Chapter 17
The riverboat glided through a corridor of cypress trees so ancient and still that Eli couldn’t think it was anything but holy.
Truly one of the most beautiful places in Florida, the state park was somehow both primeval and exquisite.
The park sprawled for acres, with trails and wildlife everywhere.
At the heart was one of the country’s largest and deepest freshwater springs—at least according to their knowledgeable tour guide—chock full of manatees, fish, and yes, the occasional gator.
Kate leaned over the rail with her glasses pushed up on her head, pointing at something in the water.
“That’s a limpkin,” she said, indicating a brown bird picking through the shallows. “They eat apple snails almost exclusively. Their bill is actually curved to the right to match the spiral of the snail’s shell.”
“You’re narrating better than the tour guide,” he said.
“Please. He called that a heron,” she whispered. “It’s not a heron. Herons don’t have that bill structure.”
“And here I thought you were a chemist, not a zoologist.
She leaned back in her seat with a satisfied smile. “I took marine biology and ornithology in undergrad and loved them both. Fish and birds are the coolest.”
He resisted the urge to quote Genesis—Let the water teem with living creatures, and let the birds fly above the earth…
Not today. It was too perfect and Dr. Wylie would likely not appreciate that version of Creation. The realization gave him that low punch of…something. Disappointment? Sadness? Fear? He didn’t know, but he’d become expert at ignoring it.
No Bible lectures today—not on her dream date.
He pulled her closer, his arm around her shoulders as the boat rounded a bend and the river opened into a wide, sun-dappled stretch.
Spanish moss hung from every branch like gray lace, and the water was so clear he could see the sandy bottom six feet down, fish drifting in lazy schools through shafts of green-gold light.
How, he wondered fleetingly, could anyone look at nature and not see God?
Kate leaned into him, taking his mind back to the pure contentment of the moment. They’d been together for months now, but the simplicity of her body against his—relaxed, trusting, warm—never stopped feeling like a gift.
She was radiantly, unguardedly happy today, making her even more beautiful. Her dark auburn hair was loose, falling over her shoulders, her skin flushed from the sun. She kept turning to him with that smile—the one that reached her eyes and made them dance.
Goodness, he adored this woman. This brilliant, stubborn, beautiful woman who had planned every minute of this day because she wisely listened to the advice of two women she loved and respected.
Vivien and Tessa had been right, of course. They needed this interlude to remember how good and real their love really was.
After the boat docked, they climbed out, thanking their tour guide with a generous tip and genuine praise. Then they walked along the path toward the swimming area, passing the diving platform that loomed over twenty feet, jutting over the spring.
Kids were all over the top, laughing, shouting, and, oh, yes, jumping with primal screams at the top of their lungs.
Kate stopped and watched them. “Takes you back, doesn’t it?”
“To the day you fell.”
“I didn’t fall.” She jabbed his ribs. “I executed an uncontrolled lateral dismount that you happily don’t remember. And I freaked out under the water.”
“Couldn’t find the limpkins?”
“Certain there was a gator,” she replied. “But then, my hero rescued me.”
He put an arm around her. “It was a pleasure. Come on, let’s get in the water. They promised no gators.” He gave a squeeze. “Only a hero.”
They found a spot on the grassy bank near the spring, spread out the towels they’d brought, and eased into the water. Sixty-eight degrees hit like a shock that softened into something incredible—clean, clear, cold enough to wake up every nerve and make Eli feel completely alive.
Kate submerged and came up gasping, blinking water out of her eyes.
“Now I wish I wore contacts and goggles,” she said. “The visibility is insane. I can see the bottom. Eli, I can see the vent. The geological formation down there is—”
“Beautiful?” He swam closer to her.
“Extraordinary. The calcium carbonate deposits alone—”
He kissed her, cold water and warm mouth. “The geological formation up here is extraordinary, too.”
She laughed and kissed him back. “I’ll stop being a scientist.”
“Never stop being a scientist. Just kiss me between data points.”
They swam for a while, floating on their backs, wrapping their bodies close, then swimming apart. The sky was a blue dome above them and the cypress trees stood sentinel at the edges.
A family with little kids splashed near the bank, and a couple who had to be deep in their eighties sat on the edge with their feet in the water, holding hands.
Kate caught him looking at them and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. “You know what made me saddest about divorcing Jeffrey?”
He turned, drawing back in surprise at the unexpected question. “What?”
“Missing that,” she said with true reverence in her voice as she gazed at the octogenarians. “I wanted someone to grow old with.”
Eli just looked at her, not sure how much he could or should say. That they could grow old together? That he’d love that? That he wanted it, too?
“It matters,” he finally said. “That history and companionship. It matters.”
She agreed on a sigh, then dipped under for more swimming. When they climbed out and settled on the bank to dry, the afternoon had softened into that golden hour when the light turned everything warm. Kate stretched out on her towel beside him, her eyes closed, her wet hair spread around her.
“You know who would have enjoyed this?” she asked. “Dad.”
“Oh, yeah, Artie loved this place,” Eli agreed.
“He organized the whole trip that summer, I do remember that. He packed a cooler the size of a Buick. My mother told him we were going for one afternoon, not colonizing the wilderness, and he said, ‘Maggie, you never know when you’ll need a backup ham.’”
Kate laughed. “That was my father.” Her voice was soft with the particular ache of someone who’d lost a parent recently enough that the memories still stung. “He narrated the boat tour louder than the guide. Your mother was mortified.”
“Maggie is easily mortified. She refused to get in the water because it would ruin her hair.”
“And my mom dragged her in.”
Eli cracked up at the memory. “Yep. Jo Ellen physically pulled Mom into Wakulla Springs while she was screaming about her blowout.” He shook his head. “And now look at those two. Living together in an apartment above a garage and spending their days bickering about Wordle strategies.”
Kate propped herself on her elbow and looked at him. “Isn’t it amazing? Thirty years apart because of what happened with your father, and they just…found each other again. Best friends to the end, like no time had passed.”
“Love does that.” He met her eyes. “It waits.”
She held his gaze, and he saw her hear the subtext. Not just about their mothers.
“You know what else I remember about that outing?” he asked.
“That Tessa wasn’t there?”
He shrugged. “Never missed her. I remember you singing with Artie while he grilled the burgers and dogs.”
“Oh, yes. That was our thing together. Dad and I liked old Broadway tunes.”
“Something about a state fair?”
“Absotively, as Emma would say. ‘Our State Fair is a great state fair!’” she sang, a little off-key.
“Yes,” he said on a laugh. “I remember watching you and thinking you were…comfortable in your skin. Funny, I remember that it was the first time I noticed that.”
She lifted a brow. “Like I said, Tessa was gone.”
He sighed. It wasn’t the first time she’d reminded him of his blind attraction to her sister. “I was…you know, a dumb kid. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. By then, I was used to it. Actually, I was glad she stole the oxygen out of every room. I preferred to study my surroundings, not be the center of them. Except it hurt where you were concerned because, well, the crush was crushing.”
He dropped down to lie next to her, reaching to gently touch her face, aching to say something about God’s plan, His great timing, and how only He could open the eyes of the blind.
But once again, that indefinable something pressed on his chest and stopped him from bringing the Lord into this conversation.
“I was an idiot,” he said instead. “But I’m happy to report, I’ve grown up and see the light.” He leaned in and kissed her. “And it’s you.”
“Took you long enough, Lawson,” she joked, stealing another kiss.
On a laugh, they settled on the towels, eyes closed, soaking up the late afternoon sun.
“I don’t miss work,” she said, the tone sounding like this was a major revelation for her.
“I don’t miss anything when I’m here with you,” he replied.
“But…” She turned on her side again. “That’s a big one for me. I never imagined life without a lab, then they took it away. Can you imagine life without your firm?”
“I’m doing a pretty good job of letting Meredith run the show at Lakeside,” he said. “I imagine that’s the future and, what do the kids say? I’m not mad about it.”
She laughed because he sounded like Emma. “Meredith’s thriving,” she commented. “She comes home every night with a flush on her cheeks, although that might not just be the joy of running your Lakeside project.”
He turned his head and opened one eye to look at her. “What do you mean?”
“Well…Connor.”
He leaned up on one elbow. “Connor? Peter’s son? Our admin?”
“That’s the one.”
“What about him?”
She laughed softly. “Easy, Dad. It’s probably just a work attraction.”
“A work…what? No. You’re seeing things, Kate.”
“And you’re not. Mention his name and watch her cheeks and eyes.”
“I see them working side by side every day. Her cheeks are fine and her eyes are on the plans in front of her.” He shook his head. “You’re imagining things.”