Abigail looked from the window, wharfs adjacent to the restaurant on the right, a park on the left with benches that offered views of the river and the city beside it. Wooden ships were tied to pilings, their sails furled, while smaller cutters sliced the water, destined for parts unknown. Trees bordered the banks, the leaves still green as summer faded, and for a moment she considered what a beautiful portrait nature would paint when autumn bloomed and the foliage turned orange, yellow and red.
She turned when Ian approached, sorrow etched on his face. For a moment, it seemed like she had never left, but then the hurt returned, ripping her heart from her body. She forced a smile, memories reborn that were best kept dormant. “Hello, Ian,” she said softly.
“Abigail, how are you?”
“I’m we
