by Terri Lee
She would pack up all the memories worth taking. Tuck them into the cardboard boxes along with the good china and crystal and the photo albums. The rest she would leave behind. She was scared, but ready. Her own sessions with Dr. Nolan had her standing stronger. Seeing the future without always looking over her shoulder.
“Have you been looking for a new place?” Phil asked.
“I have a couple of places narrowed down. In a perfect world I’d live at the beach house. But the kids have had enough turmoil in their lives without uprooting them from their school. I think I’m going to rent in Savannah for the time being.”
Phil seemed to like the sound of that. “Hopefully a short-term lease. And you’re still teaching an art class, right?”
“I am. I love it. It’s the same class Adam taught last year. I hear he’s in New York. Life is funny isn’t it? Which reminds me…” She spun around in her chair again and picked up a large picture frame from behind her desk. “This is for you.”
She handed the painting to Phil and he held it in his lap, eyes widening. It was a midnight view of the silver beach from the bedroom on Tybee Island. The French doors were open, and their white sheers lifted like sails. Only the corner of the bed visible, sheets trailing onto the floor. A moonlight-tinted world of their making.
“This is gorgeous.” Phil ran his fingertips over the bed, as if memories of lovemaking lingered there. “Your talent leaves me speechless.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it,” he said. “And I love you.”
“I love you, too. I wanted to paint something to make you smile when I’m not around.”
“I don’t want you to not be around. But it seems like you have an awful lot going on.”
“Don’t worry. I still have plenty of time for you.” She came around the desk, took the painting from his lap and set it aside. Snuggling into his lap, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I’ll always have time for you,” she said. “I love you. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of saying it.”
“Please don’t.” He buried his face in her hair.
“Tell me again how long you’ll be here.” Savannah said.
“At least a month.”
“A whole month.” She sighed at the prospect.
“We have a lot of lost time to make up for.”
“We’ll never have enough time.”
“We will soon enough. You know, when you’re ready, Philly is a great place to start over. The city of brotherly love and all that.” He winked at her. “But we’ll take it slow.”
“Right.” She took the kiss waiting on his lips. “Baby steps.”
We’ve just spent hours together. Don’t let it end there.
I told you a story, now it’s your turn.
I’d love to hear what you think.
Drop me a line at [email protected]
Or better yet, leave your review on Amazon or Goodreads.
I’ll be looking for you.
TO BOB LETTERMAN, retired St. Louis Police Detective, for your expertise and insight on a couple of key scenes. Thanks for the peek behind the curtain.
TO CHRISTOPHER MARSH, Attorney at Law; for keeping my story from running off the rails once we made it to the courtroom.
TO SUANNE LAQUEUR, Editor; this book is the book I dreamed I could write. But only after working with an editor who is also a fabulous writer. You didn’t just read my manuscript and make suggestions. You let my characters move in with you, fussed over them, worried about them, then pointed me in all the right directions. I call you ‘the book whisperer.’
TO COLLEEN SHEEHAN, Formatter; thanks for taking all my pretty words and tying them up in a bow. wdrbookdesign.com
TO NICOLE SPENCE, Cover Designer: you knew what I wanted before I did. covershotcreations.com
TO TIFFANY AND CANDICE OF PAPARAZZI; for making this author look good in my cover photos. Love you lots. www.facebook.com/paparazzi417
TO ERIN; for listening patiently, or at least painting a patient smile on your face, while I talked on and on about this book. And for all the laughs, most of them, at my expense.
TO GAIL, Best Friend and copyeditor extraordinaire; for being there through Paper Castles infancy and adolescence, to today when she put on her prom dress and stepped onto the dance floor. For being one cool chick who knows her way around a comma. For everything. For all of it. I love you more than biscuits and gravy.
For my son, Rex; It’s not good until you say it is.
For my Darling who was there for the beginning...