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Jimmy’s call came just after dawn, while Hez was still on his first cup of coffee. He didn’t need to ask the purpose of the call. “Hey, Jimmy. Thanks for calling.” Cody growled at the demon phone, gave Hez a disapproving glare, and trotted out of the room.
“Hey, Hez.” Jimmy’s deep voice rumbled through the phone. “I’m your sponsor and your friend. Of course I’m going to check on you today. Probably more than once. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine.” Hez took a sip of the rich black brew. “As fine as I can be, anyway.”
“Uh-huh. What are your plans for the day? You’re going to keep yourself busy, right?” Jimmy firmly believed that activity was a great substitute for alcohol, especially on a hard day. A year ago—the first anniversary of Ella’s death that Hez had spent sober—Jimmy had insisted on taking Hez for a long hike, followed by a huge dinner at a noisy barbecue place and then an outdoor jazz concert. It had worked. By the time Hez finally got back to his apartment, he’d been too exhausted to even think about having a drink. It was all he could do to take Cody out for a ten-minute walk, which the dog had considered utterly inadequate.
“Yep.” Hez drew in a deep breath, and the scent of fresh beignets from the restaurant below reminded him that he hadn’t eaten. “I’m going to grab a little breakfast and then go for a long run, with a stop at Ella’s grave. Then errands and paperwork for the rest of the day. I’ve got a to-do list a foot long.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Jimmy paused. “Are you going to be on your own?”
“Yeah. Blake is tied up today.”
Jimmy was silent for a moment. “Wish I could be there. I’ll give you a call later. And I’ll be praying for you.”
“Thanks, man.” Hez ended the call and discovered a voice mail from Blake, who was also checking on him before heading out to a remote part of the animal sanctuary that had no cell coverage. Hez appreciated the concern, but he really felt fine. He was more worried about Savannah—he knew how deep her grief ran.
He pulled on his running clothes, eating a banana and some granola as he dressed. The fragrant smell of beignets still tempted him, and he promised himself one when he returned from his run. He picked up the little stuffed puppy he planned to leave at the grave and shoved it in his pocket. Then he headed out.
Hez jogged slowly through town, then picked up the pace when he reached the path at the edge of the village park. It was a scenic trail with a six-mile loop that ran over the bridge connecting the points at Weeks Bay before curving into sun-dappled forest. The beautiful spot was rife with memories of watching the sunset with Savannah in happier days. He’d run it several times, but he hadn’t had the courage to visit Ella’s grave yet.
As he ran, Ella filled his thoughts. He shied away from memories of her death, making himself focus on her all-too-short life. She’d been a carbon copy of Savannah, except that she had his blue eyes—which had been gorgeous on her. They sparkled when she laughed, which she did often, especially after they brought home Marley as a puppy. The two of them had been best friends. If only Hez had paid attention when Marley started barking that day, maybe . . .
No. He wouldn’t go there. That painful path had led him to the bottom of many a bottle. Today he was going to focus on the good memories—like how much she loved his shrimp bisque, which he made with real North Sea shrimp and considered much superior to the bigger but less flavorful Gulf prawns. He’d taught her to call those “tofu of the sea.” Savannah hadn’t found it quite as funny as he did. He decided to make shrimp bisque tonight in memory of those good times.
And then he was there. A crushed oyster-shell path led off the main trail and up a gentle wooded hill. He stopped, took a deep breath, pulled the little puppy out of his shorts pocket, and walked toward his daughter’s grave. The air was still under the leafy roof, and the crunching of his footsteps on the path sounded unnaturally loud.
A dilapidated iron fence marked the border of the cemetery. The rusted gate stood open, but he hesitated before going in. He felt like an intruder here, in the burial ground of Savannah’s ancestors. But it was Ella’s burial ground too. He gripped the puppy in both hands like a protective talisman and went in.
A distant sound stopped him as he neared the top of the hill. It took him a second to recognize it: sobbing. A woman sobbing. Savannah.
He ran to the hilltop and the scene came into view. Savannah and Jess, standing in bright sunlight at Ella’s grave. Savannah’s back was to him, her shoulders heaving with grief. Jess had her arm around her sister, comforting her. He took a step forward into the light, instinctively wanting to comfort his wife.
Something alerted Jess to his presence, and she spotted him. The tenderness vanished from her face. She shot him a glare filled with so much accusation and anger that it hit him like a blow.
He stepped back and tripped over a tree root. He landed on his back. The breath whooshed out of him and he lay gasping for a moment. He turned and saw the stuffed puppy gazing at him with blank, glassy eyes.
Ella’s eyes had the exact same empty stare when he pulled her body from that pool.
All at once he was on his feet and running again. He raced pell-mell down the hill, away from the suffocating fog of guilt and death that shrouded the ground around his daughter’s grave. He passed the gate and the edge of the grove, and he didn’t slow down until he was almost back to Pelican Harbor.
His breath sawed in and out in ragged gulps, and sweat streamed down his face. He felt like an idiot and a coward. One nasty look from Jess and he ran like a little kid who thought he saw a ghost? But no, that wasn’t it. He could face Jessica Legare. What he couldn’t face was the memory of that day.
So he wouldn’t face it. Not now anyway. He’d run some errands, make some shrimp bisque, and remember his daughter’s infectious laugh.
He needed cayenne pepper and a few other items for the bisque. His wallet was back in the condo, but Publix had Apple Pay, so he could just use his watch. He spotted a store off the path and headed for it. Hopefully, he wouldn’t see anyone he knew.
He grabbed a cart and hunted for the items he needed. His gaze landed on a display of Justin’s peanut butter cups, and the memories he’d been avoiding ambushed him.
Savannah had stood in the doorway to his home office at nine on a Saturday morning. “I have some errands to run, Hez. Can you watch Ella for an hour?”
He hesitated. “I have work to do, babe. This brief is due on Monday.”
She pressed her lips together. “You always have work to do. It’s the weekend, and she needs some time with her daddy.”
“I was going to take her to the park when this is done.”
“Take her now. I won’t be gone long.”
