Chapter 43
The insistent pinging of my phone woke me. I reached for my reading glasses and dropped them twice before pushing them onto
my face. I read a text message from Dana.
Call me.
I popped up, heart pounding. Gabe and I had a late night. We’d spent hours talking and watching television before I finally
went to bed.
There was an email alert from Dana too. I decided to use the restroom, make coffee, and read my devotion before I let the
day in. She’d emailed me, so why did she want a phone call? Was there something she needed to smooth over, make better, prop
me up about? Did a rejection letter sit in my inbox?
I stepped out on the deck with my coffee mug and took a sip before dropping into a chair. Once I had some caffeine in me,
I called Dana. She answered on the first ring, announcing, “My work is done here. You’ll eat for at least another year.”
“Dana, do not play with me.”
“Open your email,” she said. “Look at what I sent you.”
I tapped the email icon on the phone and read:
Dear Alex,
I have three editors who want The Writers. This is going to auction. Call me so we can set up the meetings.
Dana
Breathless and triumphant, I let out a cry—a mix of disbelief and joy and something deeper, something like deliverance.
Auction?
My book?
The tears were instant. Finally, happy ones. I closed my eyes for a second, and my heart thanked God silently but with no
less gratitude than if I’d shouted to heaven.
Back on the call, I screamed, “Dana!”
“I couldn’t wait for you to read it.” Satisfaction carried her words.
I cleared the emotion from my throat and thanked her over and over. When we were done, I texted my man and Trish. Gabe was
in a meeting, but Trish was on the phone in seconds, getting the details. I was so filled with excitement that I didn’t know
what to do. When I came down from my high, all I could think was that this was not complete without my mother.
I hadn’t talked to Beck in five weeks. She’d apologized in every way possible, yet there was still distance between us that
I wasn’t ready to let go of. As a courtesy, I sent a check-in text message once a week. But I had to be adult enough to acknowledge
that she deserved this season with me. All of it. I owed her the grace she was asking for.
I picked up the phone and opened it to send Beck a text. I wrote several versions, deleting each one and starting over again.
Finally, I pressed Send on a message.
Me: Whatcha doing?
Bubbles danced and then . . .
Beck: Talking to Red Car. She just drove around the subdivision. ????
Me: ?? I’m sending you an email. There’s a story I want you to read.
Beck hearted my message.
By early afternoon, she was ringing my phone with a FaceTime call.
After a beat, she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever gone this long without seeing your face.”
I drew a long breath and held it until I found my words. “It’s been hard for me too.” I didn’t want to rehash it right now,
because doing so would mean that angry emotions would rise again. This was a happy day.
Beck took the lead in moving the conversation along. “I finished it,” she said solemnly, and then her expression shifted with
a smile. “It’s the most beautiful story you’ve ever written.”
My heart smiled with hers. “Three publishers want it.”
Beck blinked slowly for a second. Tears filled her eyes, and then she let out a loud “Yes! Finally!”
I shared Dana’s news about the auction. Beck whooped about that too. We got Aunt Leah on the phone, and she called for a virtual
toast, which required us to get glasses and fill them with beverages.
“Shouldn’t we wait for the auction?” I asked.
“We’re celebrating your muse being fixed,” Aunt Leah replied.
The three of us talked for a long time, laughing at some of Aunt Leah’s recent travel stories. As I looked into the faces
of the women I loved, words from Gabe’s book entered my mind.
How easy is the choice to forgive? As easy as the decision to want to.
The scripture “Love covers a multitude of sins” followed, confirming God’s thoughts on the matter.
I hadn’t reconciled my feelings about my father, but I knew how I felt about my mother. We were everything to each other. I wasn’t going to let the past shake the foundation that love built.
Later that night, Gabe arrived, fresh off a flight and still smelling like airport coffee and Sharpie ink. He didn’t say a
word when he saw me, just pulled me in and kissed me long and slow, like he’d been away for months.
“I’m so excited about what’s happening for you.”
“It’s not done yet, but it’s happening, right?”
We sat down, and he swept the hair off my forehead and pressed his lips against mine again. “Three publishers want it. Someone’s
going to buy it.”
“I’m glad you’re home.” I meant it with all my heart.
“Me too.”
We sank lower in the chair, holding each other as Gabe told me about an experience he had with a reader at his signing. When
he was done, he said, “I sent you an email earlier.”
“Did you?”
Gabe smirked. “How sway, Miss Chambers. Is this what it’s going to be like when oona gets big-time?”
I laughed. “Unfortunately.”
“Good. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I opened my phone. The email was with my general mail. The subject: Lowcountry Literacy Center.
“What are you up to?” I asked, but then I read through it, my smile widening with each paragraph. It was an invitation to
be the Writer in Residence through the remaining term and included a clause that gave me the right to request a substitute
during any time I needed to travel for my upcoming book tour.
I pitched an eyebrow. “Upcoming book tour?”
He shrugged and said, “Speaking things into existence.”
I kissed him again. “You are so righteous.” The words were whispered, but they were loud in my head and heart. How had I gotten
to this place where I was so complete? Why did I deserve it when I’d spent the last two years complaining about either my
broken heart or my broken muse?
I put down my phone and moved into Gabe’s arms again.
When it was time for him to leave, we stood in the middle of the porch, wrapped up in each other while the stars scattered
like diamonds across the Lowcountry sky.
For the first time in a long time, the future felt wide open. And this time it belonged to me.