KATE

Drake went back to work just before three that afternoon, and on my part, I packed up the car with boxes of my supplies and canvases. Before I left, I put Sophie in her car seat and drove to my father's place down the highway. I wanted to go back to the studio but didn't want my father to have to make the trip. It was an hour there but I didn't mind.

After I dropped Sophie with Elaine and my dad, I drove up the coast to the studio and parked on the street outside. For the next few minutes, I unloaded boxes, carrying them into the building one at a time. Before I was finished, a guy about my age saw me struggling with some canvases and offered to help.

"You're the new tenant?" he asked, taking a couple of canvases up the stairs.

"Yes," I said and we stopped on the landing. "I'm Kate."

He extended his hand. "Marco," he said. "I'm in the studio across the hall."

We shook hands and it was slightly awkward. "I see you do naturalist art," he said and held out one of my unfinished canvases featuring an elephant drinking out of a waterhole.

"Yes, I went on an art safari in Kenya and started the series last year."

"Cool," he said. "I do acrylics. Urbanscapes."

When I frowned in confusion, he added. "The urban landscape."

"I'd love to see your work," I said, eager to meet other artists in the building and become part of a community."

"Come on over when you can. I'm right across from you. I share my studio space with my girlfriend, Serena. We'll be having some hot tea soon and you're welcome to join us."

"Hot tea?"

"She's British. They drink hot tea. I got in the habit."

"I love hot tea," I replied. "My mother was from Poland and they drink a lot of it."

I smiled, glad that he was attached so that there'd be no misunderstanding about my intentions or his.

"Sounds great."

We finished carrying up the boxes and canvases and I went into my studio and he into his.

I closed the door and stood in the empty space, glancing around, imagining it once I had everything settled. I turned around in a circle. The room was bright because of the west-facing windows, but it was indirect light and filled the room. Overhead incandescent lights added to the brightness. Several of my blank canvases leaned against one wall. I was eager to finish my current work and move on to my other plans.

There was a workbench against one wall with a shelf. I could stack my paints and brushes and other paraphernalia there. I needed to go to the local art supply store for some fresh paint thinner and a few other supplies before I could get started. I wanted to get a high stool so I could sit at the workbench and use my computer if I wanted. Plus, I wanted a small television so I could watch news if I wanted while I worked.

For the next hour, I unpacked my supplies and tried to arrange them in some logical fashion, and then wrote down a list of what other supplies I'd need. I decided to leave and do some shopping. I could return the next day and maybe get my easel set up and start back on my current work in progress.

I picked up my unfinished painting and studied it in the bright light from the window. The elephant was sketched in and half-painted. Beside it, I'd sketched in a wildebeest, which stood knee-deep in the water, a white bird on its back. In the distance was a copse of baobab trees, their spindly branches reaching up towards the white-blue sky. The white hot African sun beat down on the scene. I could almost feel the heat from memory, smell the dust, hear the wind whipping through the tall grass.

I was pleased with the painting so far and with the studio space, I couldn't wait to get back to work on it. In fact, I couldn't have asked for a more perfect setup. The only thing missing was a sound system so I could listen to music while I worked.

I checked my watch which read close to 4:30 P.M. and so I decided to pop over to check out Marco's space and see what he meant by urbanscapes. I grabbed my bag and locked the door, then went across the hall to his studio, knocking on the door hesitantly. I still felt a bit nervous meeting new people but he seemed nice.

The door opened and a woman in paint spattered blue-jean overalls answered, her dark hair pulled back with a blue head band, long braids falling over her shoulders. She smiled at me.

"You're Kate, right?" she said with a slight British accent.

"Yes, I am. You must be Serena."

She opened the door and ushered me in.

"Marco told me you might pop by. Come in. We have some tea brewing if you want some."

"Thanks."

I entered the space and saw that it was divided in two, with Marco's work on one side and Serena's work on the other. Marco was busy applying gesso to a new canvas, bending over the frame and using broad strokes to cover its surface. He stopped and smiled at me.

"I'm just about done. Take a look around. Serena's brewing some tea."

"Thanks, I will," I replied and peeked at his canvases. Half a dozen lined the walls. They were quite different than I imagined. Bright colors and broad strokes of downtown San Francisco streets. At first, the colors seem positive, vibrant, but then I examined the subject matter and found it was all back alleys, empty parking lots. Garbage bins overflowed, discarded bottles lined gutters, a homeless man sat against the brick wall in an alley, a hat partially shading his craggy and weathered face.

Marco was talented. His choice of subject was critical. It seemed like he was making a comment on the forgotten, the discarded.

"These are really good," I said, honestly impressed.

"Thank you," he said. "I grew up in that neighborhood. It's pretty rough."

"You've really captured it. I feel a sense of desperation in these."

"There's a lot of hardship on those streets."

I glanced over at Serena's half of the space and saw that she did portraits. Her canvases were all people and were impressionistic. The colors were muted, and the people's faces were dirty and their hair messy. I didn’t honestly know what to think of her work, but it was clear she had a point of view and was talented.

"Who are your subjects?" I asked.

"They're street people," she said. "Marco and I are activists. We're trying to show the people and places everyone forgets."

I nodded in understanding.

We had a cup of tea together and the two talked about their work and how they met in an art class at UCSF. It was a real love story. They seemed to be really in love by the way they looked at each other when they talked. It was sweet.

It made me feel a pang of regret that Drake had been so busy at the hospital working the evening shift that I hardly spent any time with him alone or with Sophie since we arrived in San Francisco.

I was determined to change that. Drake had a couple of days off coming up and I was going to make them memorable. We hadn't really made love for a while and I missed him. I missed that easy sexuality we shared. I loved Sophie madly but we were both so tired all the time that it was hard to find the perfect time for sex.

And we hadn't done anything kinky for a long time.

After our tea was finished, I said goodbye to Marco and Serena and left the building, driving back down the coast and to my father's house to pick up Sophie.

When I arrived, she was playing on the beach with Elaine while my father sat on the patio and watched.

I bent down and kissed my father on the cheek. "How are you?"

He squeezed my hand on his shoulder. "I'm great. Sophie and Elaine are down on the beach. They're having a great time. How are you? How's the studio?"

"It's wonderful," I said and sat beside him for a moment. "I honestly couldn't have asked for a better space. I can't wait to finish getting set up so I can start to paint again."

"Great to hear," he said and smiled. "You need to make a life for yourself outside of Sophie and Drake. If you do, it will make your time with them both so much more meaningful."

"You think so?" I said, sighing. "I was feeling guilty taking time away from them both, like I was denying them."

"Not at all," my father said and pointed to the beach. "You're allowing Sophie time with her grandparents. That's something great. You're allowing Drake time to spend with Sophie alone so he can establish his own bond with her. A father and daughter have a special relationship. I can't explain it, but it is special."

"I know," I said and squeezed his hand back. "I guess I feel selfish wanting time to myself to paint."

"Don't feel that way. You're more than any one thing. You're more than an artist. You're more than a mother and wife. You're more than a daughter. You're all those things together and more. You are more than the sum of your parts, Kate."

I kissed the top of his head. "How come you always say the right thing to take me out of my funk?"

He frowned. "Are you in a funk?"

"No," I said, correcting myself. "I was just feeling guilty and wanting to spend more time with Drake alone. It seems we're always too tired to be a couple anymore and when we do feel great, we have Sophia. Don’t get me wrong," I said quickly. "I wouldn't change things, except maybe have a bit more time with Drake."

"It gets better," he said and nodded in understanding. "I remember when your mother and I had you and Heath and I was busy trying to make a name for myself as a district attorney and worked late every night. We barely saw each other for a few years. It was hard. But you and Drake should be able to spend more time with each other by choice. He doesn't have to work. Neither do you."

"Drake has the bad shift that no one else wants so he's awake when Sophie is sleeping and is sleeping when she's awake. It's hard enough for him to spend time with her, let alone with me."

"He can get a different shift eventually. Try to enjoy what you can enjoy and don’t shoot for perfection. It doesn't exist."

"I know," I said, feeling rather selfish for expecting perfection. "I'll try."

We watched as Elaine gathered up the toys and stuffed them into the tote bag and then picked up Sophie and returned to the house.

I took Sophie from her arms and kissed her. She seemed happy and had some color in her otherwise super fair skin.

"Are you staying for supper?" Elaine asked as she put the toys away. "After all that driving, you need a rest. We're having something delivered. Just some seafood and salad from the local restaurant but you two are welcome to stay."

I smiled. "That sounds good," I said and took Sophie in so I could change her and wash the sand off her legs and clothes.

I spent the evening with Elaine and my father, ate a meal with them, and then Sophie and I drove home around eight thirty, after the last rays of sun set across the ocean.

When I got back home, I was able to put Sophie in her crib without a complaint, her toys surrounding her, the mobile on the crib moving around in a circle, a lullaby playing on the tiny speaker. Her eyes were still closed when I left the room and closed the door.

I went to the kitchen and made myself a cup of hot decaf coffee and stood in front of the picture window, watching the ocean as the sky darkened and the stars began to peek out of the blackness.

My cell dinged, indicating a text.

I picked up my cell from the kitchen island counter and was rewarded with a text from Drake.

DRAKE: Hey, sweetheart. How are you and my favorite little girl?

I smiled and texted him back.

KATE: We just got back from my parents. Sophie is asleep and I'm drinking a cup of decaf and being thankful for the wonderful life I have with you.

DRAKE: I miss you. I'm off tomorrow so I hope the three of us can try to have some fun and enjoy a few days of peace and quiet.

KATE: Sounds good. Elaine said we could leave Sophie there overnight so you and I could have a romantic interlude if we wanted.

DRAKE: That sounds fantastic. Maybe not tomorrow night because I'm sure I'll still be wildly out of sync with your sleep schedule and would probably keep you up all night... wait a minute... ;)

KATE: You could keep me up all night if you want. I won't complain...

DRAKE: I just might plan on it.

KATE: I wait for your plans with bated breath and beating heart. See you in the morning.

DRAKE: I love you, Mrs. Morgan.

KATE: I love you, Dr. Morgan.

I read over our texts and then put my cell away. I imagined Drake sitting in a staff room in the hospital, wearing his scrubs, reading my texts and smiled to myself. He was irresistible in those scrubs, a stethoscope around his neck. I imagined that a number of female staff would be drooling over him and felt a twinge of jealousy that they would get to enjoy him while I wouldn't. Of course, I had him during the few hours of the day between him waking and going for his next shift. Hopefully, our few days off together would make up for some of the deprivation I felt due to his busy schedule. We'd drop off Sophie at my parent's place overnight so Drake and I could have a romantic date night together.

I could hardly wait...