At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories)(78)

"They adopted her?"

"Nothing that formal," Laquita said. "Remember this is all third hand information but I hear the baby was passed from relatives to friends then back again. Not much of a life for a little girl."

Damn it. The last thing Gracie had wanted was to feel something for Noah's child. "The mother didn't care?"

"Who knows?" Laquita said. "I assume she believed the girl was being well cared for."

"So how did Noah end up with Sophie?"

"The authorities contacted Sophie's mother after Sophie ran away from home and they found her asleep on the steps of a church. To make a long story short, they were going to put Sophie into the system and the mother decided maybe it was time to let Noah in on the fact that he had a five year old daughter." Noah flew over to England, met the child, and immediately took on responsibility for her future.

"And that's why he came home to Idle Point, for Sophie?" There was a lump in Gracie's throat the size of a dinner plate. The thought of Noah meeting his little girl for the first time brought back all the years she'd prayed that her own father would open his eyes and really see her for who she was.

Laquita nodded. "That and the Gazette. He has a lot on his plate right now."

"Seems so." Noah had wanted to write the great American novel, not be pinned down behind a desk at a newspaper office. She had a million questions, but she didn't trust herself to say anything more, not with her emotions so close to the surface. The thought of Noah with a daughter of his own awoke so many memories inside her heart, so many of the dreams she had put aside. The thought that his daughter shared her blood made her want to weep. A cruel twist of fate had joined them together forever in that angry little child. Nothing about her return home was the way she thought it would be, not even close.

"Ben would love to make you his special scrambled eggs," Laquita said after an uncomfortable silence, "but if you're not up to—"

"I'm fine," Gracie jumped in. "I'd love to try Dad's scrambled eggs." She was almost thirty years old and this was the first time she could remember her father doing anything special for her.

Laquita's serene expression turned downright joyful. "He'll be so pleased." She leaned forward and touched Gracie's forearm. "You don't know how much this means to him. He's so excited that you came up for our wedding."

Gracie's smile was noncommittal. She certainly couldn't tell Laquita that the only reason she had agreed was because Ben caught her at a weak—and unemployed—moment. "It'll be fun, I'm sure."

"I probably shouldn't tell you this—Ben will kill me if he finds out—but he's going to ask you something, Gracie, and if the answer's going to be no, I'd really like the chance to prepare him." She took a deep bracing breath which inflated her already considerable chest to alarming proportions. "He wants you to stand up for him."

"Be his best man?" Gracie couldn't keep the surprise from her voice.

"Be his witness," Laquita corrected gently. "You have no idea how much it would mean to him. I know your life hasn't been perfect and that most of that is Ben's fault, but he's made such progress and he loves you so much. If you would consider it, I'd be in your debt forever."

"You don't have to be in my debt," she said. "Of course I'll be his witness."

Laquita leaped up and hugged Gracie around the neck. "This is wonderful! I'm so pleased."

"One question though," Gracie said. "Do you love him?"

Laquita stepped back and met her gaze head on. "Yes," she said. "I love him enough to be faithful."

"I didn't ask that."

"But you wanted to."

"Yes," Gracie admitted. "I wanted to."

"I know we look like the odd couple but it's real, what we have. We're going to last forever."

Gracie didn't bother to tell her that sometimes forever wasn't very long at all.





#





"This is great!" The managing editor, a seen-it-all-type named Doheny, turned away from the computer screen and looked up at Noah. "How'd you come up with this stuff anyway? I wouldn't have figured you for the type."

"Beats me," said Noah and it was the truth. The words seemed to pour from his fingertips like magic. All of the frustrations he had felt with Sophie, his anger toward Gracie, the bittersweet memories hiding around every street corner—they were all there, willing to be transformed into words and phrases meant to move the reader. It wasn't anything like his usual style, which tended toward the brittle and manipulative—pure gold in advertising—but more real, more emotional than anything he had ever written.