20 years later
“Quin? Is Molly coming down?” Paxton called up the stairs. “Her eggs are ready.”
Quin stared at her fifteen-year-old daughter in the mirror. She looked so much like Ryla that every time Grandma and Grandpa Morris saw her, they teared up. “Yes. She’ll be down in just a minute.”
“Don’t forget the ketchup, Dad!” Molly called down.
Quin flinched. No matter how many years passed, she couldn’t get used to ketchup-drenched eggs. Just like her Aunt Ryla, whom she’d never met.
“Mom?” Molly pressed her hand where it rested on her shoulder. “I’m scared. I don’t know how to dance, and I don’t like being around so many people.”
“Your father will be there. You’ll be down by the shore with the pretty lantern lights and the music. It’ll be lovely. There will be people there from other places, not just your school since the whole neighborhood is invited.”
“There are a few girls my age staying at the Tidewater. Maybe they will come? I don’t want to see the girls from school.” She flinched.
“Not everyone in your life will be your friend but give them a chance. It might mean you open yourself up to hurts, but it hurts a lot more if you never give anyone the chance.”
“I know. You told me Aunt Ryla taught you that. It’s a hard lesson.”
Boy, did she know it. Re-learning how to connect with people in her thirties had been one of the hardest, but most fulfilling, parts of her life. “I’m proud of you, Molly.”
“I know. I was thinking about taking my sketchbook with me…” She widened her eyes pleading sweetly.
Painting sunsets over the water was one of their favorite things, but there were times for creating art, and times for living life. “Not tonight. I promise we can take our easels down to the shore tomorrow. But tonight is your father-daughter dance and I want you to enjoy your time with him.”
Paxton worked so hard to make sure that Quin could continue her artwork. She’d also worked hard, painting and forcing herself to reach out and make connections, all to make certain she provided what she could. The first year she’d stayed had been difficult for her, along with helping Karla start the Tidewater Inn.
“I was thinking, instead of the beach, maybe…we could paint the house?”
They’d moved back into Rosewood when Karla had gotten on her feet a year after starting the inn. Paxton had sold his house and it had been home ever since. They still shared the room Ryla had lived in.
“You want to paint Rosewood?” Quin couldn’t contain her shock. Molly had only ever been drawn to the water, just like Ryla.
“Yes. I…love it here.” She smiled at the window. “When I think about my future…I always think of Rosewood House.”
Hugging didn’t take the thought or effort it once did. She wrapped her arm around Molly’s shoulder. “Better go down and eat those eggs. I’ll be down to take a few pictures in a minute.”
Molly sighed like the perfect teenager and headed down to join her father. Quin wandered to her bedroom where the one and only picture from her past still hung on the wall. When she’d first married, she’d painted the city as she remembered it from her window. All the gray, even with the subtle pops of color had made her so depressed that she’d almost painted over it. Paxton had argued that it was part of her life and she should keep it, so she’d hung it where only they could see it.
On the bookshelf that still stood on the wall opposite the bed, was one of her most recent small paintings, of the sea just before dark. The purples and blues were welcoming to her very soul. On the third shelf now stood a long row of leatherbound journals, most full. Ryla’s three started the row and had been read many times. Her current volume was a supple brown. Next to it was a brand new one in Molly’s favorite color, a lavish purple.
Quin opened her journal to the empty page following her last entry and uncapped her gel pen.
Dear Future Self,
Ryla would be so happy. Today Molly made all the questions and all the worries about keeping Rosewood House worth it. She loves it here. Her memories are all here—good and bad. The house remains, which means Ryla, her treasures and her memories, will be remembered.
In case you read this later, Molly, I put Ryla’s sketchbook back where I found it. I thought you’d enjoy discovering it as I did. Ryla’s journals are welcome to you. I hope we have many, many full years together. But in case we don’t, because you never know what will happen, I want it in writing that I love you so much. Not just because you love art and many of the same things I do, but because you are a wonderful, complex, woman who both reminds me of Ryla yet is still completely you. Continue to be you.
Rosewood will always be here for you, even after Paxton and I are gone. Today is the day of your father-daughter dance and the day I’ll give you your first journal.
Leave your mark for your future self.
For Karla’s story, don’t miss Tidewater Summer coming May 2021.