This Summer Will Be Different(89)
We have dinner with his parents at Summer Wind, and sleep in the guest room, the one Christine decorated with me in mind.
We walk through the field where we want to build a life together one day. We imagine what our house might look like, we discuss where the dahlias should grow. Felix has grand plans for a vegetable patch.
“Carrots,” he says, “are very good for you.”
“You,” I tell him, “are very good for me.”
In August, Felix meets me in Toronto, and together we fly to Sydney so we can hold Felix’s niece in our arms. Bridget and I hug and cry and cling to each other for five minutes in the airport, and when we part, I find Felix with a baby nestled to his chest.
“Hi, Rowan,” he says. “I’m your uncle Felix, but everyone calls me Wolf.”
Felix brings the baby to me, cradles her in my arms with the utmost of care. Rowan’s eyes are squeezed shut. She’s all nose and cheek, with wisps of black hair sticking out from under her knit hat. I run my finger over her nose. Felix’s nose.
“Rowan,” says Bridget. “This is your auntie Lucy. But us girls call her Bee.”
Bridget kept her job and was managing it remotely before Rowan was born. But she’s taking a full year leave, and we have whole days to spend together. We take a lot of walks with the baby. We stroll the harbor, past the Opera House, and into the Royal Botanic Gardens. We shop at Paddy’s Markets and have fish and chips overlooking Watsons Bay. It’s winter in Australia, but it’s warm on the weekend, so Miles drives us to Palm Beach.
I stand on the shore with Felix behind me, his arms around my waist. We stare out over the Pacific, with Bridget, Miles, and Rowan sitting on a blanket, brushing sand off watermelon slices. I want this forever, I think. Felix holding me against his chest, looking out at the sea.
I turn to face him. “I have an idea.”
“Uh-oh,” he says.
“A fucking brilliant idea.”
Dimple pop. “Give it to me.”
“I don’t want to spend another autumn alone. I want to be with you for Thanksgiving. I want to be with your family at Christmas. I want to see Salt Cottages with all the twinkle lights. I want to go skating with you. I want you to build me a fire so we can curl up next to it. I want to wake up together every day. I’m ready to live our dreams instead of talking about them. I want to build our house.”
“Our house. I like how it sounds when you say it.”
“Is that a yes?”
He holds my cheeks between his palms. “I have some ideas, too.”
“Do you?”
“I’ve been sketching.”
“Sketching?”
“Drawings of houses. Ran a few ideas by Zach and the architect at his company who designed Salt Cottages.”
“You sneak. I had no idea.”
“They’re just preliminary. A house. A barn. A greenhouse. I didn’t want to get too far ahead of myself until you were ready to look at them.”
“You’ve been designing my farm?”
“I have. I took a couple photos of your notebook, and I’ve got some thoughts. It’s all up for discussion. I want to do this together.”
“Together,” I repeat.
“You and me,” he says.
“In PEI.”
“If that’s what you want, Lucy.”
“That’s what I want.” Felix and me, on another beach, one with red sand and cliffs and a view of a different ocean. I want cold February nights with him reading me books. I want July mornings in a blossoming garden. Felix will be my home, and I will be a place for him to return to. He’ll be my oasis, and I’ll be his. He’ll save his best words for me, and I’ll save mine for him. “It’s exactly what I want.”
EPILOGUE
The Following Summer
We’ve propped all the doors open, and people roam in and out of the house, from the living room to the kitchen to the stone patio. It’s not a farm yet, but it’s not far off. Felix and his dad built the greenhouse this spring. The foundation for the barn has been poured. A narrow stream winds its way through birch and white spruce at the back of the property, and there are rows of turned soil.
We haven’t had time to finish decorating, but even without curtains, our home is perfect—a modern farmhouse, with a charcoal exterior and a gabled roof. We’ve named it Primfield House.
Like a man possessed, Zach oversaw every detail of the design and construction, swearing it would be ready by the beginning of the August. And he was right. It was a good thing, too. Felix sold his place, so we were staying at Summer Wind, and he was getting grouchy about sharing a roof with his parents.
My life is almost unrecognizable from the day Felix and I stood on a beach together in Australia and decided to knit our lives together. I moved to the island in December. I gave up my apartment. I travel to Toronto once a month, and Farah is managing In Bloom. She says she’s “considering” my offer to buy in as a co-owner. I think she wants to do it, but I know she likes to keep me in suspense.
There are so many guests at our housewarming and so many questions. What are my plans for the Farm at Primfield? How am I liking life on the island? Where did I find that light fixture? I lose track of Felix within an hour. I suspect to find him in the kitchen with the teenager he hired to shuck for the evening, but he’s nowhere to be seen.