Chapter 16
In the early autumn down South, the evening breeze carried a sticky, humid heat. Sycamore leaves
were starting to yellow. They rustled as they fell, blanketing the ground.
Evelyn clutched a stack of professional books she had just borrowed from the city library and
walked slowly along the sycamore–lined lane in the factory district.
She wore the school–issued teacher’s uniform, washed a few times until it had faded but still neat
and tidy. It made her look even slimmer.
Her cheeks had a healthy flush and her eyes held a quiet calm, the kind you got after weathering enough storms.
For two years she had put down roots in this small southern town, far from Evermont.
Through hiring exams and sheer grit, she had moved from an administrative post at the community high school to a full–fledged teacher.
Recently she had been asked to run special activities for the student clubs. Her days were modest, but steady.
She had learned to change lightbulbs, fix leaky pipes, and snag discounted groceries during evening sales.
She had also learned how, in the dead of night, to sit with the dull ache of old memories and
swallow the occasional pang that still surfaced.
She almost believed time had washed that nightmare away–until a figure appeared like a stone
dropped into still water, shattering the fragile peace she had worked so hard to build.
That evening, just after work, she was laughing with a few colleagues as they left the school gates.
Then she looked up and froze.
Across the street, under the gnarled branches of an old sycamore, stood a man she had thought
she would never see again–Graham.
He wore a sharply pressed uniform and no cap. His hair had been shaved so close his scalp showed. The hard planes of his face looked carved.
He had grown much thinner; his eye sockets were hollow, his jaw tight.
He seemed like a bowstring pulled taut, wrapped in a dense, unshakeable exhaustion and a streak
of near–manic stubbornness.
He and the dusty olive–green Jeep behind him looked wildly out of place in Harborbend’s soft,
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humid air.
His gaze, hawk–sharp, locked onto her.
Her colleagues noticed the change in her and followed her eyes. Graham’s presence and his uniform unnerved them. They murmured and drifted away.
Evelyn felt her heart lurch. She almost turned and ran.
“Evelyn!”
His voice was raw and hoarse, like sandpaper. There was an urgent, cautious edge to it that cut
through the evening noise.
In a few strides he crossed the street and planted himself directly in her path. His tall frame cast a
heavy shadow that swallowed her up.
She stopped, her fingernails pressing into the edges of her books. Forcing herself to meet his eyes,
she lifted her chin.
After the first shock, her expression cooled. Her gaze became as still and deep as a pool, showing no ripple–only a quick, tightly suppressed flicker of panic beneath the surface.
She spoke in a distant tone, as if addressing a stranger. “Can I help you?”
Graham flinched at the chill in her voice and the steadiness of her stare.
His breath hitched, uneven.
He looked at her pale but stubborn face, at the clear wariness in her eyes, and regret and panic
threatened to drown him.
He swallowed hard and held out a neatly wrapped wool scarf and a tin of chocolates he had bought
in Port Atlantis.
His voice softened nearly to a plead.
“Evelyn… it’s getting cold. These are for you. Come home with me, please. I was a fool before. I was a complete jerk. I’m sorry. I’m begging you to forgive me.”
The scarf was soft, in the pale yellow she used to love. The chocolates had a glossy, rich look that screamed a good brand.
Once, a gift like that would have made her sing with delight, fluttering around him like a sparrow.
Now she glanced at them and looked away. Her tone held no heat. “General Sterling, I think the
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divorce papers 1 left make things clear. We are done.”
“That doesn’t count!” Graham’s voice jumped, raw and loud enough to draw curious looks from passersby.
“I never agreed to it. Evelyn, I know I was wrong. I really know I was wrong. Give me one more
chance. I swear I’ll never let you down again. I won’t see Sophie Monroe anymore. I—”
