For the past year, Ian felt as if they had been simply going through the motions of their lives. He had been hoping this trip together to the States would help snap them all out of their doldrums.
Neither child was thrilled about leaving their friends in Oxford to move back to Dorset to be closer to his parents. Perhaps by the time the summer was over, they would feel better about the move.
Regardless, he was glad to see his sister so happy. For different reasons, they had all struggled with their older brother’s death in a car accident just months before Susan’s diagnosis. Ian suspected Gemma’s grief was mingled with a certain guilt, considering she had been driving the car at the time and had also been coping with her own injuries.
The accident hadn’t been her fault whatsoever. An inebriated lorry driver had plowed through a light and struck the passenger side of Gemma’s car as she and David had been heading home after a party.
No one blamed her except Gemma herself.
He was delighted to see that her emotional scars seemed to be healing. Throughout the dinner, her happiness seemed to surround them all like a warm blanket. The dinner was pleasant and the company more so.
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” he told her when they had all walked out to the car park and he’d loaded the children into the rental.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Gemma said, giving him a tight embrace.
“As am I.”
She looked to make the sure the children were inside the vehicle with the doors closed before she spoke in a low voice.
“How are you doing, Ian? Really doing, I mean. I don’t want to hear platitudes. I want the truth.”
The weight of responsibility pressed in on him. He had less than a month to savor this time with the children before he had to return to England, pack up their things and move to start the next phase of his life.
“Couldn’t be better,” he said, forcing his voice to be cheerful. “This part of the world is every bit as beautiful as you promised. I have my work and my children. I’m happy.”
“Are you?”
He knew all she was asking. Gemma knew the whole ugly truth about his marriage.
“I’m happy,” he repeated firmly. “We’re on a grand adventure. I can’t wait to dig into my research project, to go fishing on the lake, to take some hikes into the mountains. I’m here with my children. What else could I possibly need?”
She raised an eyebrow and he suspected he knew what she wanted to say. A woman. Particularly a woman like Samantha Fremont.
Why was it an unfortunate truism that those in love couldn’t rest unless everyone else in their circle shared their condition?
He couldn’t tell his optimistic, deeply enamored sister that he was done with love. He had scars on his heart that covered everything good and right that might have once been there.
“Don’t worry about me. This is the season of your life when you should be focused on you and Josh and the life you’re building together.”
“I can’t help it. I believe worrying about my family is one of my superpowers.”
He smiled a little and hugged her back. “Well, try to contain it, then. I don’t need you to worry about me. I need you to think about your spectacular dress and how deliriously happy you’ll be wearing it when you marry in only a few weeks.”
“Don’t worry. I am good at multitasking. I can do both of those things,” she said, which made him smile.
He really did feel better here in Haven Point than he had in months. Years, even, as if he had set a large weight down when he drove past the town’s welcome sign.
CHAPTER THREE
SUNDAY AFTERNOON AFTER CHURCH, Samantha was working away in her sewing room with the television set to a documentary about coral reefs she would likely never visit when her doorbell rang.
She waited for the chorus of yips and yaps that always heralded a new arrival at her home these days but was greeted by a frightening silence. With a jolt, she suddenly remembered she had put Betsey and the puppies outside in the large portable pet enclosure she had bought so they could play in the grass and enjoy the June sunshine.
Okay, that was only part of the reason. Mostly she needed a little peace and quiet to focus on her work. Gemma Summerhill’s dress would be spectacular. Each time she worked on it, she fell in love a little more with the elegant lines. Kat was right. It was one of her best designs.
Back in the early days, her mother had really been the seamstress, though Sam felt as though she had always known how to sew. Her mother started her with her own sewing machine when she was still in grade school and she could remember sewing an elaborate doll wardrobe for her and for Katrina.
At first, she had started designing with things found around the house. Scraps of fabric her mother had discarded, a glue gun, hair scrunchies.
After she received her own sewing machine for Christmas along with some lengths of fabric and a basic doll dress pattern, Sam had learned to add her own flair to outfits.
Oh, she and Katrina used to have fun. She felt a pang, missing those times. They still got together as often as possible and both worked hard to maintain their friendship. But Katrina was so busy with her marriage and children with extra challenges. Sam didn’t like to take her away from Bowie and the children too often strictly for girl time.
The doorbell rang again, yanking her out of her thoughts, and she winced as she jumped up. What an idiot. She had completely forgotten someone was there.
When are you going to get your head out
