I’m mean and spiteful,” she said in a small voice, then lifted her gaze to meet Gabi’s. “What is the matter with me? I always see the worst in her, even when she’s done nothing wrong.”
“It’s times like this when I really wish Mom were still around,” Gabi said softly.
Emily blinked back instant tears at the unexpected reference to their mother, who’d died several years ago. “What does Mom have to do with this?”
“Maybe she would understand why you have this attitude toward our big sister. Dad certainly wouldn’t have any idea. He was oblivious to everything going on at home when we were growing up. I doubt Grandmother was with us enough in the early years before Mom died to know the root of the problems between the two of you.”
Emily sighed. “And it’s increasingly obvious that it isn’t something I can just wish away. These careless, hurtful words just pop out of my mouth sometimes, and I have no idea why.”
“Then dig deeper and figure it out,” Gabi advised. “You and Samantha both mean the world to me, and I don’t want to be caught in the middle. I want us to be sisters, in every positive, loving sense of the word, okay? In fact, in my dream scenario, you and Boone eventually settle back here and Samantha marries a local, too, and we all live blocks apart so our kids can grow up together.”
Emily nodded, her eyes still misty. “I want that, too,” she insisted. “Well, maybe not moving back here full-time, but the rest. I will work this out, Gabi. I promise. Maybe once she’s here, Samantha and I can sit down and hash this out. Who knows? Maybe she stole my favorite doll when I was two and I’ve blocked it from my memory.”
Gabi smiled at the idea of something so innocuous causing a rivalry that had lasted for years. And Emily’s earlier accusations about her sister harboring simmering resentments seemed to speak of something much more complicated.
“Just work it out, sweetie. Whatever it takes.”
Emily settled Daniella back in Gabi’s arms and gave her niece a last pat, then pressed a kiss to Gabi’s cheek. “Done,” she promised.
Gabi watched her sister leave and wondered if it could be that simple.
* * *
Ethan Cole had just seen his final patient of the day, a tourist who’d managed to slice open her foot on a rusty nail on one of the stray boards still around after a recent storm had ripped through the coastal areas of North Carolina. Though most of the shoreline had been cleaned up immediately, debris still washed ashore from time to time, especially along a few more deserted areas of the beach. He’d given her a tetanus shot and four stitches and told her to come back if there was even a hint of any infection at the site of the injury.
He was just finishing up his notes when the door pushed open again and Boone Dorsett wandered into the small emergency clinic that Ethan had established with another doctor who’d also served in Iraq and Afghanistan. They’d agreed that the emergencies here in a small coastal community were unlikely to rise to the level of anything they’d coped with on their tours of duty in the military. Bumps, bruises and a few stitches were a day at the park compared to anything they’d seen, or in Ethan’s case, experienced firsthand.
He’d lost his lower left leg to an IED explosion in Afghanistan. While that might not have kept him out of an operating room once he was back stateside, it had gone a long way toward changing his need for the adrenaline rush of spending hours in a trauma unit or performing complicated, high-risk surgical procedures.
“You busy?” Boone asked, his tone nonchalant but his expression harried.
Ethan studied his friend’s face. “You look like you need to talk. Wedding jitters?”
Boone sat down, one leg bouncing up and down nervously, even though he uttered a denial.
“If it’s not about the wedding, what’s going on?” Ethan asked. He’d heard it was the best man’s duty to keep the groom calm and focused and make sure he turned up at the church on time. Emily Castle had made that very clear to him. So had her grandmother. It’s was Cora Jane’s admonition that had resonated. She’d threatened him with bodily harm if he failed to deliver Boone precisely at ten-thirty two weeks from Saturday.
“There’s something you maybe need to know,” Boone admitted.
“Okay,” Ethan replied slowly. “What?”
“You’re the best man, right?”
“So you keep telling me.”
“That means you have this sort of obligation to spend time with the maid of honor.”
Ethan stilled. “What does that mean, ‘spend time with’? We walk down the aisle together at the end of the service, right? Maybe sit next to each other at the head table and deliver our heartfelt toasts about how inevitable it all was that the two of you wound up together?”
“I think maybe Emily is expecting a little more than that,” Boone acknowledged, squirming uncomfortably.
Ethan’s gaze narrowed. “And why would Emily be expecting anything more? And why are you warning me?”
“Because I don’t want you to be blindsided. I know how you are about dating. Ever since you got back from overseas, you’ve been this social recluse.”
“I was still engaged when I came back,” Ethan reminded him. At least he had been for about twenty minutes, until all the hero worship died down and Lisa had admitted she didn’t think she could stay with someone “who’s not whole.” It was the first time Ethan had really seen himself as others probably saw him, as someone who was no longer quite the same man he used to be.
The only good thing to come out of that ugly breakup was his increased determination not only to ensure that his injury put no limitations on his life, but to see that kids with physical disabilities learned to view themselves in a positive way. That mission to salvage his own dignity and help others had given his life a much-needed purpose. Project Pride filled hours that otherwise might have been spent on this so-called social life Boone—or more likely, Emily—thought he needed.
“It’s been three years since you split with Lisa,” Boone pointed out.
“Since she dumped me,” Ethan corrected to keep the record straight.
“She was a self-absorbed twit,” Boone said with feeling, “but let’s not go there. My very low opinion of your ex is not the point.”
“Then what is the point?” Ethan asked, frowning.
There was no mistaking his friend’s discomfort as Boone finally muttered, “Heaven only knows why, but Emily seems to have gotten this idea that you and her sister Samantha are perfect for each other.”
“Excuse me?” Ethan said, hoping he’d heard incorrectly.
“Come on, Ethan,” Boone said impatiently, “you know exactly what I said. I didn’t leave a lot of room for misinterpretation.”
“Samantha, the maid of honor,” Ethan said, finally getting all the implications of this little scheme of the bride-to-be. He shook his head and directed a warning look at his friend that he hoped would put the fear of God into him. “No way, Boone! You need to tell Emily
