CHAPTER ONE
Meredith rolled to face John’s side of the bed, clutching his pillow to her chest in a fierce hug. The faint spice of his aftershave lingered on the fabric, mixed with a pleasantly earthy musk that was uniquely him. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her throat tighten in a way that was becoming all too familiar. Her eyes burned like she’d rubbed every grain of Oregon sand into them.
Six days ago, she’d made a simple entry in her calendar for this morning—Meet plumber @ 9am. It was yet another bullet point in a long list of problems that were making her photography studio financially underwater, but at least one she knew how to fix. The first year of a new business was never easy, and she had a binder full of ideas to turn it profitable that she was eager to try.
One hour after making that entry, her husband, John, had collapsed in the back room of that photography studio and had never gotten back up.
What she wouldn’t give to spend this morning bored and annoyed, waiting for a tardy plumber, instead of holding back sobs at her husband’s funeral.
Get out of bed, she commanded herself. She’d been feeling under the weather for a few days before John’s collapse—like she had eaten something off, or maybe had a stomach bug—and becoming a widow hadn’t improved her health. Move, Meredith.
But she couldn’t make her muscles obey even the simplest instructions. They remained rigid and stiff, stubbornly clamped around the pillow that still smelled like John.
If she wanted to look her best today—like she was trying and hadn’t fallen apart—she needed to get moving. John would want her to put one foot in front of the other. More than once they’d talked about what she should do if he died. When he’d been a Navy SEAL, that threat had always loomed large.
She’d just assumed that, once he left the SEALs, the risk was over.
Who had a brain aneurysm at twenty-nine years old? He’d always been the picture of health. Even after leaving the military almost two years ago, he’d maintained a vigorous physical fitness routine. Had it been the stress of running two businesses—her photography studio and his scuba shop?
If she’d made him go in for that physical six months ago, maybe there would have been warning signs, like sudden high blood pressure. When he’d complained of headaches over the last couple of months, she should have listened instead of teasing him about needing glasses.
A knock sounded at the door, pulling Meredith out of her spiraling thoughts.
Get up, she commanded herself again. What time was it? How much longer did she have to get ready?
Would they start the funeral without the grieving widow?
She pried open her eyes and the blurry green numbers on John’s alarm clock came into focus. It was a few minutes after eight. Hopefully, the plumber wasn’t on his way to the studio—she couldn’t remember if she’d canceled the appointment.
John would have already been up, his perpetual cheeriness driving her crazy. She wasn’t a morning person, but his years in the military had trained him to be one. The faint splash of water from the shower would have slowly lulled her into wakefulness, and—if she didn’t get out of bed quickly enough—John would have yanked the covers off her with a cackle.
She had always hated that. Would let out a growl of frustration and stick out her tongue. But then he’d hover over her, arm muscles taut as he rained kisses across her face until she was laughing.
What she wouldn’t give to have him yank those covers off her one more time. How could he really be gone? Her stomach churned, bile rising in her throat until she jerked upright, a hand pressed to her lips.
Another knock sounded, this one longer and more insistent. “Mer, honey? It’s Vanessa. Let me in, okay?”
The sound of her best friend’s voice finally convinced Meredith to let go of John’s pillow. Her toes curled against the cool tile floor, the early-September air already brisk. She’d inherited this beach bungalow after her grandmother’s passing five years ago—about a year before meeting John—and had always hated the tile. The grout lines between the cracked pink ceramic squares always looked dirty, no matter how hard she scrubbed.
John had promised replacing the flooring would be the next stop on their remodel journey. He, Sawyer, and Zach had been trying to find a weekend when they were all free for the job. The three men were more than friends. They were like brothers. Over the past few years, they’d become Meredith’s family every bit as much as they were John’s.
She padded to the front door and swung it open to reveal Vanessa looking pretty in a simple black dress with a dark coat draped over one arm. The dress was fitted, with three-quarter length sleeves and a hemline that just brushed Vanessa’s knees.
Meredith’s heart dropped, nausea clawing at her throat once more. She hadn’t even thought of a dress. Didn’t own a single one in black. There was a dark navy number she sometimes wore to church, but it had bright pink hibiscus flowers embroidered across the skirt—hardly appropriate for a funeral.
What had she worn when burying her grandma? That was the last funeral she’d attended. She had a vague recollection of donating the dress to a church charity sale because she hadn’t liked the memories associated with it.
“I thought you might want some help getting ready.” Vanessa’s lips turned up in a sad smile. She’d pulled her caramel brown hair back into a simple bun at the base of her neck and wore only the barest traces of makeup.
Meredith leaned against the doorframe. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this exhausted—not even after the grueling two-hour photo shoot she’d done last month with an extended family of thirty, including five babies. “I couldn’t get out of bed.”
“I figured. Can I come in?”
Meredith nodded, stepping aside. “How long do we have?”
“Not quite two hours. I didn’t want you to have to rush.”
Meredith pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. There was so much to do to get ready. She needed to shower and especially needed to wash her hair—she couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that. Probably should curl it. Definitely needed to apply makeup, even if she would cry it all off. And there was still the matter of something to wear.
Did she own a pair of nylon stockings, or would she need to shave her legs? She tried to remember what else she had in her closet. Maybe she could wear that long black skirt with her dark gray top. The top was a little casual for a funeral, the skirt a little boho, but at least she wouldn’t have to shave. It was a better option than the dark blue dress with bright pink flowers.
“Come here.” Vanessa draped her coat over the edge of the couch, then pulled Meredith to her in a tight hug.
The front door still stood wide open, inviting every fly in Sapphire Cove to take up residence in the tiny bungalow. Meredith didn’t care. She pressed her face into Vanessa’s shoulder, trying to hold back her tears so they wouldn’t mar the fabric. Had it really only been a few years ago that their roles were reversed?
Vanessa’s husband had been a military man, too—active-duty Army—and killed in action. After hearing the news, Meredith had hopped the first plane to South Carolina and spent two weeks helping her best friend pick up the pieces of her life.
“I don’t know where my iron is,” Meredith mumbled. “My skirt is probably wrinkled. And I’m not sure if my gray top is clean.”
John had died on laundry day, and her hampers were still overflowing. She also had never made a flyer for the studio’s back-to-school sale and still had about ten photos to edit from a lifestyle photo shoot she’d done two weeks ago. Despite having only a handful of photos left to edit, she hadn’t been able to so much as open her laptop.
“I brought you a dress.” Vanessa held out her arm, revealing a black garment bag draped over it that Meredith hadn’t noticed before. “Linda told me to take three sizes, just in case. I’ll return the others tomorrow.”
Meredith pressed a hand to her lips. “That was really nice of her.”
But that was Sapphire Cove. Her fridge currently burst with the generosity of the townspeople. Linda’s Boutique was the only clothing shop in town and just three doors down from John’s shop, King Trident Scuba Diving.
But it isn’t John’s shop anymore, Meredith realized with a fresh wave of grief. It’s mine. Zach and Sawyer owned a percentage, too, but they’d both taken a step back over the past year as they focused on their own ventures, and she knew they wouldn’t have put up a fight if John had wanted to sell.
What do I want? The question felt like a plea. Not to be crushed under an ever-increasing mountain of debt would be nice. She kept busy as a photographer during the summer months, when tourists were eager for family photos on the beach. But her studio didn’t get near the traffic she’d hoped for and the overhead was higher than she’d expected. John’s scuba shop hadn’t exactly been a smashing success, either. Few came to coastal Oregon for scuba diving, but John hadn’t wanted to give up. Only weeks ago, he’d mentioned branching out to include whale watching tours, something he’d planned to bring up to Sawyer and Zach after he did more research, and at the beginning of the year he’d started taking classes online to work toward his business degree.
Meredith stared at Vanessa, panic making her entire body icy. What would become of both businesses now? The monthly payments on their small business loans weren’t cheap. Since they were self-employed, health insurance premiums were astronomical and covered next to nothing. She and John hadn’t seen the need for life insurance once he left the Navy, since they were both so young.
“I—” Meredith couldn’t get out anything else. I can’t do this. I don’t know how to exist without John. I don’t want to spend today burying my husband.
Vanessa handed Meredith the garment bag, her expression understanding. “One thing at a time. Go get ready and I’ll make you something to eat, okay?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I know, but I’m going to make you breakfast, anyway.”
Meredith ran a thumb over the logo on the garment bag. The last thing she wanted right now was food, but Vanessa was right. Hadn’t she woken up early the morning of Vanessa’s husband’s funeral to make pancakes and feed little Grayson while Vanessa got ready? “Thanks.”
Meredith zoned out in the shower, her mind going blessedly blank as the hot water soothed her aching muscles. But soon the steam made her light-headed, so she turned off the water and reached for a towel.
The thought of blow drying and curling her sun-bleached blonde hair was exhausting, but she made herself do it, anyway. Then she applied a little eyeshadow and blush before getting dressed. Vanessa had chosen well and the conservative black dress hugged Meredith’s waist in a flattering way before flaring gently at the hips. Vanessa had even included a pair of pantyhose and low-heeled black pumps, which was a relief because Meredith hadn’t been able to work up the energy to shave her legs.
One last touch and she’d be ready. Meredith opened the lid of her jewelry box and stared at the necklace nestled inside. The pendant, a coiled rope twisted around a boat anchor, was about the size of a silver dollar. She ran a thumb over the words etched into the thin bar across the top. Refuse to sink.
Three months into dating, John had revealed he was a Navy SEAL. The revelation had pulled the rug right out from under her. She’d already fallen for him hard, but hadn’t known if she was cut out for the rigors of military life. How was she supposed to cope knowing that every time he left on a mission, it could be his last? It had been hard enough to spend time apart when she’d thought he was just a run-of-the-mill seaman stationed on a ship somewhere in the middle of the ocean.
Breaking up had seemed like the only option. She’d told John as much, but he said he wasn’t giving up on them that easily. Instead, he’d given her this necklace and explained how the anchor represented his job with the SEALs, and how the words represented his faith in her ability to be strong when he was gone.
That was the moment she’d known she would marry him.
Meredith stared at the anchor, then fastened the chain around her neck with trembling fingers.
The smell of warm toast and freshly cooked eggs pulled her toward the dining room. Vanessa stood at the stove in the small kitchen, one of Grandma’s vintage aprons protecting her black dress.
“You look beautiful,” Vanessa said, her eyes sweeping down Meredith’s form. “The dress fits great.”
Meredith smoothed down her skirt. “Don’t let me forget to thank Linda. I left the other two sizes hanging in the garment bag in my room.”
“I’ll grab it from you later.” Vanessa turned to the fridge, swinging it open wide. “Do you want apricot or peach jam on your toast? Ooh, or plum. Looks like the church ladies are keeping you well-stocked.”
Just the thought of food had Meredith’s stomach revolting. “I don’t know if I can eat.”
“At least try. How about peach jam?” Vanessa grabbed another apron. “Here, put this on so you don’t get your dress dirty.”
Vanessa was in full-on mom mode. Meredith put on the apron and grabbed the butter from the cupboard. It was easier than protesting again. “Is Grayson with your parents?”
Vanessa nodded, popping the lid on the peach jam. Meredith wrinkled her nose at the smell. She’d never been a big fan of homemade jam, preferring more savory options like bagels and cream cheese.
“Dad’s going to stay home with him so Mom can come. I didn’t want today to bring back any bad memories.”
Bad memories of his own father’s funeral. Compassion welled within Meredith, along with a whole new empathy for Vanessa’s situation. As hard as today was, it could be worse. At least she didn’t have to tell her child that his father was dead.
For the first time in more than a year, she was grateful for John’s insistence they wait to have a baby. After spending his formative years being bounced from one foster home to another, he’d wanted to wait until their businesses were stable—and, by extension, their finances—before bringing a child into this world.
“Today won’t be easy for you, either,” Meredith whispered. “Thanks for coming anyway, Ness.”
“I would never let you go through this alone.” Vanessa busied herself spreading jam on the toast. “We’ve got about twenty minutes until Sawyer gets here. That should be enough time to eat.”
“He’ll be early.” Meredith took a deep breath, the smell of eggs making her queasy. “Are Zach and Cheyenne at the church?”
“Yes. The funeral home has everything ready, and it looks beautiful.”
Meredith accepted the plate of food from Vanessa, gratitude mixing with her grief.
“Cheyenne said there’s already a decent crowd gathering,” Vanessa continued. “I’m sure half the town will come to offer their condolences.”
Meredith nodded again. She’d lived in Sapphire Cove—in this very house—her entire life. Had been raised by grandparents who’d lived here their entire lives, too, after her mother died from an overdose without ever revealing her deadbeat father’s name. John had wholeheartedly embraced this town, and they’d embraced him right back.
“Eat.” Vanessa motioned to the plate. “Before the eggs get cold.”
Meredith obediently took a bite, holding back a grimace. Grief had always affected her appetite. She’d been crushed by each of her grandparents’ deaths and for months afterward, eating had been a chore.
Losing John hurt so much more than losing either of her elderly grandparents.
Meredith forced another forkful of eggs down, following it up with a bite of too-sweet toast. How could she do it—walk into that church and keep her composure while everyone told her how much they’d loved John? What a tragedy it was to lose him in the prime of his life?
She knew the truth. For most of the town, life would go on after today. For her, time had stopped with John’s last breath.
As the ambulance raced to the hospital while the paramedics worked feverishly, she’d sent Sawyer and Zach a frantic text. Zach and Cheyenne had been shopping an hour away, but Sawyer had rushed to the hospital and been with her when the doctor came into the waiting room, face solemn.
Meredith had collapsed against Sawyer before the doctor even spoke. She didn’t need to hear the words. His face had said it all.
I’m sorry, Mrs. Gilbert. We did everything we could.
The memories were too much. Meredith bolted for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before she lost the contents of her stomach.
Vanessa was beside her in an instant, holding back her hair and murmuring sympathetic platitudes. Meredith’s stomach heaved again while her cheeks burned with humiliation.
She flushed the toilet and grabbed a tissue, wiping her mouth. “Sorry about that.”
Vanessa’s expression was pained. “Don’t apologize. I threw up the morning of Andrew’s funeral, too.”
Somehow, that eased Meredith’s embarrassment. “You did?”
Vanessa nodded. “In the bathroom at the church. No one knew.”
The doorbell rang, interrupting their conversation.
“It’s probably Sawyer,” Vanessa said. “I’ll get it while you clean up.”
Meredith brushed her teeth and reapplied her lipstick, the deep murmur of Sawyer’s voice from the front room calming her anxiety. She carefully removed the apron and looked at herself in the mirror.
Her eyes were ringed by dark circles, her skin even paler than usual. John would have kissed her on the temple, wrapped his arms around her waist, and insisted he still found her beautiful.
She clutched her anchor pendant, rubbing a thumb over the etched words.
Refuse to sink, she commanded herself. She could do this.
She had no other choice.
Sawyer stood in the front entryway, his feet shoulder-width apart and hands clasped together as he spoke to Vanessa in a low voice. Meredith paused, the sight of him in full military uniform making her heart twist. As the wife of a Navy SEAL, she’d imagined this moment. Wondered what it would feel like to wear a black dress and attend her husband’s funeral, surrounded by men in uniform.
It also reminded her of John on their wedding day. Had that been the last time she’d seen him in his dress uniform?
No. That had been yesterday at the funeral home during the viewing.
Sawyer pulled her to him and she sank into his hug, clinging to his chest the way she had at the hospital. Maybe, if she could just hold on to her friends, she’d make it through today.
“Thanks for coming,” Meredith said.
As much as she loved Vanessa—as much as she needed her today—she needed Sawyer, Zach, and Cheyenne even more. Vanessa hadn’t known John. Had only met him once at their wedding. But Sawyer and Zach—her family—had fought alongside him. Had saved his life repeatedly, just as he’d saved theirs.
“Of course.” A muscle in Sawyer’s jaw twitched, as though he were fighting back tears. “Are you ready to go?”
Ready? A panicked laugh bubbled up inside her. She’d only had four years with John—barely longer than a heartbeat. When he’d been a SEAL, she’d accepted that on some level. But in the almost two years since he’d gone civilian, she’d started counting their future together in decades.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the choking grief.
“No one’s going to rush you, Mer. Take all the time you need.”
Time. Like waiting another ten minutes would make burying her husband any easier.
Meredith rubbed a thumb over her pendant. “Let’s go.”
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