Page 94 of House of Clouds


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“To Missy,” she said, softly. “We miss you.”

Mark squeezed her shoulder. His warmth spread to her and took the edge off the chill, easing the tension in her shoulders and around her heart. She lay her head on his shoulder and stared out at the lake, sharing the moment with him.

Forty-Four

The guitar nested in Kate’s lap, her fingers idly picking a tune as she hummed along. She hadn’t thought too much when she grabbed her guitar case, unzipped it, and withdrew the guitar. It had just happened. The tune had tickled her mind this morning when she woke up, and once she’d donned an old pair of yoga pants and her brother’s old battered Henley shirt and a sweatshirt, she’d taken the guitar and sat on the bed, just idly strumming and plucking. Anything to get the music earworm well and truly excised and out into the air. Now, an hour later, the tune was taking a real shape, and she realized she was hungry and in desperate need of coffee.

She made her way to the kitchen, humming the tune. It felt right, and the words that were starting to emerge in her head slipped easily into place, as did its title, “Conch Shell.” A winding path full of whispers and ocean sounds. As she sat down at the kitchen table with a few slices of toast and mug of coffee, the song filled her and gave her such a burst of joy, she suddenly felt a need to share it with Ethan. A moment later, the pain of the thought hit her. She stared at her phone, debating, the coffee mug in midair. She put the mug down, scrolled through the contacts, and hit Ethan’s. Almost immediately the phone went to a message stating the number was disconnected. Kate listened to the message to its completion, stunned. She put the phone down, the pain that rose whenever she thought of Ethan now sharpened, razor like. Tears welled in her eyes and she brushed them away, forcing herself to take a deep breath. And another. She looked at her half-eaten toast and pushed it away, unable to face it any more. She rose and stared through the window at Max ambling around the backyard.

With sudden purpose, she grabbed his leash by the door and called for him. A walk. That would help. Though the ground was wet with melting snow, Max wouldn’t care. Max ambled over and up the porch steps into the back door. Nothing hurried about him. The whitened muzzle told her constantly what his gait only reinforced, but now she noticed, too, that there was a listlessness about him lately. Was he still grieving her father? She reached down and began to pet him, stroking along his ears and under his chin like he loved. He nuzzled her in return, and the exchange of affection helped her spirit improve. She could only hope that it did the same for Max. She couldn’t bear to lose him as well. And she realized she couldn’t even consider moving to New York City because that would mean Max wouldn’t be able to come with her. And even though she knew Tom would take him in a heartbeat, that was unthinkable too.

She rose, thinking to get her coat, but her phone began to ring, interrupting her. She picked it up from the kitchen table and saw that it was Tom.

“Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”

“Hi, I didn’t wake you, did I?” She could hear the humor in his voice.

“Oh, ha very ha.”

“Are you in the middle of something?”

“Not really, no. I was just about to take Max for a walk. Why?”

“Can you walk him to the workshop, then?”

“Of course. Any reason you want me there?”

“Nothing in particular. Just something I want to show you.”

She brightened. “Another piece? Did you want me to bring my camera?”

He laughed. “No, you’re fine. No cameras needed yet.”

“Okay. We’ll see you soon.”

Kate tucked the phone in her pocket and moved to the closet for a coat. She took her father’s old puffer coat. It was ridiculous looking, but it was warm. She looked down at her sneakers and decided to exchange them for her scuffed old Doc Martens in the back of the closet. After shoving a knitted hat on her head, her hair mostly tucked inside, she attached the leash to Max’s collar and left the house. The cold hit her face immediately and burned her lungs. She fumbled on her mittens, trying to keep the leash firm in her hand, though she knew there was little risk that Max would break loose.

The walk to the store and Tom’s workshop was more lumbering than brisk with Max along, and by the time they were nearly there, Kate’s nose was frozen, and her feet were starting to feel a bit numb, the damp pavement and cold of the slowly melting snowbanks penetrating through her layers.

Once she reached the store and made her way around the back, where Tom’s workshop was located, she was ready to be inside and have a hot drink. She hoped that Tom had put in the new coffee maker she’d given him for his workshop for Christmas. The last time she’d been here, he said it was still back at his apartment.

She opened the door into the small hall that led to his workshop and office at the side. She could hear voices coming from the workshop. “Tom?” she called. “Is it safe to bring Max into the workshop or should I put him in the office?”

“You can bring him in,” Tom said.

She made her way to the workshop entrance. Tom was leaning against one of the work tables, his arms crossed. She looked at the figure seated on a chair across from him, stunned, her breath gone, her eyes feasting hungrily. Ethan sat there, a guitar resting in his lap. His hair was longer now, but less ragged. Even more surprising was the neatly trimmed beard he wore. It made him look different in a way she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Not older so much, but perhaps worldly? His eyes were tired, but there was a distinct light in them that she hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Ethan,” she heard herself say. She gripped Max’s leash tightly.

He set his guitar on the floor, rose, and approached her hesitantly. “Kate. How are you?”

The words seemed at once ridiculous and natural, and Kate found herself nodding. “Okay, I guess.”

He reached her and leaned down, kissing her cheek briefly, before squatting down to greet Max with a vigorous rub on the head and under his chin. Max replied with sloppy nuzzling and tongue gratitude.

“Congratulations on the success of your show,” Ethan said, looking up at her.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice feeble, breathless.

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