Page 66 of Tru Blue
Seeing Lincoln sit up for the first time was overwhelming. How could something so little feel so big and mean so much? He put an arm around Gemma and kissed the side of her head.
Lincoln wiped his eyes with his tiny fist, teetering a little. Gemma and Truman both reached into the crib, but Lincoln wobbled, then settled on his butt and yawned.
“Oh my gosh,” Gemma whispered, so as not to wake Kennedy, who was snuggled up in her new Tinker Bell pajamas, hugging the stuffed Pooh doll Dixie had given her.
“Tru, your boy’s growing up.”
Our boy’s growing up. He gave her a chaste kiss to keep the words from slipping free and lifted Lincoln out of his crib.
“We should have gotten a picture,” Gemma whispered.
Truman didn’t need a picture. He knew he’d never forget the look of love in Gemma’s eyes, the sight of Lincoln sitting up for the first time—or the feeling of his heart expanding inside his chest at how very blessed he was to have so much love under one roof.
Chapter Nineteen
ONE OF THE things Gemma loved most about Peaceful Harbor was how the community came together for holidays and events. The Halloween parade was one of her favorites. Children and parents alike were allowed to join in the march down Main Street and around the harbor. Truman and Gemma discussed the event being too much for Kennedy, but she was so excited about the idea of it, they decided to try. Tonight Crystal and the Whiskeys joined Gemma and Truman for the kids’ first Halloween adventure. They all dressed up like characters from the storybook Truman had made for Kennedy, and Kennedy was delighted at the outcome. The girls had dressed at the boutique. Queen Dixie’s dress was bright red, while Gemma’s was green, and Crystal dressed as Snow White, which was hilarious since she was definitely a dark princess at heart. After taking far too many pictures of their group, they headed into town. It was still light out when they reached Main Street, where crowds had already begun forming.
Kennedy gripped Gemma’s hand tighter.
Prince Truman held Lincoln, who was dressed as Winnie the Pooh, thanks to Truman’s love for his little girl. He must have sensed Kennedy’s discomfort, because he moved closer, putting a protective arm around Gemma. Before she realized what was happening, Bullet, Bones, and Bear, each dressed in full biker Lost Boy garb, fell into formation like bodyguards. Bullet walked behind them, scanning the crowd with his deep-set eyes. Bones moved beside Dixie, sandwiching her between him and Truman. Dixie was at least five nine, but she looked small flanked by the two formidable men. Bear took up residence beside Crystal. A bookend to Bones on the other side of the group. It was an oddly safe and wonderful feeling to know the kids were so well protected. The fact that Gemma had grown up feeling oppressed by the people watching over her wasn’t forgotten. The difference—and it was a huge one—was that these were friends who genuinely loved Kennedy and Lincoln as much as they loved each other. In the few seconds it took for them to effectively surround their charges, Gemma realized how strong a family Kennedy and Lincoln now had. And as she glanced up at Truman, who leaned in for a kiss, she realized she had that big, warm family, too. And it struck her that her own family would have snubbed their noses at such an event.
“When I have kids, I want you to write their fairy tales,” Dixie said to Truman. Her red hair was piled on her head and a few tendrils had sprung loose.
Truman laughed. “I think you can find better fairy tales than mine.”
“Only if you mean ours,” Gemma said, and tipped her head up for a kiss, admiring how handsome he looked in his costume. Then she said to Dixie, “I’m trying to convince him that we should write stories together and he should illustrate them.”
Kennedy had insisted on reading her storybook every night. Truman had not only illustrated the entire book, but he and Gemma had written the story out as well, so she could read it to Kennedy, too. It was a lovely story about family and friendship, and Gemma wondered if it was what Truman had always dreamed of, like she had, or if he had made it up solely for his little girl. Either way, she loved how he thought of everything for the kids. He worried over every little detail, like the Lost Boys stealing kids in Peter Pan and the father dying in The Lion King. He picked apart movies and books, afraid something would spark an underlying fear in the kids he hadn’t yet discovered. Kennedy had never once asked for her mother. It was a heartrending realization to think about what that meant. While creating his own fairy tale might seem a bit overprotective to others, Gemma knew that everything he did was driven by love, not by the need for control.
