“Sorry for interrupting,” Casey said when Gregory was out of earshot.
“It’s fine. I was just telling him about Micah.”
“This came for you in the mail.” Casey held her hand out. “It looks important.”
Jenna took the envelope and turned it over in her hands. She smiled when she recognized Addie’s drawings. Addie always drew extra-long eyelashes on her smiley faces and hearts on their cheeks. Betsy had written Jenna’s name and the address, and the girls had decorated the rest of the envelope with faces, dots, and flowers.
“From your kids?”
Jenna nodded. She slid her finger under the flap and pulled out a sheet of pink construction paper. She took a deep breath.
“How are they doing with you being gone?”
“I think they’re doing okay,” Jenna said, her gaze on the drawing.
“That’s good.” A strong breeze whipped around the lake, carrying the scent of pine needles and salty air. “I wonder if this wind is coming off the storm.”
Jenna looked up. “What storm?”
Casey raised her eyebrows. “Ingrid? Big hurricane?”
Jenna shook her head. “I haven’t seen any news in a while.”
“I can tell. It’s a big one, out in the Gulf. The predicted track keeps wobbling, but they’re thinking Mississippi. We should stay clear of it, but if it moves east at all, there’s a whole list of things we have to do to get ready. Including getting all the artists out of here.”
Jenna thought of the girls at the farm. They weren’t too far from Mississippi. She reached into her bag on the chair and pulled out her phone. One bar of service.
Casey tucked her hair behind her ears. “I heard about Gregory’s job offer in Berkeley.”
Jenna nodded, her attention on her phone as she scrolled to Betsy’s number. “He’s taking it.”
“Wow, I hadn’t heard. That’s—well, good for him.”
“That’s what I told him.”
“What about you?”
Jenna looked up. “What about me?”
Casey shrugged. “I don’t know. The two of you seem to work well together. I know there’s the assistant position . . .”
Jenna shook her head. “There’s no way that would work.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Plus it’s scary to uproot your life.”
Casey’s voice was soft, but Jenna heard something else, as if she was saying two things at once.
“Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you got your mail.” She headed back up the path, then turned her head and called back to Jenna, “It’s sweet to know your girls miss you so much.”
Jenna checked her phone again for that single service bar, but it was gone.
That evening, when she knocked on Gregory’s door, he opened it dressed only in blue jeans.
“Sorry, I just hopped out of the shower. Let me . . .” He ducked into what she assumed was his bedroom. “I figured you weren’t coming,” he called, his voice muffled. When he came back, he wore a wrinkled plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His hair stuck up in damp spikes, like he’d just run a towel over his head. She remained on the porch, her feet rooted to the hard floor.
“Do you want to come in?” he asked slowly.
She nodded and he held the door open for her. All around the room sat open boxes. On the floor, a chair. Through the bedroom door, she spied an open suitcase on the bed. “You’re packing.”
“Yeah, I got a call that they want me out there sooner than I thought. This storm is causing a mess at the airports already, so I’m heading out tomorrow. I have to pick up a few things at home before I go.”
“What about the artists here now? What about Micah?” The poor kid needed a mentor.
“Casey called another photographer, a guy from Birmingham who’s worked here a few sessions. He’ll take my place this last week.”
“They didn’t take long to replace you.”
“I think they knew I’d take off eventually. They’ve probably had a replacement lined up since I got here.”
Jenna walked through the cabin—larger than hers, but still simple and rustic—and peered into one of the boxes filled with books.
“Jenna.” His voice behind her was close, then she felt his hand on her shoulder.
She moved away from his touch and sat on the couch with her back against the arm. He sat facing her and waited. With the front window open, the room was warm, and she was glad for the ceiling fan sending down a cooling breeze.
“I thought Max was kidding the first time he mentioned this place to me. I laughed when he suggested I apply for it.”
“Why’d you laugh?”
“Because it sounded so ridiculous. Managing the time off, figuring out what to do with my kids. And the idea of being on my own for two weeks with my camera . . . I never thought it’d work.”
“Yet here you are.”
“Here I am. Little longer than I planned to stay though.”
He nodded. His jeans had a hole in one knee and he pulled at a fuzzy string. “Are you glad you stayed?”
She hesitated. Everything racing through her mind made it hard to think straight. “I think so. But . . .”
He propped his elbow on the back of the couch. His hand hung down and grazed the top of her knee.
“I don’t know how to put these two parts of my life together. I love my children, but I also don’t want to give up all this . . . this . . .”
“You. You don’t want to give up on yourself.”
“I guess that’s it. It’s like I’ve rediscovered this fundamental part of my life that’s been missing and I don’t want to lose it again.”
“Then don’t lose it. Don’t give it up.” He took her hands in his and squeezed. “Come to California with me. You can have the creative life you want and nothing will get in the way of it.”
“But I have the girls. I can’t uproot them too. I can’t do that to them.”
“You’ve done it once already. They’ve
