I nodded my head.
“Our thoughts are that he moored up somewhere but the location the boat was found, there isn’t anywhere safe that he could be. They’ve searched the cliff face, much of it is pretty sheer; there wasn’t a ledge or anything he could have gotten to.”
“Could another boat have run into him?” I asked.
“If that had happened, there’s no way that wouldn’t have been called in,” Lincoln said.
Daniel and Lincoln had sat on the sofa, Colette had left, and Dad was making yet more tea. I was thankful for a hot drink and something to fill my hollow stomach.
Lincoln looked to have aged considerably during the hours Miller had been missing. The skin on his face was sallow and he sat wringing his hands in his lap. Daniel silently prayed, constantly. Maybe I’d been too harsh in how I’d thought of him. Perhaps he was just someone not able to cope with the level of stress I was sure they were suffering without lashing out. I had to thank them though, for keeping me included. I had no right to be in the middle of their drama, yet they’d welcomed me in and kept me informed, as much as they could.
“I can’t bear the thought of him out on his own overnight,” I said quietly.
“Neither can I, Dani. I just don’t know what to do,” Lincoln said.
“I can’t believe they just give up like that,” I said.
“I don’t think it’s a case of just giving up. They’ll go on for as long as they can, I’m sure.”
“Can’t another boat take over? Search through the night?”
“I honestly don’t know. If that was an option, I’m sure we’ll get to know.”
I wasn’t sure if calling off the search soon was a fact or an assumption. I totally got that if the weather worsened it could be dangerous, but at that moment it wasn’t raining and the sea was just its usual December self.
Daniel and Lincoln left with a promise to keep me informed if they received any news. Dad and I sat in a silent house.
I hadn’t physically known Miller that long, but whether it be via the letters he’d sent or the conversations we’d had, I thought I knew him well. I kept his enthusiasm for my barn, and for his derelict cottage, in the front of my mind. I needed to remember all the times he made me laugh to push away the niggling negative thoughts that fought for dominance.
“Will you eat something?” Dad said.
“I’m really not hungry but I’ll make myself a sandwich. Do you want one?” I asked.
“No, but I will. It will give us something to do, I guess.”
It was the doing nothing that was the killer. Doing nothing gave the opportunity to think, and my brain hurt from all the thinking.
Dad and I stood side by side and prepared a snack. Lucy whined for her dinner, and then to be let out in the garden. I stood in the garden for a moment while she did her business. I watched the poor thing struggle to walk and wondered just how long she was going to hold on, or rather, just how long Dad was going to hold on to her. I remembered back, not that long ago, when she’d sleep on his bed. When her arthritic legs stopped her from climbing the steep stairs, Dad had carried her for a while.
It was the phone ringing that had me run back into the kitchen. Dad had gotten to the phone before me. He shook his head and mouthed that Christian was calling. I felt my shoulders sink and sighed.
Minutes passed, then hours, and all I could do was sit and watch my phone. Dad turned on the TV at one point, just in time for the local news and an enlarged photograph of Miller. We watched, learning more about the search from the Lifeboat Station Manager than the police. Perhaps Daniel and Lincoln were being brought up to date that way as well. I had texted Daniel as soon as I saw the report. It appeared they had scoured the coastline repeatedly; they had been out to sea, following the current and back again. They commented on the boat and the belief that Miller might be holed up somewhere. They asked for people to be vigilant but to not put themselves in danger on the slippery cliffs. The more I watched, the sicker I felt.
“Why don’t you have a lie down? I’ll let you know if there’s any news,” Dad said.
“I might do, thanks. How was Christian, by the way?” I’d forgotten to ask.
“Angry, as usual. We don’t need to worry about that right now,” he said, obviously keeping something from me.
I nodded, it wasn’t that I didn’t care about Christian, but I was starting to feel very strange.
As I lay on the bed, with the phone beside me, I focussed on the strangeness that I felt. My body had begun to feel weightless, and my mind was foggy. I didn’t believe it to be tiredness as I’d slept earlier on. My fingertips began to tingle, and it was at that point I recognised the same symptoms that day I was shopping. I closed my eyes and took in some really deep breaths, trying to oxygenate my blood and quell the attack.
I pictured Miller in my mind, and the time he held me by the truck. Somehow that image morphed into the one where he kissed me. I wasn’t sure if the tingle to my lips was the low oxygen levels, hyperventilation, or just the memory. Those tears pricked at my eyes again. I felt something for Miller; I knew I did, although I had tried to deny that. I’d let guilt override my emotion and it was wrong of me.
Trey had been gone for nearly a year, but should there be a time limit on dating again? If a second chance came along, should I not grab it with both hands? How often do second chances present themselves? I swung my legs over the bed; I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity of Miller.
Miller, I miss you. I’m worried about you so much, and I can’t bear the thought that you’re alone right now. I don’t know if you’ll get this message but I want you to know that I’ll not only kick your arse when I find you, but I’ll kiss you so hard, too. You cannot leave me before you’ve even really arrived. I won’t allow it. Tomorrow I’m going to search for you and I won’t stop until I find you. You need me, Miller, and I need you. Come home, please!
I sent him another.
Maybe you can read these but can’t reply for some reason. I’m hoping that. I’m praying this will give you some comfort until we find you. When we were at your cottage, the derelict one, I said I didn’t remember you, but I did, in a way that might be difficult for me to explain. I can’t give you specifics about our childhood friendship, but everything is easy with you. I feel comfortable and I can only assume that’s because I was comfortable with you back then. When you held me, it felt right. So right that it scared me. More right than with Trey. When you kissed me, you affected me right to my core. More importantly, you not only affected my body, but my mind, too. I get you, Miller, and you get me. I understand your pain because I’ve felt it myself.
It was a half hour later that I sent my last text.
I’m going to write one last letter to Lincoln. Please respond to that letter.
I grabbed a pad and pen and without a thought, I wrote.
My dearest Lincoln.
So much has happened these past few days, weeks, even. I know where to begin but I doubt I’m going to be coherent. I met a man, a wonderful man, a damaged man who needs me, and it feels wonderful to be needed.
The last two years of my married life was a total farce; I can see that now. It’s only the whirlwind of a man named Miller, who has blown into my life and turned it on its head, that has my vision of the past so clear.
This is my last letter to you, Lincoln, because from now, we won’t need them.