Page 106 of Positively, Penelope

“It is.” He cleared his throat and gave the steering wheel a pat as he’d done quite a few times on their drive. “Though sometimes this place can feel rather small.”

“Really?” She rested her head back against the seat. “I can’t imagine it ever feeling small with a sky like that.”

He offered a humorless chuckle. “Perhaps it’s the people, not the place, then?”

“What do you mean?” Penelope’s experience with the locals had been mostly fantastic, except for the occasional grumpy store clerk or creepy theater owner.

“There are times when you need to breathe.” He focused ahead, his frown deepening. “Like people are placing you in a box with what you ought to do and you don’t fit.”

She stared at his profile, weighing his words with what she’d learned about him so far. “Is that how you feel about The Darling House? Like you’re not a part of that world?”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been.”

She studied him. “That must be difficult for you.”

Her comment appeared to open some door in his internal dialogue. He gave a strong shake to his head. “Everything revolves around that theater. Our jobs, our conversations.” He slammed his hand against the steering wheel with a little more force. “And since Mother and Grandmother died, it’s been stifling. Like their ghosts are everywhere.”

She was beginning to understand a little better now!

She placed a hand on his arm. “You hide your grief pretty well, don’t you?”

“What?” He shot her a look, his frown deepening. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe you do feel trapped in The Darling House, but I wonder if it’s more that you’re trying to outrun the hurt you’re still feeling from losing two people you love so much so close together. That can’t be easy for anyone.”

“But that’s been years ago.”

“Grief doesn’t have an expiration date, Alec.”

He remained silent.

“People take up places in our hearts and our lives, and when those people are gone, we have this space left.” She settled back into the seat. “Sure, memories may fill up some of the space, but they’re neverenough to completely take away the pain. Ever. And no amount of work, or praise, or money is going to fill the space left behind that only they were meant to fill.”

“Then how do you get on with life—like everyone else in my family—when you have a gaping hole in the center of who you are?” He nearly growled out the words.

“I’m no expert.” She shrugged, almost feeling the ache in his heart. “But embracing your grief—and the fact that it’s okay to grieve—is one thing. A very good thing. Talking about those people is another.” Her smile spread. “I love talking about the people I’ve lost because it means they were here and alive and were a part of making me who I am. Somehow, it makes their space in my heart seem not so empty.” Her eyes burned a little. “I pray, too, but I know that’s not for everyone. It helps me, though.”

He swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple bulged.

“And if you really don’t want to be a part of the theater, I think your grandpa would be more than willing to hear you out. He loves you, Alec. So much.”

He snorted a response.

“Maybe he wasn’t able to hear you before because he was lost in his own grief, but I think he’s able to now.”

“You think?” He shook his head. “No, I’m not certain. Not when he knows everything.”

“Love has a way of being much bigger than we imagine.”

He shot her a look but didn’t respond.

“You won’t know unless you try, and I’m betting on your grandpa’s love over any doubts you have.” She said the words as much to herself as to him. “We can play scenarios of the what-ifs all we like, but there’s no way of knowing for sure without putting on our brave pants and just going for it.”

He looked back at her, his face wrestling with some expression between a smile and a frown. The frown won, unfortunately.

She allowed the quiet to settle between them and turned to take in the view of the countryside. Poor Alec. Perhaps he could find his way through his grief if he would just talk to his family, or maybe even get a little counseling. Penelope knew it helped her out a lot after Erin died.

The road twisted down through green hillsides, framed on one side by snowcapped peaks and the other by the gray-blue sea. Even with the windows closed, Penelope could almost smell the salty air and feel the “tousle” wind against her face. She’d grown to love so many things about this world of Skymar, memories she placed next to some of her favorites in her mind.

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