Sometime later, she glanced up at the sound of feet squeaking on the sand behind her. Gregory shaded his eyes from the sun’s glare and set his bag and tripod down on a log of driftwood set back against the dunes.
“Looks like you’ve given up.”
Jenna looked around her and smiled. “It seems so.” Her camera rested on top of her button-down shirt where she’d peeled it off earlier, leaving her in a gray cotton tank top and shorts. Her legs were stretched out in front of her in the sand and she leaned back on her elbows. She’d done all she could today.
He sat down in the shade a couple feet away. Sand covered his calves and coated his forearms up to his elbows. She sat up and hugged her arms around her knees, absently twisting the purple-and-blue pipe-cleaner bracelet around her wrist. She’d worn it every day, just like she promised Addie.
They were quiet for a moment before he broke the silence. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
She hesitated, but the warm air and gentle breeze invited honesty. “I don’t know if staying here was the right decision.”
“Okay.”
“As soon as I get it in my head that it was the best thing, I start to feel guilty about it. I keep going back and forth. It’s just . . . I’ve worked so hard to show I’ve changed from who I used to be, but then here I go making yet another impulsive, selfish decision.”
“Impulsive, maybe, but selfish? You really think being here is selfish?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” A sand crab dashed across the hot sand in front of them. Jenna moved her foot and it darted in the other direction.
“Tell me why you’re here. Why did you decide to stay?”
“I’m here for my girls. And for me too. To try to make things better for all three of us.”
“And what about that is selfish? You’re away from home, away from your children, away from work, all so you can focus on this talent—this incredible talent—that you hope can help give your family a leg up. And if it allows you to do something you love, then all the better. That’s not selfish. Seems pretty selfless to me.”
Jenna wiggled her feet under the sand until it felt cool to her toes. “I don’t know. I don’t know if Betsy sees it that way.”
“You need to decide now—today—to trust that the decision to stay was a good one. It was the best thing because it allows you to keep working toward your goal of pursuing your passion and providing for your family. You have talent and you have drive—that combination can take you a long way in this industry. Connections don’t hurt either, and that’s where I come in handy.” He grinned and she smiled in return.
“When it’s all over and done, everyone will understand why you came here. Though I don’t particularly care what anyone else thinks about why you came or why you stayed. It matters to me that you believe in yourself. If you do that, your girls will too.”
“Who knew you were such a motivational speaker?”
He laughed. “Seriously. I don’t think I’ve ever been so . . .”
“Encouraging? Uplifting?”
“I was going to say sentimental and sappy, but your way sounds better.”
“I think you’re in the wrong profession.”
“Maybe so.” He leaned back on his elbows and stretched one leg out in the sand. “I’ll let you in on something else about me: I disappointed everyone in my life when I chose photography over a steady, stable job. My dad’s a doctor, his dad was a doctor, and they all expected me to follow in line. It hurt them deeply that I didn’t. But I couldn’t abandon my dream for theirs. It would have been like giving up the best part of me, and I wasn’t willing to do that.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“A retreat like this makes you feel refreshed. Energized. It’s easy to expect everyone else to have changed because you have, but reality is still out there churning away. Your time away changes you, but it doesn’t change anyone else.” He sat up and brushed sand off the backs of his legs. “That’s why I just keep going.”
She smiled. “You just keep taking the next job? Keep moving forward?” She was kidding, but then she saw that he wasn’t.
He reached down to where the sand crab raced back toward them, then disappeared down a tiny hole in the sand. “I’ve been offered a job in California. UC Berkeley. I’d be the head of the photography department. It’s the only full-time job I’ve considered in twenty years of being on the road.”
“Wow. That’s big. Are you’re taking it?”
He shrugged. “Thinking about it.”
“You should take it. Who knows? Maybe you’ll enjoy staying in one place for a while.”
He stared out at the water as slow waves crept up the shore. “It’d be an incredible deal for me. I’d get an assistant to help with paperwork and some of my classes. I’d still be able to travel some for freelance gigs.” He shrugged. “I don’t know though. It’d be a big change, to have something regular. To have a boss. That might not go over well.”
She imagined what it’d be like to have a job where she could challenge herself, excel, help others find their own creative eye. To work in the field that excited her, that made her feel alive. It was too much to contemplate.
She stood and brushed sand off her shorts and legs. “You’d be an idiot not to take it.”
He laughed. “Do you always say exactly what you think?”
She nodded. “About as much as you do.”
He stood and picked up his camera bag, then turned toward the Jeep. “We should get back. Tonight’s fried chicken. I need to get all the Southern food I can get if I’m going to head west.”
“What’s the start date?”
“If I decide to take it, the job starts the beginning of fall semester. But
