All he needed was Laura. She — not Emma — was the love of his life. Brad was sure about that much. But why had he so willingly let go of Emma and all they’d shared, the way they’d grown up together? And how come he couldn’t remember ever finding closure for himself or that part of his life? That was the problem. He wasn’t sure he could move into a life with Laura when his heart was still hurting over something that happened a decade ago. Hurting as much as if it had only happened last week.
The plane landed on time in Raleigh at 9:35, and sure enough, his father was waiting for him on the other side of security, a smile stretched across his face as he spotted Brad. He raised his hand and mouthed the words, “Hi, Son.” His father wore black dress pants, a crisp white button-down shirt, a black vest, and a striped bowtie.
As if to reflect that Brad’s homecoming even for a weekend was a special occasion indeed.
Brad walked up to him, set down his bag, and stepped into his father’s arms. His dad could say more with a hug than some men might tell their sons in a lifetime. He took hold of Brad’s bag and pulled it behind him as they started walking to the parking lot. The seven-year-old truck was bound to be in the back lot, where it wouldn’t get any unnecessary dings or scratches. And Brad knew better than to try to pull his own bag. His father wanted to help, and this was simply one way.
His dad winked at him. “Good to have you home, Son. Very good.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Brad could almost feel himself relaxing. “I think the city was getting to me.”
“You know … there are lots of day trips you can take from the city. Upstate New York’s full of attractions. I’ll send you some maps, so next time you don’t have to get on a plane to get away.”
Brad smiled and let the comment go. He was here for a reason. His dad would find out soon enough. “Hey, Dad … you have a little time this afternoon?”
His father thought for a moment. “In fact, I do. Wanted to do a little metal work down at Carolina Beach, but that can wait.”
“How about you keep the plan. Wrightsville Beach instead. I’ll go with you and we can talk there.”
“Good idea.” They reached his father’s truck, and with the ease of someone who hadn’t lost any strength, his dad swung the suitcase into the bed of the truck.
The ride home was mostly small talk — the latest sweepstakes and his dad’s belief that maybe this year he’d found a way to crack the Publisher’s Clearing House contest. “That’s the big one.”
“Biggest of all.” Brad savored the way it felt simply being with his dad. They were quiet for a few exits, and his father turned to him. “The wedding’s coming up.”
“Yes.” Brad breathed in sharp through clenched teeth. “That’s some of what I want to talk about.”
His dad glanced at him, then nodded thoughtfully. “That can wait for the beach.”
“Yes.”
Two hours later they pulled into his parents’ driveway, and Brad marveled over how the place never really aged, never changed from what it had been when he was growing up. They went inside, and on the counter was a Finley grill, the kind Brad had designed a campaign for late last year. Brad started to say something about how his father didn’t even like the taste of grilled food, but he stopped himself.
It was one more thing that wasn’t going to change, and besides, Brad was touched by his dad’s gesture. “Doing a lot of grilling, Dad?” He tapped the top of the machine and grinned at his father.
“Trying to get healthy, Brad. You know how it is.”
His mother entered the room from the hallway, and she rolled her eyes as she glanced at the grill. “He’s used it once.” She hugged Brad’s neck and kissed his cheek. “You look wonderful. How’re the wedding plans?”
“Great.” He smiled and then quickly pointed to his bag. “I’ll get this up to my room.” He didn’t want his mother’s scrutiny on why he was here. She would make more of his troubled heart than necessary. He shot a final look at the grill. “Chicken tonight?”
“Funny, Brad.” His mom’s tone was a mix of laughter and sarcasm. She looped her arm around Carl’s waist and smiled at him. “You’re a good sport, you know that, Carl?”
He hugged her in return. “I have to be with the likes of you two.”
Brad took his bag to his room and stood for a minute in the doorway, remembering how it felt to lay sprawled on his twin bed, staring at the Michael Jordan poster on the ceiling, talking to Emma on the phone. Sometimes they talked through the night, holding the receivers to their ears even after they’d drifted off to sleep. “Spending the night together,” they called it.
He blinked and the detail disappeared. He hung up his clothes and returned to the kitchen. His father had made him a meat sandwich with mustard and lettuce. They ate quietly, while Brad’s mom tended to her vegetable garden outside.
When the kitchen was tidied, his dad put the metal detector in the truck bed. “Friday’s a perfect day for beach hunting.”
“Why’s that?” Brad climbed into the front seat next to his father.
“Most people hunt targets as a hobby, so they hit the weekend mornings pretty hard. Friday midday means nearly a week’s gone by without anyone running a detector across the sand.”
“Hmm.” Brad grinned at his dad. “I never thought about that.”
On the drive to the Wrightsville Beach, Brad learned the finer techniques of metal detecting.
“First off … go slow and low to the sand.” Brad’s dad stroked his chin, his eyes glued to the road. “People think the coil will break if they get too low, and maybe it will.” He pointed to the backseat. “I keep a couple extra just in case.”
“Of course.”
“Thing is, you keep the detector too far up and you might save your coil, but who knows what you’ll miss.”
“You could leave a real find back on the shore.”
“Exactly.” His father jabbed his finger at the air for emphasis. “Another tip: Go slowly and turn down the discrimination gauge.”
“The discrimination gauge?”
His dad cast him a quick look as if to say he thought everyone was familiar with discrimination gauges. “That’s how the detector knows something’s in the sand. The higher the gauge, the more metal the object has to have.” He nodded slowly. “I turn the gauge way down. Something is better than nothing. That’s what I say when it comes to beach hunting.”
They parked at a spot on the far end of the beach and his dad said little as he readied his metal detector and placed two water bottles and the extra coils into his gear bag. Not until they’d combed half a mile of shore did Brad spot a bench at the top of the beach where the sand and grass came together. “Can we take a few minutes?” He motioned toward the bench. “To talk, I mean?”
His dad had already found an old Timex, a money clip, and two silver dollars. The goods jangled in his shoulder bag next to the water. He flipped a switch on the metal detector and the machine fell silent. “Yes.” A layer of sweat shone on his forehead and upper lip. “I could use a break.”
They took their places on the bench, and Brad’s father handed out the water. Brad waited a few minutes, staring at the dark blue ocean, gathering his thoughts. “I’m having thoughts about Emma.”
His dad rarely looked caught off guard, but at the mention of Emma’s name, his surprise was evident even through his Blu-Blocker sunglasses. “Emma Landon?”
“Yes.” Brad realized how that must’ve sounded. “I mean, no. Not like that.” He braced himself against the edge of the bench and flexed the muscles in his jaw. “Thoughts about that last November.” Brad hated telling this to his father, disappointing him even after so many years. But there was no turning back now. “Something that happened … before we split up.”
For a long moment his father looked at him and then at the water bottle in his hand. When he lifted his eyes, his brow was knit together — a mix of concern and thoughtfulness. “Your mother always said it was just time … two kids who’d grown apart.” He took a swig of water and rubbed the back of his hand over his weathered lips. “I didn’t agree. I always thought something must’ve happened. You loved that girl too much to let her go. I remember.”
His words cut deep at Brad’s heart. “Why didn’t you ask?”
“I did.” His dad spoke deliberately, but with an unmistakable kindness. “I can’t remember the day. You looked down. Very upset. I wondered if something was wrong with you and Emma, so I asked.”
Brad felt the weight of what his father was saying. He didn’t remember the incident, but it meant he’d been given a chance to come clean about what had happened and he’d missed it. He asked the next question even though he knew the answer. “What was my answer?”
“Everything was fine.” His dad still looked puzzled. “You and Emma stayed together for a while after that, so I didn’t ask again. Whatever was bothering you, why you broke up with Emma, figured if you wanted to tell me, you’d tell me.”
“Makes sense.” The defeat in Brad made him wish he could skip the whole conversation. But he couldn’t. This conversation was why he’d come home. He straightened.
God … give me strength
. “You were right, Dad. Something happened, and I should’ve told you back then.” He rubbed his hands together and stared at the white sand between his feet.
“Something with Emma?”
“With both of us.” He looked out at the ocean again. “That summer, after I graduated … we made choices both of us regretted.” He turned and looked straight at his father. “Emma got pregnant.”
There was no condemnation, no immediate reaction except the slight way his father hunched forward. As if he’d been elbowed in the gut.
Brad could only imagine what his dad must be feeling. The baby would’ve been his father’s first grandchild. A sick feeling ripped at him. “We were young. She had another year of high school.” Brad hung his head, his eyes focused on the sand once more. “We didn’t find out until she was three months along. She thought … she was afraid … and her cycle wasn’t always regular.” He shook his head. How hard it must’ve been for Emma. “She took the test and the school nurse made her an appointment at a clinic.”
Until then, his dad hadn’t broken eye contact. But at the mention of the word
clinic
he drew a quick breath and lifted his eyes to the sky. He muttered softly under his breath, “Dear, God … no.”
Again there was no accusation in his father’s reaction. Just the heartbreaking awareness of what had happened. Brad understood. Speaking the words, reliving what they’d done even in these few details was gut-wrenching for him too. Brad’s eyes were damp as he finished the story. The day he and Emma went to the clinic, Brad didn’t have enough money. He’d called his dad for help. “Remember … I called that day and needed money.”
“For your car.” His dad’s memory was machine-like. He was the last person on earth to need lists.
“Right … that’s how I made it seem. But that was for …” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t come out and say it.
Again his father took the news with the courage of a military man. But the impact was there all the same. They were quiet for several minutes, and three times his dad sniffed hard through his nose. Again Brad knew. His dad was fighting tears, fighting the reality of his personal loss that day. The grandchild he’d never known or loved, never held in his arms. Finally he breathed in deep and put his hand on Brad’s knee. “If I’d known … maybe I could’ve helped you change your mind.”
Brad’s eyes welled up and a lump formed in his throat. He couldn’t speak, so he only covered his father’s hand with his own. Deep down Brad must’ve known that was what his father would’ve done. It was why he hadn’t said anything back then. He hadn’t wanted anyone to talk them out of their decision. It was easier to hold onto what the lady at the clinic told them. The procedure wouldn’t take long and then it’d be over. Something like that.
His dad slid closer on the bench and moved his hand from Brad’s knee to his shoulder. “Poor Emma.” He gazed toward the beach. “After you left for school … I always wanted to call her. Have her over for dinner.” He sniffed again. “Your mom thought it was better to leave her alone. Let the two of you work things out. But if I’d known …” His silence made it clear how helpless he felt about the situation. Even this many years after the fact. He was probably praying, asking for direction on what to say next. Finally he seemed to find a new sense of strength. “You’re sorry. I can hear that in your voice.”
“Of course.” Brad couldn’t bring himself to look into his father’s eyes. Instead he stared at the sand and waited. “But there’s something else.”
“The reason you’re here.”
“Yes.” Brad squinted at the sun lowering in the sky. “I never told her I was sorry.” He clenched his jaw. “It’s killing me, Dad. I mean, it’s killing me. Like I can’t move on until I find her and make things right.”
“Find Emma.” His words held a new soberness, as if he would need awhile to process all that was at stake. “Six weeks before your wedding?”
“Yes. That.” Brad hated his timing, but he had no choice. He couldn’t get past his guilt, couldn’t see beyond his memories. A rush of unexpected emotion stuck in his throat, surprising him. “I can’t believe who I was back then.”
For a long time his dad only nodded, and then he gazed straight ahead at the sea. Finally he clasped his hands and looked straight at Brad. “Sounds like you never wrote the last lines to that chapter of your life.”
This was why Brad was telling his father. The man brought no lecture to the table, but only a few simple words of wisdom. Something that would line up straight with the Bible and the character that his dad had tried to instill from the beginning. Brad turned to his father. “I’m in love with my fiancée.” He felt hopeless, angry with himself for being in this situation. “I want to finish that chapter without finding Emma. I mean, really. The wedding’s in six weeks.”
“With God, all things are possible. That’s from Matthew.”
Brad appreciated the reminder, and he believed it. He definitely believed it. But this time, he wasn’t sure if there were enough days before the wedding to pull off all he needed to take care of. Even if God worked a miracle. “So that’s what I should do, right? Find a way to close this chapter on my own? Without Emma?”