“Good.” He looked up. A group of frenzied-looking adults and teenagers exited the elevator. “Come on.” Gavin led Emma back to the waiting room. As they walked, they watched a couple who might’ve been Kristin’s parents meet the newest group of visitors. Gavin and Emma ducked into the waiting room, but they heard one of the girls in the group cry out loud.
“No … not Kristin!”
Emma wanted to run, but Gavin’s presence beside her steadied her, made her stay. Finally the group joined them in the waiting room. The couple approached Emma, and the woman seemed to struggle to speak. “I’m Lynne Palazzo. You’re … you’re Emma Landon, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Fear choked the strength from Emma’s words. “I care very much about your daughter.”
“She cares for you too.” Lynne hesitated, then in a rush she gave Emma a desperate hug. “We need to pray.” She stepped back and searched the eyes of everyone in the room. “Please, everyone. We have to pray.”
The group formed a circle, linked hands, and one at a time people prayed out loud. Emma was certain they could hear her pounding heart above the sound of the prayers. She wasn’t worthy to stand here, wasn’t worthy to be in the presence of people with such faith. Yet, with her hand tucked in Gavin’s, she found the strength to stay.
“You’ve kept her alive this long, dear God … please get her through the night.”
A chorus of quiet yes’s came from the group, and the strangest thing began to happen. Emma found herself doing exactly what she’d promised Gavin she would do. She was believing. Believing that with the intensity of their prayers and their certainty that God was, indeed, listening, that good news was bound to come. An hour later, that’s exactly what happened. A doctor appeared at the doorway and hesitated.
“Excuse me.” He looked at Lynne and Rick. “Can I talk to you?”
Emma was exhausted emotionally and physically. She wanted to run down the hall and check on Kristin herself. Instead she leaned into Gavin and waited like the rest of the prayer circle. After a minute, Kristin’s parents returned to the room, their eyes bright with unshed tears.
“She’s turned a corner,” Rick put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Her heart seems to be beating on its own. At least for now.”
A collective gasp came from the fifteen or so people gathered in the waiting room. They took a brief break, celebrating the good news. And then they prayed for another hour before people headed home. Back in the car, Emma felt suddenly awkward alone with Gavin Greeley. She had relied on him completely over the last several hours. Emotionally and physically. Even spiritually. But that didn’t mean she could allow herself to have feelings for him.
Gavin drove the two of them to his house, and the whole way she convinced him that she was okay, that she could get back to her beach house without his help.
“I can call a cab.” He glanced at her, his hand steady on the wheel.
“I’m fine. Really, Gavin.” They pulled up in front of his house. She left the car running. “Thank you. For everything. I couldn’t have gotten through today without you.”
“God has a way of doing that. He never gives us more than we can handle.” Gavin managed a worn-out smile. “I’m glad she’s doing better. Keep me posted, okay? And keep praying.”
Emma didn’t make any promises. She told him good-bye and thanked him again, but after he was gone, when she was alone and driving toward the Holden Beach bridge, she found herself doing just that.
God … it’s been a long time. I know I shouldn’t be talking to You, but I have to. You see, Kristin’s very special to me. She’s special to a lot of people. So please, God … let her heart keep beating. Help her get off life support so she can start the path to recovery
. A single tear slid down her cheek and fell onto her jeans.
The world can’t afford to lose someone like Kristin Palazzo. Please, God.
As her prayer came to an end, Emma wasn’t sure what surprised her more. That she’d found the words and the strength to pray, or that she had done so without doubts. Either way, the moment was no longer about her and her shameful past.
It was about a beautiful brown-eyed girl with a heart of gold — no matter how sick — fighting for her life across town.
O
N HIS LAST DAY BACK HOME,
Brad decided he couldn’t return to New York without making the trip to Holden Beach. He had enjoyed seeing his parents, and he’d needed the talk with his dad. But besides that, the time at home had given him crucial hours to figure out exactly what to do next. Every chance he had, he begged God, praying that Laura would understand and that he could find Emma quickly.
His mom was the first person he turned to. She kept up on the local gossip — who had moved on and who was getting married. That sort of thing. They were at the kitchen table yesterday when Brad brought it up.
“I need to talk to Emma Landon.” He didn’t want to tell her the reason, so he kept his tone relaxed. “Before the wedding.”
“Emma?” His mom froze for a few seconds, her eyes on him. “That can’t be good.”
“It’s nothing.” Brad found his most convincing half-smile. “Just a few things I need to say before I move on.”
His mom frowned. “I loved Emma, you know that. But you were kids back then. Laura’s perfect for you.”
“Exactly.”
Her frown faded to mild confusion. “You and Laura are okay?”
“Definitely.” Brad willed the answer to be true once he told Laura the truth. “This isn’t about Laura. It’s just something I need to do before the wedding.”
His mother still looked mildly concerned. Then she seemed to relax. Brad wouldn’t look her in the eyes and lie to her. She must’ve remembered that. “Okay, then,” she tapped her fingers on the kitchen table. “Last I heard, Emma Landon was teaching near Holden Beach.”
Her words had stayed with him in the day since then. Teaching near Holden Beach. The idea seemed almost impossible. What reason would Emma have for staying so close to the place where they’d both suffered such sadness? Still, the tip gave Brad a starting point.
But that wasn’t why he was headed to Holden Beach now. He needed to be there again, walk along the sand and take the path to the end of the pier. So he could finally try to understand why he and Emma had given in when everything they believed told them not to. The day was mostly cloudy, and thunderstorms were forecast for later that afternoon. Brad didn’t care. At this point he would’ve found his way back to Holden Beach in a hurricane.
The drive wasn’t as long as he remembered, and just before noon he drove over the causeway and parked at the first public lot. For a long time he leaned forward on the steering wheel of his dad’s truck, surveying the place. It was cleaner than before, more taken care of. Less wild and unexplored.
If he stared hard toward the surf, he could almost see the two of them, the way they’d been that summer. Their love as wild and untamed as the beach. They had plans back then, he and Emma. He would head to UNC, and she would finish high school. After that she’d join him at college and they’d take as many classes together as possible.
“I want to marry you,” he had told her.
Her beautiful hazel eyes believed every word. That much was obvious. Brad squinted at the glare of the past. He had believed it too. They’d stay together the way they’d been since they were kids. But suddenly, staring at the beach ten years later, Brad thought of something he hadn’t before.
They didn’t need to drive all the way to Holden Beach. They were Wilmington kids, after all. They had Wrightsville Beach just a few minutes from their homes. And a dozen beaches closer than this one. The answer brought with it a shame that fell like bricks on Brad’s shoulders. Only one reason could explain their decision to come here over and over again that summer, to a beach an hour away from home.
Because here they had privacy. They had the freedom to act on the way they were feeling — even though their actions were wrong.
He needed to walk. His dad’s truck was one of the last with a manual crank for the windows, and it stuck a little as Brad shut it. “Okay,” he whispered, his eyes still on the distant beach. “Here goes.” He climbed out of the truck, took off his shoes, and set them on the floorboard. Even with the cloudy skies, the beach was warm. He rolled up his jeans, and as he hit the beach, the sand filled in the spaces between his toes.
Slowly, as if he were pushing his way through a million moments from yesterday, Brad crossed the sandy slope to the surf. He stepped into the frothy tide and shifted his attention from the sea to the sky. The beach was still beautiful, still the sort of place for long thoughtful walks and star-gazing. That’s what had gotten them in trouble. If only they’d packed up at the end of the day and gone home.
But August days had a way of wanting to stretch on forever.
Brad walked until he reached the pier. He wanted to walk out to the end, but without his shoes he wouldn’t try it. Too many splinters. Instead he leaned against the footings and stared at the stretch of sand just ahead. The memories were so real he could touch them. The first time had broken both their hearts.
The years slipped away and he was there again, at the end of a long sunny day. She wore jean shorts over a white two-piece swimsuit, nothing too skimpy. But that didn’t mattered. The two of them were alone with a blanket on Holden Beach in August. She could’ve worn a bathrobe and he would’ve struggled to resist his feelings for her. The sunset gave way to a starry sky, and after a while, Emma had fallen asleep. Brad could see the two of them lying there on the blanket, how they’d let one compromise lead to another.
“Hey,” he touched her shoulder. The feel of her skin had rendered him unable to think for a moment. “Emma. We should go.”
“Hmmm.” She rolled onto her side. “Now?”
Brad tried not to stare at her. Instead he checked his watch. “It’s after eight. We could get some food and head back.”
“I thought … we had sandwiches.” She was sleepy, her smile seductive though he doubted she meant it to be.
“Well … we do, actually.” He could feel his heart begin to race. Inside his soul, a voice urged him to pack up the blanket and his backpack while he still had time, to escape the draw of the beach, the lure of Emma beside him. His throat was dry. “I mean … we have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and … I have a few cans of Coke. Not very cold, though.”
“I’m not hungry.” She reached for his hand, easing him back down onto the blanket beside her. She lay on her stomach again. “Summer’s almost over. Let’s not go yet.”
He stretched out, breathing harder than before, trying not to watch her. Every breath was a fight not to ease her onto her side again so he could cuddle up against her and kiss her. For a long time they stayed like that, him catching forbidden glances at her, longing for her. Looking away as often as he could. Somewhere along the passing of time, he uttered a lame prayer. Words he didn’t mean at all. At least that’s the way he remembered it. By then he was already running his fingers along her bare arm.
God … help us not to fall. We can’t let things get out of hand.
But it was too late. Darkness had engulfed the empty beach, and with the bluff of sand and rock and grass behind them and on either side, their location was beyond private. The way they’d known it would be when they chose the spot earlier that day.
“Emma.” He inched closer and kissed her bare shoulder. “Maybe we should go.” It was his last-ditch effort … he didn’t mean a word of it. His breathing was still faster than before, and he could barely think for the way she made him feel.
She turned onto her side, and in a matter of seconds she was fully awake. “I’m cold,” she whispered. “Pull the blanket over us.”
Brad slid closer to her and flipped the other half of the blanket over them. “Is that better?”
He couldn’t remember Emma’s answer, or if they said much of anything after that. All he knew for sure was they started kissing. Somewhere along the next fifteen minutes, they tried twice to stop. Both attempts were made by Emma.
“We can’t, Brad … we should go.”
But he only kissed her and pressed a finger softly to her lips. “Shhhh … we’ll stop. It’ll be okay.”
Again a little while later, she made a halfhearted attempt to push him away. “We need to get home. I can’t … Brad, please … don’t … stop … please, Brad.”
By then, the tone of her voice sounded more like she was asking him to keep on, keep taking her higher up a mountain, keep filling her senses in a way she’d certainly never felt before. They gave in after that, no longer fighting the tide of emotions and sensations washing over them like so many wonderful waves.
Not until the act was done and they were lying on their backs side by side, staring at the stars, did Brad begin to sort out the horrific reality of what had just happened. He’d promised God and his parents that he wouldn’t be sexually active until after he was married, but now … now he’d gone against everything he believed. And not just him, but Emma too. He wasn’t sure how he could face her, how he could look into her eyes, and he had no idea what to do next.
Before he could move or say anything, he heard the quiet sound of Emma’s tears. He dressed himself in a rush and she did the same. Then he sat up, facing her. “Em … don’t cry.”
“I can’t believe it. That fast?” She covered her face with her hands and a sob came from her chest. “I thought it would … take longer. I thought we’d have time to stop.”
Brad was just eighteen back then, and he was humiliated by her words. He tried to read through them to her real sadness. The fact that what they’d given up that night, they could never get back. “I’m sorry. I … I meant to stop.”
She didn’t speak to him until they were almost back to Wilmington. The whole ride, quiet tears slid down her face. Finally she turned to him and sniffed, her eyes red. “What … happens now?”
“I don’t know.” Nothing in all his life had prepared him for this moment. All he could think was that their youth pastor was right. Having sex before getting married changes everything, ruins everything. He grabbed for a question that might fit the awkwardness of the moment. “What do you want, Emma? You want some time?”