Page 36 of The Summer We Mended
Anna nodded.“My therapist tells me that my feelings are normal all the time, but they don’t feel that way.”
“I get that,” Lily said with a small, humorless laugh.“They don’t really tell you how you’re supposed to grieve, or even live after losing someone you love.”
“I don’t think anyone does it the same, even if they did.I hope that you’ll try again, Mom.I would love to see you in the studio creating again.I would love for the twins to know that side of you, too.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” Lily said softly.“Maybe we start tomorrow.”
Anna nodded.“Tomorrow is perfect.”
ChapterThirteen
Anna
The next morning, Anna woke before the sun.She never meant to; she hadn’t set an alarm in years.Some part of her always stirred awake.It was like her body knew that she needed the quiet before the kids woke up every day.Anna was a schoolteacher, a mom, and a wife, which meant that her day was spent pouring into and taking care of others on a regular basis.This early quiet was crucial for her.
The sky outside the house window glowed pale gray-blue, like it wasn’t sure whether to rise or retreat, and the air in the room was cold against her skin when she pushed the blanket back and slid her feet to the floor.
She didn’t bother with socks.The old planks beneath her feet were smooth and familiar, and she padded softly through the narrow kitchen.
The coffee pot clicked on with a soft whirr.She wrapped her fingers around her mug as steam curled from the rim.No sugar, no cream, just black and strong.Luke always teased her for drinking it “like engine oil,” but he never stopped bringing her the darkest roast he could find whenever he came home.
Her hand tightened around the mug, and she let the thought pass before it could gather weight.
The scent of salt hung in the air even before she opened the screen door.Faint, mixed with the dry wood of the porch and the ever-present chill of the coast.Morning here was always like a memory she felt beneath her feet or in the smell of the salt air.How many times had she come out as a child to find her dad out on the pier, checking to see how the water was for the day before he went out on the boat?
The screen clacked shut behind her, and she stepped barefoot into the cool sand, the tiny grains shifting beneath her weight.Beyond the dunes, the ocean rolled in slow breaths.The tide was low, the sky still dusky, and the world felt suspended in a moment that hadn’t quite begun.
She made her way to the weathered Adirondack chair just past the dune line and sat down, curling one leg underneath her.The sea was always louder in the quiet; it filled in all the empty spaces when the world hadn’t woken up yet.That was what she liked about it.It reminded her she wasn’t required to fill them herself.
This was her time.Her thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes where she didn’t have to be a daughter, a wife, a neighbor, a stand-in nurse, or therapist, a smiling face who said, “We’re doing okay,” when people asked.Thirty minutes where she didn’t have to carry grief in one hand and keep her balance with the other.Thirty minutes to reset before she needed to be anything for anyone.
She watched the horizon begin to bleed with color: lavender at the edges, then pink, like the world itself was blushing awake.The sight always made her feel small in the best kind of way.
Her phone vibrated softly on the armrest of the chair.
She blinked, startled.
Luke’s name lit up the screen, and she smiled softly, her heart leaping into her throat.
Her fingers moved before her thoughts could catch up, coffee mug forgotten in the sand beside her.She swiped to answer.
“Hey,” she said softly.
“Hey, sunshine.”His voice was clear and warm.Like he’d just walked in from getting the mail, like he wasn’t half a world away in a time zone she could barely calculate.
Anna closed her eyes for a second, relishing the sound of his voice and committing it to memory.It was like he’d heard her heart calling out for him.
“I wasn’t expecting a call today,” she said.“But I’m grateful I got one.”
“Got a window.Figured I’d use it on you, since I knew my girl would be awake already.”His tone was easy.Casual.Trained.But familiar.“You at the beach?”
She smiled faintly.“Where else would I be before sunrise?”
He chuckled.“Still barefoot in the sand?”
“Like always.”She reached for her mug and brought it to her lips, even though it had cooled.“Coffee’s already cold, though.You ruined my peaceful morning.”
