Chapter 42
I curled up on the porch swing, my phone in one hand, a mug of warm tea in the other. The sun had barely risen over the earthy
marsh, and the world still felt soft around the edges. I’d been staring at filled pages in my composition notebook all morning.
Writers had a rule. Once you finished a project, you moved on to the next one. I’d completed my edits for my new super romance,
which I’d given the working title The Writers, and handed it over to Dana weeks ago. It was out on submission, so there was nothing to do but pray and wait, which I was
trying to do patiently, but I’d be lying to myself if I believed I’d take “not selling” easy. My heart was in that story.
I wanted a yes from some editor, and I wanted it badly.
Sally had already made me an offer on the book proposal I submitted to Heartware, but if I sold The Writers, I was going to turn down Sally’s offer. I was running out of time on the deal, which was making me anxious. I had to fight
checking my email every hour of the day. I sent a text to Trish.
Me: Still nothing. Waiting is getting to me.
Trish: Girl, Dana is probably waiting until everybody finishes fighting over your book.
Me: I just smirked.
Trish: You’re always smirking. You are a smirk. You’re about to be book rich.
I typed and deleted. I had nothing. Rich wasn’t even the goal. Sold was. I’d worry about rich later.
Trish didn’t respond to my “nothing.” She probably assumed I was doing exactly what I was doing, thinking about what she’d
said.
Before I could put down the phone, a video call came in from Gabe. Seeing his face flash gave me a rush. It was more exciting
than finishing a chapter.
“Hey. You look beautiful today,” he said, enunciating each word like he meant it.
His rich, expressive eyes swallowed my misery. “I could say the same about you.”
“I just came back from the gym.” I could see perspiration on his forehead. “I need a shower and a big breakfast.” He was in
Texas. “What have you been doing this morning?”
“Writing,” I said, then thought, Waiting to hear from Dana.
His face shifted. I could see he’d read my mind. “No news is good news.”
“You think?”
He wiped his forehead and neck with a towel. “A slow yes is better than a fast no, babe.”
I groaned. He was right. Trish was right.
“Dana did tell me things were slower in the summer.”
“Yeah, folks are on their last summer vacation.”
“Okay.” I relented with a long sigh. “You’re right. I’ll stop worrying Jesus.”
“And me.”
“The Lord deserves a break. You, sir, are required to get used to my ways.”
He smiled, and I saw nothing but pleasure in it. “You promise you’ll keep showing them to me?”
“I have zero emotional regulation. What do you think?”
Gabe laughed this time. Before he could respond, his phone rang. “It’s my agent, babe. Check your email. I’ll talk to you
later.”
I pressed out a juicy “muah” and hit the End button. I missed him, but like summer vacations, his summer tour was coming to
an end. He’d be home all the time. More of Gabe. The thought sent a shiver of excitement through my body. More of him was
like extra butter on corn bread or a second serving of homemade macaroni and cheese—always wanted and always good.
Lunch was leftovers from my last dinner with Ms. Kate. After I finished eating, I pushed my feet into my sneakers, popped
shades on my face, and took a ride to her cabin. I needed exercise after the meal, but the heat index was ninety-nine. That
was hot even for Charleston.
I turned onto the grassy patch of space next to her parking pad. I could see her in the distance, way at the end of her garden.
I walked down to the great oak tree, where she stood, paintbrush in hand, in front of a full canvas. My breath caught in my
throat. I removed my sunglasses to make sure I was seeing clearly. I was. She was painting.
Raising my phone, I took a picture so I could send it to Gabe later and walked across the cobblestone path to her makeshift
studio. She didn’t notice me at first since she was so immersed, head tilting from side to side as she made deliberate strokes.
She was a portrait of joy reborn. Peace reclaimed.
Probably sensing me, she turned her head to glimpse me and returned to her work. It was a portrait of a boy staring at a canvas in a museum. I wondered if it was from her memory or a dream. The colors and shading were life on the canvas. It was breathtaking.
I blinked against tears. “There’s a lot of this going on around here.”
“Whatcha say?” she asked, continuing to blend with a dip and swirl of her brush.
The words had come off my lips in a whisper of admiration, but she’d heard me, so I clarified, “This is a season of restoration.”
She turned and gave me a soft smile. “I guess oona has been writing again.”
“All morning. I can’t seem to turn it off.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets, examining the painting again. “That’s incredible.”
Ms. Kate shrugged. “I’m rusty, but the museum needs new pieces.” She put down her brush and looked back at the canvas, admiring
her own work. “I finally remembered how to breathe again.”
My heart split wide open. “We both have.”
“You helped me, you know,” she said.
“How?”
“I prayed for you to make your way, and while I was praying for you, I started praying for myself. I hadn’t done that in a
long time. You don’t pray for yourself when you think you deserve what you’re dealing with. Telling oona about what happened
with Erik”—she paused—“cracked someting in me, and the pain I was holdin’ spilled out. I couldn’t help but call on God.”
I stepped to her, hesitated as I waited to see permission in her eyes, but she hugged me first. “Oona has a special spirit.”
Those words touched my heart. I didn’t know what Ms. Kate saw in me, nor what Gabe saw in me either, for that matter.
Our hearts bonded for no particular reason at all.
People don’t have to be unique or shiny—being present is enough.
In togetherness is where love begins. Where it grows. It is the romance that connects us.
I soaked in her hug, and when we pulled apart, we both had teary eyes. “You go on. Type something. I don’t want to lose my
light.” She picked up her palette and brush.
I backed away from her, walked up the path, slipped back into my car, and happily headed home. I had writing to do.