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“Parker…” Agnes gives him a pointed look.
The sudden light stroke of the back of his fingers on my cheeks makes me shiver with the buzz of the contact. When my stare finds his, his large palm cups my face in a show of complete and utter affection that warms me from top to toe. Without a single whisper, I feel the most loved I have ever been. With that one touch and the deep, wistful look in his eyes, he makes good on the promises he kissed me with earlier.
“It’s your special day. Relax and enjoy. Besides, we both know you’re dying to get the photo albums out.” His easy chuckle doesn’t disguise the tension in his limbs as he rounds the table to where she’s sitting and plants a kiss on her head. “Maybe keep the nudies to yourself…save them for next time when Summer is fully introduced to the madhouse.”
With a wink my way, he heads out of the dining room, leaving me and Agnes in silence.
“My baby is completely enamored with you,” she finally sighs, her fingertips tracing the small velvet box in front of her.
“It’s mutual.”
“Trust me, if I thought otherwise, you would be gone by now.” There’s an edge of warning to her tone. “But I see the way you look at him. The way you are with my grandson…”
Taking a sip of my wine, I pull my big-girl panties up and smile. “I love them.”
“Good. In the end, after life has thrown all its twists and tricks your way, that’s all you’ll have left. It’s what makes you hold on for another day…” Pausing, Agnes stands, taking her wine as she nods for me to follow.
The house is incredible. Surprisingly cozy and warm. It’s a real home that makes me want to explore and offers me comfort even when my heart is pounding a million miles a second, faster and faster with every step I take behind her.
Her short blonde hair wisps around her face as she takes me into another room stacked with bookshelves on two opposing walls and floor-to-ceiling french-paned windows and doors on the one facing the open doorway.
“I keep all the photo albums here. When you get to my age and your children have le—” She stops in her tracks, taking a short, sharp breath before she continues. “When your children have left home, they become a source of companionship on lonely nights.”
All I can do is watch her root through the different photo albums. It doesn’t take her long to find the one she’s searching for. The white leather is gold embossed with Parker’s name and what appears to be their family crest beneath it.
“Come.” She nods me toward the french doors. When we’re outside on the small porch overlooking the peaceful sea view, she tells me, “Sit.”
Agnes opens the photo album with a warm smile, making the apprehension inside me mellow.
“I miss the wispy blonde hair. It was so white that it made it impossible for anyone not to comment on how striking it was.” A nude manicured finger traces the stunning face of the baby in the full-page photo. Arctic-blue eyes are wide, tears pooled in the inner corners, while pouty lips squish together. “Parker was beautiful. I couldn’t put him down no matter how much everyone told me to. They were right, but they were also wrong because he’s my boy. Mommy’s boy.”
“I can see that,” I snicker, holding on to my wineglass a little tighter so I don’t stroke the photo the same way she is.
“He would cry every time I put him down. Bawl and bawl until he was blue in the face or I picked him up again.” Flipping the page, she laughs at the grumpy close-up of the baby’s face. “Parker still doesn’t like photos. I used to carry candy in my purse when we attended functions so I could bribe him to smile.”
“Now I know where Easton gets it from,” I chuckle. “We took him to the zoo recently, and we had to buy him a stuffed monkey so that he would let Parker take photos of him with anything other than that frown.” Pointing down at the photo, I look up at Agnes to find her smiling at me.
“Do you have siblings?”
“Me…? No, I…my parents broke up when I was seven, but I have cousins that are practically like siblings to me.”
“Siblings are tricky. You love them…you loathe them, but you can’t live without them. Come to think of it, it’s a bit like parenthood.” Moving on to another photo of baby Parker in the bath, she sighs. “Being a parent is rewarding and incredible at times, but then you have some awful moments. Every time your child trips over their feet, the wind leaves your lungs. Every time they cry or spike a fever…God, it’s the worst.”
Oddly, I know exactly what she means. Easton isn’t my son, but the thought of anything hurting him terrifies me more than the possibility of ending up all alone again.
“All my boys love water. Parker and his brother, and now Easton…I think it’s a Hawthorne thing. Mitch loves the ocean too. He taught me to swim on our honeymoon because I was always too afraid to learn before him.”
“How long have you been married?”
“Fifty-three years,” Agnes replies with pride in her smile.
“Wow. That’s…amazing.”
“It’s not without its hardships, but…” She shrugs, going back to the photo album.
“Is that East?”
“Oh, no…no. When Easton was born, he looked just like his daddy.”
