“I’m getting better. I’m trying.”
“I know, and you’re doing great.”
Awkwardly, we briefly put our arms around each other. We talk every few days. So far, our conversations have been on the more casual end. How our days are going, what toys Toby loves—it’s nothing too heavy, but we’ll get there.
“You look really healthy, Amy.” Her hair is shiny and full, her skin tone is pink and fresh, and she’s even put on some much-needed weight.
I’ll take those as good signs.
“I’ve been feeding her like crazy. Death-tripper recipes and all,” Costa says proudly.
She smiles at him and lifts her mouth for a kiss.
While my relationship with her might not yet be solid, she and Costa are mad for each other. He manages to bring out her softer side, and Toby brings out her mothering side. They are all healing each other.
“What? No love forIsh, brother?” Sam demands loudly.
“Ish bruddah!” Toby squeals from his spot on Sam’s hip.
Costa and Amy pull apart from their kiss and laugh, and Costa lunges at Sam and Toby, throwing his arms around them both.
“Dude! You know I totally love ya!” He gives Sam a noisy wet kiss that makes a high-pitched squeal.
Sam manages to push him away with a groan, but Costa gets him into a hug.
Their hold goes on for so long that Sam finally starts tapping Costa’s shoulder. “Okay, let’s calm down. I’m not that exciting of a person.”
Costa talks softly, but I can still hear him, “But you’re the best person.”
“It’s over. Stop,” Sam protests in a whisper.
“Love you, Sammy.”
“Love you, too, Costa.”
Costa pulls back finally, and Toby reaches for his father. The joy—thepurityof the joy—in Costa’s face as he lifts his son into the air makes everything that we’ve gone through more than worth it.
“Felicia and Micah still okay with us staying here?” Costa asks.
Sam nods. “Of course. They’ve been insistent actually that you stay here for as long as you need to.”
“That’s a little odd,” Amy says.
“I know,” I agree. “I thought the same thing. Is there any chance that your mom knows something?”
I’m reminded of the conversation I had with her when I asked about coming up here in the first place. I still work at the inn two days a week, and both of Sam’s parents have been incredibly relaxed. I know that our relief and serenity radiates from us, and that has seemingly been enough to fend off concern or questions—at least for now.
“There’s no way she knows about death tripping,” Sam says confidently, “but she knows us enough to figure something is going on. She’s trusting us to handle it.”
“And we are handling it,” Costa says.
We walk down to the lake, now a place of celebration and not fear, and sit in beach chairs. Although an assortment of pails, shovels, and other toys litters the sand, Toby immediately goes for a giant red ball.
“Ball?” Amy asks. “You want to play ball? Okay. Kick it to me!”
She runs down the shoreline, and Toby wobbles through the sand after her. Amy, I can tell, never tires of playing. She talks about him almost as much as Costa, and it’s nice to see how connected she can be. For the next hour, the five of us kick and throw the ball and build sand castles. This is likely the last day it’ll be warm enough to come down here for long, so we milk the afternoon.
Later, Costa sits between Sam and me. “This might be paradise, but I wish Toby and Amy and I could come home, back to Watermark. But I can’t exactly show up with my formerly dead son who hasn’t grown at all.”
