your toes.”
The Fourth of July weekend was almost here, and as always, preparations were being made for the celebration that would take place here. There would be fireworks, raffles, bike decorating for the kids, a parade, and of course, the concert at night. It was as small-town America as you could get. She tugged him by the hand toward the gazebo at the center of the park.
All around them, volunteers were decorating the century-old gazebo with garlands and patriotic streamers. Fourth of Julys here had always been special. Emma rarely missed an opportunity to promote her company during this season, with park-bench ads and by cosponsoring the gazebo decorations. In fact, until Aubrey had come into her life to stay, she’d almost forgotten how much fun the Fourth could be. But once her niece had settled here, made friends, and become involved in this town, Emma had rarely missed a chance to mingle with friends, help with the decorations, or watch the fireworks from a blanket spread under the stars. Emma had forced herself to slow down in the past few years. To enjoy this celebration. Now she wondered if last year’s fireworks show would be the memory Aubrey would store away because there might be no more with her.
But she hadn’t come here to the park to torture herself with what-ifs. Instead, she wanted a moment of normalcy. To feel like she was still part of this world and all the people she knew.
There were Jen and Bob Bellows, an older couple who had lived down the street from her for years. They’d let her sell their home a few years back. After moving into a fifty-five-plus apartment, they’d never been happier. Never ones to let a good celebration pass them by, the two of them were wrapping crepe paper around a lamppost, sharing a beer with friends.
Near the amphitheater, where the concert would be held, Mayor Marks—Ronny to his close friends—and his wife, Linda, were doing a sound check for the sound system. Linda was trilling a silly song. The mayor was laughing while a half-dozen people who were lifting chairs off the flatbed truck nearby enjoyed their antics. At almost seventy-two, Ronny Marks had been mayor for four terms running, though he showed no signs of wanting to retire from politics. The community of Schooner’s Bay seemed fine with that.
Lannie Walters, a newly widowed mother Emma knew from high school, was there with her four young boys who were running around the park, largely unsupervised, as Lannie and Gabriella Harcourt, the event coordinator, checked off items on their clipboards, gossiping about the lead singer in the band set to perform at the celebration.
Life went on. Without her. Nothing had really changed, except her.
The smell of hot dogs and hamburgers barbecuing on Owen Baker’s grill in support of all the volunteers made her stomach growl. She glanced at Connor, whose nose was also in the air, taking in the smell of food cooking.
“I bet you’ve never had a hot dog,” she said.
“Aye. Ye’d be right about that,” he said with a small grin.
“Or even a hamburger, I imagine.”
“Not as if I’ve never smelled ’em before. But as ye know, ’tis a mortal pleasure to eat. ’Tis not somethin’ we crave.”
She nodded. “I’m craving it. Right now. I guess that means I’m still mortal. Sort of.”
He smiled at her, that smile that made her feel all warm inside.
“All this,” he said, pointing at the activity. “What’s goin’ on here?”
“Independence Day. It’s a celebration…with fireworks and parades. Hot dogs. Very American.”
He nodded. “Fireworks. I’ve seen ’em. They’re bonnie.”
“You like them?”
