“I’m so happy you met Clay here and the two of you decided to stay. All those years he was away with the Navy, I wasn’t sure if he’d ever come home.” Lizette looked at her husband and son. “It means more to Dell than I can say that Clay is working and going to school with him. My husband is a changed man, content for the first time in his life.”
“I’m glad we’re here, too. I miss my mom.” Nora swallowed hard, emotion overcoming her for a moment. She knew her mother would be proud of everything she’d done and would want her to be among people who loved her. “Having you and Dell here, your kids—and Sue, too—makes me feel like I have a real family again.”
Lizette hugged her, wrapping her arms around Constance in her backpack carrier, too. “We love you like one of our own.”
“I appreciate that.” Nora hugged her back, something she was becoming far more comfortable doing. For years she’d been much too standoffish. It had been a way to keep people at bay who could hurt her by leaving, like her father had when she was young and her mother had when she lost her battle with cancer. Now she didn’t have to hold back. The people here gave their love and approval freely, and that love filled her up enough to brave any small chance of rejection elsewhere.
“Here come some more people.” Lizette let her go. “I’ll take this batch. You take a break.”
“My grandsons would like to see a tiny house,” a white-haired woman accompanying two teenaged boys said.
“Right this way,” Lizette said.
Nora watched them go, then turned to find Clay smiling at her as a cluster of people bent over the pamphlets and house plans spread on the counter of the booth.
“Love you,” he mouthed at her.
“Love you, too.”
“How is it going in the greenhouses?” Harris asked when Samantha stopped by with a sandwich to tide him through the lunch hour. No one was going to get a lunch break, given how many people were still flowing through Base Camp. Even now he had a ring of expectant onlookers waiting for him to start his demonstration again. As the only blacksmith, he didn’t have anyone to fill in for him while he took a break, but Sam had announced to the crowd when she arrived that he was going to take five minutes to eat.
“Busy, busy, busy,” she said, going up on tiptoe to brush a kiss across his cheek. “But with Boone and Leslie to help, I was able to get away for a minute.”
Harris peeked into the fabric sling she wore. “Evan’s asleep?”
“Yes, thank goodness. He was getting pretty fussy for a while, but he’s out like a light now.” She adjusted the sling. At eight months old, he was getting heavy for her to carry like this, but Harris couldn’t take over while he was working the forge. He’d have to do double duty tomorrow to make up for it, he decided happily. He loved spending time with his son, and everyone at Base Camp had decided to take a rest day tomorrow.
“I’ve got to run. See you later.” With another quick kiss, Samantha pushed her way through the throng that had gathered in the last few minutes and headed in the direction of their tiny house.
“Got your sandwich?” Alan Bennison asked, edging his way close in the crowd. He was one of the new inhabitants of Base Camp and had joined them three or so months ago. This wasn’t the first time he’d sought out Harris.
Harris held up the remnants of it. “Yep.” He finished it off in a couple of bites and moved to take up his tools again.
“Was wondering if I could take a shot at that sometime,” Alan continued, gesturing to the forge. An earnest man from Georgia, he usually tended to hang back when there was a crowd.
Harris paused, ready to start the spiel he’d given about his craft a dozen times already. “Sure. Any time.”
“I’ve always been interested in learning the farrier trade,” Alan explained. “Just never had the opportunity.”
Harris had wondered when the younger man would get up the courage to ask. His curiosity about the forge was unmistakeable. “I’m spending tomorrow with the family, but any other time,” he told him. “Would be glad of the company.”
“Great.” Alan looked over his shoulder. “Better get back to it. I’m on cleanup duty.”
“See you later.” Harris watched him go. There had been a time in his life when friendships were difficult and he’d thought himself consigned to a solitary, watchful existence, forever on the outside looking in. That lonely feeling was long gone. He belonged here at Base Camp in a way he’d never felt before. He had roots for the first time in his life. A home of his own, tiny as it was. A wife and child he adored.
No hurricane or anything else could wash that away.
He turned to the crowd. “How many of you have worked with metal before?”
Samantha touched the iron door-knocker Harris had made for their tiny house before turning the handle and opening the front door. It was time to put Evan down in his crib and give her back a rest. She had reluctantly kept her home off the tiny house tour, knowing she’d need a break at some point. It was too bad Harris’s beautiful iron cabinet and drawer pulls—and the rest of the personal touches he’d added to their home—wouldn’t be seen by the crowds thronging Base Camp, but the open house was meant to be a yearly affair, and Harris had a whole display of his work by his forge.
She was greeted at the door by the yip of their new puppy,
