“Until the day when God will deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is contained in these two words—wait and hope.”
Why did that sound familiar?
Suddenly he stopped, his shoes squeaking on the wet grass. He dug in his bag for his cell, then pulled up the photo of the clue he’d taken before the ballgame, his eyes devouring the words written on the card.
How quickly Time passes
On tiny wings of Silence
Oh how it Waits
And oh how it Hopes
Cloudy as a silver lining.
His breath caught and his heart raced. Elisa had thought there was significance to the capital letters, and she was right. But not because of an acrostic.
They were fromThe Count of Monte Cristo.
* * *
Elisa’s dad was sitting on her doorstep, a blue windbreaker zipped all the way up to his chin, an umbrella laying at his feet.
She turned off the ignition and groaned, briefly resting her head on the steering wheel as she mustered the energy to open her door. She couldn’t do this—not again. Not after she’d lost everything.
I’ll never be what you need.
Weren’t they a pair? If Noah felt he wasn’t enough, she was too much—even for him. After daring to believe he could be different.
She raised her head, squinting against the porch light shining on her rain-streaked windshield. Was her dad holding a plate of cookies?
Elisa climbed out of the car and took a hesitant step toward him, all her fight and fire left back at the police station. “Dad, I really can’t handle any more conflict tonight.” She just wanted to crawl into some dry clothes, get in bed, and not move until morning. Maybe the morning after that.
But she had to get up early for the breakfast rush. The Magnolia Blossom needed her—for however much longer. Her stomach twisted.
“I come in peace.” Dad awkwardly clambered to his feet as she approached, extending the plate of cookies. “Here. For you and Zoey.”
She silently took the plate as she fumbled for her house key, then did a double take at the pile of thin blond cookies nestled under plastic wrap. “Are these…?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Your mom’s tea cakes.”
“You baked?”
“I’m trying to make a gesture.”
Oh, boy. She pushed open the door. “Come on in.” She hollered for Zoey, but then realized her car hadn’t been out front. She was probably still enjoying post-game pizza with the others.
Had that only been a few hours ago?
Her father trailed after her as Elisa dropped her purse to the floor, set the cookies on the coffee table, and grabbed a blanket. “Have a seat.” She wrapped up and settled on a chair opposite the sofa—the same spot she took when she and Zoey had that big conversation just last week.
So much had changed, it made her dizzy.
Dad perched on the edge of the sofa cushion and picked up one of the navy throw pillows. “I owe you an apology.”
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” The words came automatically, but upon further inspection, she realized she meant them. She could learn how to express herself and create a new dynamic without being disrespectful.
“No, this is on me. It’s a long time coming.” He flipped the pillow end over end in his lap. “I finally see that I’ve put too much pressure on you ever since your mother…died.” He swallowed and looked up. “For that, I’m sorry.”
