Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
Lily
“Grandma, are you excited?” Blaze asked as he rubbed his hands together excitedly. “I can’t wait to show off our work.”
“Me neither,” Lily replied with a laugh.
Lily and the twins stood outside the community center, a ceramic vase cradled carefully in her arms. The glaze shimmered with hues of blue and seafoam green, the brushstrokes faintly imperfect, delightfully human.
She smiled at Nora’s small thumbprint at the base.
One of many tiny imprints from the afternoon she and the kids had sat together, music in the background, hands slick with clay, laughter echoing through the studio.
When the kids heard about the art fair and that Mrs. Carter wanted a donation, the three of them decided that they would do something extra special.
The vase, and a full dinnerware set: plates, bowls, mugs, all hand-painted in ocean tones, each piece subtly unique and made solely by Lily and the twins.
The proceeds would go to the island’s children’s art program, now finally gaining the momentum it deserved.
Nora and Blaze were practically vibrating with excitement.
Lily handed the vase to the volunteer behind the booth, her heart light. It felt right, grounding. For so long she’d floated through her days like seaweed drifting just below the tide. But this morning, she felt something solid beneath her again. She wasn’t just surviving anymore. She was living.
The fair bustled with life. Bunting fluttered in the breeze, booths brimming with handmade goods, sunhats and sunglasses dotting every smiling face. Children ran barefoot through the grass, chasing one another between rows of artwork and pottery.
Anna and Luke arrived just after ten, both decked out in their matching volunteer shirts, white cotton splashed with bright handprints. Luke trailed behind her, sunglasses on, a coffee in each hand. Anna beamed as she waved Lily over.
“You should’ve seen Nora,” Anna said later that day, breathless with laughter. “She practically took over the face-painting booth. She’s painted at least a dozen butterflies today. And two dragons.”
Lily’s heart filled at the sight of them—her family, as stitched together as ever. Luke handed her a coffee with a smile and a wink. “From the booth that actually grinds their own beans.”
“My hero,” she said, accepting it gratefully.
They walked together along the rows of stalls, Nora pulling Anna from booth to booth, her face bright with joy. Blaze helped hand out maps and programs, delighting in being useful. Lily stood still a moment, watching them all with a sense of profound gratitude.
Her studio booth had drawn a small crowd. The vase sat on a pedestal, bathed in sunlight, surrounded by the plates and mugs she and the kids had spent hours crafting late into the night. They were hers, yes, but they were also David’s. And the kids’. And the island’s.
She made her way over, smiling at a red sticker that read SOLD on the tag beneath the vase.
“Someone scooped it up in the first ten minutes,” the volunteer told her, eyes wide with appreciation. “Said it was the most beautiful thing they’d ever seen.”
Lily swallowed past the lump in her throat. “That means a lot. Thank you.”
“We love that you made all this with the kids. It gives it a special kind of flair,” Mrs. Carter said as she walked up behind Lily.
“It really does, doesn’t it? They’re quite the little muses.”
“A lot of the kids are raving about how great of a teacher you are. I’m glad that you decided to keep that part of your studio.”
“I really owe that all to my grandkids. I don’t know that I would have it if it hadn’t been for them.”
“I’ll make sure to thank them properly.” Mrs. Carter grinned. “It really is good to have you and the family out here volunteering. We’ve missed you something fierce, Lily.”
“I didn’t realize how much I missed it,” she replied softly.
“It was good to see you,” Mrs. Carter said with a smile before she waved and went off to greet another fairgoer.
About ten minutes later, Lily was surrounded by her family. Cody, Henry, Claudia, Jess, and Maisie were all there to support her and she couldn’t be happier. It really put a perfect bow on the event.
“We’ve got a little news,” Anna said, grinning wide as she and Luke came up to the group.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Cody asked.
“After a lot of talking, some long nights, and more than a few pro-con lists… Luke’s decided to retire from active duty. We’ve decided to stay on the Vineyard. We’re looking for our own place. We want the kids to grow up surrounded by you all and the studio and a community who cares.”
Claudia clapped, her hands trembling with emotion. Tears pricked her eyes. Maisie hooted excitedly, while Jess did, too.
“This is the best news,” Henry interjected as he shook Luke’s hand.
Anna leaned in and hugged her Aunt Claudia tightly.
“Are you serious?” Cody gasped.
“Yes, sir,” Luke replied as he clapped him on the back. “I’ve got enough leave saved up that I probably won’t have to go back to Langley much, but I did my time and it’s time to start retired life.”
“That’s such wonderful news. I’m so glad to have you guys here with me full time.”
“It feels like home here. And I want our kids to know the kind of childhood I did, with you in it.”
Luke pulled Lily into a second hug. “Besides, we figure Tom needs someone to help him keep the tide chart straight.”
They all laughed, the sound easy and full.
Later, near the studio booth, Lily stepped onto a small stool and raised her voice just loud enough for those gathered nearby.
“Hi, everyone. I just wanted to say thank you for coming, for supporting the kids’ art program, and for making this fair what it is. I know a few of you have asked if the studio will be closing for the summer…”
She paused, smiling as a hush fell over the little crowd.
“But I’m here to say that the studio is staying open.
We’ll be back to our full summer schedule, including classes, open studio nights, and workshops for kids.
All of it. My niece, Jess, is going to be helping bring me into the twentieth century with social media, so you all will be able to find everything there. ”
Cheers erupted again, and someone clapped so hard a ceramic bowl rattled.
“Art helped me through one of the hardest times in my life,” Lily said, voice steady. “And I think David would’ve wanted me to keep going. To keep creating. So that’s what I’m going to do.”
She stepped down to applause and found herself pulled into hug after hug. Someone passed her a lemonade, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she tasted its sweetness fully.
As the afternoon waned, the fair gently wound down. Volunteers packed up booths, kids sat in circles eating watermelon slices, and the sky began its slow descent into evening.
Tom appeared beside her just as she was folding up a banner. He looked tan and wind-tousled, wearing one of those faded Vineyard T-shirts she was convinced he had multiples of.
“You need a hand?”
She looked up at him, smiling. “Always.”
Together, they walked toward the beach with their arms full of leftover supplies, chatting about the fair, the kids, and the studio. When everything was packed away, they sat on a driftwood log, the sun just beginning to sink low over the water.
The sky burned gold and peach, the ocean stretching wide and soft before them.
Tom nudged her shoulder with his. “Big day.”
“Huge,” she agreed.
“You did good, Lily. Really good.”
She looked at him, the weight of years and grief and healing sitting gently between them.
“I still miss him every day,” she said softly. “But it doesn’t feel like drowning anymore. It just… is. And I’m okay.”
Tom didn’t say anything right away. Just nodded and looked out at the sea. “That’s the thing about love. It stays. In the clay, in the dinner plates, in your kids’ faces. It never really leaves.”
She rested her head on his shoulder.
They sat like that for a long time, watching the waves lap gently at the shore. Just friends. Just present.
And for Lily, that was enough.
The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving streaks of lavender in its wake.
And the island exhaled, at peace.