Page 41 of Falling for the Recluse

Near the shoreline, Josie and our four-year-old daughter Emma are busy building an elaborate sandcastle with little shell features and embellishments. Josie pats a section into place, then adjusts her wide-brimmed hat and glances in my direction. She lifts her hand, and even from the distance, her brilliant smile hits me right in the heart.

Every. Single. Time.

“Come on, man.” I push to my feet, dusting the sand off my swim trunks. “The women need our expertise.”

Eight-year-old Sam puts down his juice box with a snort. “They won the Sunset Beach Sandcastle Contest two days ago, Dad. They don’t need our help.”

“Yeah, but your mom will act like they do, which is good for our egos.” I grab his hand and tug him to standing.

Together, we head down to the shoreline. After greeting us both with another smile, Josie lifts her face toward me. I slide my hand to her nape and press my mouth against hers, lingering a little longer than is probably appropriate. She smells like sunscreen, coconuts, and salt water.

“Hi,” she murmurs.

“Hi.” I nip her bottom lip. “You look incredible in that bathing suit.”

She slides her mouth to my ear and whispers, “Does that mean you don’t want to take it off me later?”

“It means I want to rip it off you right now,” I whisper back, tamping down the lust that goes into full boil every time I’m near my wife.

She smiles. “Hold that thought.”

“Mommy!” Emma yelps.

Josie breaks away from me to help our daughter fix a section of the castle. Since Sam was right that the women don’t need us to help with any part of their construction, he and I sit down and start digging a tunnel to protect it from the tide.

“What is it?” Sam asks, handing Emma a bigger shovel.

“Guess,” she replies.

He squints at the structure, then grins. “Oh, hey, that’s pretty cool.”

I stand and move to get a better view. Josie and Emma have constructed a large replica of the Antarctic continent, complete with glaciers, islands, and mountains. The islands are dotted with tiny shells representing penguin colonies and smooth stones that look like rotund seals. Rivulets on the surface indicate ice rivers, and the research stations are built of driftwood.

“I love it.” I hug Emma and kiss the top of her sandy head. “You got the Castille glacier just right.”

“This is the Ross ice shelf,” she informs me, carving out a curve in the landscape. “And this is us on Needle Island.”

She points at the island capped with a little driftwood house, with four sticks arranged outside the front door.

“It’s perfect,” I tell her, and it is.

They work on the sculpture for another half hour before we pack up and head back to our beach house to clean up. After a day spent in the Florida sun and sand, we’re all tired, sunburned, and hungry. Josie herds the kids into their pajamas while I cook a quick dinner of spaghetti and meatballs.

We eat out on the balcony, which overlooks an expansive view of the coastline. Emma is nodding off before she gets halfway through her meal, and I carry her into her room to tuck her in. Sam eats two helpings of ice cream before he settles down on the sofa with his tablet.

Josie and I stay on the balcony, watching the sunset unfold over the horizon.

Well. She watches the sunset. I watch her.

She’s made up of all my best memories, my best moments, the best of my life. Every time I look at her, I see the bright young woman who marched into the Needle Island Research Center and filled it with joy and hope. I see that young woman doggedly pursuing her degree, applying to grad school, earning her PhD. I see her self-confidence, her determination, her ambition. I see the mother of my children, the center of my heart, the love of my life.

Sometimes I can’t believe my luck, but then all I have to do is look up, and she’s right there. All the luck I’ll ever need.

She turns her head and catches my eye. I take her hand, and we both rise to go back inside. Sam is asleep on the sofa. I turn off his tablet, and Josie covers him with a blanket, bending to kiss his forehead.

People say Sam looks like me, but he has Josie’s eyes. Both of the kids do.

“One more day.” Josie glances at me as I follow her into the bedroom and close the door. “We must be the only family in the world who looks forward to getting back from vacation.”

---