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"Can we meet? I'm at a rentalcottage," he said, his voice low, threaded with a timbre of regret thatgnawed at her resolve. “Can you take down the address?”
Agnes was right beside her with penciland paper, and Charlotte scribbled quickly.
"Stay there. I'll be rightthere."
She ended the call with a soft click,her pulse echoing in her ears like the rhythm of the sea against the shore.Agnes watched her, a silent sentinel offering strength in her steadfast gaze.
"Go to him, Charlotte," Agneswhispered, a gentle nudge toward a future unknown.
Charlotte nodded, wrapping her coattightly around her as she stepped back out into the brisk morning air. Thevillage was a palette of soft greys and blues, the cobblestone streets windinglike streams toward the embrace of the sea. She hurried along, each step amixture of trepidation and yearning, her thoughts a whirlwind of questions leftunanswered for too long.
It took about twentyminutes to reach the rental cottage, perched in a string of others along theeast shoreline of Chesham. As she approached the weatherbeaten cabin in theaddress, nestled on the edge of the village like a secret kept from the rest ofthe world, she saw him. Henry stood there, a solitary figure framed by therambling roses that climbed the ramshackle walls of the abode.
***
Charlotte's fingers curled around theceramic mug, the warmth from the tea seeping into her skin as she listened toHenry's voice—a timbre saturated with years of wandering and regret. The scentof Earl Grey blended with the mustiness of old books that lined the shelves ofthe living room, creating a comfortingly domestic atmosphere so starkly at oddswith the turbulent emotions swirling within her. She tried to ignore thedraftiness of the place, the shabbiness, or the size—where were they sleeping?The cabin seemed a one-room affair, though there was a loft above them with aladder leading up.
"Charlotte, I—"
"Stop," she interjectedsoftly, yet firmly, meeting his gaze with an intensity that bordered ondefiance. "I've spent years imagining this moment, and now that it'shere..." Her voice trailed off as she grappled with the turmoil that hadlodged itself in her throat.
Henry's eyes, a mirror of her own,brimmed with an uncertainty that seemed to plead for absolution. He remainedsilent, allowing the space between them to fill with unspoken confessions.
"Look, I can't pretend tounderstand everything you've been through or all the reasons why you leftus," Charlotte continued, the words spilling forth like pebbles tumblingdown a hillside. "But I believe in second chances. And if you're willingto try, truly try, then I want to offer you something."
Henry's brow furrowed, a questionforming before she even spoke it.
"There's a room available at myinn. It's not much, but it's yours if you need a place... If you and Liam wouldlike to come stay." She hesitated for a moment, considering her nextwords. "Maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to rebuild from here."
The sea breeze whispered through thepartly open window, carrying with it the briny tang of the ocean and the criesof distant gulls. She watched as he absorbed her proposal, the rise and fall ofhis chest slowing as if the gravity of her offer was settling upon him,anchoring him to the spot.
"Charlotte, I don't deserve yourkindness," Henry murmured, his voice barely above the soft creaking ofAgnes' wooden floorboards. "After all these years, after everything I'veput you through..."
"Perhaps not," she conceded,her expression softening. "But isn't that what family is for? To hold outa hand when we stumble?" She placed her empty mug on the coffee table, thedelicate clink of china punctuating her resolve.
Henry's gaze wandered past her, out thewindow to where the horizon met the steel-gray waters, then back to her face.His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the lump in his throat, the internalbattle evident in the tense set of his jaw.
"Okay," he finally said, theword emerging as both a surrender and a vow. With a slow nod, akin to the firsttentative step toward redemption, he accepted her offer. "Thank you,Charlotte.”
As he uttered the words, somethingshifted within the room, as if the very walls were bearing witness to themending of fractured bonds. Charlotte allowed herself a small, hopeful smile—anacknowledgment of the fragile bridge they had begun to construct across thechasm.
Charlotte noticed the way Henry's gazeoften drifted past her, out toward the single window and the horizon where thesea kissed the sky. There was a longing there that spoke of uncharted waters,of voyages taken and those forsaken. She cleared her throat gently, nudging himback from whatever distant shores his mind wandered.
"Tell me about Liam," sheventured, eager to weave her half-brother into their conversation. “Where ishe?”
Henry paused. A shadow flickered acrosshis features, a momentary eclipse of the hope that had begun to dawn betweenthem. He set the utensil down and sighed, a deep exhalation that seemed tocarry the weight of sorrow.
"He went for a walk up the beach.”Henry paused before continuing. “His mother, Sarah, she passed away not longago." His voice was hoarse, like the call of a lone seagull over thecliffs. "Cancer. It was quick but painful for all of us."
"Oh, Henry. I'm so sorry. For him,for you."
He met her gaze, and she saw the rawedges of his grief. "He's feeling lost, adrift. I didn't know how to helphim, how to be there for him when I couldn't even navigate my own guilt."
"Perhaps all he needs is whatwe're trying to find right now," Charlotte suggested softly, her eyesreflecting the gentle undulation of the waves beyond. "A safe harbor. Aplace to drop anchor and heal."
"Maybe." Henry's voice wasskeptical, yet underneath lay a tremor of hope. "But it's not just aboutgeography, is it?"
They sat in quiet contemplation, thesound of their synchronized breathing mingling with the distant calls offishermen returning with their morning catch.
