Page 88 of Chasing Clouds

“I think it’s beautiful, and all so incredibly different from how I grew up.”

“It is pretty, isn’t it?” My eyes trail over the vast landscape in front of us and I smile. Memories, minutes, moments—they never leave us, and as much as we try to shake free, they’re like cobwebs. You can feel them, but you can’t quite find them. They cling, and there’s no escaping, the good or the bad. Today, with the hint of humidity in the air and a sky full of endless clouds, I’m reminded more of the good, and being here, I’m at ease.

“It’s quiet,” he says.

“Wait till night time. The cicadas, toads—you name it, they all come out, and it’s so loud. I thought living in the city was quiet.”

After Grandfather visited Reid, his next stop was at my parents’ home. I’m not sure what all was said—really, I don’t even care—but it was my mother who came begging for forgiveness. Of course, I gave it to her.

My mother used to be stronger, but once my sister died, the light in her eyes died too. She was vibrant, always the perfect host, dazzling any room she entered. But, after that night, she slipped into the back of the crowd and politely remained just barely seen and not heard at all. I know this happened to me, too, but I’m not that girl anymore, and it seems she doesn’t want to be either.

I know as well as anyone what life is like under my father’s thumb and how hard it is to go against him. It turns out me taking a stand and Patrick taking a stand by outing my father’s secrets to me then heading back to Boston gave her the strength to finally put her foot down as well. She’d had enough, just like the rest of us, and today we’re here because she invited us to brunch before we head back to Tampa.

To our home.

No, we’re not selling my house here, but it’s preseason now and Reid is required to be there. Where he is, that’s where I’ll be, and fortunately for me, Vintage Soul is easily relocated. I’m glad I decided not to rush into opening a storefront, and as it is, I have a waitlist of commissioned pieces from the wives of some of Reid’s friends on the team.

“Both nights we were here, for the rehearsal dinner and the reception, I didn’t realize the property was this large, or at least that so much of it belonged to your family.”

Reid is leaning forward with his forearms propped up on the veranda railing. His injuries healed at a rapid pace, and he’s training hard just to prove he can. I’m proud of him.

He’s wearing a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and he looks mighty good.

“How would you have known? First off, it was dark, and second, we were preoccupied with other more pertinent things.”

“True,” he mumbles, nodding in agreement.

Tearing my eyes off of him, I follow the trail that leads through the dogwoods down to an old bench. When we were little, we would sit out there on late summer nights and watch the fireflies rise up out of the tall grass, but since we lost Clare, my father’s kept the field mowed down and it looks more like a grassy lawn. It’s still beautiful, just different. Then again, I suppose we all are now—different.

“I can still see Clare and me running through the field. Do you see over there?” I point toward a cluster of trees about a quarter mile away. “Those are peach trees. We spent way too many days and nights lying under the trees and getting sticky while eating peaches, but boy were they delicious.”

“The trees look small.” He squints a little at the brightness of the midmorning sun.

“They are.”

“Take me out there?” He stands up straight and turns to me.

“Now?”

I haven’t been back in the field since the night Clare died, and he realizes this as he sees the panic on my face. Pity flashes through his eyes then is replaced with astute understanding.

“Come on.” He takes my hand and pulls me to the stairs. “It’s July now, so the peaches will be ripe. Show this city boy what it’s like to pick fruit and eat it right off the tree.”

“You’ve never picked fruit before?”

He looks at me like I’m crazy and then grins. “Nope, not like this. We need to go out there and make some new memories, if you catch my drift.” He winks at me, his grin stretching into a full-blown smile.

“I swear, is that all you think about?” I shake my head in exasperation as I follow him.

“Of course not. I think about food and football, too. Thing is, you’re my wife—I’m allowed to think about it and do it as much as I want.”

“I’m not your wife yet.” I break free and take off running for the trees.

Next month, Reid and I are getting remarried.

I didn’t think it would take him long, but even I was surprised that he asked after only two days. Just like the first morning we were at the beach, I wandered into the kitchen for a cup of coffee, and there on the island was a new paper airplane. I was beyond delighted to see it sitting there, and then when I peeled back the folded edges and saw those four words—Will you marry me?—my heart could have burst. With my hands flying to my mouth and tears in my eyes, I spun around, ready to run back upstairs, only to find Reid down on one knee holding the most stunning solitaire diamond ring I’ve ever seen. It was one of the greatest moments of my life, and it couldn’t have been more perfect if he tried.

We talked about going down to the courthouse and making it quick and painless, but that didn’t seem fair to those who love us and went on this journey too. His mother was beside herself with excitement, and that alone makes waiting a few more weeks worth it. We chose the beach, back on Anna Maria Island, because that’s where we fell in love.