Page 65 of No Greater Love
I glanced at Tasha, who was already grinning. "We're on vacation," she said. "Might as well embrace the full tourist trap experience."
Pirate's Paradise turned out to be a delightfully cheesy eighteen holes of mini golf winding around fake palm trees, treasure chests, and a fiberglass pirate ship that had definitely seen better decades. Paige attacked each hole with scientific precision, studying angles and taking practice swings, while Tasha and I provided color commentary that she pretended to find annoying.
"She's lining up the shot," I announced in my best golf announcer voice. "The crowd is silent. The pressure is enormous."
"That windmill looks pretty intimidating," Tasha added. "Are you sure you're ready for this level of competition?"
"Watch and learn," Paige said, and proceeded to nail a hole-in-one that had us both cheering loud enough to embarrass her thoroughly.
By the time we reached Ocean Waves Campground, it was late afternoon and all of us were singing along to whatever came on the radio. The campground was exactly what I'd hoped for—busy enough to feel alive but not overcrowded, with families setting up around picnic tables and fire pits, kids running around with fishing nets and beach buckets.
Our cabin was small but perfect, with knotty pine walls and windows that actually opened to let in the ocean breeze. The master bedroom had a double bed covered in a quilt that had seen better days but was clean and comfortable. When Paige saw the second bedroom with its bunk beds, she let out an actual shriek of delight.
"TOP BUNK!" she shrieked, scrambling up the ladder before we'd even set our bags down.
Over her head, Tasha and I exchanged a look full of shared amusement and something deeper—the quiet satisfaction of seeing someone you love this happy.
"Alright, kiddo," I said, "what's first on the agenda?"
"Beach!" Paige said immediately. "I want to see if there are any turtle nests! And build the world's greatest sandcastle! And jump waves! And?—"
"Breathe," Tasha laughed. "We have the whole weekend."
But even as she said it, I could see she was caught up in Paige's enthusiasm. This woman who'd claimed to hate the idea of camping was already digging through our bags for sunscreen and beach towels, asking Paige if she wanted help braiding her hair back before we hit the sand.
We spent the rest of Saturday afternoon at the beach, and it was everything Paige had hoped for and more. After claiming our spot with an umbrella and chairs, Paige immediately began construction on what she declared would be the most architecturally sophisticated sandcastle in the campground's history.
"You missed a spot," Tasha said, pointing to a streak of white sunscreen along my jawline as I helped Paige haul water for her moat.
"Dad always misses a spot," Paige added without looking up from her engineering project. "Last time we went to the community pool, he looked like he had racing stripes."
"Oh, don’t worry.I'llmake sure he doesn't miss any spots next time," Tasha said with a tone and grin that made me look at her more sharply.
"Yes,ma'am," I said, and meant it.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of wave jumping, sandcastle construction, and the kind of lazy family time I'd never quite experienced before. When Paige insisted on "jumping the waves"—which required both Tasha and I to hold her hands while she "flew" over the incoming surf—I found myself watching Tasha's face, seeing the pure, unguarded joy there as we swung Paige over another wave.
I didn't know I could have this,I thought as we set Paige down safely in the shallow water and she immediately demanded to do it again.I thought this kind of happiness was for other people.
But here it was, simple and real and ours.
twenty-one
tasha
Sunday morning dawnedbright and clear, with Paige's excited chatter drifting through the thin cabin walls before my alarm had even gone off. I could hear her negotiating with Nate about whether 7 AM counted as "sleeping in" on vacation (apparently, it did not).
By the time I'd dragged myself out of bed and into the small kitchen, Nate was already making coffee while Paige bounced around the cabin in her swimsuit, beach bag packed and ready to go.
"Morning, beautiful," Nate said, handing me a mug. "Someone's been up since sunrise making plans for today."
"We need to get to the beach early," Paige explained with the serious tone of a military strategist. "Before all the good spots are taken. And I want to check on my sandcastle from yesterday."
"Your sandcastle," I said, taking a grateful sip of coffee, "was destroyed by the tide, kiddo. That's what happens to sandcastles."
Paige looked genuinely shocked by this information. "All of it?"
"All of it," Nate confirmed gently. "But that means you get to build an even better one today."
