48. Pennies From Heaven
Chapter forty-eight
Pennies From Heaven
Maggie
The month of September was an exciting one at work.
Brenda landed a new contract with a luxury brand.
This time, while she placed me in charge of the photoshoots, she kept some of the control.
I originally thought it was vanity but later realized that she didn’t want to put the whole account on my shoulders.
Since I had made my boundaries clear to her, she wanted to maintain some of the artistic control so she could handle things in my absence.
Keeping to my goals, I took a few hours off here and there now to catch the light when I drove out of town to take shots in places away from Chicago.
Karpathia drove me out there, watching my process from a distance.
It felt good to have her with me, supporting me when self-doubt flared.
It happened more than I’d like, but she was always there to soothe me.
Rusty got an upgrade when I ordered a backpack cat carrier for him.
Instead of carrying him to dinner with Wyatt, he rode in style.
Wyatt had everything Rusty needed, had his food made specially, and they got along so well that he offered to cat sit if I’d ever need to take a weekend away to take photographs.
Tonight, I tried to put on a brave face, but grief had hit me hard this week.
“I see you all the time, darlin’, but I can’t get a read on you. How’re you holding up?” Wyatt asked one night after dinner.
It was a fair question, but still one that was hard to answer.
“I’m doing okay enough, I guess. I still miss Mom so much. It wasn’t that I called her after high school, which I feel horribly guilty for now, but there are little things that I find throughout the day that I want to share with her. And I can’t now.”
“Like what?” he asked.
“Well,” I started, sitting at the edge of my chair.
“Like how I’m coming along with my photography.
And then, there was little girl walking with her parents the other day who wore a rose coat just like I had when I was a kid.
It was her favorite coat of mine, and she just hated when I grew out of it. ”
With a sip of his beer, he nodded. “What else?”
“In the flower shop the other day, when I was in there to get fresh flowers for a photoshoot, there was this little figurine that reminded me of the one she got at a flea market. It was older, and a little faded, but it was two little angels hugging,” I said, feeling comforted at the memory.
It still sat on her curio cabinet shelf that she had moved out to the sunroom.
“And I don’t know what pulled me into a random store on my way home, but when I started looking around at the cooking things, I saw an egg timer just like the one she always cooked and they were playing her favorite song, ‘Clair de Lune.’”
Wyatt leaned back, a smile tugging at his lips. “Sounds like pennies from heaven to me.”
I tilted my head, unfamiliar with that saying. “What?”
“Whenever someone you love dies, there are some who believe that the dearly departed sends things to help you remember them. Where I come from, they’d call those pennies from heaven,” he said wistfully. “Sometimes, they’re actual coins, but other times, it’s these sweet reminders.”
Feeling a little choked up, I pressed a hand to my chest. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. Do you still get pennies from heaven?”
“Not much anymore, but now and again when I need ‘em the most,” he said, opening his arms for Rusty to jump into his lap.
“Who was she?” I asked.
Staring at Rusty, he answered softly, “My fiancée.”
My heart went out to him. “I’m so sorry, Wyatt.”
As he nodded in acknowledgment, Rusty stretched up and touched his bearded face delicately, then nuzzled his neck.
“Aww, he can tell you needed a cuddle,” I said. “Good boy, Rusty.”
A second later, Rusty jumped onto the table, much to my horror.
“No, we never walk on a person’s dining room table, Rusty!”
Ignoring me, he strutted across the table, only hopping down when he reached the chair next to me. To Wyatt’s soft chuckles, Rusty curled up and slept peacefully despite my chiding.
Wyatt chuckled. “He couldn’t have you believing he was too good. You’d start having expectations.”
I did have expectations. Quite strong ones when it came to male behavior.
“Well, he’d be right. I do expect him to be a perfect gentleman, just like all the men in my life,” I said, tossing my napkin on the table.
Lifting his brow, Wyatt tilted his head. “Now, darlin’. I know it’s been a few months, but surely, you remember how much fun you can have when he isn’t the perfect gentleman.”
My thighs clenched at the memory of Paul’s intense eyes just before he ducked between my legs. I took a sip of cold water to try to cool me down, but Wyatt’s deep chuckle kept my cheeks reddened.
“That’s so not the point,” I muttered.
Picking up his beer, Wyatt nodded to Rusty. “No one’s perfect, darlin’. You have to take the good with the bad, and make the best of both of them.”
With that, he raised his glass and drank what was left in three hearty swallows.
I knew we all had flaws, but sometimes, it meant that people weren’t right for each other.
My whole life, I thought Paul and I were soulmates.
It took years of yearning and a few weeks of physical intimacy for me to realize we couldn’t be.
If he couldn’t tell me how he truly felt, then we weren’t right for each other and never would be.