Chapter 10

Eden stood outside Sapphire Bay’s only elementary school, taking in the colorful murals painted on the walls and the sound of children laughing on the playground.

The principal had been welcoming and enthusiastic about her offer to volunteer. She’d introduced her to Diana Preston, a woman about the same age as Eden, with a warm smile and an infectious passion for teaching.

Diana led Eden down the hallway, past rows of brightly decorated classrooms. “I’m so glad you’re here, Eden,” she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I could use an extra pair of hands, especially in the afternoons when the children get a little restless. I love teaching the kindergarten students, but you need a dozen pair of eyes to make sure they’re doing what they’re supposed to be working on.”

Eden smiled, feeling a mixture of nerves and anticipation. “I’m happy to do whatever makes your job easier. It feels good to be back in a school environment.” She wouldn’t be working with any children today, but she would be discussing with Diana how she could help.

They entered Diana’s classroom, a vibrant space filled with posters, students’ artwork, and an impressive array of books. Diana gestured for Eden to sit at a small round table. “I thought we could chat in here. The children have just left, so it’s a little quieter now.”

Eden nodded, taking a seat. “This is a wonderful classroom. You’ve created an inviting space for your students.”

Diana beamed. “Thank you. I try to make it a place where they feel safe and inspired. So, tell me, what brought you to Sapphire Bay?”

Eden hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. “I used to be a teacher in Boston. I loved my job, but last year there was a shooting at my school. One of my students brought a gun into my classroom and shot two children. One of the students died and, after that, I couldn’t go back to the school.”

Diana’s eyes widened with empathy. “Oh, Eden, I’m so sorry. That must have been incredibly traumatic.”

Eden nodded, feeling the familiar weight of the memories. “It was. I couldn’t sleep or eat for months. I tried therapy, but nothing seemed to help. Eventually, I was diagnosed with PTSD. Shelley and I have been friends for a while, and she suggested I come here and join her husband’s support group. It’s been great, but I still have a lot of things to work through.”

Diana reached across the table and squeezed Eden’s hand. “You’re brave for sharing that and for wanting to help me.”

Eden offered a small smile, feeling a bit of the tension ease. “I love teaching. At the moment, I’m working in The Welcome Center for twenty hours a week. I’m hoping that volunteering at the school will help me as much as it helps you and your students.”

Diana nodded. “I have a few ideas that might work. We have a reading program in the afternoons. A couple of children could use some one-on-one attention. And there’s a math group that always needs extra support. How do those sound?”

“They both sound perfect,” Eden replied, her heart lifting with hope.

“Great,” Diana said with a smile. “We’ll take it one step at a time. The school will have to do some background checks, but when would you like to start?”

“As soon as everything’s ready,” Eden replied. “Thanks for giving me this opportunity.”

Diana shook her head. “No, thank you. It’s so busy that I’m thrilled you’ll be here. If anything happens because of your PTSD, and you need a few minutes to yourself, just let me know. I’ll be in the classroom with you.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you.” As they walked down the corridor to the main reception area, Eden was excited. It was a small step, but it was a step forward. And for the first time, she felt like she was moving in the right direction.

Steve lookedat his reflection in the mirror, adjusting the collar of his shirt for the third time. Taking a deep breath, he tried to quell the anxiety bubbling in his chest.

It was his dad’s birthday, and he’d arrived in Sapphire Bay a few hours earlier to have dinner with Steve. After months of phone silence and turning down the invitation to come here for Steve’s birthday, his visit didn’t make sense.

Since Steve’s mom had died, their relationship had gone from bad to worse. She was the moderator who tried to make them see each other’s point of view. Sometimes it worked but often it didn’t.

Steve was sad she wasn’t here tonight. Even though things weren’t great between him and his dad, she would have loved being here, spending time together.

For her sake, he’d try his best to make his dad’s birthday enjoyable. When his dad called him, they’d decided to have dinner at Steve’s house, then visit the old steamboat museum to see his workshop.

Steve glanced at the gift-wrapped bowl on his bed, a gift he hoped would bridge some of the tension between them.

A firm knock on the front door made his heart pound. As if sensing his distress, Rex trotted over, wagging his tail. Steve smiled and knelt to scratch behind Rex’s ears. “Ready to meet my dad, buddy? Let’s hope tonight goes well.” He picked up the bowl, stepped into the living room, and opened the front door.

His dad, Trevor, stood on the small veranda, framed by the fading light of the evening. Dressed in a neatly pressed shirt and slacks, Trevor’s critical gaze swept over the tiny home, a slight frown tugging at his lips.

Rex trotted up to him, wagging his tail enthusiastically.

Steve smiled as Trevor bent down to pet the little dog. “Who’s this little one?” Trevor asked as Rex leaned against his legs, enjoying every second of his attention.

“That’s Rex. I adopted him from the local animal shelter.”

Trevor’s eyebrows rose. “They let you have dogs in the village?”

“Only small ones.” Steve didn’t know why his dad would assume he couldn’t have a pet. “Since Rex came to stay with me, I’ve slept a lot better.”

Trevor nodded, though his expression remained unreadable. “That’s good to hear.”

Steve stepped aside to let his dad in. “Come inside. How was your flight?”

Trevor unbuttoned his jacket and hung it on the hook beside the door. “It was better than the last time I flew. The plane was on time and the staff were friendly.”

Looking at his dad’s face, Steve wondered just how good it had been. But, if he said anything, it would start a long list of things his dad wasn’t happy with. Including his son. “How’s work?”

Trevor shrugged as he glanced around the tiny home. “Busy as ever. They keep adding more projects to my workload, but that’s the job.” His tone was gruff, his expression unreadable.

Steve nodded. There wasn’t much he could say to that. “I hope you’re hungry. I made Mom’s favorite chicken casserole recipe for dinner.”

Trevor’s eyes softened. “It smells good.”

Steve led his dad to the dining table and handed him the gift he was holding. “My friend, Owen, made this for you, Dad. I hope you like it. Happy birthday.”

Trevor unwrapped the bowl, his eyes widening in surprise. The glass was a stunning swirl of blues and greens, capturing the essence of the ocean. “I’m stunned, Steve. It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Steve smiled, feeling a small measure of relief. “I’m glad you like it. Owen opened his studio to the public a few months ago. I could take you there tomorrow if you’d like to see more of his work.”

Trevor nodded. “That sounds good.”

While his dad found somewhere safe to put the bowl, Steve took the chicken out of the oven. Thankfully, it looked as good as it smelled.

As they began to eat, Steve attempted to keep the conversation light. “Have you done anything else for your birthday?”

“I went fishing with a few friends the other day. We didn’t catch anything, but it was good being on the water.” Trevor took a sip of his water. “Are you still working on your sculptures?”

Steve nodded. “It keeps me busy, but I still work at the old steamboat museum, too.”

Trevor lifted a fork of mashed potatoes to his mouth. “I wouldn’t have thought there was much demand for tiny homes.”

Steve couldn’t believe his dad was so out of touch with what was happening, even after everything he’d told him. “Chronic homelessness is still a problem everywhere. The tiny homes allow communities to put affordable, warm, and safe housing in high-demand areas without it costing a fortune.”

“You aren’t homeless,” his dad pointed out. “Are you looking for somewhere else to live?”

Rex came and sat beside Steve. Heaven knew what he thought of the undercurrents swirling around the table. He patted Rex’s head, hoping it offered his little buddy some comfort. “I don’t need to find another house. This one is bigger than some of the other tiny homes, and I’m happy here.”

His dad’s soft grunt was frustrating. Why couldn’t he be happy for him instead of making everything into an issue?

Trevor lifted some of the chicken casserole toward his mouth. “What are you working on in your workshop? The last time we spoke, you were getting ready to send a large sculpture off to a client.”

Steve thought back to that conversation. It was months ago. “That one was delivered and is now sitting in their garden. I’m working on a few pieces at the moment. The largest is fifteen feet high.”

“It must be difficult building something like that.”

Steve shrugged. “It is, but that’s one of the things I enjoy the most about sculpting.” As he told his dad about the other pieces he was making, some of the tension in the room disappeared.

His dad told him what he was doing at work and about the overseas trip he was thinking of taking later in the year.

The more they talked, the more hopeful Steve became. If they could keep talking about neutral topics, they’d be okay.

After they’d finished eating, Steve stood and cleared the plates. “Are you ready to see my workshop, Dad? You could look at the pieces I’m making.”

“I’d like that,” Trevor said. “Lead the way.”

Steve grabbed his jacket and put Rex’s leash on him. At moments like this, he missed his mom. She’d understood what he was going through when he came back from Afghanistan. She’d given him room to breathe, the opportunity to tell her how he felt, and why he wasn’t the same person he used to be.

His dad had dismissed everything he’d said and told him to get on with his life.

And now, for better or worse, his dad was about to see one of the few places that helped Steve’s PTSD.