Gemma wasn't what I'd call a hoot. She was an acquired taste, loud, bolshy and opinionated, and when she disappeared to flirt with Trey I was relieved. More so because it meant I was left with Sydney. My heart had never charged like this before, the last time I remembered feeling this alive was the day the girls were born. As we set sail, I watched as she took a small floral notepad from her bag, and began to sketch the scenery. I could watch her for hours, just the way she looked when she was concentrating, the tiny lines around her eyes, and the way the bright almost midday sun gave her eyes a molten honey colour. From what I could see, she was an accomplished artist, light feathery lines depicting what she saw in front of her. Every so often she'd hold her hair out of the way, and sigh.
