Almost Perfect (Fool's Gold #2)(74)
“Don’t take this wrong,” he suggested slowly, “but I would have helped.”
“If you’d known.”
He nodded.
She considered the words. He was right—he would have helped.
She thought about the long, lonely evenings after she’d brought Tyler home from the hospital. Her terror at being alone with a newborn. She had checked out a few books from the library, but had no real working knowledge of what to do. She’d never really been around babies and there was no one to ask. Help would have been nice.
Loss made her throat tighten. Everything could have been different, she thought. Looking back, she wasn’t sure if it would have been better, if they would have lasted as a couple. She wasn’t sure she would have ever started writing. After all, her first short stories had all been about killing Ethan in an assortment of creative ways.
Regardless, she was sure, given the choice, he would want the chance to know his son from birth.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Me, too.”
She rolled toward him. He leaned in and lightly kissed her mouth, then they stared at each other for a long time.
She read a world of ache in his eyes. Saw the place where the past should have been. In that moment, she knew she had never stopped loving Ethan, never stopped missing him, had never moved on. And if she stayed here too long, she was in danger of him discovering that particular truth.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE BANQUET ROOM AT THE HOTEL had a view of the mountain that filled the window. Concentrating on the lush colors of the plant-life seemed much easier than making small-talk with people she didn’t know at a luncheon she didn’t want to attend. But here she was.
The purpose—to award scholarship recipients—made perfect sense. But knowing these women were getting scholarships in her name made her feel as if she was having an out-of-body experience.
Betty Higgins, the clerk from the community college, waved from another table. Liz waved back. There were about fifteen tables in all—and nearly one hundred people at the event. Lunch had been pleasant—a delicious salad and warm sourdough bread. But after the hot fudge brownie had been delivered, Dana Marton, the president of the college, stood to address everyone.
“Thank you so much for coming,” Dana, an attractive, slender woman said with a smile. She’d introduced several members of the faculty, a few significant donors, then had shifted to Liz.
“Everyone here has been brought together by a single person of extraordinary talent. Liz Sutton left Fool’s Gold only a few months after graduating high school. She went away, had a baby, supported herself and her child, then started writing a detective novel. That first book, published nearly six years ago, made it to the top of the bestseller lists. Not only are her characters real and smart and sympathetic, they remind us of people we know. And for me, that’s writing at its best.”
Dana glanced down at her notes, then back at the people listening. “But the significance of Liz’s story lies elsewhere. Yes, she managed to overcome tremendous odds and adversity. But the most amazing part of her journey is that it had to happen somewhere else. Not here, in the town we love so much.”
Dana drew in a breath. “In a town that prides itself on caring, Liz slipped through the cracks. While we all noticed she was neglected at home, no one acted. Maybe it’s because she was so mature for her age. Her grades never suffered, she was always on time to school. Maybe it was because we weren’t as sensitized to disenfranchised children years ago. But when we, as a community, could have helped, there was silence.”
Liz felt the heat on her cheeks and did her best not to give in to the need to bolt for the closest door. They were talking about her life as if everyone knew. She’d become a sad and tragic legend.
“While the outcome of Liz’s story is a happy one, not every ignored child is so successful,” Dana continued. “Not every child has the skills and determination and character to survive. While we are proud of Liz and her life, we must not lose sight of this opportunity to learn from our mistakes. To do better next time so no child ever slips through the cracks again.”
There was a round of applause. Liz felt everyone glancing in her direction and did her best to appear calm and engaged. Because panic was just so unattractive.
“When Liz disappeared, we were left with a small scholarship,” Dana went on. “It should have been hers. The first suggestion was to simply fold the money back into the scholarship fund. But before we could do that, someone sent in a few dollars in Liz’s name. More checks arrived. As someone once told me, fifty dollars can’t change a life, but when everyone gives a little, we can change the world.”
Dana smiled at Liz. “That is how the Elizabeth Marie Sutton Scholarship was born. To date there have been nearly thirty recipients and most of them are here today.”
To Liz’s astonishment, several people stood. Then more joined them. There were exactly twenty-eight woman clapping and smiling at her. Beaming as if she’d actually done something for them.
When the women were seated, Dana invited the four women who would be receiving the money this year to speak. Each of them talked about how she wanted to go to college and how this money made it possible. They thanked Liz, which made her want to point out her big act had been to run away. But maybe this wasn’t the time.
There were a few more speeches, then the luncheon ended. Liz found herself shaking hands with people and accepting their thanks. As much as she wanted to say she didn’t deserve their praise, she was glad that her story had become symbolic of something bigger.