contracted. While the drawings were crude and rudimentary, he’d taken his time, painstakingly choosing colors and spacing.
He’d done this for her.
To cheer her up. To make her feel better. To apologize.
That was exactly what she would do for him.
Taking a seat at the table, she propped the open card against the box, chose a piece of beech wood and fired up her tool.
She hadn’t touched it since replicating the photo of Lucy. It had been emotionally draining yet exhilarating to discover she could create again, but she’d wanted to treasure her first pyrography piece in years before continuing. So she’d hung it over the mirror in her bedroom, ensuring it was the first thing she saw every morning and the last thing each night.
Etching Olly’s drawings into the beech would make a great present and hopefully reassure him that he hadn’t upset her. No kid deserved to feel bad or to blame for an adult’s pain.
It took an hour to complete and when she’d finished the last fin on the shark, Sara sat back and eyed her work critically. She’d always been able to do that, even as a teen—objectively assess and find room for improvement.
This piece, like the one she’d done of Lucy, appeared flawless. Better than anything she’d ever done before. But how was that possible, when she hadn’t picked up a tool or touched a piece of wood creatively for so many years?
She should be rusty, tentative. Instead, when she scorched designs into the wood now, it felt natural, like she should’ve been doing this her entire life.
She found herself smiling at the thought of Greg trying to accept this as her career in the past. He’d been so driven to make partner at his firm and so proud to have a wife equally as motivated in the corporate world.
Not that Sara hadn’t enjoyed her work. She had. But it was nothing compared to the rightness she felt when she etched strokes into wood.
Thankfully, she didn’t have to worry about Greg’s opinions anymore . The divorce papers had been finalized. They were no longer a couple, officially.
She should’ve been devastated. Disheartened. Yet all she felt was bone-deep sorrow that they hadn’t been able to make their marriage work. In the end, Lucy had been the proverbial glue that held their marriage together and when she’d died, they had fallen apart.
Selling their home had been gut-wrenching, however, because it was where she’d brought Lucy home from the hospital, where they’d shared so many memories. Odd that Greg hadn’t put up even a token protest when she’d moved out not long after the funeral, yet he’d made a last-ditch effort to save the marriage before the divorce went through.
He’d done as she’d asked and hadn’t contacted her following that last videoconference call. It had saddened her, the way he’d asked her to come back more because they were a good “fit” than anything else.
He hadn’t said he’d missed her or loved her or any other sentimental declarations. For him, having a second chance for their marriage would’ve been about appearances, maybe even prestige at his firm.
Whatever his rationale, she’d put it behind her. For a marriage that had held so much promise at the start, it had ended with an unimpressive fizzle.
But she didn’t want to think about that now. She couldn’t wait to see Olly’s reaction when he saw his drawings embossed onto the beech wood. However, when she stood and picked up the piece, a momentary panic flared to life, fluttering in her chest like a caged bird.
Did she really want to seek out contact with a child? To potentially be exposed to that unique, addictive smell kids had? To hear his adorable chatter? To maybe receive a thank-you hug?
A hug from a child would undo her completely. Then again, hadn’t she come to the realization after Jake left that she needed to get a grip and better handle her emotions around other people?
“You can do this,” she muttered, cradling the piece in her hands as
He’d done this for her.
To cheer her up. To make her feel better. To apologize.
That was exactly what she would do for him.
Taking a seat at the table, she propped the open card against the box, chose a piece of beech wood and fired up her tool.
She hadn’t touched it since replicating the photo of Lucy. It had been emotionally draining yet exhilarating to discover she could create again, but she’d wanted to treasure her first pyrography piece in years before continuing. So she’d hung it over the mirror in her bedroom, ensuring it was the first thing she saw every morning and the last thing each night.
Etching Olly’s drawings into the beech would make a great present and hopefully reassure him that he hadn’t upset her. No kid deserved to feel bad or to blame for an adult’s pain.
It took an hour to complete and when she’d finished the last fin on the shark, Sara sat back and eyed her work critically. She’d always been able to do that, even as a teen—objectively assess and find room for improvement.
This piece, like the one she’d done of Lucy, appeared flawless. Better than anything she’d ever done before. But how was that possible, when she hadn’t picked up a tool or touched a piece of wood creatively for so many years?
She should be rusty, tentative. Instead, when she scorched designs into the wood now, it felt natural, like she should’ve been doing this her entire life.
She found herself smiling at the thought of Greg trying to accept this as her career in the past. He’d been so driven to make partner at his firm and so proud to have a wife equally as motivated in the corporate world.
Not that Sara hadn’t enjoyed her work. She had. But it was nothing compared to the rightness she felt when she etched strokes into wood.
Thankfully, she didn’t have to worry about Greg’s opinions anymore . The divorce papers had been finalized. They were no longer a couple, officially.
She should’ve been devastated. Disheartened. Yet all she felt was bone-deep sorrow that they hadn’t been able to make their marriage work. In the end, Lucy had been the proverbial glue that held their marriage together and when she’d died, they had fallen apart.
Selling their home had been gut-wrenching, however, because it was where she’d brought Lucy home from the hospital, where they’d shared so many memories. Odd that Greg hadn’t put up even a token protest when she’d moved out not long after the funeral, yet he’d made a last-ditch effort to save the marriage before the divorce went through.
He’d done as she’d asked and hadn’t contacted her following that last videoconference call. It had saddened her, the way he’d asked her to come back more because they were a good “fit” than anything else.
He hadn’t said he’d missed her or loved her or any other sentimental declarations. For him, having a second chance for their marriage would’ve been about appearances, maybe even prestige at his firm.
Whatever his rationale, she’d put it behind her. For a marriage that had held so much promise at the start, it had ended with an unimpressive fizzle.
But she didn’t want to think about that now. She couldn’t wait to see Olly’s reaction when he saw his drawings embossed onto the beech wood. However, when she stood and picked up the piece, a momentary panic flared to life, fluttering in her chest like a caged bird.
Did she really want to seek out contact with a child? To potentially be exposed to that unique, addictive smell kids had? To hear his adorable chatter? To maybe receive a thank-you hug?
A hug from a child would undo her completely. Then again, hadn’t she come to the realization after Jake left that she needed to get a grip and better handle her emotions around other people?
“You can do this,” she muttered, cradling the piece in her hands as
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