He didn’t want to see how Emerald Springs had changed, or remember why it had.
Even though she’d been resistant at first, the visit had ended up being healing for Gayle—or so she’d told him afterward. After the new homeowner had allowed them in, Gayle had cautiously stepped over the threshold. A soft, stuttered laugh had rushed out of her as she’d gazed around, filled with speechless happiness, and it had reached right into his chest and squeezed his heart.
According to Gayle, the décor had changed a lot. But the important details were still there—the staircase she and her sister used to clamber down each morning when their mom called them to breakfast, the window nook Gayle and her father used to curl up in to read a book together, the dining room where they’d eaten dinner as a family every night. The renovations hadn’t changed all that, and Gayle had seemed so much lighter when they left.
He just had to keep telling himself that.
As they passed the Welcome to Emerald Springs sign, Mac shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat.
“How you doing over there?” Gayle asked.
“Nervous as fuck,” he admitted. Whose idea had this been, anyway?
Oh, yeah. His.
She sent him an understanding smile. The most comforting thing was, she did understand. He reached over and took one of her hands off the steering wheel and entwined their fingers, linking them physically, just as they were emotionally.
“Where to first?”
His own healing journey would consist of two stops—the demolished neighborhood where he’d shared a home with Ally, and where the restaurant was that he’d been working in when the tornado had struck. According to Lance, the owners had rebuilt the restaurant, as had most of the other businesses. As for the neighborhood, he was sure what he was going to see.
“Let’s get the neighborhood done first.”
Nodding, she squeezed his fingers. As he gave her instructions, he started to notice the changes in the landscape where the tornado had torn through the town four years ago. The park that had been surrounded with lush, mature trees had been bulldozed. Young trees now dotted the area, and reconstructed shelters, bathrooms, and a playground stood proud amidst them. It wasn’t the same, but it wasn’t necessarily different, either. Not in spirit. He could still see himself out there playing Frisbee or grilling burgers.
Gayle was right. Even though the surroundings had changed, nothing could erase the memories he’d made there—the good memories.
A sense of peace washed over him.
As she turned into the neighborhood, he stared in stunned amazement. When he’d left, some of the owners had started to rebuild, some were still struggling with the decision to stay or go. Four years later, the community thrived with freshly built homes, pristine sidewalks, and bright flowering shrubs and trees. Had he not lived here, seen the destruction himself, he would never have believed every one of these homes had once been leveled.
The community had picked up the pieces of their lives and started over.
He knew it was high time he did so, himself.
“Take a right,” he said.
Gayle remained silent as she took the turn. He appreciated that. He needed to just absorb all of this now. Talking would come later.
They approached the small piece of land where his home had once stood, and he whispered, “Slow down.”
Nothing about it was the same. Nothing. Whoever had bought the lot of land had built a single-story ranch, replacing the two-story Cape Cod. An aboveground pool sparkled in the side yard where three kids ranging in age from about six to twelve splashed around. A mom and dad sat on the steps leading to a small porch, laughing. Someone had made the piece of land he associated with grief and death into something beautiful—they’d made it a home. Emotions almost got the best of him. Clearing his throat, he blinked.
“Do you want to get out?” Gayle asked softly.
“No. I’ve seen all I need to see.”
“You want me to do what?” Mac blinked at Gayle.
There was no way he’d heard her correctly. After they left the neighborhood, they’d come straight to the restaurant. Being that it was late afternoon, they’d decided to go ahead and eat while they were here. Except for some upgrades, this place hadn’t changed. Still had the deep cherry wood floors and accents throughout. The black padded booths and the open kitchen. Bill and Paulette had said they loved the restaurant the way it was and when they rebuilt, they’d had every intention of bringing it back to look the same.
“You heard me.” She shoved a forkful of rolled spaghetti in her mouth.
“I can’t do that.”
“You don’t have a choice. I believe I won a bet that allows me to collect the reward at any time for anything. This is what I want.”