She smiled and squeezed his fingers. He looked down at their joined hands as though shocked. Thinking her touch was unwelcome, she immediately released his hand and pulled her own closer to her body.

The restaurant was in the suburbs and took forty-five minutes to reach. They said little, almost as if they were strangers, which, Sunshine supposed, they essentially were. After all, it’d been more than thirty years.

When they arrived at the restaurant, the driver opened the door for Sunshine and helped her out. She was impressed with the outside of the building, which was a far cry from the hole-in-the-wall place they had faithfully supported in their youth. The original only had ten tables and this place was massive.

Peter approached the receptionist and they were seated right away. Neither bothered to look at menus. They knew what they wanted.

“It’s changed, hasn’t it?” Sunshine said, looking around at the flurry of activity. The waiter at the booth next to theirs was making guacamole, scooping fresh avocados into a bowl. Another server was delivering chips and fresh salsa.

“We’ve all changed, don’t you think?” Peter asked.

Sunshine could only agree. “Do you ever think back to those days when we pooled our limited funds to share a meal?”

Peter grinned. “I do. I could probably buy every item on this menu ten times over without giving it a second thought now. You too, I suppose,” he added. “But I was a far happier man when I was driving the car my grandfather loaned me and looking under the seat for spare change so I could take you to dinner.”

Sunshine looked down at her hands. “I was happy then, too.”

“And now?” Peter asked.

Unsure how to answer, she said, “You need to define happiness. I’m content. I enjoy my life and my career.”

“Are you ever lonely?”

She shrugged. “At times. You?”

He responded in like. “At times.”

“If I were able to reach back in time and change the course of my life there is one thing I’d do.”

“Not leave for Italy because—”

“Not that,” she said cutting him off.

Surprise showed in his eyes, and it seemed some of the light faded.

“Not that,” she continued. “Italy was a life-changing experience for me, and not for the reasons you assume. The change I’d make is reading the letter you wrote after I moved to California. I was hurt and angry, filled with righteous indignation. I returned it to you unopened. I wish now that I’d been mature enough to put all that disappointment and indignation behind me.”

Peter hung his head. “I deserved your anger and more.”

“Oh Peter, stop. That was years ago now. We both made mistakes. We both suffered from our stubbornness. I have missed you so dearly through the years and thought of you often. Can we put it all behind us?”

He looked up as though stunned, and she stretched her arm across the table and gripped hold of his hand.

“Your niece said the reason she arranged that dinner for us was that we could heal our relationship. Healing. Is that possible, Sunshine? After all these years?”

“It is if we’re willing.”

He smiled then, and it was the smile she remembered from their youth, one that reached every feature. His mouth widened. His eyes sparked with light. “I’m willing,” he said.

“I am, too.”

The waiter came to their table and they ordered fish tacos, a bean tostado, and because they had a driver, they had large margaritas. They lingered long after their meal was finished. They talked and laughed and then talked some more. It was as though the years evaporated. She learned that Peter had taken up sculpting again and worked evenings on his various projects, finding fulfillment and pleasure in creating once again. By the time they headed back to the car, Sunshine realized she couldn’t remember an evening she’d enjoyed more.

The car service drove Sunshine to her hotel. Her flight was for late morning the following day.

“I had a wonderful time,” she said, when the car eased under the hotel’s portico. The doorman was right there to open her door and help her out.

“I did, too,” Peter assured her.

She leaned over to kiss his cheek and thank him, but instead of his cheek, Peter turned his head so her mouth landed haphazardly on his lips. Embarrassed, she started to pull away, but he was having none of that. The hunger in his kiss left her breathless.

“Can I see you again?” he asked.

Her heart sank, weighted down with disappointment. “I’m sorry,” she said, wishing she had known there was even a small chance of seeing him. Had she been aware, she would have left her flight open ended. “My flight leaves at eleven-thirty tomorrow.”

Peter tapped his finger over her lips. “I didn’t ask about that. I asked if I could see you again.”

“Then, yes, please, I’d like that.”

“Good, because I’d like that, too.”

“When?” she asked, needing to know he wouldn’t let months lapse before he got in touch with her.

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“Not even close. I can do breakfast, but it will need to be early, because I need to leave the hotel by nine-thirty and—”

“I was thinking more along the lines of dinner.”

“Dinner. I’ll be in Portland.”

“I know.”

“You’re flying to Portland?”

“Seems necessary, if I want to be with you.”

“But …” Sunshine snapped her mouth closed. She had no intention of arguing with him.

“I’ll pick you up around seven.”

Sunshine nodded. “I’ll be ready and waiting.”

“I’ve been waiting for you over half my life,” Peter whispered.

“No need to wait any longer,” she returned, and climbed out of the vehicle.

Sunshine barely made it back to her room before she collapsed on her bed, happier than she could remember being.

Peter was back in her life, and she had the distinct impression he wasn’t going to be leaving anytime soon.

Chapter 39

Beth

It’d been a month since she’d last spoken to Sam. Beth had decided if she didn’t hear from him in thirty days, then she would reach out to him.

She’d spent nearly that same amount of time in the hospital and rehab center. Each day had felt like a month, but it was nothing compared to January. Time creeped by. She continued playing the piano at the center, but without Sam, it wasn’t nearly as fulfilling. When she wasn’t busy with her volunteer activities, she wrote music. It helped her pass the time and gave her a creative outlet although most of the music she composed was fitting for a funeral service.

One night, unable to sleep, she sat in the dark with her iPad on her lap and composed a poem. The words poured out of her so quickly she could barely type them down fast enough.

The Warning Label No One Reads

I fell asleep shaking last night. I wish it was because of the cold.

When I woke my mind was flooded with thoughts of you.

Now I feel like I’m drowning.

I don’t want it to be this way, waking up gasping for air,

Crying for however long it takes to pull myself

Back together again.

I let my thoughts, my regrets, get the best of me.

I worry you’ll never be able to forgive me.

I’m overwhelmed.

Loving you should have come with a warning label.

The label no one reads.

The warning label that tells me love can hurt.

You can be wonderful, thoughtful, sincere

Or you can be harsh and unforgiving.

Love.

It’s the warning label no one reads.

On day thirty, forsaking her pride, Beth drove to Sam’s house. His truck was parked outside, so she knew he was home. Sucking in a deep breath to settle her nerves, she approached the front door. With no expectations, she decided she’d have her say and then leave.

When he opened the door, she could tell he was shocked to see her.

“Beth.” He breathed her name and then frowned and took a step back as though he needed to put distance between the two of them.

She could almost see the wall go up, blocking her out, which served only to strengthen her resolve.