“No rush, though,” Jenny insists, just as a clatter breaks out below them. She smiles, her expression warm and bright and comforting. “You two are more than welcome to stay here with us for as long as you both need.”
Thirty-Four
The Jeep tires crunch over the pea gravel driveway. Hours after they left Jenny’s house, Grace finally shifts the gear into Park. Things take time now. Packing extra bags with diapers and soft clothes. Folding up the bassinet. Double-checking a half dozen times to be sure she has all the things she’ll need.
The baby’s asleep in the back seat. Careful not to wake him, Grace unclicks his five-point harness and then straps him into the carrier she’s already positioned on her chest. As if by instinct, she walks to the patio and outdoor shower to grab the key, only to remember, just as she opens the door, that the new owner doesn’t keep it there anymore.
“Breaking and entering?” Caleb teases when his face appears in the kitchen window. “See? This is exactly why I didn’t want renters here.” He smirks. “Give me a minute. I’ll meet you around front.”
A moment later, Caleb steps onto the front steps, holding a duffel bag at his side. He sets it down, then moves up the walkway and gives Grace a hug, careful not to disturb the baby.
“Congratulations,” he says.
“On the baby?” Grace asks. “Or on being the only person you’ll actually let rent out your home for a week?”
“A little of Column A, and a little of Column B,” he jokes.
Grace inhales and takes a long look at the house. “Looks the same from the outside.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“It is.”
Caleb takes a few steps back and grabs his bag. “The extra-good news is that I gave it a bit of TLC on the inside. New furniture. Fresh paint. A little facelift in the kitchen. Plus, there’s actual insulation in the walls now.” He pretends to shiver. “Nowthatwas a necessity. The ocean breeze makes winters down here a bit tough.”
Out in the street, a family travels home from the beach, the parents’ shoulders strapped with chairs and coolers and every other imaginable thing.
“So how do you like it?” Grace asks. “Being a full-time islander and all?”
Caleb waves to the passersby, then looks up and down the street, like he’s just now really taking it all in.
“Good,” he states. “Quiet. Familiar. But also sort of new.”
Grace nods. In some ways, this is what her current life feels like, too. The comfort of Jenny’s home. The newness of motherhood.
“Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it,” Caleb says, rolling back on his heels. He digs into his pocket, pulls out a silver key. “She’s all yours.” He hands it over. “Until Saturday at two o’clock, at least.”
“Thanks, Caleb.” Grace gently adjusts the baby’s weight against her body. “I really appreciate you doing this for me.”
“Enjoy it,” Caleb says in his easygoing way. “I hope you catch a good week.” He smiles warmly, like an old friend, or a new one. “And that you and the baby get to make some special new memories.”
The beach is perfect. A wide swath of smooth sand. An endless sheet of gentle waves. The air an ideal mix of warm and cool.
Grace stands at the top of the dune, just as she’s done on countless occasions, the baby secured in the carrier—everything the same and yet vastly different. As always, she slides off her sandals and then carefully traverses the decline. The reedy grasses whisper a quiet song as shemoves. Up and down the wide stretch of sand, people are switching gears. A pair of children fly a kite. Families pack up. The lifeguards blow their whistles, letting everyone know their shift is complete. Ahead, the ocean sparkles with tide pools and pale sandbars, the sea a shimmering and brilliant blue.
The magic hour.
The best time of day here.
She walks out toward the water—not too close, but just enough to really be able to appreciate the view. The baby asleep on her chest, Grace sits on the warm sand, briefly closes her eyes, inhales the salty air, and lets herself relax after a long drive. Although the traffic wasn’t as bad as she expected, it suddenly feels like it took her forever to get here. To this place. To this moment. To this stage of her life.
And maybe that was part of it. That she’d always been searching. Pushing forward. Always the next step. Trying to get to the next version of herself. Always wanting to arrive. But here, on this calm strip of sand, she could just be present. For one sweet week, she could just be Grace.
“You caught a nice first night,” a familiar voice says from behind her.
Grace reopens her eyes and sees the shadow of a figure.
Ray.
