CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
At six thirty, after settling Aldwin on his big pillow in the corner of the living room with a chew toy Drake and Rosa had brought for him, the eight of them arrived at Amelia’s school. So many phones were pulled out for pictures of them that it felt more like a movie premiere than a local high school musical.
“I’m really sorry about this,” Molly said as she tried to usher them inside to their seats. “I’m afraid our little community hasn’t seen this much excitement in, well, ever.”
“I just hope they got my good side,” Alec joked.
Rosa put her hand on Molly’s shoulder. Though the rest of Harry’s family was successful and well known in their fields, it was clear that Rosa was the main focus due to her notoriety from her years in reality TV. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’re all fine. I’m sure everyone here is really nice.”
“They are,” Molly said. “Once they meet you, they’ll be less star struck. At least, I hope so.”
Suzanne laughed. “This is nothing. You should see what happens when our cousin Smith tries to go somewhere. It’s insane. No wonder he and his wife, Valentina, honeymooned deep in the Maine woods. Our cousin Cassie has a place there.”
Harry couldn’t wait to introduce Amelia to the Sullivan crew in Maine, and San Francisco, and Seattle, and London—they had family pretty much everywhere, actually.
“You’re here!” Amelia ran down the aisle, grinning madly.
Everyone moved in for a hug, telling her how great she looked in her costume and braids and how they couldn’t wait to see her shine on stage.
“Is Grandpa here yet?” She craned her neck.
“Not yet,” Harry said. “He texted and said he’s about five minutes out.”
Though Harry’s siblings had told him everything was fine with their father, he still couldn’t keep from worrying. Not after all the difficult years that had come before this one.
“Oh good,” Amelia said. “I can’t wait for you to guys to see our sur—” She clapped her hands over her mouth. “Actually, I’ve got to go backstage now. Hope you guys all love the show!”
She blew them kisses, then ran back up the aisle, all long legs, flying braids, and effervescence.
“Your daughter is the coolest,” Suzanne said, then looked at Roman. “I want one just like her.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” he replied, then kissed her.
Harry shot a look at Alec to see how he was taking the open show of affection between their sister and their friend. Amazingly, his brother seemed more relaxed about it than usual. Granted, that might be only because Cordelia was distracting him by whispering something in his ear. Among her many gifts, Alec’s wife had a knack for knowing exactly when to step in with her often bullheaded husband. They really were a great fit.
Just the way Harry knew he and Molly were.
“Traffic was a nightmare!”
Harry looked up to see his father coming toward them, looking harried—but not like he was about to lose it.
“Dad.” Harry and Molly both stood up. “I’d like you to meet Molly Connal.”
Harry had had more than his fair share of surprises in his life. But none bigger than seeing his father give Molly a big bear hug.
“It’s an honor to finally meet you.” William put his hands on her shoulders and held her at arms’ length. “The picture was good, but it didn’t do you justice.”
“It’s wonderful to finally meet you too.” Molly paused. “What picture would that be?”
William laughed, the sound slightly off—or maybe it just sounded that way because Harry was looking for any sign that he might fall apart.
“Just something Amelia posted,” William said. “And I have to tell you, she is an absolute joy. Thank you for giving me the best granddaughter in the world. We couldn’t have asked for her to have a better mother than you.”
“Thank you for saying that,” Molly said, obviously choked up. “And thank you for welcoming her into your family so wholeheartedly.”
Were it not for the fact that hundreds of strangers were craning their necks to listen in on the conversation, Harry wouldn’t have interrupted the beautiful moment. But the last thing either Molly or his father would want was to share their private drama with the entire world. Lord knew, their family had done more than enough of that over the years.
“Dad,” he said, “come sit down. The show is about to start.”
As the lights went down, Harry thought William smelled faintly of turpentine, which was strange considering his father rarely painted the houses he worked on with oil paint, preferring to use water based. But before he could ask his dad about it, the first strains of the overture began to sound through the auditorium.
Harry was a fan of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s musicals, but he’d always found it difficult to enjoy The Sound of Music. It wasn’t that he questioned the excellence of the music or the script. It was simply that the story was so close to his own. Too close, with a widowed father who no longer knew how to connect with his children.
As a child, though Harry had known better than to dream of a nanny appearing who would make everything better, he couldn’t help but hope for the impossible. When it didn’t happen, every time the movie came on TV over the years, the ache inside his chest, the knowledge that there were no magic answers to their problems, had him switching the channel.
This week, as he’d worked on the sets during Amelia’s dress rehearsals, he’d been able to keep his personal feelings about the story separated from his pride in Amelia’s performance. But tonight, the barriers that he’d always put up to protect himself were nowhere to be found.
Especially with his father and siblings here with him tonight.
Harry turned his gaze to his father, who was utterly rapt as Amelia sang and danced on stage. If someone had told him even one year ago that his father would be here tonight looking remarkably secure, instead of enduring one of his annual breakdowns—that all of them would be here together with their partners, moving happily forward rather than remaining stuck in the past…
Harry wouldn’t have believed it could be possible.
Any yet, here they were. More close-knit, more connected than ever before.
He squeezed Molly’s hand tightly, finally understanding just how powerful love really was.
And as he looked over at his father again, Harry couldn’t help but hope that one day, love would finally be enough to heal William too.
* * *
“Amelia was amazing!”
Suzanne wasn’t the only one gushing over Amelia’s performance. Alec had been so impressed that he’d already sent a video clip to Smith, just in case their cousin had any female teenage roles to cast in the future.
Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about his daughter being a part of Hollywood, which could be so harsh. He’d support her no matter what, of course, if that was what she wanted to do. Still, he couldn’t help but hope that his and Molly’s passion for history—and the careers they’d built from it—would end up being more enticing to their daughter than the lure of the spotlight.
The house lights went up for the third curtain call, and the teens did their final bows. But just when it looked as though the audience members were about to leave their seats to congratulate the kids on their performances, the director handed the microphone to Amelia.
“Thank you again to everyone who came to our show tonight,” she said, glowing from the thrill of having put on a great show. “Grandpa, are you out there?”
“I’m here,” William called back.
“Come on up. It’s time for our surprise.”
Harry looked at Molly. What surprise? she mouthed, exactly echoing his own thoughts.
Strangely, however, none of his siblings seemed to be asking what was going on.
What did they know that he didn’t? They’d promised to look after their father this week, but could William have fooled them into thinking he was doing better than he actually was?
“My grandpa is a really famous painter,” Amelia said to the audience as Harry’s father made his way up the aisle to the stage. “Some of you might have heard of him—his name is William Sullivan.”
Gasps came from the crowd, and phones went up yet again as people were compelled to film more footage of the Sullivans.
“He hasn’t painted anything for a long time,” she continued, “but we both wanted my mom to have an extra special birthday present this year.” William walked up the steps and went to stand beside Amelia. “Do you want to say anything, Grandpa?”
He grinned at her, his voice echoing out into the audience though he didn’t use the microphone. “I think you’ve said it all quite eloquently, thank you.” Then he turned to the audience. “Happy birthday, Molly. We hope you like your gift.”
Something covered in dark velvet was being wheeled out from the side of the stage. Carefully, Amelia and Harry lifted the fabric. The gasps from the people sitting around them became excited chatter.
William had painted Amelia, Molly, and Harry together.
In the back of Harry’s mind, he realized the picture his father had painted must have been from the one Amelia had taken of the three of them in the kitchen that first night he’d come to stay at their cottage.
Molly gripped Harry’s hand. “Did you know he was going to do this?”
“No.” Harry could barely believe his eyes. “I had no idea.”
No wonder William had smelled like turpentine. It wasn’t because he was painting a house. It was because he was painting a canvas. His first in more than thirty years.
“He painted.” Harry realized Alec, Suzanne, and Drake were all staring at him and smiling as he whispered it again. “He painted.”