69

SEATTLE-TACOMA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

Sean exited the flight with only his carry-on. He loved traveling light, never waiting for baggage when he got to his destination. When he was almost at baggage claim, he phoned Elizabeth. It would only take him a couple of minutes after that to walk out the doors to where she could pick him up.

Her line rang and rang. She didn’t pick up. Assuming she was stuck in traffic, he turned toward the outside doors.

There Elizabeth stood, only feet away. She was dressed simply in jeans, a khaki shirt, and boots. Very Elizabeth. Comfortable, never caring about any fashion trend.

“Surprise!” she called and dangled her car keys.

She’d never looked more beautiful.

He hurried toward her, dropped his bag, and hugged her. They stood unmoving, surrounded by the maze of people and baggage at Sea-Tac.

At last she drew back. Her brown eyes flashed warmth. “Come on. The Space Needle awaits.”

“Huh?”

“Your suggestion. Remember?” she teased.

“Well, aren’t you full of surprises?” he teased back.

“Every day.” She grinned.

He paused. “For the rest of my life?” His gaze lingered on her.

She stilled. The car keys trembled in her hand. “If that’s what you want,” she whispered.

He reached for her. “It is.”

Her smile was radiant.

LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

The man removed the bulky package from his desk and eased it open. Time had worn the brown paper of the packet thin and made it crackly, but he still kept it.

He drew out the first object—a white baby shoe, scuffed from a child’s learning to walk—and ran his fingers over the toes. He turned the shoe over and traced the delicate lettering that said “Thomas,” and beneath it, “Of Love.” Someday, perhaps, he would return this shoe to its rightful owner.

The next item was even more familiar—a tiny white shirt, embroidered with the fuchsia flowers that grew wild along the roadsides in Ireland. He held it up to his nose and inhaled. It still had the slight scent of baby powder.

The third item, a photo of a happy red-haired baby revealing a first tooth, always made him smile before heartache descended.

This time, though, the heartache was swift and intense.

One photo was missing from the packet—a university photo of three best friends, heads together, laughing. He vividly remembered the night it was taken, over four decades ago now, when they shared their heartfelt dreams about changing the world with each other.

What had happened in between? Real life. One night of moral weakness had altered their friendship. That was why he’d let the photo go, let the waters of Chautauqua Lake blur the faces until they were unrecognizable.

He sighed. He’d missed so many years, years he might have had if he’d gained the courage to act, to do things differently. He had spent years of regret tracking the red-haired baby’s progress. The baby had grown into a man to be respected, a true Worthington in character.

The man had lived continually with the fear and the secret hope that once Bill Worthington knew, he would reject the boy, reject Ava. That day in Chautauqua he’d almost made his move—driven the boat up to the Worthington summer home. Then Bill had arrived. The reunion scene the man had viewed from the lake had closed off any possibilities of his own dream. Once again, Bill Worthington had revealed his sterling character, the loyalty he was known for. But this time, the man had glimpsed something new in Bill’s face—an understanding of what love really was, what it could cost.

That small glimpse had unnerved him, changed his plan.

He loved Ava, always would. But bygones were bygones. He couldn’t change the past. Now he was left only with the shreds of his ever-active, condemning conscience.

With one last glimpse at the shoe, shirt, and photo, he tucked them back into the packet in the secret drawer. He locked the drawer and pocketed the key. His glance swept to the book that Sarah had given Sean, the one he’d left behind in Corvo. It now nestled among the hundreds of books in his voluminous library, but he’d never forget its spot. Perhaps someday he’d pull it out and see if Sarah had written anything else.

At last Thomas Rich, former president of the United States, closed the door of his study. He stepped out into the hallway of his lavish home and into the life that he’d built for himself.

Even if it wasn’t the life he’d always longed for and wanted with all his heart.