Jenna stood and paced the small cabin to have something to do, a way to relieve the anxious energy coursing through her limbs. “I don’t know.” She paused by her camera on the kitchen counter. When she’d first arrived, it had felt as mysterious to her as a book in another language. Now it was familiar, an extension of her own hands and fingers. According to Ty though, that familiarity—that gift—had come at a cost. “I don’t know. A better mother would have packed up by now and headed back home to her kids. It’s just . . . It feels like if I don’t do this now, I won’t get another chance.”
“I understand the feeling,” Delores said, her voice soft. “But you’re a fine mother and pursuing your dream is something you can do, no matter where you are. Even if you’re back home.”
Jenna thought of her little house full of blankets and Barbies. Her girls’ laughter, their feet pounding the floor. Her camera gathering dust on the shelf. She felt like a different person now—would her life back home be different too?
“You may be right. You’re usually right about most things.”
Delores laughed. “I wish Willard were around to hear you say that. Now, I have one more question. This is another subject entirely, but I’m curious. Have you spoken with that nice boy from the coffee shop since you’ve been gone?”
“Sam?” Her smile was involuntary. She thought of how he looked sitting across the table from her in the mornings. Brown hair a touch too long for a corporate job, button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows, charming grin.
“Yes, that’s the one. You were seeing him pretty much every day before you left, right? I’d imagine he’s pretty disappointed to be missing his dates with you.”
“They weren’t dates, they were just coffee. We texted a bit soon after I got here, but we haven’t talked since the last day I was in the shop. I’m sure he’s found someone else to have that cup of coffee with.”
“That’s too bad. From what you said about him, he sounded . . . sincere.”
“That’s a good way to describe him.”
“Trust me when I say in the long run, sincerity is a good quality to have in a man. Much better than those flashy bozos I see strutting down the street when I go out to get my hair done.”
Jenna laughed. “I’m not really in the market for a man, sincere or otherwise, but I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’ve said this to you before, dear, and I’ll say it one more time. You’re young and smart and you have your whole life ahead of you. Don’t make the mistake of thinking there’s only one road you can take, only one life you can live. You’ll figure out how to make the different parts of your life come together. I have all the faith in the world in you.”
thirty-one
Betsy
Hurricane Ingrid advisory 28. A hurricane warning is in effect for Jamaica and the Cayman Islands. This is a dangerous storm that could reach Category 4 before landfall. Maximum sustained winds are 145 mph. Ingrid is moving west-northwest at 15 mph.
The morning of her birthday, Betsy woke to giggling coming from the door to her bedroom. Then shushing, then more giggling. Outside, a soft rain fell, tapping on the windows. She kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep, until she felt a tap on her shoulder. She cracked one eye open.
“Happy birthday, Aunt Betsy!” Addie and Walsh yelled.
Ty stood behind them, his expression displaying both apology and amusement. “Told you it’d be a good day for you to sleep in.” He leaned down and kissed her lightly. “Happy birthday,” he whispered.
She smiled and stretched, then sat up against the pillows. “Is this all for me?” She eyed the tray tipping precariously in Addie’s hands. Ty reached down and straightened it.
Addie nodded. “Blueberry muffins, orange juice—”
“And chocolate chips!” Walsh added.
“Walsh insisted on those,” Ty added.
“Well, why not? Chocolate chips go great with breakfast, in my opinion.” Betsy winked at Walsh.
“And coffee.” Ty handed her a large steaming mug.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her lips already on the edge of the mug. “What time is it?”
He checked his watch. “Seven thirty.”
“You need to go, don’t you?”
“I do. Carlos and Walker covered the milking for me, but we’ve got a load of straw bales coming later this morning. I need to get ready for that.” It was part of the farming life—weekends were just like regular days. Cows still needed to be milked, fields tended to, barns repaired. None of that stopped just because everyone else took a two-day break. Or because a storm was brewing in the Gulf.
“Go on then. It’s fine. The girls and I may move this party downstairs, turn on Curious George, and do some more lying around.”
Ty smiled. “Whatever you want. It’s your day. Little rainy”—he eyed the window—“but not too bad. I was thinking later on, why don’t you leave the girls with me for a few hours? You could take off and do something on your own.”
Betsy shrugged. “I don’t have anything I need to do.” She glanced at Addie and Walsh and lowered her voice. “And what about Ingrid? The news last night sounded pretty bad. Is there anything you need to . . . prepare, just in case?” She didn’t want to be too specific with Addie listening, especially not after her fears the night Dawn came through.
He shrugged. “Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.” His voice was light, but it didn’t hide the tension on his face. “Look, it’s your birthday. Go out and do something you want to do. Get your nails done or something.”
“Do you know who you’re talking to? When’s the last time I had a manicure?”
“I don’t know. Don’t all women like those?”
She laughed. “Sure. Maybe I’ll get my nails done.” She held her hand up and studied her fingernails. They were smooth and rounded, despite the week’s gardening, but nail polish felt
