Page 157 of Enthrall Shadows
Henry knew why we were here. His demeanor revealed the tension he was feeling.
I parked the Roadster against the curb.
“A beach,” he said warily.
“Huntington City Beach.” I watched his reaction. “It has lovely sand.”
He gave a reluctant nod.
Reaching over, I rested my hand on his. “One step at a time.”
His shoulders slumped as he stared past me toward the Pacific Ocean.
“Remember that time on the motorboat,” I said softly, “and what we talked about?”
“I remember.”
“You envisioned this.” It had kept him going.
“Don’t make me regret sharing that.”
“It’s important to feel safe enough to share our deepest memories.”
“And hopes for the future?”
I shook my head because that wasn’t relevant.
He turned in his seat. “You’d like to be a mom one day?”
I took a deep breath, my gaze meeting his.
“It wasn’t hard to guess,” he said. “You’re very nurturing.”
“This is about you.” I replied. “You’re fulfilling a promise to yourself.”
“I know.” He exhaled slowly. “Have you heard of the luminous?”
“Yes.”
He smiled. “It’s what Rudolf Otto, an eminent German philosopher, called the experience of being in a state of mysterious terror and awe—experiencing the majesty of the human condition at its most beautiful and terrible.”
“Whether experienced close-up or personally felt,” I added.
“A sacred privilege,” he said softly, “like holding the hand of a dying man; beautiful and horrifying at the same time.”
Something told me he’d actually had that experience.
“It’s a privilege to see pain close up,” I said with quiet respect.
Henry understood that, for me, this was both painful and profound, helping him fulfill this promise. Because he had shared the weight of what this meant.
“Let me be there for you,” he said.
His words were absorbed deep into my heart.
We exited the car and, hand in hand with fingers entwined, we strolled the short distance to the edge of the sand.
Sitting on the short wall, we removed our shoes and tucked our socks inside them before picking them up to carry with us.
