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She was quick to argue. “I want to do this. You guys need to make sure you make time for each other. It’s not like I’m changing dirty diapers and up all night, Claire. Your kids are easy, and I’m pretty sure we can handle it.”
Josh gave her a hug and one of his magic smiles, making her blush. “Thank you for being such a fantastic grandmother to Will and Natalie, and mother to Claire.”
Josh kept his apartment but spent most nights on the couch. It was challenging, having him so close yet out of reach. But it seemed like the right thing to do for now.
When my book was released, I was terrified. I had wanted to hold it, hating to have it linked with Daniel’s death, but it hit the shelves three months after we’d settled in California.
The reviews were decent and sales went well, really well, even better than expected. My editor had delighted in sending me weekly “I told you so” emails the first few weeks. When the book broke into the top ten bestseller list, Shannon was a little less subtle about displaying her support. She sent a huge limo decorated with bright balloons and streamers to pick up the kids from school and shuttle us around for a week.
In time, we settled into a relatively normal routine. The kids were not home-schooled, but attended a nearby private school. How we evaded the school’s ridiculously long waiting list was a mystery…but I suspected Shannon was somehow involved.
I loved that the kids had somewhat normal social circles and new friends. And it was important to me that Mom had her retirement time. Everyone was happy.
Josh was teaching Will the guitar, while Natalie was trying to teach Josh chess. In addition to the regularly scheduled viola, piano, swimming, tennis, and soccer for the kids and Tai-Chi and pottery for Mom, I had started to do things for me, too. Josh had presented me with an easel, paints, and a large blank canvas.
“Paint something we can hang over the mantel,” he’d told me. I’d been stunned by the amount of goodies he’d acquired for my artistic exploration.
I’d sketched and painted until my fingers hurt. He was sweetly awed by the results. The finished project was a moonlit sky reflected on a blue-black ocean. It had come effortlessly, and I’d loved creating it. It lived over my bed, as it represented memories I wanted to keep for me and Josh. My work in progress, a much brighter piece, would take its place over the mantel.
When I wasn’t painting, I was writing. Notes had begun that first night with Josh. Now a completely different kind of story was almost completed. Thankfully, my editor was receptive.
Josh was amazing. Initially I’d tried to keep him from chauffeur duty, homework help, or general overtly parental responsibilities. In the process, I’d hurt him. He wanted the whole package: the kids, the ball games, late nights with stomachaches, recitals, and tooth fairy duties. And when I finally gave in to his requests, he performed these fatherly tasks with gusto.
End was almost complete. It had been fascinating, watching him as he tried to infuse some of his Barnaby with the film version. I had no doubt that, as before, his performance would morph the entire film into something more. He was truly excited about his “psycho-bugger Van Gogh indie flick”, which had been bumped to lead into Love and Honor.
We were frequently distracted by each other. One long hazel warm gaze made me melt in his arms—something he enjoyed immensely. And as long as the children were at school or they were sleeping soundly, we spent long hours discovering one another.
Loving him, knowing how much he loved me, made everything right and purposeful.
He liked to joke that he’d helped me find my compass. I told him he was my North Star. Whatever it was, we were in it together and it was good. And I knew, because he told me all the time, that it would always be this way. Our love was something to cherish and protect. And I believed him.
Sitting on the sand, I watched the kids running down the beach. I smiled as Will ran, keeping his kite high in the wind. Every time the kite dipped or swerved, Will would set off running and squealing. I laughed, watching him. He was growing before my eyes, golden and active, happy and loved.
Mom sat reading my latest manuscript, shielded from the golden sun by her huge beach umbrella. I was curious to hear her thoughts on it. She seemed enthralled, which was a good sign. The pile of shells we’d collected earlier in the day lay covered with a towel, currently in use as her footstool. She liked to use them in her pottery pieces.
Nat laughed at Will before dropping onto her beach towel. She said something which made Will and Mom laugh before she lay back and closed her eyes. She placed another towel over her face and stretched out to sunbathe under the brilliant California sun. She was officially an adolescent now, more than willing to brood. But she was still willing to talk to me. It wasn’t always easy to hear, but she promised to always tell me the truth.
Next month we’d head to England for a long visit. Helen was prepping our soon-to-be home in England, the vicarage, for our arrival. I looked forward to making new memories there. Will couldn’t wait to get back to England. He missed clotted cream and fruit pastilles. And Natalie missed Helen. She and Natalie spoke via webcam almost nightly. I was glad that Natalie had Helen for a surrogate big sister. And though Mom never said it, I had a sneaking suspicion that she was planning some kind of cook-off with Nathan.
I slid my feet up in the warm sand, propping my sketchbook on my knees to look over my work. I used my pinkie to blend some of the thicker lines, rubbing lightly until the effect was right. I heard him come up beside me and stared up at him. “Hey, Handsome.”
“Hello.” Josh smiled as he bent to kiss me.
I waited until he sat beside me before sliding my arms around him for a more thorough greeting. His lips lingered on mine. He cupped my cheek as our gazes met and I smiled at him. His eyes fell to my sketchpad, which had slid to the sand upon his arrival. He held it up, staring at it with an appreciative eye. “That’s lovely.”
“Just enjoying the view.” I smiled at him, pointing to Will as he ran down the beach leading his kite.
“They’re having a good time.” He laughed, squeezing me to him with a sigh.
I nodded, smiling at the pleasure on his face. “They are. And you? How was your day?”
“I’m glad to be home.” He kissed me again lightly.
I felt my smile grow. Home. It sounded nice and felt very right the way he said it. “I’m glad you’re home too. Good day at work?”
“Depends. Meg’s trying to confirm the dates for the Van Gogh film. Any desire to go to France for a visit?” He was entirely serious.
“Somehow I think tagging along might interfere with your work.”
