The Country Guesthouse (Sullivan's Crossing #5)(40)

“This is the life, Owen,” Phil said.

“I know it’s hard to believe but I actually do work. In fact, sometimes it feels like I work hard. But I admit, it’s fun.”

“What’s the best part?” John asked.

“There are so many best parts,” he said. “The freedom to wander. Discovery. Every time I go after some shot, some scene, some experience, something I never expected pops up and usually sets me off in a whole new direction. The reunion collection started when I saw a clip on the news of a wrongfully convicted prisoner released from prison, his entire family waiting outside for him. I can’t even remember the details but he served something like twenty years and then new DNA testing proved his innocence, and I wondered, was his family there because they never lost their belief in him or were there some in that big crowd who would ask forgiveness for not believing in him? I thought there are a million stories of reunions waiting for me. One sixty-second film clip and I put a lot of miles on. It grew like moss on the back of a tree. Soldiers reunited with their families, or how about their war dogs? But usually one photo per story. Never more than two. Photo stories.”

“His writing is breathtaking,” Hannah said. That caused Owen to turn sharply toward her.

“It is?” Owen asked.

“Yes,” Hannah said. “So personal, so invested, so captivating. Heart-tearing drama and out-loud laughter. Since you claim to have hated every English class you ever had, you must be something of a natural.”

He chuckled. “If you knew about the stomach cramps I get when I have to describe the moment, you wouldn’t say that—natural.”

“I love those books,” Hannah said.

He told them about some of his trips, about the trip to Vietnam coming up and about some of his collections in progress. And then he did something that stunned Hannah. He told them about Brayden and how his death changed Owen’s life and turned him into a completely different photographer.

“I’m sorry if I threw a damper on your vacation but you’re here to check me out, to see if I’m a nutcase. You should know about me. I don’t tell people often because I can talk about it but it’s hard to look at the eyes of the people who hear about it. So, sorry for that. But it is a fact that after twelve years, after meeting Hannah and Noah, I feel myself changing again. This time it’s a nice change.”

There were a lot of muttered condolences and reassurances. And Hannah looked at him and let him know with her smile that she was proud of him. He had done that for her and she knew it.

  The night before everyone had to leave, Kate asked if she could tuck Noah in. She kissed him on the forehead and said, “I think you have yourself a good situation here, Mr. Noah. And a great pal with Romeo.”

“I do,” he said. “I think we should stay.”

“I don’t blame you, but you know that’s up to Hannah and Owen, right? Because Hannah has to choose the best place for work, school, medical support and all those things. But I did bring you something. My favorite picture.”

Kate pulled it out and gave it to him. It was a picture of the four best friends in a nice five-by-seven frame. “This was taken when you were just a year old. We were on a holiday. A girls’ weekend, the four of us. You were still a baby and stayed overnight with Linda. There’s your beautiful mom. And Hannah.”

He held it and just looked at it. She had noticed he had a picture of his mom on the bedside table, but this was the group. “Do you miss her sometimes?” he asked.

“I miss her every day,” Kate said.

“I miss her a lot,” he said.

“That’s why I brought you the picture,” Kate said. “I don’t have any proof but I bet she’s near enough to hear your whispers. I bet she’s watching over you. Over all of us.”

He looked at the picture a moment longer. Then he hugged it to his chest and lay down in the bed.

“Sweet dreams, little man,” she said.

She stood just outside the slightly open door for a long moment. Then she heard his sweet little boy voice whisper, “Night, Mommy. Night.”

  Hannah’s cell phone chirped with an incoming call and it took her a moment to identify the sound—she no longer carried her phone around with her every minute of the day. It was in the bedroom on the bureau. Her best friends were with her so she wondered if it was another Wyatt misdial. Her friends had just started packing to head back home.

The caller was Judd Tamaris, Erin’s former boss and lawyer. She closed the door to the master bedroom to listen and ask a few questions. Then she came back to the kitchen. Kate and Sharon were sitting at the table.

“Where are the kids?” she asked.

“Outside,” Kate said. “Getting in the way while Phil, John and Owen load the luggage in the van. Hey, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Something has happened. That was Judd Tamaris, the lawyer who handled Erin’s will and the custody order. It seems Erin’s mother has contested the guardianship. They were unsuccessful in serving me a subpoena because I’m not at home so they contacted Erin’s attorney.”

“Now what?” Kate asked.

“He knows we’re in Colorado for the summer but I’d come back if he needs me to. He said he’s been in touch with my lawyer and they’re going to try to handle it without going to court. He wouldn’t give up my address without a court order and told me to stay put. He’ll call back tomorrow.”