“Yeah, she got a couple of offers. She’s trying to decide whether she wants to auction it off.”
After we got married, Claire decided that the best path for her to help others while still being able to take care of her family—and herself—would be to write about her experience in the foster care system. It took her four and a half years to write the book, but it took less than four months for her to find a literary agent who believed in her story. I’ve always known that she would become the kind of person that my children would be proud to call “Mom.”
“Are you going to tell everyone?” I ask.
“Not yet. I want to have a signed contract before I tell them.”
“Always playing it cool,” I say, as I turn right onto Lake Park Blvd.
“I learned from the best.”
When we were trying to decide where to buy a summer home on the coast, Claire insisted on having something right on the beach. Unfortunately, there was nothing available in Carolina Beach at the time. But I think it worked out to our advantage. Wrightsville Beach is much cleaner than Carolina Beach, which makes it much healthier for the kids. The only reason we’re making the drive to Carolina Beach today is because of the music festival. I promised a local radio station that I would be there to sign autographs for half an hour.
I find a spot to park and pull on my baseball cap and some sunglasses before I exit the car. Claire gets the kids out of the backseat while I grab the cooler and the beach bag.
“Do you want to go check in with Pete right now or can you just call him?” Claire asks.
“I’ll call him once we find a place to sit. This place is a fucking madhouse.”
The sand and water are packed with bodies and I don’t like the idea of walking through this with my kids.
“Let’s go further down away from this. This is crazy.”
“But then you’ll be so far from the booths,” Claire replies.
“I’m not taking the kids in there.”
A girl in a bikini bumps into the cooler I’m carrying as she passes us and I nearly lose my grip on it. “Sorry,” she says, her gaze lingering on my face for a moment before she continues.
Why the fuck did I agree to come here?
“Let’s just go to the booth and we can go back to the house for a little while after that.”
“You’re not supposed to sign for another two hours.”
“Plans change. I’m not staying here or we’re going to get mobbed.”
I stuff everything back into the trunk and we each carry one of the kids as we head for the booths.
“You’re going to feel guilty about this later,” Claire says.
I can’t see her eyes under the sunglasses or the floppy hat, but the smirk she’s wearing makes me want to smack her ass. She knows me too well.
“Are you going to help me sign autographs?” I ask Jimi and she nods as she adjusts her pink sunglasses. “Make sure you sign Princess Jimi. Okay?”
“I don’t know how to write cursive.”
“That’s okay, baby. You can print your name like your teacher taught you and everyone will love it.”
Claire sits a few feet behind us in the booth and Jimi sits on my lap as I sign autographs for nearly an hour to make up for the time change. Jimi is too embarrassed to sign anything, so she just clings to my neck like a little monkey as I work. I’m about to call it a day, when a blonde girl about Jimi’s age, maybe a year or two older wanders over to our booth.
“Do you want an autograph?” Pete says from where he sits next to me.
The little girl stares at Jimi, like she can’t believe I’m letting this little girl hug me.
“Hey, princess, I think somebody wants your autograph.” I pry Jimi’s arms from my neck and she faces forward as she sits on my lap. I put my black marker in her hand and grab one of the promo pictures the station brought.
“Can I put a heart?” Jimi whispers to me.
“Of course, you can,” I reply, then I look at the girl standing before us. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
She looks up at me and smiles. “Kaia. K-A-I-A.”
I whip my head around to see if Claire heard that and she’s staring at me with her mouth hanging open.
Jimi concentrates hard as she draws a shaky heart then begins to print her name next to it. When she finishes, she puts down the marker and turns her face into my chest again, too embarrassed to see what Kaia thinks of her autograph.
“It’s beautiful, princess,” I assure her. “Do you like it, Kaia?”
“Kaia, what are you doing?”
The relief on the blonde woman’s face when she finds Kaia is palpable. I’ve never seen Lindsay, but this must be her, because her face goes a little pale when she sees me—and not because I’m Chris Knight. It’s because I’m Claire’s husband.
Jimi takes her face out of my chest to look at Kaia again, as if she can sense that the energy has shifted. “Daddy, did she like it?”
There are moments in life, and they happen so infrequently that they tend to really stand out, when life hands you the gift of perspective. Sometimes, we forget to show our appreciation. Sometimes, we get our priorities mixed up. And, sometimes, we forget how far we’ve come. But life always has a way of nudging you to remind you about these important things.
“Yes, baby. She liked it,” I reply.
And as Kaia hugs the picture to her chest, I realize the number of things that had to happen for my daughter to give Adam’s daughter this small token of affection: a shaky heart and a longing for her approval.
“I’m proud of you,” I whisper in Jimi’s ear.
“Can I go skating now?” she asks as Lindsay stands behind Kaia with her arms wrapped around her shoulders.
“Just a minute, baby.”
Looking over my shoulder, I nod at Claire for her to join me at the table. I hold my hand out to Lindsay and she glances at Claire before she takes it.
“I’m Chris.”
“Lindsay.”
Claire stands next to me with Junior in one arm as she holds out her hand. “Hi, Lindsay. It’s good to see you again.”
They shake hands then Lindsay looks over her shoulder, presumably searching for Adam. There are too many people for me to pick him out, but Lindsay quickly squeezes through the river of bodies flowing behind her. He’s standing at the booth across from us; another radio station.
I look up at Claire and I don’t know why I’m surprised to find her looking at me. “Crazy,” I whisper. “Did you see my princess give Kaia her autograph?”
Claire runs her fingers through Jimi’s hair and I can feel her body instantly relax. “My beautiful girl,” Claire says. “She learned from the best.”
Epilogue #3
Claire
Chris’s hand lands on the back of my thigh as I stroke Jimi’s hair. When you’re with someone as long as Chris and I have been together; when you’ve shared so many things that there are no boundaries, physically or emotionally, a simple touch on the back of the leg can go unnoticed because it’s second-nature. Chris’s body is as much mine as it is his. And my body is as much his as it is mine. The same way it is with every part of him and every aspect of the lives we share. I try to remind myself of this every day. I hope I never take his touch, his kiss, his words, or his love for granted.
The baby kicks inside me, as if he can sense that his daddy is near. Chris didn’t want to know the sex of this baby. He said, “I have my princess and my monster. Anything that comes out next will be a Knight, which will complete the set.” But I had to know. Because of the complications Abigail had with her heart, I’ve obsessed over all three pregnancies. So I cherish every kick and every roll I feel inside of me.
I grab Chris’s hand off the back of my leg and move it onto my belly so he can feel it, too. He smiles as he waits for it.
“Claire?”
Chris and I look up at the same time and Adam is standing there with Lindsay and Kaia. There’s a sleeping baby strapped to
his chest and a gleam in his eyes as he grabs the back of Lindsay’s neck. Chris stands up and switches Jimi to his other arm so he can hold out his right hand.
The handshake happens in slow motion. Chris’s hand reaches forward and Adam looks a bit surprised as he removes his hand from Lindsay’s neck to shake Chris’s hand. They’re both smiling and they nod at each other and say something I can’t quite hear. How’s it going, or something like that. As their hands come apart, Adam’s hand moves right back to where it was before, on the back of Lindsay’s neck.
A simple touch.
Adam’s face is the same, except for a few new crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He must be thirty or thirty-one now. I look down at Junior’s head where it rests on my shoulder. My monster is bored out of his mind and dying to get into the water.
“Are you hungry, baby?” I ask him, and he nods as I switch him to my other hip.
My boy is getting too big for me to carry him for long periods of time.
Chris sets Jimi down on the sand and takes Junior from me as he steps away from the chair. “Sit down, babe.” As soon as I sit down, Jimi immediately tries to climb into my lap. “Give mommy a break, princess,” Chris says, taking her hand to pull her away.
“It’s okay,” I say, grabbing her and sitting her on my knee so she’s facing the crowd.
“How have you been?” Adam asks as he flashes Jimi a smile.
I can’t see Jimi’s face, so I don’t know if she returns the smile.
When she’s home, Jimi is so outgoing, and even a terror. But she tends to get shy around strangers. I’m happy she wants to take dance lessons. I’m hoping this will help her come out of her shell. She’s a lot like me. She’s sensitive. She experiences the world with her emotional volume turned all the way up. This is why she’s daddy’s princess.
Junior, on the other hand, is the most easy-going three-year-old boy ever to grace this Earth. He is his father. He’s fearless and loving and he can be quite protective of his big sister. I only call him my monster because he thinks it’s so funny. A more accurate nickname for him would be my sunshine.
“We’re good,” I reply as I brush Jimi’s hair over her ear and resisting the urge to ask Adam why he wasn’t at Cora’s funeral three years ago. “Just expecting our third in six weeks and enjoying some time off before Chris starts the promo stuff for the new album. How are you two doing?”
I look at Lindsay when I say this and she smiles, the same mildly uncomfortable smile I remember from the last day I saw her six and a half years ago.
“We’re doing well,” Lindsay replies and she looks to Adam to finish filling us in.
“When we’re not traveling, we’re living here in Carolina Beach to be close to our families, but we still make the drive out to Durham every so often so Kaia can see her Grandma and Grandpa Jennings.”
I would never guess that Kaia was not his. Except for the fact that her blonde hair is curly and her lips are a bit fuller than Adam’s, she looks like Adam and Lindsay’s biological daughter. It makes me insanely happy to know that Kaia still has Nathan’s family in her life. I wish my mother’s family had been there for me after her death.
“Hormones,” I say with a smile as I wipe a tear from my eye. “She’s beautiful.”
Chris kisses the top of my head and whispers, “Are you okay, babe?”
I nod as Jimi looks back at me over her shoulder. Suddenly, I’m reminded of why I was advised to quit the caseworker position I was offered straight out of UNC. It was impossible for me not to become emotionally involved when everything still reminds me of my mother.
I’m hoping that tonight’s outing with Chris and Jimi will ease some of that latent heartache. My therapist thinks sharing my love for my mother with my baby girl is important for me to feel close to Jimi. I took that advice to mean that the love shared between a parent and child can transcend and heal generations the more it is shared.
With Rachel and Jake not answering their phones, we may not even get to go stargazing. But we’ll still get to spend the night in Cary in our house, with all the memories we’ve created. My mom would be happy if she could see us.
I grab Jimi’s chubby cheeks and plant a loud kiss on her forehead, which she quickly wipes away.
“Well, we should let you get back to work,” Lindsay says and Adam nods in agreement. “It was so nice seeing you all.”
“You, too,” I reply as an irresistible impulse bubbles up inside me. “If you guys ever get the urge to visit Wrightsville, we’re in the yellow beach house, three houses south of the pier. We’ll be there for another three weeks.”
“Yeah, we’re having a kid-friendly dinner thing next Saturday. You all should come,” Chris says, and my heart swells with pride.
Adam looks a little confused by this hospitality coming from Chris, but I’m not. Chris has never been the type of person to hold a grudge. I think of the tattoo on the back of his neck: What we think, we become. Chris always chooses to see the goodness in others and, in turn, his goodness shines through.
Adam and Lindsay look to each other, silently communicating, and I can’t help but smile. In the years following the breakup, I would remember things that made me realize that he never got over Lindsay. We were both using each other as bandages to cover our wounds. Somehow, we still found our way home. This is evident by the way Adam and Lindsay communicate so effortlessly—like Chris and me.
“Sounds great,” Adam says, addressing Chris. “I guess we’ll see you guys later. Enjoy the festival.”
“You, too,” I reply. “Bye, Kaia.”
She smiles shyly then they all walk away, disappearing into the stream of people moving through the maze of booths. I look up at Chris and his expression is serious.
“That was hard.”
“But you did exactly what you always said you’d do,” I reply as I think back on all the conversations Chris and I have had about the time he almost lost me.
He always said that if we ever ran into Adam, he would invite him over for dinner as a way of thanking him for bringing us back together. I’ve always been skeptical of this, but Chris proved himself today.
“Because I love you more than this.”
And by “this” he means everything.
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