The Shell Collector - Nancy Naigle Page 0,66

there with you. It will always be, should be, a special place. You don’t have to abandon everything because he’s gone. You know that, right?”

“It would still be the trip of a lifetime,” she agreed.

“And you’ve got a long life ahead of you.”

“Did you and Jarvis have something you had always planned to do but didn’t get the chance?”

“Gosh, no one has ever asked me that in all these years.”

“I’m askin’ now.”

A thoughtful woman. So special. “Thank you for doing so. We did. We’d talked about spending a weekend in Charleston.”

“That’s not even five hours away.”

“It may as well have been five days away because we never had the time to do it. We’d daydream about it, how it would be to walk under the grand trees with the Spanish moss hanging from the branches.” She waved her hands in the air, as if she were envisioning it now. “Maybe I did more of that musing than he did. I don’t know, but we enjoyed talking about it.”

“That’s half the fun.”

“Dreams are good.” When had she quit longing to see Charleston? She hadn’t thought about that in years, although still now she could see the silvery moss in her mind. “I always thought some Spanish moss would look pretty hanging from the huge water oak in my backyard. Or maybe it would just look out of place.”

“It probably would look pretty.”

“Have you seen Spanish moss before?”

“Only in pictures.”

“Me too. I’ve always wondered what it would feel like in my hand. Soft or stiff? Does it have a smell? Would it grow if you brought some home? I bet it would match the weathered gray of my house.” When had she become such a talker? “Enough about me. What about Paws Town Square? Was it as neat as everyone says?”

“Yes. It was so much more than I expected. Walking trails. Dogs everywhere. Some playing together, some doing their own thing. And there were tons of handlers. They have indoor and outdoor trails too.”

“I’ve heard most of those handlers start as volunteers. Some kind of coordinated effort between PTSD patients and the facility. I think they subsidize therapy for the veterans. I’m not really certain how it all works, but it’s really neat. Takes a special man to build something like that.” Maeve was pressing, wondering if Paul had told Amanda that he owned it. Knowing he and Jack had been friends filled in some blanks around the personal suffering that had driven him to do these good things. Lives touching lives.

“Even the facility design was an elaborate undertaking. I picked up a pass to give it a try. Denali doesn’t do well in the heat, but he needs the exercise. The indoor trails are really beautiful. It’s like walking in a park. You should come with us.”

“I’d love to see it.”

“You could even bring Lala,” Jesse said.

“Only if they have a wagon.” Maeve laughed. “That dog will be much happier left to his own routines. He’s sort of a creature of habit, like me. I think I’ll just tag along with y’all, if you don’t mind.”

“That works too,” Amanda said.

“We’re hungry, Mom.” Jesse and Hailey stood at Amanda’s side, looking like a couple of threatening seagulls begging for french fries.

“Aren’t you always? I better get these guys fed.”

“Why don’t y’all come up to the house and have lunch with me?” Maeve asked. “I made a big tub of tuna salad last night. Not the canned stuff. Tug gave me fresh tuna that he’d grilled. It’s such a treat. I’d love to share it with y’all.”

“Can we, please, Mom?”

“That’s very nice. Thank you, Maeve. You said you were headed down to see Tug. We hate to ruin your plans.”

“Don’t be silly. Tug didn’t even know I was coming.”

“Great! Our things will be fine until we get back. Come on, kids. We’re going to picnic at Maeve’s house.”

They got to Maeve’s and hosed off their sandy feet before going inside. “Amanda and Jesse, you make yourselves comfortable on the deck. Hailey and I will bring the sandwiches out to you,” Maeve said.

As Maeve made the sandwiches, Hailey hung at her hip. “Hailey, I’m going to go grab a platter. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Maeve went across the hall into the sunroom, her favorite room of the house. When she was a child, it had been off-limits. The furniture had never even been sat on, not once that she’d ever seen. She’d cleared the room out and made it her own

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