Slowly but (I hope) surely, I’m making progress on this book project. Here’s another little piece of the little sequel to my novel Us, Now and Then. XO
Libby nodded and smiled, recalling Sam and Claire’s very modest wedding fifteen years ago. A barefoot, bohemian affair on the beach. Just Sam’s family, Libby, Jack, and Claire’s parents. Grace, her husband, and baby Samantha too. Claire’s dress—long and gauzy with aged lace–had come from a vintage shop in Laguna Beach. The men wore bowling shirts. Sam’s sister Kate did the flowers. They’d laughed over how Libby’s mom might have reacted. Fran would have been shaking her head and tsking about the “wildflowers and weeds.” No matter. It was perfect. At sunset, Sam’s sons lit a dozen tiki torches.
Jack officiated. His words—always eloquent, always touching—had been especially poignant when he spoke of sunsets and autumns being as beautiful as sunrises and springs. Of endings as lovely as beginnings. Jack’s words had power beyond themselves, having experienced the presence of death in every moment for nearly two decades. And Sam’s mom toasted moving on from sadness and finding happiness, saluting hope, forgiveness, and resilience. Libby felt her throat tighten even now, recalling the moment.
Us, Now and Then on her 70th birthday. Both the book and the author are celebrating another trip around the sun this month.
Lorie Smith Schaefer 