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“Well, son,” Sam says. “Does it have something to do with the message in a bottle?”
Beau takes in a heavy breath, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking at us all. We’re facing him in a line, eyebrows raised, ready for whatever he’s willing to tell us. “The girl that wrote the message… it’s just a note from someone that’s bored,” he sighs. “There’s a family that left an island jumper. They found a place to live, but they’re alone. Her parents don’t have much longer.”
“And you saw this,” I say, answering the question that we’re all asking.
Beau nods.
“Is that where you’re going? To her? And why is the note just for Lewis? ”
Beau flushes and averts his eyes from mine. Eighteen years around this child and he’s still terrible at lying.
“Uh, well,” Beau stutters. “I don’t know. Let Lewis talk to you about it.”
“Bullshit,” Lori says.
“Complete-” I grab his chin and point his face to meet mine. “-bullshit.”
Beau breathes in deeply and then lets it out with a slow exhale.
“The girl is gonna be Lewis’s wife. And while we’re out there, I meet mine.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Because of You
“Grandma,” Sam calls from the sink, mocking me once more. He’s been at it throughout dinner, giggling after he saw my face when Beau told us they would both have kids within the next few years.
“Stop it,” I yell back. “I’m going to be a hot grandma.”
“You’ll be sexy to me until the day you die, baby.” He dries his hands, throws the washcloth on the counter, and slides next to me on the couch.
“Ew,” Morgan says, coming to a halt when she enters the room. “You’re gross.”
She has no idea, and I chuckle to myself at the thought.
“Are you going to leave me, too?” I ask her. She settles in next to us, picking up some sewing she left on the table. I know what Beau told me, but I want to hear it from her. She’s only eleven and could change her mind at any moment. Also, I like to tease her.
“Never,” she says, crossing her legs underneath her as she sits, but there’s a frown on her face.
“What’s with the scowl?” Sam asks, nudging her shoulder.
She’s quiet, picking at some thread to spool her needle. I know enough to let her be so she can work out the thoughts in her head before she says them.
“I feel sad like I never have before,” she tells us. “Here.” She touches her heart and her eyes well with tears. “When I’m with Gemma.”
I know why, and it pains me to tell her. I bite my lip, and her eyes widen when I take her hand. “Baby, Gemma has lived a long time and through some of the worst years of, well, anyone’s life. She’s teaching you about midwifery because she knows that she won’t be around forever.”
A tear falls down Morgan’s cheek. “How long?” she sniffles.
“Years,” I say. “But Gemma knows it’s coming. That’s why she wants to train you faster. I know you’re going to be with Mary when it’s time for the baby. Alex told us how honored he is to have you help.”
“You could have told me,” Sam grumbles.
“Blame your sons for not divulging, and I don’t depress everyone when I don’t have to,” I sigh.
“Okay,” Morgan says through her tears. “That explains it. Years is a long time.”
Sam wraps Morgan up in his arms, and she rests her head on his shoulder.
