He cringed, his eyes closed as though she’d hit him in the face with her words. “I know, but I’m not going anywhere.” He exhaled and spoke quietly. “You’ve never let me explain what happened . . . what . . .”

Colleen closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at Walter, but his voice continued.

“I hadn’t had any plans to leave you at the altar. I loved you. I might even still love you if you weren’t so merciless to your sister. But you know, and I know, and you have to admit, we are a better fit—me and Hallie. You just wanted . . . so much.”

“What is wrong with wanting so much?” Colleen opened her eyes and stared at the man she might have married and felt a flood of relief that she hadn’t. “No! Don’t answer that. Not here. Not now.”

“Someday?” he asked quietly. “Let me try and explain.”

She shook her head. “No. Not ever. It’s past that time, and explanations don’t matter so much anymore. It can’t change things. It can’t unbreak my heart, or Hallie’s, or bring back Dad.”

Walter rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes so tightly that Colleen could see where the lines of age would eventually appear. “You’re right.” And with that he walked away.

Colleen remembered words of C. S. Lewis she once read, “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.” And for the first time she understood it was fear, quivering and moving below her chest. Fear of the future without her dad. Fear of loss. Fear of unknowing. It took her breath and kept it captive beneath her throat until she was dizzy and ran for the door, needing air.

Outside, the crowd just as thick, Colleen felt a hand on her back and turned to Beckett. “Lean on me,” he said.

And she did, and she caught her breath. “It’s so final,” she said. “There’s no more ‘I’ll fix it later. I’ll call him later.’”

“I know.”

She rested on his chest and waited for her breathing to slow.

“You know,” he said, “I told you it wouldn’t be ready but I did have a surprise for tonight. For your dad.”

“What’s that?” She lifted her head.

“The state did offer approval for the historic site status of the pub. I was going to surprise him.”

“This is . . .” She stopped, unable to find the words she wanted or needed. “It’s wonderful. And sad. And a fitting tribute even though he’s not here. Thank you, wonderful Beckett. Thank you.”

Beckett nodded, emotion clouding his face as he took her hand and they eased their way back inside. The microphone screeched and a high-pitched voice broke a soprano note and Colleen stopped. “What the . . . ?”