Addie smiled, her eyes round and damp. “Then we’ll pick out the best ones and send them back to you.”
“That sounds perfect.”
There was so much more to say to these girls, so much she wanted to thank them for, but they were young, happy to be with their mom, happy to be going home. There was no need to burden them with a grown woman’s heart, even if it did feel whole for the first time in years.
Ty hugged Jenna, then bent down low to the girls, his voice steady and quiet. A tear slipped down Betsy’s cheek. She flicked it away with her finger, then reached out to hug her sister. “You know I’m going to follow you out of here, right?”
“You don’t have to do that. We’ll be fine.”
“I know you will, but I just want to make sure. My mind’s made up.”
Jenna smiled. “Thank you. For this, for them.” She nodded toward the girls who were climbing into the back of the car. “For everything.”
Jenna’s car stopped at the light to turn onto I-10. Betsy sat behind in her own car. When the light turned green, Jenna beeped the horn and three arms stuck out of the windows and waved wildly. Betsy waved, then made a U-turn and headed back home.
Out in the barn Ty was in the middle of the morning milking. The day before, he’d found 216 of his cows in the pasture where he’d left them before the storm. Two were missing and he’d yet to find them. It would take the herd some time to calm down and settle back into routine, but considering all they’d been through, they were doing fine.
“It’s later than I’d like to be doing this—definitely later than they’d like—but they’re happy now,” Ty said. “We should be back on the regular schedule tomorrow.”
He stood and kissed her head, pulled her in close, as if he thought by holding on tight to her, he’d keep her from coming apart. That was the thing though—she didn’t feel like she was coming apart. Instead, it felt like bits of her were returning, strands and wisps settling back into place after a long time away. Still, she let herself melt into his arms. He felt rock-solid.
forty-one
Jenna
A few weeks later, Jenna sat in her car outside the Nashville Gallery of Arts trying to get up the nerve to open the door. She’d applied for the job—as photography assistant—on a whim just days after returning from Halcyon, not thinking she had a chance but feeling just brave enough to try.
“Good for you,” Delores had said. Once Jenna had returned to Nashville, she and Delores had picked right back up with their nightly visits after the girls went to sleep. Delores clinked her wineglass to Jenna’s. “I’m proud of you, dear.”
Jenna had been proud too. And a little giddy, which only intensified when she received an e-mail the next week asking her to come in for an interview. But now, staring at the sleek glass building, she was wracked with nerves. What had she been thinking? Jenna Sawyer—no college degree, only one summer of intensive photography instruction under her belt, and applying for a job like this?
She smoothed her hair from her face and pulled her shoulders back. Do it, Jenna. Get out of the car. Before she could second-guess herself, she pushed open the car door, grabbed her bag, and entered the cool, temperature-regulated air of the lobby.
“Thank you for agreeing to come in so early for your interview,” the museum director said as he led her down the hall to a large, airy office in the back. “We’re hanging a new installation later this morning, and this was the only time all day I could guarantee a few quiet minutes.”
He sat and gestured for her to sit in the chair across from his desk. “Halcyon Art Retreat?” he mused as he scanned her résumé over the top of his glasses.
“Yes, sir. It’s in central Florida, near the coast.”
“Oh yes, I’m well aware of it. A few of our artists on display here have spent time at Halcyon. And I see you worked with Gregory Galloway.” He tapped his pen on the desk and looked up at her. “A lot of people would love a chance to spend the summer under his mentorship. I bet you learned a lot.”
She took a deep breath and nodded. “I did. Much more than I expected to. It was . . . life-changing.”
The director raised his eyebrows. “I see.”
Half an hour later, she walked out of the gallery into the morning sunshine with a grin on her face. The interview had gone well. Very well. And who would have thought Gregory would have played a part in it?
On a whim, she swung by Full Cup on her way home. She was off today, but she hadn’t yet had a chance to catch up with Mario and a few other baristas she used to work alongside. Her shifts started at ten now, and by that time, business was in full swing and there was no time for chatting.
She found a space out front and checked the time before she hopped out to pay the parking meter. Nine fifteen. As she approached the glass door, she saw Mario standing at the counter handing a whipped cream–topped drink to a lady with white hair and cowboy boots. A barista she didn’t recognize was ringing up a customer. Another one stood in the back on tiptoes pulling a syrup bottle off the top shelf. Jenna pushed open the door, prepared to go straight to the counter to talk to her friends, but almost involuntarily, her eyes searched the room.
Or maybe not involuntarily. If she was honest, she’d have to admit he was the person she most hoped to see.
After a quick scan, she determined she’d missed him. Maybe he grabbed his coffee to-go now. Or maybe he didn’t even come here anymore.
Just as she
