What I want is to get past the pain. I can live with the grief. The sense of loss. But the pain feels debilitating at times. I want…
He lifted his pen. He wasn’t ready to finish that thought on paper. Even writing it down felt wrong. He supposed that was a sign of how much he needed it out of his head.
Inhaling deeply, he returned his pen to the page.
I want to live a normal life again. Wanting that makes me feel like a terrible person. A terrible husband. I don’t think I was, but maybe that’s who I’ve become. Is it so wrong to want to be happy?
I wish I could talk to my son. And have him talk back to me. I miss him, too. But he blames me for all the same things I blame myself for, so I understand the silence.
It would be great to get past that, though. Is that possible? Maybe, but I don’t have a lot of faith things are ever going to change.
He swallowed at the knot in his throat. Being honest with himself was difficult. But at the same time, it was freeing in a way he hadn’t anticipated.
Harper apparently knew what she was doing. No surprise there. Arlington wouldn’t have left his house to a woman who was anything less than a true friend and genuine helper. The man was an impeccable judge of character, although his last wife hadn’t been such a bright bulb. Lisa had been pretty to look at, though, and Mitch wasn’t going to judge the man for wanting to spend his golden years with a beautiful woman.
He closed the journal, unsure if he’d done enough but feeling like he’d written as much as he could for his first attempt. He drank the last of his coffee before heading into the kitchen. He whipped up a simple plate of scrambled eggs and toast and ate it at the table.
Somehow it wasn’t even close to as good as the breakfasts Joyce made for him.
He cleaned up and went into his office with a fresh cup of coffee, his journal, and a pen. He put the cup and pen on his desk, the journal in a desk drawer.
Then he sat and started his workday, bringing up his document. He read through the chapter he was on from the beginning, refreshing the story in his mind. When he reached the end, the next paragraph formed in his head. He put his fingers on the keyboard and began to type.
The words came easily and kept coming. He didn’t want to overthink it. The story was going well. It would need revision and lots of layering, but he was pleased with how it was coming.
Had the journalling helped?
He couldn’t say yes or no just yet, but he wasn’t struggling to get past the feelings that normally pulled him away from his work.
Whatever the reason for that, he already knew he would journal again tomorrow.
ChapterForty-Seven
“You havegotto be kidding me. Is that really it? We’re stayinghere.” Willa leaned forward to stare through the windshield as they approached the house Harper had inherited.
She’d been talking nonstop since Frankie had picked her up from the airport and Frankie couldn’t be happier. Now, she just grinned as she turned down the drive. “That’s really it and we are really staying here. Can you believe it? Wait until you see the inside. Wait until you see the backyard! And the pool, and the river and the ocean and the beach.”
Willa laughed. “I get the idea. The house is just… Aunt Harper really landed in it, didn’t she. Wow.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” Frankie parked and turned the car off.
“I can’t wait to see her.” Willa smiled at her mom. “Thanks again for the ticket and for picking me up and everything. I don’t think I realized how much I needed this until I got on that plane. I owe you.”
Frankie shook her head. “You don’t owe me. I need time with my daughter, too, so this is really for both of us. Come on, let’s go in. I’m sure your aunt is dying to see you. You’re going to love her dog, Archie. He’s like a giant teddy bear.”
They exited the vehicle. Willa slung her big duffel bag over her shoulder while trying to manage her backpack, too. Frankie grabbed that and led her into the house. Once inside, she announced, “We’re home.”
They went up the stairs and found Harper on the couch, looking at her phone.
Archie was curled up by her feet, but he stood when he saw them, giving Willa an unsure expression. Harper had yet to say a word. Or even glance up at them.
“Look who I found at the airport,” Frankie said a little louder.
“Hi.” Harper’s voice was thin. She sniffed and turned to look at them. Her eyes were red, and it was clear she’d been crying.
Concerned, Frankie set the backpack down. “What happened? Are you all right? Is Archie all right?”
“We’re fine,” Harper’s voice cracked. “I’ve been…” She swallowed. “Suzanne must have done this.” She inhaled raggedly and gave Willa a quick smile that didn’t last. “Hi, Willa. Sorry about this. Just having a little crisis as I watch my life fall apart.”
