Unfortunately, she had to know how it all ended back then for Dove and Jack.

The date on this last entry was a full year after the previous one.

Dear Jack,

I got married today. You know that because you were there, ever so briefly, watching from the beach at a distance.

Did you see the dress—so different from the one I’d planned to marry you in. The truth is, I needed to hide my pregnancy, and this gown was the only appropriate choice. Though it seems fitting that I wouldn’t get to wear the dress I’d always dreamed of today on this special day.

I love Martin. He’s a good man and he’s been there for me, when you wouldn’t or refuse to be.

As I walked down the aisle today, our last conversation played in my mind. Maybe not appropriate to be thinking of another man while I was about to pledge forever to his good friend and comrade, but the mind wanders where it will.

Mine wandered to you.

Do you remember the conversation?

I said, “Where did you go, my love?”

And you replied, “Somewhere so dark that love cannot exist.”

You were different. You are different now.

Unfairly, my feelings are the same. Nothing—not time, not distance, not your coldness—can change that.

But I will move on and be a good wife to this man I now call my husband. I’ll be a good mother to his child I carry, and we will have a future we could only dream of together.

I wish you peace, if love forever evades you.

Know that the purest, kindest part of your soul is safe in my memory. Now and for always.

My last letter to you, my past love,

Dove

Sarah closed the book with a small sigh. Their love story had ended with Dove’s final journal entry.

Now what did she do with the journal? Putting it back on the bookshelf in the den didn’t seem right when she was planning to sell the B&B. And she wasn’t sure it was something she wanted to keep.

What would her grandmother have wanted her to do?

The blown-glass bulb—the gift from Marissa and Wes—hanging in her window reflecting the glow of the moonlight, a kaleidoscope of color shooting across the hardwood floor, gave Sarah her answer.

…

“Are you and Sarah fighting?” Marissa’s voice drifted over the changing room door the next day as she tried on new clothing for school starting the following week.