The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2) - Jamie Beck Page 0,42
with physical changes, but you know that already.” He waited for her to face him again, holding his breath.
Mrs. McKenna blew out a quick breath.
“Well, as a mom, I can tell you that nothing was more painful than watching my baby suffer. Darla’s probably having a visceral response to seeing Peyton’s pain preserved. In time, maybe she’ll see the project’s value.” Mrs. McKenna patted his hand.
“How many photos would be in the memoir?” Claire asked, her voice tinged with dismay.
“Not sure. Honestly, lately I’ve been getting an itch to use some of the images in a multimedia project. Peyton could record some of the passages, and I’d incorporate other memorabilia like pill bottles and parking stubs and receipts—you know, comparing the emotional ‘cost’ of medical treatment with the financial cost kind of concept. We lacked focus in the beginning, so we’re both struggling to give it the right voice now.”
“Peyton could always write well. Her travelogues were vivid. Your combined creative talent should produce something special.” Claire clasped her hands together tightly on the table.
“Your support must’ve been very comforting to Peyton. She’s lucky to have you.” Mrs. McKenna offered a proud smile. “When this is finished, what are your plans?”
“Not exactly sure, but it needs to be big because I’ve been out of the game for too long. Politics have been wild lately. I’ve missed some great opportunities here at home. But I’m craving a trip abroad, too. Been looking at different conflicts, but haven’t quite done enough research to find the right one.” He thought about Karina’s enthusiasm for going to refugee camps in Lesbos to interview the poor migrants hoping for asylum in Europe. “On the other hand, sometimes showing up somewhere and just digging in can produce more spontaneous and genuine work.”
“Traveling abroad.” Mrs. McKenna’s uneasy smile appeared. “That’s far from home.”
“Have you ever been?” Logan couldn’t recall the McKennas traveling outside the United States.
“Oh no.” Mrs. McKenna smoothed her hands across the table. “I’ve heard stories about everything from pickpockets to sex trafficking overseas.”
“You just need to follow basic precautions and stick to the safest areas.”
Without hesitation, she dismissively shook her head. “I almost lost my daughter once at that crowded outlet mall less than an hour away. I never, ever want to go through another scare like that. We’ve got a pretty beach right down the road. No need to go halfway around the world, closer to the hub of the terrorists.”
She covered Claire’s hands and squeezed.
“Don’t you ever feel confined in this one small corner of the world?” He frowned. Did getting married and becoming parents lobotomize the part of the brain that craved adventure?
“No.” She rose from her seat when the oven timer dinged, took the cake from the oven, and set it on a cooling rack. “Everything I need is here, most importantly the people I love. And on that note, I’d better go change before we go pick up my mom. Excuse me.”
After she left the room, Logan looked at Claire. “Do you agree with her?”
She didn’t answer quickly.
“Mostly.” That one word confirmed what he suspected about her, though. Somewhere in there Claire wanted more. “Sometimes I hear or read about something that I get an itch to see, but then I weigh the risk and can’t take it.”
“You’re giving in to irrational levels of fear.”
She twisted a paper napkin around her fingers. “Well, after you’ve been blindsided and had to fight for your life, then you can judge me.”
He drummed his fingers on the table. “Bull.”
“Pardon me?” She scowled.
“I would’ve bought that argument ten or twelve years ago, but not now. You’re way tougher than this, Claire. Don’t let your parents’ fears hem you in.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, the world has only become more dangerous in the past fifteen years. More mass shootings, bombings. Did you know that one hundred ten thousand are shot annually? That’s one person every five minutes, and a third of them die. And that’s just gun violence. Cripes, last year that crazy guy drove his car into a crowd in Times Square. And don’t get me started on school shootings and political discord ramping up tensions. My fear isn’t about weakness or irrationality. It’s about reality.”
“In reality, the vast majority of people who live in cities and travel extensively never get hurt, robbed, or experience anything other than poor transit service,” he shot back. “I can’t believe you’re actually content to live out all of your days never seeing the colors of the