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R ebecca straightened each room in the house.

It wasn’t much, but at least the house was clean, well, sort of.

She hoped her family wouldn’t look in the corners.

Her mother had a staff of maids at her disposal, but that did not stop her from getting on her hands and knees to take care of business when she needed to.

Well, at least she changed the sheets on her bed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that, but she had a bad feeling it had been more than a week or two ago. She needed to start paying more attention.

Matt Jones. Matt Jones. Matt Jones.

She had run over their brief phone call at least five hundred times in her mind since it had happened earlier in the week and tried to read between the lines.

He had given her nothing but pumped her for every shred of information she had.

She didn’t know what to think. And what had his parting words been?

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Wilder, we are just crossing all the T’s and dotting the I’s.

There is nothing for you to do or think about. Thank you for the information.”

Yet what had she done? She obsessed with the information. She needed to take action where she could.

Tomorrow, before her family arrived, Rebecca decided that she would make an effort. It was time to start making plans.

She’d use a curling iron. She’d find her emergency tube of lipstick in a pleasing color instead of the generic drugstore crap she’d purchased when she last bought diapers.

Maybe she would try some mascara, if there was any left in the tube she had.

When was the last time she’d worn mascara?

April? She was looking forward to her mother’s little care kit that would no doubt be chock full of goodies, like expensive lipstick and baby clothes for Emily.

What did they say? Fake it until you make it? Maybe she was ready to make an effort.

It was a get-busy-living or die-with-Mitch moment, and she had decided she had wallowed long enough. Her baby needed a good mother who was present and moving forward in her life. Life was hard enough.

She lived for Emily. She was so thankful for her beautiful, perfect baby.

She was a blessing, and Rebecca thought the baby had done a lot to get her through the last year of her life.

Maybe, when the weather started to turn a little nasty at the beach, she should think about moving back to Portland and possibly think about getting a job.

She could get a nanny, but more likely, her mother would want to have Emily with her if Rebecca went to work.

What would she do for work? Ask her father for a job?

She’d come a long way by even exercising this conversation in her head.

It was enough for now, but it had started the wheels turning.

She found mascara and lipstick and applied it.

She brushed her hair and used some of the perfume Mitch had given her.

She saved it now for special occasions, but it was called for today because this was a scary conversation to ponder, and she was brave to have it.

It deserved to be considered special. Small, baby steps, but significant in their own way.

Before the baby woke up that afternoon from her midday nap, Rebecca stepped onto the deck and let the sun hit her face.

Yes, it was a beautiful day, and they could walk on the beach.

Rebecca wanted and needed the exercise, and she thought Emily liked it, too.

At least Emily liked to smile when they were outside.

The walks on the beach had become something Rebecca loved. The Pacific, with its power and majesty, would never disappoint.

When the baby woke up, Rebecca said, “Okay, baby girl, guess what? It is beach time!”

As was her ritual, she slathered them both in sunscreen, baby sunscreen for Emily. It was probably unnecessary, but if there was a chance of sun exposure, she wouldn’t risk it. She wore a big hat and made sure the baby was covered up.

Placing Emily in her stroller, Rebecca locked the house’s main door and pocketed her keys and phone.

Then they took a ramp to the beach, a block away from their house.

Normally, when she used to come to the beach before Mitch, she would have traversed the cliff right in front of the house, but not with the stroller and its precious cargo.

“Here we are, baby girl. The beach is ours to explore.”

The noise of the waves breaking on the beach was calming to Rebecca as different thoughts entered her head.

She realized her first wedding anniversary would be in a little over a week.

It seemed like ten years ago that she and Mitch had run to city hall and gotten married.

At the moment, she didn’t think she could fit into the Chanel suit.

Not like she’d ever wear it again, but it reminded her of one of the best days of her life.

Maybe someday Emily would wear that suit.

Rebecca couldn’t look at Emily and not feel the joy of having their baby, even though, in the end, Mitch wasn’t a gift she could keep. She had become reticent. She was now happy for the time they had together. Lots of people never knew that kind of love. She had been lucky.

She felt cheated they wouldn’t be growing old together, but it wasn’t meant to be.

Currently, there would be no picket fences and no father to walk Emily down the aisle when she married one day.

Emily would never know Mitch. She would be told stories from every member of the Stark family, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Emily, as well as Rebecca, would always carry a hole in their hearts for Mitch.

Then and there, she decided her daughter would grow up in a house with a white picket fence.

Rebecca would have that for Emily. They would live in a big house with a white picket fence and rose bushes in the backyard in a neighborhood where all the kids ran around on their bikes. She could give that to her child.

There would be a lot of men who could walk their daughter down the aisle. Alex, Spencer, and Adam came to mind. But maybe it would just be Emily and Rebecca. Nowhere was it written that it had to just be the father.

She often thought of what she should have said to have prevented Mitch from going on the trip.

She had asked him nicely. Well, if she could turn back time, nice wouldn’t have been an option.

She’d have been unrelenting and forced him not to go.

She’d have threatened him, yelled at him, and cajoled him.

She’d have tied him up to prevent him from going on that trip.

She had been too damn polite. If she ever felt that way about anything again, she would scream and fight.

The whole memory was insanity. No matter how many times she went over it in her head, she could not change it.

It was over, done. He had gone to Iraq. That was what had happened.

Rebecca regretted that she should have let her father walk her down the aisle when she’d had the chance.

Why hadn’t she? Because she was a strong, independent woman who didn’t need anyone.

Well, that was a myth. She needed everyone.

Well, she had just needed one person, Mitch.

Without him, there was no way to fill the void.

But she hadn’t died with him, and he wouldn’t want her to act as if she had.

She wanted to show Emily that life might have punched her in the gut, but she had survived. Rebecca Stark Wilder was a survivor. But now she didn’t want to just survive. She wanted to thrive.

Rebecca felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. Hope for their future.

She readjusted the visor on the baby’s stroller to make sure Emily wasn’t touched by any of the rays of the sun.

She might be wearing sunscreen, but Rebecca wasn’t about to let her get exposed to the sun.

A baby had such delicate skin. Emily’s was absolutely perfect, but then Emily was a perfect baby.

She was the most precious thing in Rebecca’s world, and she would do anything to protect her.

Mitch would have been so excited. Their baby was such a combination of them both.

Now in a little pink outfit trimmed with little pink kittens, Emily looked up at Rebecca and smiled.

“Thanks, kid,” she whispered, “I needed that. I love you with all my heart.”

Emily did have her father’s dimples. Every time Rebecca looked at her baby, she would see Mitch. It was a gift and a curse. Then she wondered if she could change the narrative. Maybe Mitch reminded her of her daughter, not the other way around.

What had her father said when he found out she was pregnant? He was Mr. Sensitive until her mother stopped him. Oh, yes. The reality of life. It was highly likely she would get married again. And doesn’t your baby deserve to have a father?

And he really didn’t get that it was too damn soon for her.

The thought of dating, well, it made her feel a little sick.

Could she make love with another person?

She didn’t think so. Besides, she was lactating, which led to leaking.

What man wanted to get up next to that? Well, a father of a baby would understand, but a stranger wouldn’t.

And wasn’t it just a moot point anyway? She didn’t want to date.

Her old boyfriend, Ken, had called from New York a few times when he heard about Mitch.

How could she have ever dated him? By what he said, he was hinting at an invitation to visit her. That wasn’t going to happen.

Alex had already volunteered to be there any time Emily needed a male perspective.

Uncle Alex . She thought her brother was a goof most of the time, but he had stepped up.

Uncle Alex was going to be a wonderful uncle.

He already had bonded with Emily. They were going to be close.

Spencer and their other cousin, Adam, a new father himself had also volunteered to help, although each of them had their own lives and lived far away.

This baby would not be alone, but Rebecca was sad for her.

Mitch was such a wonderful man. How would she ever be able to tell Emily about him?

Rebecca blinked, her face contorting with a sob she couldn’t repress. So much for this new epiphany of strength!

Damn the breastfeeding. She could really use a glass of wine.

They had walked a long way on the beach, and finally, it was time to turn back. Tonight, she would be cooking a frozen lasagna her mother had made and left in the freezer when she’d been with Rebecca at Emily’s birth.

It was amazing Rebecca could look at Italian food and not run as far away as possible. One thing she knew was that Mitch loved Italian food enough that he’d learned to make it, and there were promises of seduction with a certain pasta dish he had perfected. Well, she’d try not to think about that.

The beach was now full of people. There were families trying to decide if they could swim in the Pacific, which was not advisable because it would feel like ice and was rougher than anyone could imagine, even though it was summer.

If they were lucky, they’d get in to about a knee and run the other way.

Liquid ice had a way of taking away bravado.

Others lay on the perfect sand, working on their suntans.

Some looked for agates, but most of all, they enjoyed the sunny day.

The sun was high in the sky despite the late hour.

She glanced at her watch; it was four-thirty, definitely time to head back.

She tried not to think of the night ahead.

The baby would distract her nicely, but then there would be lasagna and television.

Finally, at midnight or one in the morning, she’d be exhausted enough to sleep for three hours before it was time for Emily’s feeding, if Rebecca slept at all.

Maybe her brother or one of her cousins would call tonight. She was pretty sure they had a little rotation going on to help her in the evenings when she was at her loneliest. She could broach the subject of her plans to go back to Portland and get a job. Then they could talk it through.

It was easier to walk south toward home on the beach. The wind was blowing the other way. It was warm, but it had been a little annoying when she’d been walking north and facing into it.

Several groups were gathering driftwood for bonfires. There were dogs on the beach, happily running after sticks. It was shaping up to be a lovely sunset.

Maybe she should get a dog. Mitch had talked about that. He wanted a dog. She wondered what kind he’d want to get. Then she remembered the stuffed animal she’d found in his flat and decided she’d like to see what they might be able to get in the lab family.

As if on cue, a black lab ran up to her leg with a frisbee in its mouth, and she wondered if Mitch was trying to send her a message. Regardless, she tossed the frisbee for the dog and watched him chase after it. She tried to figure out who the dog belonged to, but to no avail.

A lone man walked her way, and something about him was familiar. He walked with a trekking pole, favoring his left leg. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was making a beeline for her. Well, now she was just feeling paranoid.

The black lab was back, and she tossed the frisbee again.

Glancing up after she’d tossed the frisbee, she thought the man was definitely walking toward her.

It didn’t worry her because she still had her taekwondo training, and he looked like the wind would knock him over.

What did he want with her? He must be a local.

Her neighbors were friendly and quite curious about her. The young widow with the little baby.

She looked out at the surf and then started heading for the ramp that would take her and Emily off the beach, but now the man walking toward her had picked up his pace. He was headed right?—

He looked more than a little familiar. He looked…like a ghost.

She stopped, not believing her eyes, and then he was close enough that she couldn’t breathe. And then he smiled. The dimples were still there, but the face was so thin.

“M…M…Mitch?” she whispered as she stepped back and let go of the stroller.