Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
A s usual, Mitch rose while it was still dark. He was greeted with the most wonderful sound. The faint rumble of an approaching storm.
He got his run in right away, watching the sky go from black to bruised gray, the clouds keeping the sun from shining. He loved a day like this. Something about rain and gloom and thunder just set the tone for the kind of stories he loved to write.
Today would be a productive day. He could feel it.
He showered, poured himself a cup of coffee, then headed to the back deck with his journal and pen.
Whitecaps crested the choppy water and wind whistled past the house. He smiled as he took his seat. He could smell rain in the air. Wouldn’t be long now. Thankfully, Joyce’s sister wouldn’t arrive until later this evening. By then, things would probably clear up.
He opened his journal to a fresh page, jotted the date across the top, then began writing.
Rain on the way. Looking forward to it. I know most people don’t love the rain, but I do. There’s something about it that’s just perfect for writing. I think I read something once about how it puts the right kind of ions into the air, the sort that refresh the body and spark creativity. I’m all for that.
I anticipate a lot of words today, which is a good thing, since I took yesterday off.
No regrets there. None. It was, in some ways, a hard day at first. I was worried about how it was going to go. If the memories would be too much.
But they weren’t. The memories were good. Welcome. Sweet. And I made new ones, which felt like the right thing to do. It felt like something Jeanie would approve of. For that, I am especially glad.
I am also glad for realizing that I need to move forward and there’s nothing wrong with that. Getting on with my life does not disrespect Jeanie’s memory. In fact, the way I see it now, it honors her. It’s what she’d want me to do.
I know that without any reservations. She loved life. She’d want me to keep on living in the best possible way. So that’s what I’m going to do. I am going to actively choose happiness.
Which sounds like New Age nonsense, if you say it out loud. The very kind of thing I would have rolled my eyes at and ignored just a couple of weeks ago. But now, I see things differently.
I owe much of that to Harper. She’s made me think about things in a new way. More than that, she’s made me process my feelings. I’d been avoiding that, subconsciously, I believe, but it was so easy to sink into the status quo of grieving that I forgot what life could be like.
What it had been like.
Funny, isn’t it? I spent all that time mourning Jeanie, missing the life we’d had together, that I lost sight of what that life was really like. The happiness we shared. Somehow, I believed that without her, I could no longer be happy. That I shouldn’t be happy.
Jeanie would not want that. I know it like I knew her. And so, for her sake, and for the sake of my mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual health, I am going to change.
Yesterday was a good beginning. I hope to continue in that manner. I know it will be a day-by-day thing. I know there will still be bad days. But I am going to do my best to deal with them in a way that would make Jeanie proud.
I owe her that.
Rain tapped at the window, soft pit-pats against the glass. The sky had turned a light, steely gray as he’d been writing.
He clicked the pen and closed the journal. He could hear Joyce in the kitchen. He grabbed his coffee cup and went to say good morning.
She was stirring batter in a bowl. Next to her were two muffin tins lined with paper cups. The smell of citrus perfumed the air. “Morning. How was the boating yesterday?”
“It was great. A really good day. How was your day? Are you excited about your sister arriving?”
She took a deep breath. “There’s going to be a lot of crying today. Good tears. I can’t wait to see her. It’s been too long. Thank you again for bringing her here.”
“You’re welcome.” He refilled his cup. “Are you making muffins?”
“I am. Orange. I thought Beryl would be expecting something appropriately Floridian.”
He nodded. “I’m sure they’ll be great.”
“They’re delicious. You’ve had them before.” She ladled batter into the waiting paper cups.
“Have I?” He laughed. “Sorry I don’t remember. In a lot of ways, I feel like I’m waking up from a long sleep.”
She glanced at him. “Maybe you are. What would you like for breakfast?”
He was hungrier than he’d been in a while. “A big cheese omelet. And toast with jam.”
“You want anything else in the omelet besides cheese?”
He shrugged. “Surprise me.”
She tipped her head to the side, a slight smile bending her mouth. “You might be sorry.” She put both trays into the oven, then set the timer.
“Not when you’re the cook. I’ll be in my office.” He started toward it, then stopped. “Do I get one of those muffins?”
“Of course. You want one with your breakfast? Instead of toast?”
“Yes. Maybe two.”
She chuckled. “Two it is. I’ll call you when your plate is ready.”
“Thanks.” He went into his office and put the pen and journal into the top drawer of his desk, then sat. He had emails to answer, so he fired up his laptop and had a look at his inbox.
Lucinda had sent along the offer for The Light Within . He’d need his attorney to go over it as well, but he read through it anyway. It was a good offer and included all the things he’d asked for, including creative input.
Harper would be pleased. He was. He loved the idea of working with her on this project. He loved working with her in general.
He crafted a response to Lucinda, telling her that he’d be sending it to his attorney as well, and to let the producer know that things were moving forward. He was about to hit Send when Joyce knocked on the door.
“Breakfast is ready.”
“Thanks. On my way.” He skimmed the email once more, then hit Send.
Coffee cup in one hand, phone in the other, he went out to the kitchen and saw his plate on the table. There was more to the omelet than just cheese. He peered at it.
Joyce brought a second plate over with two muffins on it. “Mushrooms and a little leftover steak. With Swiss cheese. That all right?”
He nodded. “That’s great.” He sat down and tucked in. He took his phone out and read some news. None of it was good. He didn’t know why he bothered.
He went to Instagram instead and looked up Addison’s profile. For a while she’d been showing more scenes and fewer selfies. Pretty countryside, a great sunset, flowers, some fabulous meal or, often, a product she was shilling. Occasionally with part of her face. Or her hands. Sometimes just her painted toenails, showing off a pair of sandals.
But in the last few weeks, she’d started doing more full-body shots. Lots of party dresses and summer looks.
And, interestingly enough, no signs of Kyle.
Mitch found that curious. For a long time, Kyle had been her favorite accessory. Was Addison growing tired of him? Had they been fighting? Or was it just not fashionable to show off the man in your life anymore?
He had no idea. Trends escaped him.
He did a Google search for the best running dogs and was about to scroll through the results when the doorbell rang.
It was still early. He had no idea who it might be. The yard guys, maybe, with a question or a delivery for Joyce. Anything was possible. She’d probably get the door, but he stood up anyway, mug in hand. He could always use more coffee.
Joyce appeared, laundry basket in hand. “Just a second,” she called out in the direction of the front door.
Mitch set his mug on the table. “You’re busy. I’ve got it. You do what you need to do.”
“You’re sure?”
He was already moving toward the stairs. “Yep.”
He went down the steps and opened the door, fully expecting to see one of the landscapers. Instead, shock filled him. “Kyle?”
“Hey, Dad.” Kyle had dark circles under his eyes, several days’ worth of stubble, and looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
But the reason for that might have been the baby in his arms.