He bent over and saw a heart drawn on the paper inside. "O+F." He tore the bag from the log and removed the paper. It was folded. Inside, a note read: "Missed you yesterday. Leaving Wednesday. Be back in the spring, I guess. I hope you'll be here."
Oliver folded the note carefully and looked south. "I'll be here," he said. It was an acknowledgement and a promise. He felt a deep conflict in his loyalties, but it was bearable. The promise came from a different place than his attachment to Jennifer and the baby.
He stayed a few minutes savoring the coffee and the cold damp air. Gulls circled and dove at the other end of the beach. The geese were long gone. When he left, he took with him all traces of Francesca's note.
Jennifer arrived home during the early game. "Hi, Sweetheart," she said. "The roads were fine. Mother is withholding judgment until she sees you, but Daddy is on board. Don't worry, she'll love you."
"The Patriots don't look too good," Oliver said. "I'll wow her with my knowledge of RPG II."
"I said we'd come down at Christmas."
"O.K.," Oliver said. "Jesus!"
"What's the matter?"
"He dropped it," Oliver said. "You're back nice and early."
"We had a big breakfast around nine. I left right after. What do you think of 'Emma' as a name?"