Fly Away Home

Chapter 15

I can't rightfully take credit for the brilliance of her idea.

Such is the innocent beauty of a young mind, encouraging risk in the face of fear. Even when the likelihood of a disappointing failure is high.

Lizzie helped me gather all the ingredients from local sources. The eggs originated from Feldman's Farm on the outskirts of Pigeon Grove. Princess Lay-A is the hen-extraordinaire. She earned the name thanks to her fancy-pants gait unlike any other in the brood. But with the quality of each egg she produces, I can't fault her pretentious nature. They are that good. Knowing and sharing little tidbits like this? It transforms a small town into a close-knit community.

All the vegetables came from Hank and Lydia. I insisted on paying for them, but neither one would take my money. They said it was their contribution to the neighborhood brunch. It's another perfect example of simple kindness leading to bountiful warmth. I got fresh coffee beans from Caldwell's, even though I no longer have a need for its caffeinating effects.

This is the first time I have allowed people other than family into my home. It is scary, but it feels right. I'm appreciating how those two conflicting emotions nurture each other. Those things that frighten you the most are often the ones you're meant to pursue. Chatty neighbors and hearty laughing replace the silent echoes of creaking floorboards. Yes, this is right.

There are tomatoes, onions, and spinach in the omelets. The smell of sautéed vegetables mixes with fluffy eggs and cheerful conversation. It delivers a moment of sensory bliss. I glance around at everyone mingling and breathe in the ambiance.

Jack holds a glass of lemonade while sharing some flowing hand gestures with Hank. I understand why his art is so compelling. There is a magnetic quality to his every movement, even when watching him do nothing more than engage in a casual chat. I chastised myself for falling victim to his charm, but my opinion on that matter has changed. Life is short, and experiences like this don't arrive often. It's our duty as human beings to recognize and live those special moments to the fullest.

My talk with Lizzie encouraged a different vegetable on today's menu. An intangible one. The olive branch extended to Hank, Lydia, and Jack offers my heartfelt apology. For being far too judgmental.

Speaking of my niece, it's her final day in Pigeon Grove. Despite all the joy and happiness surrounding me, I'm saddened by her imminent departure. This has been an extraordinary and sensational week. One that never would have come to pass in this remarkable way without her presence.

The knock on my front door, once intimidating and frightful, is welcome music to my ears. Especially when I see who's standing on the other side of the mesh screen. "Russell Stover. How's the sweetest brother in the world?"

"Hey, Claire Bear." I can tell he notices the new glow surrounding me. A meandering and cathartic path has led me to this moment, but I'm a different person than I was one short week ago.

"So?" I need not say anymore. We have a sibling bond that never disappears, no matter what. A beaming smile stretches wide across his face. I know the answer to my question before he shares another word.

"I got it." Relief, exhaustion, and exhilaration seep between his words. There it is again. Conflicting emotions come together with amazing cohesion when we allow them to.

"I'm so proud of you." To see someone work so hard toward a dream and have it fulfilled is inspiring and motivating. To have it be your own brother makes it that much better.

"The same goes for you." He wasn't here, but I can tell Russell understands the depth of what transpired over the past seven days. There's that unspoken sibling connection again.

"Dad!" Bouncing into the room, Lizzie jumps into her dad's open arms. Their hug shares more emotion than any words could ever summon, even if it's short-lived. "Wait here." She bolts up the stairs and back down again a moment later, before I can share a single word with Russell. "I made it for you." She hands him her notebook.

He glances at his budding artistic prodigy and smiles before opening the front cover. The bridge is complete. Both the painting and that invisible connection between father and daughter. It's amazing how art connects people in ways that nothing else can. Personal experience has taught me that, and now I am witnessing it firsthand.

"Lizzie, this is breathtakingly exquisite." He gazes back and forth between her and the luminous watercolors. His proud smile widens with each glance.

"I know you said you'd like to see it as an oil painting, but..."

"No, this is better. Perfect." As Lizzie's glow radiates from the deepest part of herself, this is perfect. Thank you, Hank. And Jack.

I usher them toward the dining room table. "Let's head inside, you must be famished. And even if you're not, I'd love for you to meet some of my friends."

With warmth, Pigeon Grove welcomes Russell as an extended member of the community. Taking his seat among everyone else, there's an enchantment to this moment. I stand at the entrance to the kitchen, slightly removed from the center of it all, and smile. Human connections occur across the table in every direction. It warms my heart.

That sparkle of an idea from earlier in the week returns with intense clarity. The vision of people seated around a large dining room table takes on a more visceral tone. Small pockets of emptiness surrounding me fill with something resembling a golden touch. The beauty spreads in a wave of vibrant color.

Bubbly conversation mixes with inspired musings. How might I use the five bedrooms upstairs? I flutter my eyelashes twice, to make sure what I'm seeing is real. The painting on the wall, of a colorful sky along the shoreline, transfixes me. After a third blink, it disappears. But nothing can convince me it wasn't there a moment ago.

The comments from everyone nurture my thoughts. A stunningly beautiful and therapeutic garden. The delicious culinary creations. My warm and inviting hospitality. It propels me toward an adventurous idea. It's the furthest thing I could have imagined when first arriving in Pigeon Grove on that rainy morning.

But that's how the best things come about, when they're least expected.

There's an open spot for me at the table, but I'm not hungry. My appetite has been satisfied by something else. The need and want to start anew. Again.