“Never stop being a scientist. Just kiss me between data points.”
They swam for a while, floating on their backs, wrapping their bodies close, then swimming apart. The sky was a blue dome above them and the cypress trees stood sentinel at the edges.
A family with little kids splashed near the bank, and a couple who had to be deep in their eighties sat on the edge with their feet in the water, holding hands.
Kate caught him looking at them and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. “You know what made me saddest about divorcing Jeffrey?”
He turned, drawing back in surprise at the unexpected question. “What?”
“Missing that,” she said with true reverence in her voice as she gazed at the octogenarians. “I wanted someone to grow old with.”
Eli just looked at her, not sure how much he could or should say. That they could grow old together? That he’d love that? That he wanted it, too?
“It matters,” he finally said. “That history and companionship. It matters.”
She agreed on a sigh, then dipped under for more swimming. When they climbed out and settled on the bank to dry, the afternoon had softened into that golden hour when the light turned everything warm. Kate stretched out on her towel beside him, her eyes closed, her wet hair spread around her.
“You know who would have enjoyed this?” she asked. “Dad.”
“Oh, yeah, Artie loved this place,” Eli agreed. “He organized the whole trip that summer, I do remember that. He packed a cooler the size of a Buick. My mother told him we were going for one afternoon, not colonizing the wilderness, and he said, ‘Maggie, you never know when you’ll need a backup ham.’”
Kate laughed. “That was my father.” Her voice was soft with the particular ache of someone who’d lost a parent recently enough that the memories still stung. “He narrated the boat tour louder than the guide. Your mother was mortified.”
“Maggie is easily mortified. She refused to get in the water because it would ruin her hair.”
“And my mom dragged her in.”
Eli cracked up at the memory. “Yep. Jo Ellen physically pulled Mom into Wakulla Springs while she was screaming about her blowout.” He shook his head. “And now look at those two. Living together in an apartment above a garage and spending their days bickering about Wordle strategies.”
Kate propped herself on her elbow and looked at him. “Isn’t it amazing? Thirty years apart because of what happened with your father, and they just…found each other again. Best friends to the end, like no time had passed.”
“Love does that.” He met her eyes. “It waits.”
She held his gaze, and he saw her hear the subtext. Not just about their mothers.
“You know what else I remember about that outing?” he asked.
“That Tessa wasn’t there?”
He shrugged. “Never missed her. I remember you singing with Artie while he grilled the burgers and dogs.”
“Oh, yes. That was our thing together. Dad and I liked old Broadway tunes.”
“Something about a state fair?”
“Absotively, as Emma would say. ‘Our State Fair is a great state fair!’” she sang, a little off-key.
“Yes,” he said on a laugh. “I remember watching you and thinking you were…comfortable in your skin. Funny, I remember that it was the first time I noticed that.”
She lifted a brow. “Like I said, Tessa was gone.”
He sighed. It wasn’t the first time she’d reminded him of his blind attraction to her sister. “I was…you know, a dumb kid. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. By then, I was used to it. Actually, I was glad she stole the oxygen out of every room. I preferred to study my surroundings, not be the center of them. Except it hurt where you were concerned because, well, the crush was crushing.”
He dropped down to lie next to her, reaching to gently touch her face, aching to say something about God’s plan, His great timing, and how only He could open the eyes of the blind.
But once again, that indefinable something pressed on his chest and stopped him from bringing the Lord into this conversation.