Page 8 of Bluebell Promises

Landon laughed. “You don’t think I should do it then? Maybe it’s risky.”

“No, I mean, I think she’ll love it,” Ben said. “I just can’t imagine myself being so brave.”

“You should come,” Landon suggested. “I’d love a little moral support.”

Ben considered this. He knew Celia at this point, but he’d had very little contact with Ivy and Juliet, and he hadn’t spoken to Wren at all, obviously, as she’d only returned yesterday.

“It’ll be fun,” Landon said. “They always have the best food. Juliet’s boyfriend is Theo Maddox. He made all the food from yesterday.”

“I did love those tofu tacos,” Ben said. He liked to dabble in vegetarianism for obvious reasons, although he’d never fully committed. “It’s rare to get tofu to taste so good.”

“Right? He’s a master,” Landon said. “You know, they tried to shut down his restaurant last year because it was so slow, and now, it’s rare that you can even get a table. We have to call ahead a few days before and make Juliet reserve one for us.”

Ben laughed. From the sound of things, most of the Harper sisters had returned to Bluebell Cove and been endlessly successful, despite having been gone for so long. He supposed he’d have things to talk to them about: what it was like to come back and what Bluebell Cove seemed like to an “outsider” who’d also grown up here.

“I’ll come for the food,” Ben said. “And to see you get all sappy.”

Landon lightly punched him on the arm. “I’ll try to keep the tears at bay.”

“You better,” Ben teased, laughing as he took another sip of beer.

Later, when Ben collapsed on the sofa at his place and turned on a TV show, he thought back to when he’d asked Rina to marry him. He’d been achingly nervous, so much so that he hadn’t been able to eat much of their dinner. They’d been away in Miami, soaking up some much-needed sun during the winter in Boston. When he’d gotten down on one knee, Rina had gasped and thrown her hands over her mouth. She’d looked at him like she loved him completely.

He would do anything to see that look again in someone’s eyes.

But he knew you couldn’t force something like that. It had to be organic. Maybe it would never happen for him again. He would have to find a way to be okay with that.

5

It was two days after Wren’s dramatic return to Bluebell Cove, the early morning at just barely four o’clock. The first of the light oozed through the crack in the drapes. Because of the jet lag, her body thought it was closer to noon, and her heart pounded dramatically, telling her that she was wasting her time and her life. She sat up in bed and listened to the wind flow past the big Victorian house. She could just barely make out the sound of the ocean at the bottom of the cliff, churning and sloshing against the rocks.

These were the sounds of her childhood. They were the smells, too—the lavender bush outside, the freshly mown grass, the ocean.

Yesterday was her first official full day back at Bluebell Cove—she’d spent most of her time here in her bedroom, hiding from everyone and resting. Maybe because Ivy was too angry or too confused about her return, Ivy hadn’t come to find her to demand answers from her, and Ivy’s children hadn’t knocked on her door, either. Celia had tried to call, and Juliet had texted, but Wren had sent them basic texts back, saying she was “fine but resting.”

She’d wanted to come up with a plan, but she felt less than creative.

Being in here, sequestered from her family but within the old family house, reminded Wren of those terrible months before and after her Graves’ disease diagnosis. It made her feel as though she’d fallen back through time.

Now, she willed herself to go back to sleep, but it wasn’t happening. She couldn’t sit in bed for a moment longer. She crept through the house and into the kitchen, where she brewed herself a pot of coffee and watched the sun come up over the cove. It truly was a mesmerizing sight. It was hard to believe that this water, the Atlantic Ocean here at the coast of Maine, connected with the water that encircled those gorgeous Greek islands. More than that, it was hard to believe that this same water connected with the water she’d dipped into in Thailand before everything this year had exploded in her face. How could she talk to her sisters about it?

There was a creak on the kitchen floorboards. Wren turned to find Lily, Ivy’s eldest, coming in, rubbing her eyes. She was in college, a sophomore or junior, Wren thought, but she went to college closer to home and visited often. At least, that had been the story Wren knew before she’d stopped calling home.

“Oh! Did I wake you up?” Wren asked.

“No, no.” Lily smiled and walked over to the coffee pot, which she used to fill up her own mug. “I’ve been getting up early lately. I like to get a morning swim in before everyone gets to the beach.”

Wren’s heart softened. “That’s beautiful.”

Lily sat down across from her. She looked every bit like Ivy’s daughter, and although Wren knew that things had not always been easy between them, she sensed that they’d found a way to mend their mother-daughter relationship.

“I can’t believe you’re back,” Lily said.

“Me neither,” Wren said. “I didn’t really plan it.”

Lily sipped her coffee. “Where were you before this?”

“Greece,” Wren explained. “I was there for three months. My visa to stay in Europe was about to run out, so I had to go somewhere else.”