I glanced down atParenthoodagain and noticed that the couple on the cover was telling a story of how they’d adoptedout their frozen embryos. I thought of Amelia. I wondered if she’d ever finished that story.
I got a nostalgic feeling when I thought about the weeks we’d had together and remembered sitting beside her on the boat, puttering through the creeks and canals around the beach.
When I asked her to ride with me, she had said, “What if all that motion isn’t good for the babies?”
I had barely been able to get her out of the house all week, and, while I appreciated what she was doing, I didn’t want her stressed out or feeling stuck.
“We won’t go fast. Promise.”
As we made our way out of the marsh we both cherished, I glanced over at the serenity on her face. I loved the way she looked in moments like this, when it was just the two of us, the wind blowing her wavy hair, her skin bare and sun-kissed. She was so effortlessly beautiful. Greer was gorgeous. No doubt about that. But a lot of care and concern went into her appearance. It was a very different thing to be living with a woman who took five minutes to get ready in the morning.
“Thanks, Park,” she said, interrupting my thoughts. “You’re right. This feels so good.”
I was convinced that there was nothing in the world better than the sun, the salt, and the fresh air to cure anything at all. Of course, I hadn’t done too good of a job curing myself.… But, as Amelia nestled closer to me on the benchseat and looped her arm around mine, I realized that the pain was fading rapidly.
“Thad never understood this,” Amelia said. “The perfection of being out on the water, of spending a day with your toes in the sand without making it a social event.”
“Greer didn’t either.” Immediately, I felt like I had betrayed her.
“Want to anchor at Sand Dollar Island and look for shells?” I asked.
She looked down at herself. “I don’t have a bathing suit on.”
“I’ll get you to shore.” I winked at her.
She held the wheel, while I threw the anchors and jumped in the chilly but invigorating water. It was only to my thighs, but would have been to Amelia’s waist.
She stepped to the back of the boat and said, “So what are we doing?”
“You’re getting on my shoulders.”
She laughed. “Oh Lord. Okay.”
I held my hands up so she could steady herself, as I walked through the water. On the beach, I steeled myself and kneeled down so she could climb off. I was out of breath and we were both laughing. I was trying to look tough and like it hadn’t been hard for me, so I turned so she couldn’t see me panting. And when I did, I saw the most perfect conch shell in a soft, weathered gray. I wanted to show it to Amelia, but she was already several yards away.
“Park!” she called, her hand in the air. “Look what I found.”
I walked to meet her in the middle, and she, too, had found a whole, weathered gray conch. I held mine up. “A perfect pair,” she said, her eyes meeting mine and holding my gaze for a moment.
Then, looking down at her stomach, as if remembering, she said, “We should save them for the babies. We can teach them to put their ear to them to hear the roar of the ocean.”
Back in my office, I smiled, remembering. Maybe not being alone anymore had just felt good. Maybe it was being with someone who had known me forever; I got to skip all the small talk and sob stories.
Being with Amelia had reignited a flame inside of me. And that’s when it hit me: I needed to extend some sort of olive branch to her before the fishing tournament. I skimmed the article about the couple who’d adopted out their frozen embryos. If they would talk to her, it would definitely help her with her story.
I flagged the article with a sticky note, retrieved a piece of stationery from my top drawer, and scrawled.
Thought this might help with your article. Let’s discuss at Summer Splash?
Best,
Parker
Too formal. It was like a memo I would send to an employee. I threw it into the tiny wastebasket.
Thought this might be a new lead for your frozen embryo story. Happy to help in any way. Can we discuss at the tournament?
Love,
