“I feel more like us,” she said.
Josh looked at her, the sun glinting off his black hair. He would tan in minutes with that olive skin of his, courtesy of his mysterious father. “What do you mean?”
“Well . . . we don’t have doctor’s appointments here. No mail cluttering up the counters—”
“Clutter, Mrs. Park?”
“Dr. Park, you’re a slob.”
“I’m reformed. That shock collar worked great.”
She snorted and squeezed his hand. “You know what I mean. It’s not regular life with appointments and obligations. It’s just us and Pebbles. No schedule to keep.” She leaned over and kissed him softly. “Thank you. I love it.”
“I know not being able to travel hit you hard.”
“Well. This is just as good. Better, even.” Though she felt a pang at the idea of possibly never traveling again, it was definitely muted by this view, the deep blue of the Atlantic, the perfect sky above. “I don’t want to waste time feeling bad about what I don’t have when what I do have is all this. You. Jen, the kids, Miss Pebblety-Pie.”
“Get busy living, or get busy dying.”
She laughed again. “Don’t you Shawshank me.”
“You sure you’ll be okay?” he asked over dinner that night. He had to fly to Sacramento for a meeting tomorrow, and Lauren was a little glad. They’d barely been apart since getting married, aside from his three-day medical device conference each fall, and a weekend trip to Vermont she’d taken with Jen. She wanted to be alone here, so close to the sea, in this beautiful house where the sunrise woke her, and she could sip coffee and study the clouds, Pebbles by her side. “I’d feel a lot better if Jen was with you. Or your mom.”
Lauren pulled a face. “Jen just had a baby, and Mom would look at me and cry and tell me how hard this is for her? No, thanks. I’ll be fine, babe. I already called the fire department to let them know exactly where this house is in case of emergency. Sarah’s coming up on Wednesday, and you’ll be back Friday. Relax.”
“I don’t do relaxed.”
She smiled at him, then got up from her chair. “Come to bed, handsome. I’ll relax you. And I’ll clean the kitchen afterward.”
“Winning on all fronts today.” He stood up and wrapped her in his arms, and Lauren felt, as she always did, that this was the best place in the world. Right against his neck, smelling his nice Josh smell, slipping her hands up his lean back, feeling the slide of his muscles. When he kissed her, it was slow and warm, and she felt everything in her rise and lean into him, from the hairs on the back of her neck to the tugging deep in her stomach.
They still had this. Desire, attraction, affection, lust . . . and love, that golden light that seemed to wrap around the two of them, shielding them from the outside world.
* * *
WHEN HE LEFT the next day, Lauren savored the house, wandering from room to room, looking out at the ocean in a state of wonder. Pebbles, who took her Australian shepherding heritage seriously, stuck to her heels. Around three, they took a nap, and when Lauren woke up, she checked her O2 sat and found it was on the low side. She put in the cannula and turned on her oxygen, then sat on the deck with a blanket around her shoulders and sipped some wine as she listened to the ocean.
It had been a year and a half since her diagnosis. It seemed longer. In hindsight, she could see that the IPF had been there for years before Dr. Bennett gave it a name. So, assuming it had started around age twenty-three, the first time she could definitively remember feeling short of breath for no reason, she’d been living with this for almost five years.
The life expectancy of most IPF patients was three to five years. But she was young and otherwise healthy, and she was a damn good patient, complying with everything and then some—yoga, meditation, exercise, healthy foods, Chinese herbs, respiratory therapy. So there was plenty of reason to think she’d live years longer. That she and Josh could come back to this house every summer for a few weeks. That they could celebrate her thirtieth birthday here, and her fortieth. She’d made friends with Charlene, another young woman on the IPF forum, and Char had just gone to Australia and swum with dolphins off the Great Barrier Reef. So there.
A seagull drifted down from an air current and landed on the deck post. Pebbles cocked her head but didn’t bark.
Seagulls were lovely. Lauren had never understood why people called them rats of the sky (pigeons held that title, in her opinion). No, seagulls were impressive, flying like no other, diving, fishing, bobbing on the water. Calm and fearless. If she had to pick a Patronus, seagull would be in the running. Maybe part of her experience in the Great Beyond could be seagull-for-a-day.
She didn’t realize she was crying till a tear plopped onto Pebbles’s head. Her fortieth birthday? Who was she kidding?
But maybe . . . maybe she could make it till thirty.
* * *
SHE STARTED WORKING remotely more often. And while Lauren had always loved her job, she loved it even more now. She currently had two projects: one, an easy but satisfying job of creating a lookout in a tiny patch of land the City of Providence had just acquired on College Hill. Though it was a circle of only about thirty feet in diameter, it overlooked the beautiful dome of the capitol building and the rooftops of a few blocks of historic homes. She planned on incorporating a couple of benches, a circular contemplation maze that would encourage people to spend time in the small park, and a raised stone structure in the center. The other project was a new wing in the downtown library, which was a bit more complicated. Bruce the Mighty and Beneficent had just given her that one, and she was waiting on a use study that would guide her design.
She wanted to leave her mark. That was the advice Dad had given her when she was seventeen and wondering what to do as an adult. “Whatever you choose, do with all your heart, and leave your mark,” he said, covering her hand with his. “If you’re going to be a bartender, be the bartender everyone loves to talk to, who invents the best drinks and makes you feel right at home. If you’re going to be a hairdresser, make every customer feel good about themselves.”
“If I’m going to be a fashion designer, make clothes that make people feel happy and confident,” she said.
“Exactly, punkin. Exactly.”
He’d never know how she’d changed majors after his death, wanting something different, something that would benefit the community, not just customers. He’d never see an area she designed.
But they existed, and she had more to do. “Miles to go before I sleep,” she said to Pebbles, who wagged. “And I do mean miles.” Attitude was everything, after all.
The summer spooled out like yards and yards of silk, beautiful and gentle, one day sliding into the next. Like Lauren, Josh could work from anywhere, so he was always here unless she ordered him to go back to Providence for a night. He needed his space, whether he wanted it or not. He needed his punching bag and to see Ben Kim, who understood him like no one else. Lauren knew that, even if Josh wouldn’t admit it.