BOOKS BY CAREN J. WERLINGER

Novels:

Looking Through Windows

Miserere

In This Small Spot

Neither Present Time

Year of the Monsoon

She Sings of Old, Unhappy, Far-off Things

Turning for Home

Cast Me Gently

The Beast That Never Was

When the Stars Sang (Little Sister Island #1)

A Bittersweet Garden

Invisible, as Music

Face the Wind (Little Sister Island #2)

An Unlit Candle

The New Shore (Little Sister Island #3)

Short Stories:

Twist of the Magi

Just a Normal Christmas (part of Do You Feel What I Feel? Holiday Anthology)

The Dragonmage Saga:

Rising From the Ashes: The Chronicles of Caymin

The Portal: The Chronicles of Caymin

The Standing Stones: The Chronicles of Caymin

The New Shore

Published by Corgyn Publishing, LLC.

Copyright © 2022 by Caren J. Werlinger

All rights reserved.

e-Book ISBN: 978-1-953070-06-7

Print ISBN: 978-1-953070-07-4

E-mail: cjwerlingerbooks@yahoo.com

Web site: www.cjwerlinger.wordpress.com

Cover design by Patty G. Henderson

http://blvdphotografica.wixsite.com/boulevard

Cover Photo: Shutterstock

Interior decoration: Can Stock Photo/Red Koala

Book design by Maureen Cutajar

www.gopublished.com

This work is copyrighted and is licensed only for use by the original purchaser and can be copied to the original purchaser’s electronic device and its memory card for your personal use. Modifying or making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, without limit, including by email, CD, DVD, memory cards, file transfer, paper printout or any other method, constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Piracy is stealing!

To all those who love Little Sister Island as much as I do

Acknowledgements

When I wrote the first novel set on Little Sister Island, I had no idea this would turn into a series. But the island herself, along with all of the characters who populate her, keep calling to me, asking me to tell their stories. We’re on number three with this novel, and I think there might be a few more.

My editor, Lisa, young thing that she is, did not recognize the reference to “By My Side”, a song from Godspell, that plays a pivotal part in this story. If you don’t know it, you may want to find it online. As usual, Lisa’s deconstruction of the story helped me to put it back together better than it was before. She’s the best!

My thanks also to Danielle for her final proofread. I know she takes it as a personal challenge to find at least one typo we’ve missed no matter how many times we’ve been through the manuscript.

To my wife, Beth, your love and encouragement keep me writing, especially at that point mid-way through every story when I’m convinced it’s garbage and not worth continuing.

To the readers who keep asking for more stories, thank you.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Miss Louisa and Miss Olivia’s

Orange Cranberry Bread

About the Author

Chapter 1

Blossom lay tightly curled in his bed, his tail covering all of his face save one eye that opened every time Kathleen shifted to look out the window or got up to stride into the dining room, only to return a few seconds later.

Outside, the wind howled, screeching a little as it found tiny chinks in the seals around windows and doors, despite Molly’s best efforts to weatherproof the old bungalow. Though it was only midday, the heavy clouds and driving snow had turned everything into a perpetual dusk. If it weren’t for the gentle ticking of the mantel clock and its soft chimes every thirty minutes, it would have been impossible to tell morning from evening.

Kathleen tried to go back to her book, leaning a little toward the window for the extra bit of light it gave, but after a few minutes, she snapped the book shut and stood. Warily, she went to the dining room, where her laptop sat closed on the table. She glared at it as if it had done something to insult her. She pulled out a chair and sat for a few seconds, then started to lift the lid to wake the computer, but almost immediately shut it and stood.

“I’m going out to shovel again,” she announced. “You coming?”

Blossom was instantly alert, dancing impatiently in the foyer while she sat to lace up her boots, tucking her jeans into the gaiters and cinching them tightly. She wrapped a scarf three times around her neck, arranging one loop so it could function as a balaclava to pull over her nose and mouth. After zipping up her down jacket, she jammed a knit hat on her head and opened the door.

Blossom sprinted through and launched himself off the porch, where he promptly disappeared into the snow, so that only the tip of his tail was visible. He hopped, leaving Blossom-sized depressions in the snow as he made for the sheltering pine trees where the snow underneath was not as deep, and he could do his business.

In the time since Kathleen had last shoveled, less than two hours earlier, nearly a foot more snow had covered the walk, drifting against the porch stairs. She cleared them, making the mistake of throwing the first shovelful of snow into the wind, where it was promptly tossed back at her to coat her glasses. Half-blind, she tried to adjust her scarf over the lower half of her face. The snow already caking her gloves scratched her nose, but at least she could breathe. Slowly, she worked her way to where the Toyota was parked, Kathleen’s Nissan nearly buried beside it. They wouldn’t be driving anywhere anytime soon, but Molly could park the snowmobile on the protected side of the SUV when she got home and at least see a path to the porch.

By the time she’d dug her way out to the cars, the path she’d just cleared behind her was nothing more than a depression in the rest of the snow. Muttering behind her scarf, where her lips were rapidly becoming numb, she shoveled her way back to the cottage, where Blossom waited for her up on the porch. Gauging the drifts, she decided she needed to do the same for him or she’d never find him the next time he had to go out. She cleared a path to the pines, pausing under them to catch her breath and listen, certain she’d heard the rumble of a snowmobile.

Peering through her iced-up glasses, she caught the gleam of a single headlight piercing through the murk. Her heart leapt when the beam swept in her direction as the snowmobile turned into the drive. She plowed back the way she’d come to meet Molly, who was stiffly swinging her leg over the seat. Her goggles and balaclava were almost completely covered in snow, with an icy layer blanketing the hood and back of her jacket.

Kathleen reached for her hand to lead her to the porch, but Molly paused, shielding her face with her gloved hand to peer at their roof, where a small wind-turbine whirled madly. Apparently satisfied, she followed Kathleen to the cottage where they both stomped their boots and swept each other’s backs free of most of the snow.

Inside, Molly dropped to the bench and worked her hands free from her gloves. Kathleen knelt to wrestle with the frozen laces of Molly’s boots and pull them off.

“Let me see your hands,” she commanded.

Molly held out one, the fingers almost blue. With her other hand, she pushed her hood back and tugged her icy balaclava over her head, her black hair sticking up every which way. Kathleen helped her out of her jacket and snow pants.

“Go upstairs now and change. I’ll have hot tea ready when you come down.”

Wearily, Molly stomped up the steps in her socks and thermals. Kathleen wrestled with her own icy zipper to get her jacket off. She hung their jackets and scarves up on pegs to drip and dry over the mat on the floor. All of the gloves and hats she arranged along the warm cast-iron radiator that sat below the front windows.

She padded into the kitchen in her slippers and turned on the burner under the kettle. By the time the kettle was screaming, Molly had come back downstairs in sweatpants and a heavy wool sweater. She dropped into a kitchen chair. A single oil lamp burned on the table.

“You look exhausted.” Kathleen poured two steaming mugs and set them on the table with a plate of molasses cookies.

Molly stuffed a whole cookie into her mouth, dunking her teabag up and down with her other hand. “This is the heaviest snow we’ve had in years,” she mumbled, spraying a few cookie crumbs. “Half the wind turbines on the houses have frozen. Thank goodness the big ones are churning, cause most of the islanders’ solar batteries are down to nothing after three days of this. Dad and Joey and I had to make sure the island’s generators were topped off and working okay.”

Kathleen nodded toward the counter. “I’ve been reserving all of our power for the essentials—the slow cooker and the fridge. The oven if we need it.”

Molly cradled her mug in her hands. “Thanks. One less thing to fix.” Blossom laid his head in her lap. She smiled down at him and played with his ears. “Times like this, I wish we could pick this island up and move it a few hundred miles south.”

“Tropical sounds good about now,” Kathleen agreed. “I’m so glad Miss Louisa isn’t alone in this.”

“I know. If Aidan and Meredith and her folks weren’t living there now, I’d’ve had to sling her across the back of the snowmobile and drag her home with me.”

“Along with her dad and sister’s ashes.”

She watched Molly’s eyes, half-closed as she sipped her tea. Kathleen stood and pulled her to her feet. “The soup will be ready in about an hour. You go rest in your recliner. I’ll call you when it’s time to eat.”

Molly went without argument, stretching all the way back in her recliner, a heavy woven throw pulled up to her chin. Kathleen kissed her lightly, tucking the throw under her shoulders. It seemed Molly was asleep within seconds, her breathing deep and slow.

Kathleen, drawn back to the dining room, sat at the table and faced the laptop again. This time, she opened it. The screen woke to the email she’d received earlier.

Kathleen, we missed you at Thanksgiving. It was quiet, just your mother and I. I think you should come home for Christmas. We miss you and would love to see you if you can arrange to get offisland. Think about it, Dad

She stared out the window at the swirling snow, driven sideways by the continued wind. How long had it been since she’d seen them? She had to think back. Her first birthday after returning to Little Sister, her tar abháile, her homecoming. A year and a half. Probably the best year and a half of her life. Even now, she could see the wraithlike expression on her mother’s face as they’d gathered in the island’s ancient stone circle to perform the ceremony that would link Kathleen to Little Sister forever. While everyone else had celebrated Kathleen Halloran’s life, Kathleen had seen in her mother’s cold eyes that she only wished it had been Kathleen’s brother, Bryan, standing there.

That day had marked twenty-five years since Bryan’s drowning, but it had done nothing to diminish Christine’s resentment that her beloved son was dead, while Kathleen had felt more alive than she had since Bryan died.

And now, they want to pretend that we’re a happy family for Christmas?

She jabbed at the Delete key and closed the laptop with a snap.

Louisa woke and listened for a moment, expecting to hear the continued howls and moans of the blizzard, but all was quiet. She rose and went to the window. The sky, just going from pink to pale blue, was cloudless.

A few minutes later, wearing her favorite fuzzy slippers and her heavy robe, she got the coffee started. While she waited, she hastily twisted her silver hair into its usual bun, secured with a few bobby pins. The others would be down soon. Jasper got up from his padded bed—one of several scattered around the house to cushion and warm his old bones. He stretched, his tail wagging when Louisa bent to give him a rub.

“Morning, old man.” She let him out the back door, where he stood on the porch and looked over his shoulder in disgust. “You go on down. I know the snow’s deep, but there’s nothing else for it.”

He gingerly picked his way down the porch steps, lifted a leg, and immediately trotted back into the kitchen to eat.

“Morning, Daddy. Morning, Ollie.” She shifted two wooden boxes to a windowsill where they sat in the weak sunlight.

As much as she’d looked forward to the Turners’ return to Little Sister to live with her, the reality of their arrival three weeks ago—their houses in Oregon sold and their vehicles loaded to the max with their remaining possessions—had been more of a shock than Louisa had expected. Unbeknownst to her, she’d become accustomed to having a quiet start to her day. A couple of cups of coffee over breakfast, maybe reading or sitting in her rocker on the front porch if the fall chill wasn’t too much. But with Irene and Roy now occupying Mama and Daddy’s old room, and Meredith sharing the spare room with Aidan Cooper—only he isn’t a Cooper anymore, is he? At least not for much longer. They’ll all be Woodhouses soon.

Louisa knew Aidan’s decision to become a Woodhouse must have been a bit of a blow to his parents. Jenny and Joe still had Molly and Joey and Matty to carry on the Cooper line, and men who bonded into families on this island had always taken the woman’s name if they weren’t from here, but still.

She sat at the table with her coffee and a piece of toast spread with some of last summer’s strawberry jam. Her quiet lasted only a few minutes before Irene and Roy’s voices reached her. They descended the stairs, apparently continuing a discussion they’d begun earlier.

“I told you, you can’t ask her that,” came Irene’s voice.

“Why not?” asked Roy.

“Because we just got here. We’re still practically guests.”

The voices hushed as they neared the kitchen. Louisa glanced up with a smile.

“You’re not guests, and what did you want to ask?”

Irene flushed in embarrassment at having been overheard, but Roy poured a cup of coffee and joined Louisa at the table.

“Would you mind if we had a satellite dish installed?”

Louisa stared blankly. “A satellite.” Her mind churned, picturing orbiting spaceships firing down at them like in the science fiction movies.

“A dish,” Roy clarified, “To receive an internet signal. So we can use our computers.”

“Oh.” Louisa nodded. “I don’t mind at all, but I don’t think it can happen until the weather warms. We don’t get many repairmen from the mainland until the ferry runs more than once a month.”

“Oh.” Roy’s shoulders slumped. “Hadn’t thought of that.”

“Wilma and Nels don’t have any guests at the hotel now,” Louisa said. “I’m sure they’d be willing to share their internet with you.”

Roy brightened. “That’s a great idea. I’ll gladly pay.”

Louisa waved a dismissive hand. “I’m sure you’ll work something out. You talk to Wilma when you get a chance.”

“I’ll do that.” Roy got up and busied himself making more toast while Irene fried up some bacon and eggs.

“You don’t have to do that,” Louisa protested when Irene slid an egg and a couple of slices of bacon onto her plate.

“You don’t eat enough to keep a bird alive,” Irene scolded gently. “A strong wind could blow you away.”

Louisa chuckled. “That’s what Ollie always said.”

“Wish we could have known her,” Irene said wistfully.

“Wish she could have met you.” But Louisa’s eyes stung at the thought. She could almost hear Ollie say, “And whose fault is it we never met?”

The floorboards overhead creaked, followed by footsteps on the stairs as Meredith and Aidan came down. They entered the kitchen, hand in hand. Louisa hid a smile at the dreamy look in Aidan’s eyes. It wasn’t all that long ago that he was drinking himself silly nearly every night, trying to erase the memory of Bryan Halloran’s death when they were teenagers—the death Aidan had blamed himself for. Even now, Louisa caught him brooding every so often, but those moments were becoming rarer now that he’d found Meredith.

“Good morning, everyone.” Meredith poured two cups with the last of the coffee in the pot, handed one to Aidan, and began making a fresh pot while Aidan cracked another half-dozen eggs into the frying pan for the two of them.

“I’m going to talk to Wilma about using their internet until we can get a dish installed here,” Roy announced.

“That’s a good idea.” Meredith gazed out the window. “Not sure that’s happening today, though.”

When the eggs were over easy, Aidan slid them onto plates, and Meredith added the toast.

“Oh, the trucks with plows will get out, start clearing everyone’s drives,” Louisa said, passing the butter and jam over to them. “Might not make it to us till tomorrow, but they’ll be here.”

“Do you contract with someone to do that?” Irene asked.

Louisa frowned for a moment. “You mean, pay? Heavens, no. Those who can help out, do. Then when we can do something for them, we do. Ollie and I always baked our orange-cranberry bread and gave a few jars of our preserves.”

“If you’re going to bake today, I’ll help,” Irene offered.

It lifted Louisa’s heart to think of baking with her daughter, even if they hadn’t established a real mother-daughter connection. Yet. It seemed too much to hope for, but a year ago, she’d never imagined she’d meet the baby she’d given up for adoption in 1960.

“Do you really have to leave today?” Meredith asked Aidan.

“Got to. I’ll boat over to Big Sister. Their ferry is due in today. Catch it back to the mainland and stay with my uncle for a week, till ours comes next week. We’ll be loaded down with everyone’s Christmas packages, so everyone on the island will be down to meet it. It’s a big deal here.” He shoveled the last of his eggs into his mouth. “Anyone need anything from Big Sister or the mainland while I’m there?”

Irene perked up. “Yes. I hadn’t planned well enough for the holidays. We weren’t sure how this worked with the ferry only coming once a month now for the winter.”

Aidan nodded. “With Big Sister’s running every two weeks, we can alternate well enough, but that boat ride over is colder than a witch’s—”

He broke off and cleared his throat.

“Aidan Ahearn Cooper,” Louisa chided. “Watch your language.”

“Sorry, Miss Louisa.”

Meredith laughed. “Anyway, I think you’ll have a shopping list to keep you busy.”

“That’s great.” Aidan gave her a forced smile, looking very sorry he’d offered.

Rebecca Ahearn stomped her snowy boots on the front porch of the library. The blizzard had blown snow across it, but mostly the snow had drifted against the west side of the building. She swept the porch free of the white stuff and went inside. Dropping her hat and scarf on one of the long tables, she took her down jacket off and draped it over the back of a chair. She went behind the librarian’s desk and let herself into the back room, where the island families’ genealogy books were kept, along with a few other antiquities.

With her hands on her hips, she stood where she could see both rooms. The main room, filled now with floor to ceiling bookshelves that held the island’s collection of books, used to be the island’s schoolroom. But when Maine had decided to “retire” Miss Louisa as the island’s teacher—and after all the failed attempts to attract a younger, certified teacher to live onisland—they’d turned this larger room into the main library, leaving the smaller back room to be hers. As Keeper of the Record for Little Sister, it fell to her to keep the family histories up to date, to perform other island rituals and ceremonies, such as recording the Passing of anyone descended from an island family who wanted to come and live here, as the Turners had done last summer.

Not that that decision had been without controversy—mostly from me, Rebecca had to admit. They’d never had anyone like Irene Turner. Woodhouse. Whatever. Given up for adoption, not raised on the island. She hadn’t even known about Little Sister until her and Meredith’s dreams had led them here. No matter how Rebecca had tried to justify that they didn’t belong, it seemed the island felt otherwise.

And now, the island council was going to have to consider Meredith’s proposal to let her teach here. As hard as the islanders had fought to get another teacher, just about all of the island families with children had since made the transition to schooling their kids on the mainland, some boarding at school, some living with friends or relatives. A few families home-schooled, but the kids got lonely with all of their friends gone except for the Yule and summer holidays. Most of the children were home now, having returned on the last ferry with the Turners. Little Sister always felt more complete when the children were here.

If they decided to bring school back to the island, they’d need a classroom. Rebecca didn’t want to get rid of the books. The Keeper needed to maintain control of the back room, and there were no empty houses, waiting to be put up for lottery. The island rules meant no new buildings, but she thought, perhaps, the islanders would be willing to grant permission to add on here.

She paced off the dimensions of the larger room, jotting them down. She’d call Molly and get her to help draw up a floor plan, with estimates for needed building materials. Then, they’d have to figure out how to pay for it.

In the back room, she went to a particular shelf and removed the large, leather-bound books sitting there. Behind them, she pressed on the back panel, and it sprung toward her to reveal a hidden compartment. She reached inside to retrieve another book, one passed down from the first Keeper in the 1770s to all the Keepers since. She closed the panel and replaced the larger books. Taking the Keeper’s book with her, she bundled up and trudged back to her cottage.

Chapter 2

In less than a week, the island’s roads and driveways were all cleared, the snow plowed and shoved into tall piles that would probably linger into the spring. Repairs on jammed wind turbines would have to wait, though.

“Please promise me you won’t climb onto snow-covered roofs,” Kathleen had pleaded.

Molly, recalling the tumble she’d accidentally taken off one of the island’s big turbines the previous year, agreed. Kathleen didn’t know about that, and Molly hoped to keep it that way, but the experience had given her a healthy dose of caution when climbing. She had no wish to slide off anyone’s roof.

She busied herself making oil deliveries and tuning or fixing furnaces. Though the islanders relied less on their furnaces when they could use the electricity from their turbines and solar panels to power electric blankets and such, their need for oil would never disappear entirely.

“Hey, Mo,” Joe said when she parked the oil truck and went into the marina’s office to log her deliveries. “Rebecca came by. Needs to see you when you have a few minutes.”

“Okay. I’ll swing by now.” She paused at the door. “Oh, I drove by the cemetery today. We’ll need to get a crew together to clear the stone circle of snow for Yule.”

“Right.” Joe scribbled a note for himself.

Molly left her SUV in the marina’s lot and walked the short distance to her aunt’s cottage. She had to smile. Typical of Rebecca, her walk and front porch weren’t only shoveled free enough of snow to be able to walk, they were completely clear and dry. Molly gave the door a rap and then walked in.

“Hey, Rebecca.”

“In the kitchen.”

Molly sat to unlace her boots and take them off. She padded through to the kitchen to find her aunt bent over her table, which was covered with several sheets of paper.

“Kettle’s hot.” Rebecca pointed without looking up.

Molly poured herself a mug and selected a teabag from the tin. Joining her aunt at the table, she pulled one of the papers near, a floorplan of some kind.

“What’s all this?”

“Sketches for how we might add on to the library.” Rebecca sat back, frowning. “For the classroom. I’ve tried adding on to the main room, but I don’t think we have the space without having to cut down a couple of the oaks. Then I tried putting it over here, but that doesn’t look like it’ll work.”

Molly arranged the sketches in front of her, tilting her head as she pictured, not just the dimensions of any addition, but how the area around the library would be impacted. “You’re right about the trees here,” she said. “That won’t work. If we add on this side, it’ll mean having to reconfigure and replace the current roof trusses, plus digging the foundation would mean digging into the cellar.”

“We can’t do that,” Rebecca said quickly.

“I know.” Molly squinted, trying to see it in her mind’s eye. “I think the simplest thing,” she reached for a pencil, “would be to extend the current roofline in this direction.”

She sketched a rough drawing over Rebecca’s floorplan. “It’ll be the least expensive in terms of materials, and I think we can get a good-sized room added on without disrupting any of the trees. Need a bathroom, too.”

“Oh.” Rebecca leaned forward to look at Molly’s drawing. “Hadn’t thought of that.”

Molly watched her, her black hair tucked behind her ears as her eyes—the same light blue-green as Molly’s—scanned the sketch. They looked so much alike that visitors to the island often mistook them for mother and daughter. Kathleen had. Molly hoped she’d still look as youthful in her sixties as Rebecca did.

Molly sipped her tea. “You think the council will approve the school idea?”

“Not sure.” Rebecca picked up her delicate china cup. “We searched for a teacher for so long, and then finally gave up. Now, we’ve had one dropped in our laps, one who’s offering to teach here again. With Meredith and Aidan bonding this spring, it’s not like she’s going to pick up and leave. That was always a worry if we had found a teacher to hire.”

Molly tapped one of the drawings. “How’re we going to pay for this?”

“Not just this. We’ll need to pay Meredith something. Like the stipend you and I get. We’ll need to go down below. I’ll have to arrange to get to the mainland. Don’t think I can squeeze it in before Yule, but soon. Might take a while to sell whatever we pick. Which reminds me, I want Kathleen to be part of this process. She needs to learn.”

Molly nodded. “I’ll tell her.”

Rebecca slid Molly’s drawing back to her. “Can you take this, work out estimates of what we’ll need to order? I’ll propose it all to the council when we meet.”

The hotel diner, even in winter, buzzed with activity. Early in the day, men occupied the counter stools, discussing last year’s fishing hauls, trying to forecast what the upcoming season would bring, some with catalogs of boat parts for repairs and maintenance they needed to do or dreaming of boats they’d like to have.

Nels kept busy cooking up breakfasts while Wilma served them, topping off coffee cups as she wandered.

“Need anything else?” she asked when she got to Roy and Meredith’s table where they both had laptops open.

She expertly sloshed coffee into their mugs without spilling a drop and then stacked their empty plates.

“No.” Meredith smiled. “Nels still makes the best waffles. Wilma, are you sure you don’t mind us using your internet?”

“Land sakes,” Wilma said with a booming laugh. “Not like you’re going to use it all up. Help yourselves.”

“Still,” said Roy, “I’d like to repay you somehow. Any winter projects you need help with?”

Meredith hid a smile. As much as her dad had enjoyed the island’s slow pace during the summer, he needed to keep busy.

“Well, we are painting some of the guest rooms. Could use a hand with that if you’re willing.”

Roy grinned. “Deal.”

“Paint should be here on the next ferry. Figured we’d start after the holidays.”

“I’ll help, too,” Meredith offered.

Wilma scooped up the stacked plates. “Won’t say no.”

Meredith returned her attention to her laptop, where she was filling out an application to have her teaching credentials transferred from Oregon to Maine. She’d begun the process before she left, making sure she had hard copies of everything. She wrote a couple of long emails to her friends back there, filling Barb and Jan in on the uneventful cross-country caravan with her parents, and the adjustment to living on Little Sister full-time. Being with Aidan full-time. Something she’d never wanted with any man before.

She paused, gazing out the diner window down the hill to the marina. It had been hard to say good-bye to Aidan just days after they’d arrived and knowing they’d be faced with these weeklong absences for the remainder of the winter, but she was here.

She sat, cradling her coffee in her hands, savoring the knowledge that she was home. She still couldn’t explain how or why Little Sister Island had called to her and her mother in their dreams, but their blood connection to the island, to Miss Louisa, had been stronger than anything she’d ever felt. Even her father, with his logical engineer’s mind, had believed what couldn’t really be explained. The islanders’ acceptance of that connection, of them, had meant the world.

Her dad’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Do you think your mother will begin to think of Louisa as her mother?”

Meredith stalled by taking another sip of coffee. “I’ve wondered the same thing. They’re getting close.”

Roy nodded, nudging his glasses higher on his nose. “They are. I think Louisa won’t make the first move.”

“No,” Meredith agreed. “She’s being careful not to step into another woman’s shoes. But it’s like there’s a hunger in Mom for this connection. I never realized she didn’t have that with Grandma.”

“Nor did I. Not that their relationship was strained or anything,” Roy mused. “But it was never really affectionate. I always chalked that up to New England reserve. But now, I’m not so sure.”

“Art sure has reevaluated his relationship with them,” Meredith said. “Kenny says he’s still angry.”

“He and Irene believed one thing all their lives, and then found out they’d been lied to.” Roy shook his head. “I think if they’d been told from the start they were both adopted, it never would have been an issue.”

He redirected his attention to the scene beyond the window. “How about you?”

“What about me?”

“Well, to point out the obvious, Louisa’s also your grandmother. Do you think you’ll begin to see her that way?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Meredith gave a half-laugh. “I don’t know her that well.”

Roy drained his coffee cup and shut his laptop. “You’ve got nothing but time.”

Meredith also closed her laptop and slid it into her bag. “Right now, it’s time to do some grocery shopping. We go through more food in a week than Louisa would in a month.”

At the mention of the market, Roy’s face lit up. “And I have to check in with my buddies. Did I tell you, little Charlotte remembered me?”

Meredith followed him out of the diner, grateful that the Shannahan children had captured her dad’s affections. But she was certain it wouldn’t be long before he and her mom started dropping hints about wanting grandkids.

“Nothing but time,” she muttered.

In the back room of the library, Kathleen leaned over the table, flipping through the yellowed pages of the Keeper’s book. The first dozen or so pages were filled with a sort of inventory, the handwriting cramped and smudged in places. She took her glasses off to bend closer.

After those pages were others, listing dates and descriptions of items, some with sketches of old coins, or handwrought cups and dishes, or jewels, some in ornate settings.

“What’re these?” she asked.

“Those are the items we’ve sold,” Rebecca replied. “We keep careful track of what, when, and where.”

Kathleen saw now, little notations describing Boston or New York or Albany, along with surnames. “Who are these people?”

“Not people, but auction houses,” Rebecca corrected. “We try to scatter them, not arouse curiosity or suspicion about where our objects come from. The last thing we need is treasure hunters diving the waters around the shipwreck.”

Kathleen glanced up. “You think there’s more down there.”

Rebecca nodded. “I do. The last dives were done by the First Ones, who were experienced divers, but limited by how deep they could go and how long they could hold their breath. Who knows what else could be down there? I’ve been wondering about mounting another search, but I don’t want to bring in outsiders.”

“Wow.” Kathleen sat back. “I hadn’t thought there could be more. Don’t any of the islanders scuba dive?”

“No. Too busy trying to scratch out a living fishing. But I’ve been thinking we should propose it. Get a few people trained, certified, and see what we can find. In the meantime…” She tapped the book. “You and I need to decide what we’ll sell and where. Get the council’s okay on it.”

She stood and went to lock the library door. “Don’t want anyone walking in on us. Help me.”

Blossom scrambled out of the way as the two humans moved the table and then rolled the woven rug under it. Rebecca produced a hook-shaped iron tool slim enough to slide between two floorboards. She inserted it, fishing it around for a few seconds before it caught on something with a metallic click. An upward pull on the tool released the catch on a trap door. It popped up enough for their fingers to grasp it and open it all the way.

Rebecca lit an oil lamp and led the way down an old set of wooden steps to a cavern below the library. Kathleen had been here once before, but it still amazed her, the treasure recovered from the ship that had carried their ancestors—tables laden with dishes made of fine china, gold, and silver; bags of coins and jewels; stacks of gilded frames, and leather cases filled with heavy silver and gold eating utensils.

Blossom whined from above, his head hanging into the opening.

“Can’t believe this has stayed hidden and protected down here,” Kathleen murmured. “Even if the First Ones didn’t value this, the Irish must have. Why didn’t they ransack this when it was first brought ashore?”

“It wasn’t retrieved right away. By the time it was, the survivors who wanted to leave had been rowed over to Big Sister, and from there, who knows. But the ones who chose to stay here had already accepted the wisdom of the First Ones—no one owns land or houses, we all share what the island has to offer. That includes this.”

“How do you decide what to sell?”

“We vary it, pick something we haven’t sold in a long while.” Rebecca considered. “As a matter of fact, it’s been years. We’ve been getting by off what we sold and invested in the eighties, so there’s less danger of anyone recognizing a pattern and getting nosy.”

Kathleen untied one of the leather bags and reached inside. She hefted a handful of gold coins. “So, these? Jewels?”

“Coins wash up often enough, and currents carry them, so they might be the safest. And jewels can be passed down in families without anyone questioning where they came from. We’ll see what the council says.”

They slid several coins and a few jewels into a cloth bag.

Kathleen followed Rebecca back up the steps and helped her put the rug and table back in place. “When are you meeting?”

“Before Yule. I want a decision that the rest of the island families can weigh in on while the children are home.”

Rebecca put the Keeper’s book back in its secret cubby. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“About what?” Kathleen asked, suddenly nervous.

“Relax. You always expect the worst.”

“Sorry. Habit.” Kathleen reached for her scarf.

“Anyway, you need to look into getting ordained.”

Kathleen’s mouth fell open. “Ordained?”

“It’s not a big deal.” Rebecca reached for her jacket. “You can pick something online. But if you’re to become the next Keeper, you’ll be called upon to do not only bondings, but weddings here onisland. You need to be legal.”

“Oh. Hadn’t thought of that. Okay, I’ll start looking. What did you do?”

Rebecca accompanied her out of the library. “I majored in theology. You didn’t know that?”

“No. Where did you go to school?”

“Boston College. Eons ago. Pre-internet.”

“Oh, the dark ages.” Kathleen grinned. “Did you always know you wanted to be Keeper?”

Rebecca nodded. “I was bugging Naomi Greatneck, Wilma’s mother, from the time I was about ten. It wasn’t so much wanting to be Keeper as feeling I was meant to be Keeper.”

“Like it was your destiny?”

“Destiny. Fate.” A shadow passed over Rebecca’s face. “Penance.”

Chapter 3

It seemed the entire population of Little Sister was gathered when the ferry arrived. People trailed down the hill from the diner and the shops when the ferry’s horn blasted to signal its approach. More children—the ones who hadn’t come on the last ferry—burst from the cabin, lining up along the rail to wave and shout.

Joe Cooper and a couple of others helped secure the gangplank when it docked. Fred, the mate, wore a Santa hat and shouted greetings. The kids ran down the gangplank, dragging backpacks or small suitcases. The crowd engulfed them with hugs and kisses. Parents carried the luggage to cars and trucks, while the kids ran around, too filled with excited energy to be still.

“Who is that?” Meredith asked, pointing to the man in the pilot’s house. “He drove the ferry when we came last summer.”

“That’s Bobby Ahearn,” Louisa replied. “Jenny and Rebecca’s brother. That’s who Aidan stays with when he’s on the mainland. Bobby and his wife, Laurie, are good enough to let us all use their mailing address for our catalog orders, then he hauls everything to the ferry to bring to us.”

Meredith craned her neck, trying to catch sight of Aidan. He emerged from the shadows, driving a forklift, maneuvering a pallet loaded with stacks of boxes. He flashed Meredith a smile that made her giddy before depositing the pallet on the dock. Fred started bellowing names as he handed boxes out, looking for all the world like a very slovenly Santa Claus, with his gray scruffy beard and ragged wool jacket that needed patches on the elbows.

Beside Meredith, Irene danced in place.

“Oh, that’s me!” she cried when Fred called her name.

“When did she have time to order stuff for Christmas?” Meredith demanded.

Louisa smiled secretively. “I suspect while you and Aidan were locked away upstairs.”

Meredith blushed at Louisa’s confirmation that the rest of the house could probably hear everything when she and Aidan made love. Aidan ran the forklift back and forth, depositing half a dozen more pallets, and then larger loads of lumber and other building supplies that he drove up the hill to the market.

The islanders milled around the pallets, many trying to hide the brands and logos on their boxes as they rushed to their cars and trucks. Meredith saw Molly doing just that. She and Jasper hurried over.

“What did you order?”

“A few things for Kathleen and the family.” Molly tossed a blanket over the boxes in her back seat.

“I wish I’d thought about Christmas sooner,” Meredith fretted. “Aidan picked up some things for us, but I didn’t think about ordering.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Molly reassured her. “You guys just got here. Nobody on Little Sister goes overboard. We don’t need much, and we don’t have space for stuff we don’t need. We keep it pretty simple here. I’ll be making most of my gifts.”

“But what can I make?”

“Food and baking go a long way. Handmade cards. Anything.”

Meredith opened her mouth to protest her lack of artistic ability, when strong hands turned her around and she found herself in Aidan’s arms. She thought maybe Molly was chuckling, but everything else was lost in Aidan’s kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” he said when they parted.

“Not as much as I’ve missed you.”

“When we’re done here, we’re going to Mom and Dad’s for lunch before we have to head back. You’ll be there, won’t you?”

“I will.”

Aidan kissed her again. “Gotta go. See you soon.”

He jogged back to the dock, pausing for a word with his mother before hopping back on the forklift. Jenny strolled over to link an arm through Meredith’s.

“Come on home with me. Give me a hand before the horde descends.” She pointed as Molly walked away. “And Mo, don’t be late.”

Meredith accompanied Jenny to her SUV. She gave Jasper a boost into the back seat. “What else do I need to know about Christmas here? It’s already going to be sparse on gifts from our end.”

“No worries,” Jenny said. “No one gets too heated up about presents, except the little ones. Yule is as big a holiday here as Christmas, to be honest.”

“I thought they were the same thing.”

“No,” Jenny said, braking to let another family cross the road. “We celebrate the more traditional way. Yule for us is the solstice. But we come from both traditions, so we keep both.”

“What do you do?”

“For the solstice, we gather at the stone circle. Most of us stay through the longest night, waiting for the tide of days to turn with the dawn. We listen to the elders tell our story—the story of the shipwreck that brought the Irish to these shores, the First Ones who rescued them, the beginnings of our blended history.”

“You do this every year?” Meredith asked.

Jenny nodded. “We make sure the children never forget where they come from. So even the ones who will leave us take that connection, those roots with them.”

She pulled into the driveway, where an orange tabby sat on the back porch, yowling. Jenny handed Meredith several boxes to carry inside, while she reached into the back seat for a few more.

“Minnow, you had an entire bowl of food this morning. You’re not dying of starvation.”

Meredith grinned, though, when they got inside and Jenny added a bit more food to the cat’s dish. Jasper sat politely, and Jenny gave him a couple of dog biscuits. A large pot of chili simmered on the stove, while a slow cooker bubbled on the counter.

“Smells wonderful in here,” Meredith said, lifting the lid of the cooker to sniff appreciatively at the chowder. “What can I help with?”

Jenny put her to work mixing dough for biscuits. While they baked, Meredith wandered into the living room, where the Christmas tree was decorated, with several wrapped boxes under it. The fireplace mantel was lined with stockings, each embroidered with a name. She was startled to see one with her name on it.

“What—?”

“You’re part of the family now, even if Aidan is going to be a Woodhouse.”

Meredith turned to Jenny. “Does that bother you?”

“No…” But the way she said it didn’t sound convincing. Jenny must have realized it, because she smiled. “When Joe and I bonded, he could have become an Ahearn, but with Bobby and Rebecca to carry on our line and Joe’s brother deciding to move to Florida, we decided I’d become a Cooper. With Miss Louisa the last of her line before you and your parents came here, we knew we were watching the sad end of one of the island’s oldest families.”

She reached for Meredith’s hand. “We are happy for you and Aidan, and Miss Louisa. But this will be Aidan’s last Yule as a Cooper. Can’t help feeling a little sad.”

Thin shavings of dark wood curled out of the plane as Molly gently ran it over the surface of the walnut to smooth out the little ridges where the glued-up boards were joined. She ran her hands over the wood and planed some more until she was satisfied. Trading the plane for an electric sander, she worked patiently. Over on a bench, drawers sat, joined with hand-cut dovetails. Another, taller desk, stood assembled, ready for oil and polyurethane.

The door to the garage opened and closed quickly, letting a blast of cold air through as Joe stepped inside.

“Nice work, Mo.” Her dad ran his hands over the taller desk. “What’s this one for?”

“Kathleen’s back gets sore if she sits too long. I don’t have the hardware to make one that goes up and down, so I made her a separate standing desk. She’s using more than one computer and monitor for most of her editing and cover work, so thought she could use more than one desk. She’s been using that old one of Maisie’s that was in Bryan’s room.”

She looked around at the mess she’d made. “Sorry about the sawdust. I started down at the boathouse, but it was too damp for this kind of work.” She picked up a sheet of sandpaper and started working on the edge of the desk’s top. “I really need a garage or workshop at our cottage.”

“No worries.” Joe picked up a broom and swept. “Is Kathleen okay?”

It took a second for the question to sink in. Molly stopped sanding. “Yeah. Sure she is. Why?”

Joe shrugged. “Dunno. She wasn’t at the dock when the ferry came in. She only came here long enough to eat, and then left. I put her boxes in the back of the 4-Runner.” He jabbed a finger. “So you stay out of them. Anyway, she’s okay?”

Molly frowned. “Well, she’s been working hard, trying to get two books edited before the holidays. She’s tired and gets quiet when she’s thinking about work, but that’s all it is.”

“All right.” He nodded. “Aidan said he’d be back for solstice. We’ll see you there?”

“Yeah. We’ll be there.”

He hung the broom up and gave her shoulder a squeeze before leaving. Molly sanded a while longer, but kept finding herself motionless, staring at nothing. She’d been so preoccupied with her own work projects, and trying to get the desks done in time for Christmas, that she hadn’t realized how preoccupied Kathleen had been the last week or two.

Giving up, she turned off the lights and grabbed her jacket from a hook near the door. Blossom greeted her when she got home. Molly dropped her jacket on the bench and toed off her boots before going through to the kitchen where Kathleen was standing at the counter.

“Hey.” She wrapped her arms around Kathleen from behind and saw that she was dicing a tomato to accompany the shredded lettuce and cheese already sitting there. “Tacos? We’re having tacos for supper?”

“Yeah,” Kathleen said. “Got hungry for them. Is that okay?”

“Sure. I can’t remember the last time we had them.” She tucked Kathleen’s auburn hair behind her ear and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “How was your day?”

“Okay. Got one set of edits done and emailed back to the author. Told him to take his time going through them. I’m going to be out of the office until after the holidays.”

She finished with the tomato, wiped her hands, and turned in Molly’s arms to hold her. “Mmmm, you smell like sawdust. Why doesn’t someone make a perfume or cologne that smells like sawdust? It’d fly off the shelves.” She burrowed into Molly’s neck.

Molly tightened her arms. “What’s going on?”

When Kathleen didn’t reply, Molly loosened her hold. “Come sit with me.”

“Just a second.” Kathleen went to the stove to stir the pans of beans and meat simmering before joining Molly at the table.

Molly reached for her hand, cradling it in both of hers. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. Dad told me you weren’t at the dock—he loaded your boxes in the Toyota and made me promise not to peek.” This brought a small smile to Kathleen’s face. “But I was busy that day, too. When I saw you at Mom and Dad’s for lunch, I figured I missed you in the crowd. Then I got to thinking, you haven’t said more than five words for days. Something’s bothering you.”

Kathleen frowned, staring at their hands. “It’s nothing. Got an email from my dad a couple of weeks ago. Said he and Mom were alone for Thanksgiving, and I should try and get home for Christmas.”

“I thought they usually went somewhere for the holidays.”

“They do. Did.” Kathleen shrugged. “It’s been a few years, so I don’t really know what they do now.”

Molly studied Kathleen’s face, the furrow between her brows. “Do you want to go?”

“No.”

Kathleen’s voice was emphatic, but there was something. “Why is it bothering you?”

“I don’t know.” Kathleen’s eyes flicked up to meet Molly’s but then lowered again. “I can’t shake the feeling there’s something else behind him asking.”

“Do you want to call him?”

“If I do, then he’ll badger me about why I’m not coming.”

“Well, no more ferries till January at least.” Molly considered. “We could get you to Big Sister or all the way to the mainland. You could rent a car. Did it before.”

Kathleen shook her head. “I want to be here. With you for solstice and Christmas.”

“Tell you what.” Molly squeezed Kathleen’s hand, made her look up. “Call them for Christmas. See if you can figure out what’s up. I’ve got the floor plan mostly worked out for the school room. If the council agrees to this, Rebecca said she’ll need to sell a couple of things from down below to finance it, so she’ll need to go to the mainland anyway. Maybe you could go together.”

“Oh, joy,” Kathleen said with such a sardonic tone that it made Molly snigger. “A road trip with Rebecca Ahearn to go visit my parents. Couldn’t ask for more fun than that.”

Every winter solstice of her life, Louisa Flannery Woodhouse had spent like this, gathered in the stone circle—though there’d been some years the weather had driven them into the chapel—to wait out the longest night with the other islanders. With a fire to chase away the darkness, the children held snug on laps, just as she and Ollie had been held when they were wee ones, listening to stories. Stories of the shipwreck that had brought the Irish here, of how the First Ones braved the huge waves to row out and rescue those they could. She’d listened to the First Ones’ account of how the water spirit, hoping to assure her love, the stag, that it was safe to venture out to her, had raised a chain of islands from the floor of the sea to give him places to stop and rest; but when her brother, the earth spirit, grew jealous that the stag preferred his sister and the ocean and refused to return to the mainland, he tricked the wind spirit into creating a storm that drowned the stag before he could reach safety. In a rage of grief, the water spirit destroyed all but a few of the islands, cutting those that remained off from all but the bravest voyagers. Olivia’s favorite had been the Celtic tale of how the oak king and the holly king fought every solstice—the oak king victorious at the winter solstice, bringing longer days back to the world, and the holly king besting his rival every summer solstice to bring the wheel of the year toward its close when they would battle yet again.

This year, though, Louisa had been especially anticipating this night. She wanted to see her daughter’s eyes light up as Irene took it all in for the first time. She wanted to hear Meredith’s gasp of delight when the fire was extinguished and they waited for dawn to break over the horizon, for the rays of the sun to hit the stones, illuminating the space as it had done for hundreds of years.

“I’m so glad we have a clear night,” she said as Roy helped to settle her on a low chair, a couple of heavy wool blankets wrapped around her.

“You sure you’ll be warm enough?” he asked.

She nodded. “Thank you. My old bones can’t take sitting on the ground anymore. This will do.”

Meredith and Aidan shared a blanket, wrapped around both of them. It made her heart happy to see him there. He’d avoided most island celebrations the last several years, choosing instead to get drunk, back when he was still blaming himself for Bryan Halloran’s drowning. As if he felt her gaze, he turned. In his eyes, she saw that there was still a bit of the boy who didn’t know what to do with that guilt, but Meredith leaned over and whispered something, and his features relaxed into a smile.

Across the circle, on the other side of the fire, Jenny and Joe sat with their youngest son, Matty, and his wife, Brandi. They’d boated over from Big Sister with their little one, Benjamin. Louisa had a feeling they’d move to Little Sister one day, get bonded here.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Seeing things continue.”

Louisa smiled. Ollie didn’t speak to her as often these days, but she popped in now and again. And Louisa had learned it might be best not to carry on those conversations aloud. It does, sister. All around us, life continues. New generations come.

“Or come back,” said Ollie.

Rebecca made her way to the fire—not a roaring one like the bonfire they lit on the beach at Bealtaine. This one was small, just enough to chase away the dark, but not so much that it obscured the night sky and the blanket of stars covering them.

In her hands were sprigs of holly and small oak branches. “On this, the longest night,” she began, “we wait for the dawn, and we remember. We honor our ancestors who chose to live gently on this island, to set in place the traditions they handed down to us.”

She dropped the holly and the oak into the flames. “As the oak king and the holly king have done since the beginning of time.”

Beside her, Kathleen held a larger pine branch and a bowl. Rebecca dipped the branch into the bowl and waved it, spraying those gathered with droplets of water.

“And holy water to wash us clean in preparation for the turning of time toward a new year.”

A few people made the sign of the cross, while others merely bowed their heads.

“As has been our tradition, we recount the tale of the shipwreck that brought our peoples together—remembering that from loss and death, a new life in a new place was offered to those who survived. But this year, we also have among us those who have seen that storm, that shipwreck as none of us has before.”

She held out a hand. “Irene and Meredith, would you come up and tell us what you saw in your dreams?”

Irene sent a panicked look in Louisa’s direction, but Louisa merely patted her shoulder.

“Go on.”

Meredith stood and held out a hand to her mother. Together, they made their way through the throng to the firepit. Kathleen went to sit beside Molly, who held open her blanket for Kathleen to snuggle under.

“I wasn’t expecting this,” Irene began nervously. Meredith reached for her hand and nodded encouragingly.

“For most of my life,” Irene said, “I had this dream, a very vivid dream of a ship caught in a violent storm before going down. I saw the people trapped in the hold—dozens of them crammed down there together, screaming, trying to get out—until one of the masts splintered and crashed through the deck into their hold. Sea water came gushing in.”

Louisa glanced around at the enthralled faces as the islanders listened to what was almost a first-hand account of what happened that awful night. It had been one of the Woodhouse ancestors, a fifteen-year-old girl named Ida Sullivan, who had somehow channeled her experience into Irene and Meredith’s dreams. Irene told of Ida’s futile attempt to save her younger brother, Thomas, before getting swept overboard herself by a monstrous wave, and watching the ship go down as she clung to debris, trying to stay afloat.

Meredith picked up the narrative. “Out of the darkness, people appeared, rowing carved-out log boats, with huge outriggers. We now know they were the First Ones, come to rescue the survivors.”

“It was these dreams that eventually led us here,” Irene concluded.

“Led us home.” Meredith beamed at her mother.

The night passed as it always had—the fire, the hot drinks and flasks, the stories and songs—but for Louisa, it felt new, sharing it with her daughter and granddaughter for the first time.

“The first of many, Lou,” she heard Olivia whisper in her ear.

When the sun rose over the hard edge of the ocean, when those rays pierced the stone opening of the circle, its warmth couldn’t equal what Louisa was already feeling.

Chapter 4

Typing a last few comments into an email, Kathleen attached her edited version of a manuscript and hit Send. This was one of her favorite authors to work with, a woman who wrote fantasy, and who was actually receptive to Kathleen’s edits.

She ran her hands over the smooth walnut of her new desk. She loved the warmth of the dark color and the little undulations left by Molly’s tools. The standing desk was welcome when she needed to change positions for a while. They were the perfect Christmas present.

Molly had enjoyed the thick socks and insulated work gloves Kathleen had given her along with a rolled-up paper tied with a ribbon.

“What’s this?” Molly had asked as they sat in front of their tree Christmas morning, Blossom lying nearby gnawing on a peanut butter-filled puzzle toy Santa had brought him.

“Open it and see, silly.”

Molly had slid the ribbon off and unfurled the paper to see a drawing Kathleen had done of a shed or something. When she looked up with a quizzical expression, Kathleen had rolled her eyes.

“It’s your workshop. Or garage. Or whatever we need it to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“I hardly have any expenses here. I’ve been saving almost all of my income since I came to Little Sister. I think I have enough saved up for us to be able to do this.”

“Really?” Molly’s face had lit up like a little kid. “Our own garage?”

Kathleen had nodded. “Really. Draw up a floor plan, try to think of everything we might need down the road, cause we’ll only get one shot at this. I figure this can be our summer project.”

Molly had excitedly told everyone when they went for Christmas dinner at the Cooper house, enlisting a promise from her dad and brothers to help. Or at least, Aidan and Matty had said they’d help, Kathleen realized when she thought back. Joey hadn’t said much at all. She’d meant to ask Molly what was up with him, but most of her mind was preoccupied with the phone call to her parents she put off until they were home later that afternoon.

“Just get it over with,” Molly had counseled.

Kathleen had marched into the kitchen as if she were being made to walk the plank.

“We really miss you,” her father had said when she’d taken the plunge and dialed their number. “Wish you could have been here.”

“I’ll come with the next ferry in January or February,” Kathleen had heard herself say.

She sat now, staring out the window at the snowflakes drifting past, trying to puzzle out her father’s cryptic responses. Since when have they missed me? Him, maybe. But not her.

Shoving up from the desk, she went to the spare room, where a suitcase lay open on the bed, half-packed with what she thought she might need. She tossed another couple of sweaters in, wishing she had a firm idea of how long she’d be gone.

If she crossed with her car on the next ferry, she’d be stuck on the mainland for a month before she could get her car back to Little Sister. Even if she took one of the in-between ferries to Big Sister, there’d be no way to get her car here. So that left her having to rent a car over there, for what? Two or three days? She couldn’t imagine even that much time in her mother’s company.

A knock on the front door roused her as Blossom raced to see who it was.

“Hello?” came a voice before Kathleen was halfway down the stairs—courtesy of the door she would never have left unlocked when she first came back to Little Sister.

“Rebecca? Come on in.”

Rebecca pushed the door closed behind her. “Is this a bad time?”

“Not at all. Come to the kitchen. It won’t take long to heat the kettle back up.”

Rebecca left her boots on the mat and padded through in her socks, Blossom nearly tripping her in his eagerness to say hello. She sat at the table and patted him.

“You weren’t in the middle of something?”

Kathleen snorted. “In the middle of trying to figure out how many hours I can stand with my parents.”

At Rebecca’s bewildered expression, Kathleen added, “My dad is guilting me into coming for a visit. He tried to get me there for Christmas. No way was that happening, but now…” She stalled until the kettle began to whistle and then brought two steaming mugs to the table. “I suppose I’ll have to go.”

Rebecca frowned as she tore open a teabag. “Why do Michael and Christine want you home?”

Sometimes Kathleen forgot that Rebecca had grown up with her dad and remembered both her parents from before Bryan’s death.

She shrugged. “Don’t know. Dad was kind of vague over the phone on Christmas. But I suppose I’ll have to go. Was trying to figure out how not to spend an entire month on the mainland.”

Rebecca sipped her tea. “I have an idea. I need to go to the mainland to try and sell the items we selected from down below. I was going to choose an auction house in Boston, but I could look at Philadelphia instead. We can take a car and go together.”

“Molly suggested that possibility. I figured I’d have to rent a car.”

“Why? Leave it with Bobby when we get back. He can get it loaded onto the next ferry here. We’ll take one to Big Sister and boat over from there.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Kathleen wondered, brightening. “You sure you don’t mind company and a change of venue for the auction house?”

“Not at all.”

“You could stay with us.”

Rebecca choked on her tea. When she could speak, she rasped, “Not a chance. If I had to be around your father for more than a day, one of us would end up dead and the other in prison. No, I’ll get a hotel room, and you can escape to me if you need to.”

Kathleen grinned. “You might be sorry you said that.”

Sparse snowflakes fell, and a heavy layer of mists lay over the marina. Meredith paced the dock, her hood drawn over her head, as she tried to penetrate the gloom. Jasper paced beside her, wearing his own waterproof, insulated coat. Aidan was supposed to catch the ferry to Big Sister and boat over from there, but he was overdue by a good hour from when he’d expected to arrive. She had no idea how boats navigated in such thick fog. The mists swirled, like a thing alive. The nylon of her down parka was covered in droplets, and she was starting to shiver.

Sudden clangs from the boathouse diverted their attention. She strode to the side door and gave it a tentative tug. When it opened, she and Jasper stepped inside. An oil heater had warmed the air, though it was still damp.

Joey looked up from where he was doing something to an engine suspended by chains from a hoist. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Meredith said. “I was waiting for Aidan. Mind if we wait in here?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Suit yourself.” He gestured with the tool in his hand. “Doubt if he’ll be in today. Not in that soup.”

Meredith’s heart sank. It had been a week since he and Fred had arrived with Little Sister’s January ferry. They’d been given permission to stay the night and return to port the next day. Kathleen and Rebecca had left with them, but then another storm had hit, shutting down most of the interstates in the Northeast.

“What are you working on?” she asked, unzipping her damp parka to shake the condensation off. She hung it on a hook and took Jasper’s off as well before stepping nearer the heater to warm her hands.

“Rebuilding the engine for that,” Joey said, nodding toward a large boat floating between narrow piers.

“Doesn’t look like a fishing boat.” Meredith knew little about boats, but most of the boats in Little Sister’s marina weren’t outfitted with such gleaming chrome and fancy-looking controls. In fact, most of Little Sister’s fishing boats barely looked sea-worthy to her eye.

Joey laughed. “Cause it isn’t. This is from Big Sister. This is what we do in the winter. Fix, rebuild, restore.”

Meredith wanted to ask if he’d done this much work on his own fishing boat—the one that had broken down in a storm last summer, almost costing him and his father and siblings their lives—but she thought better of it. She realized she knew almost nothing about him, in fact had probably exchanged fewer than a dozen words with him.

“Do you like it?” When he shot her a questioning look, she added, “Fishing? Working on boats?”

He stared at her for a moment. “Doesn’t matter if I like it. You live on an island, this is what you do.”

She thought about that. “But, if you could do anything, is this what you’d do?”

He paused, his dark brows knotted. “No one ever asked me that before.” He bent over the engine, cranking on a wrench as he struggled to get a bolt loosened. “Don’t know.”

She propped herself on a stool. “What’s the longest you’ve ever been off Little Sister?”

The bolt gave way suddenly, and he scraped his knuckles. “Godda—” Joey stopped mid-curse, flicking an irritated glance in her direction. He blotted his bloody knuckles on his pants. “A week, I guess. Ferrying to the mainland spring or fall when the ferry comes weekly. Too busy in summer. Too much a pain in the ass in winter.”

As magical as Little Sister felt to Meredith, she found it difficult to imagine staying here almost constantly her entire life and suddenly found herself wondering if she’d ever reach a point of feeling she needed to escape. Between arriving here and being with Aidan, am I just in a honeymoon phase?

“What about you?” he asked. “You really think you’re going to like teaching here?”

“I think so, but,” she hesitated, “it feels like a lot of responsibility, now that the islanders have voted to allow me. I’ve never taught so many ages. Hope I don’t let them down.”

When he bent over the engine again without replying, she asked, “Did you go to school here? With Miss Louisa?”

He nodded without looking up, now working on another bolt. “Matty and I were some of the last who got to graduate under her. The younger kids had to transition to schools offisland. Some of the ones right behind us dropped out. Don’t blame them. I would’ve done the same.”

Before Meredith could think of a response, the door opened and Joe’s head popped inside.

“There you are.”

Meredith wasn’t certain which of them he was speaking to.

“Got a phone call from Aidan. They won’t be in today. He’ll spend the night on Big Sister and be here tomorrow with Matty.”

Joey grunted to indicate that he’d heard, and Joe backed out, leaving Meredith standing there.

“Well, I’ll just…”

She patted her leg for Jasper, and they stepped back out into the cold mists.

Checking her addition one more time, Molly tallied her estimates for concrete, lumber, electrical and plumbing supplies, roofing materials, and a generous miscellaneous allowance for the school addition. Better to overestimate and come in under budget, she figured. Getting supplies to the island was always more expensive than on the mainland.

She got up and went to the stove to stir and taste the soup simmering in a pan—some of the turkey noodle soup Kathleen had left for her. The oven dinged, and she pulled out a baking sheet with a warmed-up roll, another parting gift from Kathleen.

“I feel so bad, leaving you like this,” she’d said.

The kitchen counter was littered with Tupperware containers filled with cookies, rolls, bread, and the refrigerator was stocked with a few casseroles and soups.

“I think I can fend for myself for a—” But Molly had paused. “How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know.” Kathleen wore an expression Molly remembered—the same one she’d had when she had to return to Philadelphia her first year back to go take care of her ex.

“I honestly have no idea why Dad wants me there. Not like we’re going to have a happy family reunion.”

She’d looked so miserable that Molly had wrapped her in an embrace, holding her tightly. “It might not be so bad. They were here for your tar abháile. Maybe they’ve accepted your decision to live here and just want to see you. It’s been a while.”

Kathleen harrumphed into Molly’s neck before lifting her face for a kiss.

Molly smiled now, spooning up some of the soup. Kathleen had turned her departure into something of a scavenger hunt, leaving little love notes all over the house—under Molly’s pillow, inside the bathroom medicine cabinet, tied to Blossom’s collar. Molly had left each where she’d found it, enjoying finding them over and over again.

She glanced down at Blossom, who had eaten and come to lie at her feet. “Sure wish you’d talk more. It’s awful quiet around here.”

His tail thumped in agreement. She gave him her last bite of buttered roll and got up to do her dishes.

“You go hurry up,” she said, flinging the dish towel over her shoulder and opening the back door for him.

He trotted through the snow to the trees. By the time she’d finished drying her dishes, he was on the porch waiting for her. She dried his paws off, and the two of them headed to the living room.

Molly sat in her recliner, but Blossom went to Kathleen’s chair, sniffing and whining.

“Oh, come on.” She patted her lap, and he hopped up, snuggling himself beside Molly. “Don’t tell your mother I let you up here.”

She tossed a fleece over both of them, leaving only Blossom’s nose poking out, as she picked up a new detective novel she’d found at the library. She read for several minutes and must have scoffed aloud, because Blossom lifted his head to look her way.

“That was totally unrealistic,” she said to him. “No cop would get away with acting like that. Even I know that much.”

Not that being sheriff on Little Sister Island had given her much practical experience in detective work, since there was almost no crime. But her time at the academy had given her a good foundation, and the police journals she received kept her up to date on modern procedures.

She tried for another chapter, but gave up and snapped the book closed. “This is more like a vigilante fantasy than a detective novel.”

A glance at the clock told her it was only eight-thirty. These evenings without Kathleen seemed to drag on forever.

“You are so pathetic,” she chided herself. “Come on,” she said to Blossom, heading to the door to let him out one more time. “We’ll turn in early and get an early start tomorrow.”

Upstairs, she used the bathroom and brushed her teeth, but paused in the hallway. She went to Kathleen’s office and woke the computer. Kathleen had taken her laptop and promised to send email updates when she could. With the forecasted storm, Molly already knew she and Rebecca had had to spend a few nights with Bobby and Laurie, but, “Better that than waiting another month,” Molly had pointed out.

If they’d been able to leave that morning as planned, surely they’d be in Philadelphia by now. Of course, they might have been slowed by plows and wrecks and had to stop again.

She logged on to her email, but there was nothing. She closed the window, but just as she was getting ready to shut the laptop, little email bubbles began appearing for Kathleen. One caught her eye—a message sent by Michael Halloran, subject line Before you come.

Molly hesitated a moment, but clicked to open it, ignoring the twinge of guilt.

Kathleen,

I’ve been torn about whether to say anything before you get here, but I think I should.

Molly scanned over the remainder of the message, and her mouth fell open. “Oh, shit.”

Chapter 5

Philadelphia had its charms—the river and the area around it, the museums, some of the architecture and history—but Philly in the days following a snowstorm was not charming. What was once white, pretty snow was now gray and dirty, piled into enormous slush mountains.

It was a perverse truth that the same people who swore at anyone who even thought about parking in a curbside spot that they’d spent a couple of hours clearing would then pull into a spot someone else had cleared and cuss them out for complaining about it.

Kathleen counted herself lucky that she didn’t have to deal with any of that on this trip. “Are you sure you don’t want the car?”

Rebecca looked out the window at two men on the verge of exchanging blows over what appeared to be a crumpled fender when one guy’s huge SUV had slid into the other’s tricked-out pickup truck.

“I think not.” She shook her head. “Everything I need will be within walking distance of the hotel.”

“You’re probably right.” Kathleen maneuvered through streets that were still familiar, even if she hadn’t driven them for almost two years. “Now remember, you can’t leave anything valuable in your room, even if you’re just going out for lunch.”

Rebecca gave her a sardonic look. “I have lived in the world, you know.”

“Living in Boston in the 70s doesn’t count,” Kathleen tossed back.

“The things we brought to sell are small,” Rebecca reminded her. “I can keep them with me in my bag.”

“But wear it under your coat,” Kathleen insisted. “And even then, carry it cross-body, and keep it in front of you.”

“Will do.”

“I don’t have a working cell phone anymore, so you’ll have to call Dad’s number if you need me.”

Rebecca scoffed. “Michael and I can have a reunion.”

“But I’ll call you tomorrow. When do you think you’ll go to the auction house?”

“I’ll call today if they’re still open and make an appointment, but I have no idea how busy they are.”

“I’ve never done this,” Kathleen said. “Will we have to stay until they have an auction?”

“We shouldn’t have to. They can sell the items at their next auction, and deposit the money into my account, which is the island’s account, but they don’t need to know that.”

“So you’re not going to mention Little Sister at all?”

“No. That will only raise questions over ownership, and they’ll get spooked, thinking they’re selling stolen goods.”

“I never thought about how complicated group ownership of that treasure could be.”

Kathleen pulled into a covered U-shaped drive. “Here we are.”

A bellman came out with a trolley, but Rebecca waved him off as she got out. “Only one suitcase. I’m good, thank you.”

She got her things from the back seat.

“You sure you have everything?” Kathleen asked.

Rebecca patted her side, where her bag was just visible under her coat. “I’m fine. Stop worrying. Try and have a good visit with your parents.”

It was Kathleen’s turn to scoff. “Right. Good luck. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She waited until Rebecca was safely inside before pulling out into traffic. She chose the most direct route to her parents’ suburb, but it still took over thirty minutes of creeping through downtown traffic before she got to the neatly plowed streets and driveways of the mini-mansions in this neighborhood as dusk began to fall.

She pulled into the driveway and shifted to park, briefly considering whether she could back up and escape to join Rebecca at the hotel, but before she could decide, the front door opened, and her father stepped outside.

It startled her to see his hair—once the same auburn as hers—now completely silver. She got out and retrieved her suitcase, taking care to lock the car. Even here, she didn’t trust it wouldn’t be broken into.

“Dad.” She stopped a couple of feet from him, both of them standing there, awkward and uncertain. He finally reached out and gave her a one-armed hug.

“It’s good to see you. Come in.”

He held the door for her, and she set her suitcase down in the marble-tiled foyer. He took her coat and hung it on a hanger in the closet. She toed off her shoes and followed him into the kitchen. New granite since the last time she’d been there, she noticed.

“Where’s Mom?” she asked, recognizing the wary tone in her voice.

“Resting.” He gestured toward the Nespresso machine. “Coffee?”

“Sure, if you have decaf.”

He inserted a pod into the machine. She sat at the island while the machine gurgled and chugged through two pods. He placed a mug in front of her and stood with his own, the granite stretching between them like a sort of neutral zone.

“People on the island send their best,” Kathleen said.

Michael nodded, eyeing her curiously. “Did you get my last email?”

“Not if it was sent the last few days.” Kathleen thought furiously. “We—Rebecca and I—left Little Sister right before the storm hit. Stayed with Bobby Ahearn and his wife for a couple days before we could get on the road.”

He frowned. “What’s Rebecca here for?”

Kathleen shrugged, realizing too late that maybe she shouldn’t have divulged that fact. “She had some things she needed to do on the mainland, and since I was coming, she rode along. She’s staying downtown.”

She took a sip of her coffee, and he did likewise. When he didn’t say anything further, she prompted, “What about your email?”

Are his hands trembling? He was definitely avoiding her gaze. As she studied him, she noted how he’d aged, the lines either side of his mouth, the deeper furrow between his brows, the general haggardness of his visage. From a distance, he’d still seemed fit and handsome, but up close…

“Dad, what’s wrong? Are you ill?”

“No.” He met her eyes at last. “Not me. It’s your mother. She has stage IV lung cancer.”

Kathleen stared at him mutely for several seconds. “What do you—lung cancer? Since when?”

“It was diagnosed last April.”

“And you’re just now telling me?”

He could no longer look her in the eye. “I wanted to, when the ferry ran daily and you could get here, but your mother insisted we shouldn’t bother you. She wanted to try chemo and radiation, but…” His voice broke. “It’s in her liver now, other places. They say there aren’t any other options for treatment.”

She heard the words, understood them in a detached kind of way, but it was as if they were being spoken underwater or something—slightly distorted, echoing a little, taking longer than they should to get to her.

“Kathleen, I think you should move home.”

Heeding Kathleen’s advice, Rebecca kept her small bag with her at all times. She wore it under a fleece vest when she went down to the hotel’s restaurant for breakfast and again when she decided to go for a walk after. Her appointment with Davies and Richards, the auction house she’d chosen, wasn’t until the afternoon, so she had the morning to do as she wished.

She glanced disinterestedly at the store windows she passed, wondering what people did with all of this stuff. Did they toss out old clothes to accommodate new? Who had room for such massive furniture? But then, from Kathleen’s description of Michael and Christine’s house, it might hold such things.

The one shop she went into was an outdoor store where she splurged on three pair of thick wool hiking socks—she was tired of sewing her old ones—and a new pair of insulated, waterproof hiking boots.

Back at the hotel, housekeeping had remade the bed she’d made when she woke. She put on one of her new pair of socks and sat to read a book she’d brought with her. When it was time for lunch, she took the book with her to a sandwich shop a few doors from the hotel—much more affordable than the hotel—and read until it was time to make her way to the auction house.

She arrived fifteen minutes early, announcing herself to the receptionist, a young man wearing what she supposed was the current fashion in suits, cut so slimly she wondered how he was able to sit or move his arms. Judging from the way his eyes traveled down her trousers to her old boots and then back up to her well-worn down jacket, she didn’t pass muster as far as he was concerned.

“I’ll tell Ms. Radabaugh that you’re here,” he sniffed.

“Thank you.” She barely resisted the urge to add something sarcastic but decided not to antagonize the staff before she even presented what she needed to sell.

She took a seat in one of the leather armchairs arranged in groupings around industrial glass and metal coffee tables spread with copies of Architectural Digest and vintage Sotheby’s catalogues. Within a few minutes, she heard a voice call, “Ms. Ahearn?”

Rebecca stood to greet a woman—younger than she’d expected—conservatively dressed in a slim-fitting black suit, her blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. The whole gave her a rather severe, intimidating appearance, which amused Rebecca. Intimidation is usually my job.

“Ms. Radabaugh. Nice to meet you.”

They shook hands, and Ms. Radabaugh waved a hand toward an office. “This way.”

She went behind her desk, equipped with two computer monitors off to one side of the L-configuration. Rebecca took one of the chairs facing the other part of the desk and unzipped her bag.

“I have a few items, old family heirlooms, I’d like to sell.”

She laid out the coins and jewels she and Kathleen had selected for the council’s approval. Ms. Radabaugh leaned forward, the flush of her cheeks betraying her excitement. She clicked on a brighter lamp and reached for a magnifying glass to inspect each item.

“Seventeenth century,” she muttered, peering at the stamped date on one of the coins. “Where did you say you got these?”

“They’ve been in my family for generations,” Rebecca said smoothly. It was close enough to the truth.

Ms. Radabaugh picked up one of the jewels, a heavy ruby set in a brooch of gold. “Is…” She glanced up sharply. “Is this pure gold?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Excuse me a moment. I’d like a colleague to take a look at these.” She started to rise with the brooch in her hand, but stopped suddenly. “May I?”

“Of course. I don’t expect you to pawn it while you’re gone.”

Ms. Radabaugh gave a startled laugh, as if she couldn’t tell whether Rebecca was serious. “I’ll be right back.”

She hurried from the office, leaving Rebecca sitting there, the remaining items spread across the leather blotter on the desk. A moment later, she heard two female voices approaching—one clearly Ms. Radabaugh’s soprano and another… she knew that voice. The office door opened, and Rebecca braced herself, feeling the blood drain from her face.

“Ms. Monroe,” said Ms. Radabaugh as Rebecca stood. “This is—”

“Rebecca?”

“Hello, Nadiya.”

Ms. Radabaugh’s wide eyes flitted back and forth between them. “You know each other.”

Rebecca forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “From long ago.”

Nadiya’s initial surprise was quickly shadowed as her gaze lowered to the brooch in her gloved hand. “I was quite stunned when Cynthia brought this to me. The work is exquisite. Spanish?”

She took the seat behind the desk—clearly the one in charge here, Rebecca realized—while Cynthia took the chair beside Rebecca’s.

“It could be,” Rebecca replied. “I’d always been told it came down from the English side of the family.”

Nadiya produced a jeweler’s loupe and fitted it to her eye. As she leaned forward, turning the brooch back and forth under the light to scrutinize it more closely, Rebecca had an opportunity to regain her composure. And to study Nadiya—the same flawless skin despite the years, her hair was still defiantly natural, cut short and allowed to go silver.

Unlike Cynthia’s stern black and muted colors, Nadiya wore a vibrant tunic patterned in maroon and ochre, set off by a scarf of midnight blue. They didn’t look as if they should go together, and yet, on Nadiya, they did.

She turned her attention to the coins and the other jewels—a single loose emerald and another ruby set in a ring. Rebecca watched her hands—long fingers with short nails, no polish—as she handled the objects.

“How long did you say these have been in your family?” Nadiya asked. Her tone was casual, but Rebecca was instantly wary.

“Ages. You know how it is.” Even now, Rebecca didn’t want to lie. “Most people don’t really know anything further back than their grandparents.”

Nadiya raised her head at last and met Rebecca’s eye. “Most don’t.” She leaned forward again, picking one of the coins up and holding it under the light.

“Seventeenth century, according to the marks,” Cynthia said eagerly.

Rebecca had nearly forgotten she was there.

“Yes,” Nadiya mumbled. “These are definitely English, so perhaps the brooch is after all.”

She sat back, a neutral expression on her face. “We’ll sell these, but I’d like to get one of our appraisers to confirm what we’ve seen and give us a valuation. Our next auction won’t be until mid-February, though. Will that be a problem?”

The question was almost a challenge.

“I won’t be in town that long,” Rebecca said. “But I can leave my account information for the deposit after the sale. Will that be acceptable?”

Nadiya’s eyes glittered. “It will have to be, won’t it?”

The aroma of chicken and dumplings filled the kitchen, while Kathleen mixed a batch of dough for homemade rolls. She set it aside to prove and checked the oven where a pot roast and vegetables were cooking. Just as she’d done for Molly.

After tossing and turning for several hours the previous night—like hell I’m moving back here—she’d gotten up and tiptoed out to the kitchen to see what was in the refrigerator and freezer.

“What the hell?”

Frozen pizzas, frozen diet lunches, frozen lasagna, frozen pot pies. The refrigerator wasn’t much better, with mostly condiments and diet sodas.

Armed with a shopping list and a plan, she was able to get a few hours’ sleep. She rose before either of her parents, or at least before either of them appeared in the kitchen, ate a quick breakfast, and went to the market. She stocked up on all kinds of fresh fruits and vegetables, some lettuce, the ingredients she’d put on her list, and—be realistic, she reminded herself—several cans of the healthiest soups she could find along with several bags of frozen vegetables.

The dough had risen sufficiently. She scattered some flour on the granite countertop and dumped the dough into it to begin kneading. She hadn’t had any opportunity since her arrival last evening to get to a phone where she could speak privately with Molly. Damn, she missed having a cell phone. She’d started an email but couldn’t figure out how to word everything. She’d ended up deleting what she wrote. The more she thought, the more violently she slammed the dough. A noise behind her made her jump. She turned to find her mother standing there.

“When did you learn to cook?” Christine asked, her voice raspy as if it didn’t get used often.

How would you know anything about what I’ve been doing for the last umpteen years? But Kathleen bit back the retort. She glanced at her mother, now perched on one of the stools at the island, her once-blonde hair now wispy and dull and gray. She’d been thin the last time Kathleen had seen her—the first summer after Kathleen had moved to Little Sister—but she was emaciated now.

“I like to cook.” She kneaded the dough. “On the island, you learn to make things that can last through a few meals. It’s not like we can order Chinese.”

At mention of the island, small patches of scarlet bloomed on Christine’s pale cheeks, but Kathleen ignored the reaction. Little Sister was her home, whether her mother liked it or not.

Christine’s hand twitched, her thumb rubbing between her index and middle fingers—the skin still stained by nicotine. At least she stopped smoking.

“And you should be eating more nutritious food than the frozen stuff Dad’s been fixing.”

This is what the conversations had consisted of—which frozen meal they’d opted for last night, the neighbors, Michael’s business and the fact that he hadn’t been able to travel.

“Why didn’t you hire a home health nurse or something?” she’d asked.

“I did,” he said grimly. “We went through three of them. The last one left in tears. You know your mom can be… difficult. She agreed to let the cleaners come, but she doesn’t want anyone else in the house.”

That’s why he wants me home, she thought resentfully as she slammed the dough on the counter, so he can leave me here with her.

“I’m not hungry most of the time,” Christine said, bringing Kathleen back to present.

She used a knife to cut the dough into sections and roll them into balls to place on a baking sheet. “Well, you need to eat. The things I’m making will pack some calories, and we can freeze them in smaller containers that you and Dad can thaw as you like. These rolls will freeze, too.”

She slid the baking sheet into the second oven and then dished out a small portion of chicken and dumplings for her mother. “I know it’s only mid-afternoon, but you didn’t eat lunch. Here.”

Christine sampled it. “This is good.”

“Thanks.”

Kathleen turned back to the stove and closed her eyes. She’s being civil. Just go with it. Civil or not, she wasn’t going to be trapped here with her mother. Tomorrow, she was heading to the hotel. She needed Rebecca’s counsel.

When the knock came, it seemed time ran backward for a moment—a moment that hurled Rebecca forty-plus years into the past, back to Boston, back to those heady days of college and the burgeoning women’s movement, back to Nadiya.

A second knock snapped her back to the present. She opened the door of the hotel room.

“Hello, Nadiya.”

She stepped aside and Nadiya entered. A wave of scent—exotic, spicy, slightly floral—followed her. Rebecca inhaled deeply.

“You don’t seem surprised to see me.”

Rebecca gestured to one of the two armchairs in the room, taking the other herself. “I’m not. When I left my hotel and room number with Ms. Radabaugh, I figured I’d be seeing you.”

Nadiya’s brow furrowed, and Rebecca nearly laughed. Even after all this time, she doesn’t like being predictable.

“I have our appraisal of the coins and jewels you want to sell. And the contract.”

Nadiya swept off the luxurious wool shawl draped around her body and held out a sheaf of papers. Rebecca took them, her lips pursed as she read. Her eyebrows shot up at the numbers.

“You think they’ll fetch as much as this?”

“It’s only an estimated value, but yes,” Nadiya said. “They should do well in this market.”

“Where do I sign?”

Nadiya indicated the places. Rebecca signed and handed the originals back, leaving her copies lying on the round table between the chairs.

Nadiya sat back, her eyes narrowed as she studied Rebecca. “And you’re not going to tell me where these things came from.”

“I told you. Family heirlooms.”

Nadiya scoffed. “With family heirlooms like that, you wouldn’t have needed a scholarship. Or had to work three jobs to stay in school.”

Rebecca smiled, unprepared for the warmth Nadiya’s comment evoked. “You have a good memory.”

“About some things.” Nadiya didn’t smile. She leaned forward. “Where did they come from? No one just happens upon seventeenth century coins and jewels worthy of royalty.”

“They… surfaced. Long ago. But they weren’t mine to decide what to do with.”

“And now you’re ready to part with them.”

“They’re only stone and metal,” Rebecca said smoothly. “What about you? How did you end up here?”

Nadiya’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “Another thing that hasn’t changed. You changing the subject any time you don’t want to talk about something.” She tugged on the patterned scarf draped around her shoulders. “Fine. After undergrad, I got my MFA. Took me a while to get my foot in the door of the art world. No one in Boston was willing to hire a Black girl, no matter what degrees she had. I went to New York for a few years, got a low-paying job in a gallery, and then got a position with this auction house. I’ve worked my way up.”

The note of pride was unmistakable.

“What about you?” Nadiya asked. “What are you doing these days?”

“Ministry. I have a very small congregation.”

“So you actually used that theology degree. What—”

But whatever she was about to ask was interrupted by another knock on the door.

“You’re a popular woman,” Nadiya said coolly.

Rebecca stood. “Only one other person in this city knows where I am.”

She strode to the door and opened it. “Come in, Kathleen.”

“I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t know—”

Kathleen stopped mid-barge, her mouth open in surprise. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you had someone…”

“This is Nadiya Monroe, one of the auction people,” Rebecca said. “This is Kathleen Halloran, a friend. She’s visiting family while I attend to this.”

Nadiya stood. “I think we’re finished.”

“I can come back—” Kathleen began, but Nadiya shook her head.

“No need.” She swung her shawl around her shoulders. “I have to get back anyway.”

Rebecca accompanied her to the door. “Thank you for your help with the auction.”

“I’ll call when we have news.” Nadiya unexpectedly held out a hand.

Rebecca took it cautiously, surprised when Nadiya squeezed it as if reluctant to let go. Then, just as suddenly, she did let go and was out the door.

“I really am sorry,” Kathleen said again. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Rebecca took a deep breath as she pushed the door shut. Turning, she said, “Have your parents managed to drive you off already?”

Kathleen launched into a rambling narrative that had Rebecca straining to keep up.

“Wait,” she commanded, holding up a hand. “Christine has cancer?”

Kathleen collapsed into one of the chairs and nodded. “For a while now. But treatment didn’t work and now it’s spread to other organs, and,” she paused for a second, “they want me to come home. At least my dad does.”

“Is that what you want?”

“No!” Kathleen dropped her head into her hands. “But what if she dies? What kind of daughter am I?”

“Stop.” Rebecca took the other chair. “What kind of mother and father have Christine and Michael been to you since Bryan died? Let’s keep some perspective here.”

At Rebecca’s unvarnished critique, Kathleen sat up.

“You stood up to them two summers ago. You need to do the same now.”

Kathleen looked doubtful. “You think I should say no?”

“I think you need time to think about what to do. And you need to talk to Molly. You can’t make a decision like this without her input.”

“You’re right. I tried to email, but how do I put all this in an email? I want to talk to her privately, and I haven’t been able to do that. Every time I pick up a phone, one of them walks in.” She frowned. “I wonder if they’re doing it deliberately.”

“On my way to the auction place,” Rebecca said, “I passed one of those stores that sell phones where you prepay for the minutes. Let’s go get one.”

“Now?”

“No, next week.” Rebecca stood. “Of course now.”

Chapter 6

Joe backed the truck into the drive, carefully approaching the porch until the tailgate overhung the steps.

“That’s good.” Molly held up a hand.

Roy got out and opened the tailgate. He and Joe helped Molly lay a few wide planks to bridge the gap between truck and porch, covered by a thick sheet of plywood to create a sturdy ramp. Behind them, Meredith’s Subaru pulled in. She got out, followed by Irene and Louisa. Jasper hopped down, with Blossom there to greet him.

“Let’s move things around upstairs before we bring anything in,” Molly said.

They went up to the room Kathleen had turned into her office. It still held an old twin bed—the one Bryan used to use—in addition to the Christmas desks and all of Kathleen’s computer stuff.

“I was afraid to move these myself,” Molly said, pointing to the computers.

Roy’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I can do this for you.”

She grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Kid, candy store,” Irene muttered, making Molly laugh.

“We’ll strip the bed and get it ready to move,” Louisa said.

They all pitched in, and within an hour, had Kathleen’s old room fitted with the two twin beds, and Olivia’s old double bed moved from the truck into the former office. The floors were mopped, the furniture dusted, and all of the beds were made up with fresh sheets. Roy plugged in the last of the computer connections, where Kathleen’s desks now occupied a corner of their room.

“Thank you all so much.” Molly swiped her sweaty forehead. “I couldn’t have done this myself.”

“Are you sure this is happening?” Joe asked.

“No,” Molly said with a scoff. “So I may need you all here again to move it right back where it was.”

“Lunch is ready!” came Jenny’s voice from downstairs.

They thundered down the stairs to the kitchen where Jenny had laid out sandwich fixings, with a pan of brownies for dessert.

“Mom, I didn’t know you were down here.” Molly gave Jenny a one-armed hug. “This looks great. Thank you.”

Everyone piled in to make sandwiches, pour drinks, and set the larger dining table, both dogs watching the proceedings hopefully.

“Any word?” Meredith asked.

Jenny nodded. “They’re on their way from Big Sister.”

Before they’d finished their sandwiches, another car drove up, and Kathleen got out of the back seat almost before it came to a halt. Rebecca turned the ignition off, and Aidan pried himself out of the passenger seat.

Meredith launched herself off the porch to jump into Aidan’s arms. Molly, though, met Kathleen’s bruised-looking eyes and simply folded her into a hug when she climbed the steps.

“Come in and eat, all of you,” Jenny commanded, taking her sister by the arm.

“How was the passage?” Joe asked once they were all seated again.

“It was fine,” Aidan said. “A little chop coming here from Big Sister, but the ferry was smooth.”

“And Bobby has your car?” Jenny asked.

Kathleen nodded. Molly noticed she was barely touching her food and hadn’t spoken a single word.

“He said he’ll load it onto our next ferry,” Kathleen said. “But I may need it over there again next month. I didn’t give my parents an answer.”

“What are you all doing here?” Rebecca asked. “Why did you ask us to meet you here?”

All eyes turned to Molly.

“Well, um,” she stalled, “after you called, after we knew why Michael wanted you to go to Philadelphia, we thought—”

“Molly thought,” Jenny cut in.

“Thought what?” Rebecca asked.

Molly reached for Kathleen’s hand. “Instead of you going to them, ask them to come here.”

Kathleen stared as if she hadn’t heard correctly. “Come here.”

“This is the Halloran cottage,” Louisa said. “Michael grew up here. This is where Christine should be.”

“I don’t understand,” Kathleen protested with a frown. “We don’t have medical facilities on Little Sister.”

“From what you said,” Molly said, picking her words carefully, “there is no more treatment, just keeping her comfortable.”

“This is brilliant,” Rebecca said. “I should have thought of it. Maybe she can finally heal.”

“Weren’t you listening?” Kathleen said, sounding almost angry now. “Nothing can heal her.”

“We’re not saying the island can cure her cancer,” Jenny said gently. “You know better than that. But this island may be able to heal other parts of her. Parts that the doctors can’t help. Parts that matter more than the cancer.”

“Parts that have festered way longer than her cancer,” Rebecca added.

Molly caught the confused looks Meredith, Irene, and Roy exchanged, but she left it to Louisa and Aidan to explain.

“Come upstairs,” she said, tugging on Kathleen’s hand.

Kathleen allowed herself to be led up the steps. When Molly took her to her old room and she saw the two beds, she quickly peeked into the other room that had been her office.

“Your computers and desks are in our room for now,” Molly said. “Roy got them all set up. This way,” she pointed to the two rooms, “if your mom needs to be in a bed alone but have someone near, the other bed is right there. If your folks want to be together, they can use this room. It’s Miss Olivia’s bed.”

Kathleen’s eyes filled. “You did all this?”

“We all did. If they won’t come, we’ll put everything back, but for now, it’s all set.”

“They won’t agree,” Kathleen said.

“Then it’s on them,” Molly said, taking Kathleen by the shoulders. “Not on you. They can’t argue that it can’t be done.”

Kathleen’s tears spilled over, and Molly pulled her into a tight hug. “It’s on them.”

Sunlight slanted through a crack in the curtains. Meredith stretched, Aidan breathing deeply beside her. She kissed his shoulder and slid out of bed, dressing quickly in the chill air of their room. Jasper got up from his bed and followed her out of the room. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she went downstairs and let Jasper out while she got the coffee started.

With the coffeemaker gurgling, she let Jasper in and fed him. It wasn’t often she was the first one up, but they’d all been up late playing gin rummy. Being without a television had been a bit of withdrawal at first, but she found she wasn’t really missing it. When they could get a satellite guy out to the island, she wondered now if they should bother with TV, or just do the internet. It was kind of nice, spending the evenings actually talking and playing games or reading together quietly.

She made herself a quick breakfast of peanut butter and jelly toast, using some of the strawberry jam from last summer. That was one of the things she was looking forward to the most, gardening and learning how to put up preserves.

Before she’d finished her toast, Miss Louisa scuffed into the kitchen in her robe and fuzzy slippers.

“Good morning, dear.”

“Morning. Coffee’s all made.” Meredith carried her dishes to the sink and quickly washed them. “Jasper and I are walking into the village. Do you need anything?”

“I don’t think so.” Louisa began making a pan of oatmeal. “You be sure and dress warm enough. That wind is still wicked cold.”

“I will.”

Meredith went to the entry to don boots and a scarf. She buckled a fleece coat on Jasper before zipping up her own jacket. Jamming a hat on her head, she headed out.

The air was still cold enough to cut through her layers, but within a few minutes of brisk walking, she began to warm. Jasper walked beside her, content with this pace.

She bent a little to give his head a rub. “You okay, old man?”

He gave her a doggy grin in reply.

A few trucks passed them on the ring road, the drivers lifting a hand in greeting, a couple of them slowing to offer a ride, which she declined.

In the village, she left the main road, winding through some of the back streets to Rebecca’s cottage. The lights were on, as she’d expected.

She knocked and waited.

“You know you can just knock and come in,” Rebecca said when she opened the door.

“I know, but that feels rude.”

Meredith took her own and Jasper’s jackets off, leaving her boots on the mat next to Rebecca’s.

“Tea?”

“Sounds good. Thanks.”

Rebecca turned the burner on under the kettle and got a mug down from the cupboard. “What brings you here so early?”

“Couple things. February first is in a few days. That’s Imbolc, isn’t it?”

Rebecca smiled. “You’ve been studying.”

“I have. I want to learn everything,” Meredith said earnestly. “Do you celebrate it?”

“We do. Traditionally, it marked the beginning of spring.” Rebecca gave a slight scoff. “But spring in Ireland comes a bit earlier than it does in Maine.”

The kettle began to whistle, and Rebecca poured. She set the mug on the table and opened a tin of gingerbread cookies, while Meredith tore open her teabag and set it to steep.

“Are we allowed to participate?” Meredith asked.

“Of course.” Rebecca eyed her. “It’s usually just the women who celebrate, but your father is welcome if he’d like to come. Miss Louisa hasn’t taught you how to make St. Bridget’s crosses?”

“Are they made out of that dried grass or straw? I saw bunches of it on the porch yesterday.”

“Then she’s getting ready. The Celts celebrated it as Brigid’s day, the goddess. Then the Christians turned it into something they could support, like most of our feasts and festivals. Be at the stone circle at dawn.”

“We will,” Meredith said. “I also wanted to talk to you about schoolbooks and desks and all the stuff I’ve never had to think about before.”

Rebecca cocked her head. “Not getting cold feet, are you?”

“No,” Meredith said quickly. “But I’ve never taught in a school where I had to make all of these decisions. I’ve been emailing friends back in Oregon, elementary teachers to see what texts they’re using. I’ve been looking at homeschooling websites, too. Anywhere I can see what resources are out there.”

Rebecca chewed on a cookie. “I’ve been thinking about this, too. Tables that could fit four to six students around them will work better in the space we have. You could set each table for an age or grade range.”

“Any idea how many I’ll have?” Meredith reached for a cookie.

“So far, about twenty. Ages five to thirteen. Most of the parents of the high school kids are letting them decide, and they want to go back.”

Meredith nodded. “They want to be with their friends. That makes sense. Do you think they’ll come back here after school?”

“That’s always the question, isn’t it?”

A shadow settled over Rebecca’s face.

“Are you all right?” Meredith asked.

“I’m fine.”

Rebecca smiled, and the shadow cleared, but Meredith was not convinced.

“This situation with Kathleen’s mother,” she began tentatively, “it’s so sad. Miss Louisa and Aidan told me about how she basically cut Kathleen off after the brother drowned.”

Rebecca’s fingers tightened around her cup. “It was a horrible accident, but neither Kathleen nor her grandmother, Maisie, deserved to be treated the way Michael and Christine treated them.”

Meredith shook her head. “But for her own mother to say she wished it had been Kathleen who died instead of Bryan. I don’t understand how anyone can do that.”

“It happens.” Rebecca’s tone was cold, but Meredith saw the anger in her eyes. “Some parents never form a bond with some children. The sad part is when those kids spend their entire lives trying to earn that love, that approval. Kathleen…” She paused. “Kathleen has come a long way in that regard.”

Meredith thought she understood. “And you think this will set her back?”

“I think it could. She’ll have Molly now, of course. And all of us. But I don’t think any of us can take the place of what she never got from her mother.”

“Is this a mistake? Trying to get her parents to come here?”

“Don’t know.” Rebecca shrugged. “Like my sister said, this island can sometimes heal what nothing else has ever been able to.”

The sun wasn’t yet up when Rebecca got to the cemetery. Traipsing among the grave markers under a crescent moon hanging in the western sky, she realized it had been too long since she’d visited to pay her respects to her elders, to those she came from. Alone inside the stone circle, she kindled a fire and sat, staring into the flames.

She couldn’t remember ever feeling so unsettled. That’s not true, though, is it? she realized as she thought. You were like this, maybe worse, when you first came back to Little Sister from Boston. She hadn’t been able to meditate or pray since she returned from Philadelphia. And it had nothing to do with the Hallorans.

Soft voices announced the arrival of the other women.

“No Roy?” she asked when Meredith and Irene followed Miss Louisa under the low stone lintel.

“He still intended to last night,” Irene said, “but just rolled over this morning when it was time to get up.”

“Don’t blame him,” Kathleen mumbled, stifling a yawn.

Molly gave her a brisk back rub. “Feels good to be up early, doesn’t it?”

Kathleen gave her a baleful stare in return. Blossom wandered, sniffing everything.

Siobhan Greyeagle set white candles in a wider circle around them, her red hair loosely bound. Even draped in multiple layers for warmth, she moved with an ethereal grace.

Meredith leaned over to her mother and muttered, “How does she look so beautiful when the rest of us can barely open our eyes?”

By the time Siobhan was done, almost two dozen women stood shivering within the unlit candles, all of them holding woven St. Bridget’s crosses. Rebecca built up the fire, and the women gathered close for warmth.

“Just a moment longer,” Louisa murmured.

When the sun broke over the horizon, its rays bounced around inside the stones, not as direct a light as on the solstice, but its illumination added to that of the fire and the candles, all aflame now.

“When did she light the candles?” Irene whispered. “Did you see her light them?”

Siobhan only smiled and held out her hands. “Goddess, we gather on this Imbolc to honor you and to offer you our thanks for your protection over these past twelve moons.”

She reached into a pouch and tossed something that looked like sand into the flames of the fire, but scented smoke immediately rose in clouds.

“Incense,” Rebecca heard Louisa whisper to Irene and Meredith.

“We offer you these sacrifices,” Siobhan continued. She knelt and pulled a silver knife from the belt at her waist, using it to dig a shallow hole in the earth.

Wilma Greatneck stepped forward with a small pitcher and poured milk into the hole. “We thank you for the bounty you have given us.”

Rebecca unsheathed her own knife, pricking her thumb to add a few drops of blood to the hole. Each woman there did the same with a knife she’d brought, but Rebecca had to stifle a sigh of exasperation when Kathleen couldn’t bring herself to jab deeply enough and had to let Molly prick her thumb. When all were done, Siobhan scooped the dirt back in place and tamped it down.

Next, they each tossed their woven crosses into the fire, the dried grasses catching quickly and flaring brightly, illuminating the faces gathered round. As the flames calmed again, Siobhan scraped the ashes into a small wooden bowl and stirred them with a finger.

“Brigid, we mark ourselves with this sign.” She used her finger to swipe a crescent on each woman’s forehead.

“Blessed be,” each intoned.

When all were marked with the ashes, Rebecca marked the same symbol on Siobhan’s forehead before she knocked the fire down, scattering what was left of the logs and smothering the pit with a metal cover.

Siobhan then handed each woman a small plant, its tiny root ball bound in white cloth. “A snowdrop, a symbol of new life with the coming of spring.”

“We’ll plant these at the house,” Louisa said to Irene and Meredith as the other women departed.

“This reminds me of a combination of Ash Wednesday and Palm Sunday,” Meredith said.

Rebecca snorted. “You think they ever had an original idea? Pretty much every Christian holiday and tradition can be traced back to a pagan one.”

“This was beautiful,” Irene said. “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome,” Siobhan said. “Remember, I want some of your paintings for the gift shop. The first tourists will begin arriving when the ferry comes weekly, probably late April.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Irene said. “I have lots of sketches, but…” She cast a quick glance at Louisa.

“Sure we’ll set up a place where you can paint,” Louisa said. She hooked an arm through Irene’s. “We’ll do that this very afternoon.”

They stepped through the circle of candles, and Irene looked around. “Did you see her put the candles out?”

“Come along, dear,” Louisa said, patting her hand.

Rebecca helped place the candles in a large canvas tote. Siobhan caught Rebecca’s hand and held it.

“Are you going to tell me?”

Rebecca frowned. “Tell you what?”

Siobhan tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I felt a disturbance as soon as you got back to Little Sister. It’s like we’ve been under a cloud. You brought something back with you. What is it?”

Rebecca started to protest, but gave up. She sank to the ground, Siobhan folding herself gracefully beside her.

“When I was in Philadelphia,” Rebecca began, “I ran into someone. From my past.”

Siobhan’s eyebrows rose. “A lover.”

Even knowing Siobhan’s gift of sight, Rebecca was shaken that she could see through her so easily. “Why would you say that?”

“Rebecca, in all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never taken a lover.” Siobhan smiled tenderly. “I would have stepped into that role in your life.”

“Where I would have been one among others,” Rebecca said ruefully.

Siobhan threw her head back and laughed. “I’m not the kind to give my heart and my body to just one other.” She sobered. “But your heart was never free to give to me or anyone else. Only an old lover, someone you’ve never truly gotten over, could cause so much turmoil. There’s something unresolved.”

Rebecca laughed harshly. “Unresolved. That’s a good way to put it.”

Chapter 7

Raised voices from down the hall made Meredith pause, her paintbrush suspended mid-air. Smiling, she resumed cutting in along the ceiling. Wilma’s paint choices were nice—calming gray-blues and seafoam greens and soft dove-grays for the hotel rooms. She and her parents had been helping Wilma get most of the hotel rooms repainted for the upcoming season. Aidan had helped move the furniture to the middle of the rooms, everything draped in huge drop cloths.

“That man,” her mother said, appearing suddenly in the doorway. She held a plastic bucket of white paint in one hand, and a brush in the other. “Telling me, me, how to paint! Can I do the windows in here?”

“Sure,” Meredith said from her stepladder, “but they’re not prepped yet.”

“I can take care of that.”

Irene set her bucket and brush down in a corner and got a damp rag to wipe down the windowsill and trim. Between the salt air and probably hundreds of hands, the old paint was worn and chipped. Some places needed to be sanded smooth before she began taping off the windows.

“It occurred to me,” Meredith said distractedly as she carefully ran her brush along the top of the wall, trying not to get any paint on the ceiling—“the one thing I’m hoping not to paint,” Wilma had said—“this is the first time since we got here that Miss Louisa has had the house to herself.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw her mother straighten. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought of it. We should give her this time more often.”

“Has she said anything to you? I mean, any comments that she’s regretting letting us move in?”

“No. Nothing.” Irene’s was doubtful. “Do you think she is?”

“Not really, but I’m sure it’s a big adjustment for her. With three—well four of us when Aidan is here—scattered around the house, there’s nowhere but her room she can go most of the time if she wants to be alone.”

“Once the weather warms, it’ll be different,” Irene said. “We’ll all be outdoors more than in.”

“True.” Meredith shifted her ladder while Irene went to get her paint and brush.

She climbed back up but glanced down at her mom. “How are you doing?”

“Hmmm?” Irene kept her eyes on her work as she drew the brush steadily along the side trim, not getting a speck on the walls. “What do you mean?”

“Are you… I mean, being here with her now, seeing how similar you two are, are you starting to think of Louisa more as your mother?”

Irene didn’t answer right away. “I didn’t at first. Any time I thought of ‘mother,’ my mind went straight to my mother, but it’s getting more mixed-up now. Maybe it wouldn’t if Mom were still alive and here to talk to, but with her gone and our being with Louisa all the time now…”

They worked silently for a few minutes.

“How about you?” Irene asked. “Do you think of her as your grandmother? You only refer to her as Miss Louisa.”

“I don’t,” Meredith replied. “I don’t know if it’s because Aidan always refers to her as Miss Louisa, or because it’s been a while since Grandma died, and I don’t remember her as well. I don’t really put anyone in that role, I guess.” She paused. “It’s funny, I feel more of a connection to the island ancestors in general. Ever since we got here, I’ve felt anchored in a way I never did in Oregon.”

Irene climbed onto a stool to reach the upper sash. “How about you and Aidan? Are you looking forward to your bonding? You haven’t talked much about it.”

Meredith chuckled. “Well, it’s not like there’s much planning, not like a regular wedding. Kind of the opposite. We’ll be naked, so no shopping for a gown. Don’t have to worry about booking a place for the reception or a guest list.” She thought about it. “I like this so much more. Except I think that beach is going to be damn cold in April. Kathleen still won’t tell me what exactly is involved beyond nudity and blood. Speaking of which, were you nervous about the whole blood thing at Imbolc?”

Irene snorted. “A little. Couldn’t figure out why they told us to bring a sharp knife. I had visions of us carving up some poor animal sacrifice.”

“We’ve still got a lot to learn about the traditions here.”

A shadow filled the doorway. “Land sakes!” Wilma exclaimed. “Look how much you’ve got done. I can’t thank you enough for your help.”

“We’re happy to lend a hand,” Meredith said. “You and Nels have been so good to us.”

“Hey,” Roy said, appearing in the door behind Wilma, roller in hand. “How come you’re in here together, and I’m all alone?”

Irene rolled her eyes. “All right, you can come in here and paint the walls Meredith has cut in. But,” she brandished her brush, “if you try telling me again how to paint, Roy Turner, you might be sleeping in one of these rooms for the rest of the winter.”

Large, airy snowflakes floated gently past the window. Molly, thankful to have no fixit jobs to do, sat curled up in her recliner, reading while Blossom snored beside her. Ever since he’d been allowed to get into her chair with her while Kathleen was away, this had become their secret. Kathleen was working upstairs, trying to finish an edit before the ferry arrived in a few days. But she’d been up there since breakfast.

“We all need to move,” Molly said, peeling back the fleece throw keeping both of them warm.

Blossom was instantly awake.

“Let’s talk your mother into going for a walk.”

He raced her up the stairs to their room, where Kathleen sat scowling at the computer.

“Problems?” Molly asked, giving Kathleen a shoulder rub.

“Issues with the timeline, and I’m trying to figure out how to fix it.”

Molly leaned down and pressed her cheek to Kathleen’s. “Maybe some fresh air and exercise will clear your head. Blossom thinks we need to go for a walk.”

Kathleen’s mouth tugged into a grin. “He does, does he?”

In answer, Blossom’s tail thumped the floor.

“Might be a good idea. I’m getting nowhere here.” Kathleen pushed back from her desk and stood, stretching her arms overhead.

They went downstairs and got bundled up. Outside a few minutes later, Kathleen tipped her face to the sky, letting snowflakes tickle her eyelashes and cheeks.

Molly took her by the hand, and they headed around the cottage to the woods. The trail there wound among the trees.

“Is it just the book that’s bothering you?” she asked as they walked.

“No,” Kathleen admitted. “Is it awful I keep hoping something will delay the ferry?”

“Not awful,” Molly answered. “Human. But you won’t be left alone to deal with them. Has your dad decided if he’s staying?”

Kathleen shook her head as she picked her way over half-covered roots. “He said he doesn’t see how he can stay for a month. I think he’s planning on getting Mom here and going back when the ferry leaves.”

Molly bit back the insults that leapt to her tongue. She didn’t know Michael Halloran well, but this seemed so like him. Dump his problem and take off. She immediately felt guilty for such unkind thoughts. Maybe he doesn’t know how to handle his wife’s impending death, prompted a kinder voice. But what if she dies before he gets back? How does he live with that? asked the more pragmatic side.

“We’ll deal with things as they come,” Molly reassured Kathleen.

Blossom bounded ahead of them out to the bluff. They clambered onto the rocks, the steel-gray ocean pulsing against the granite cliff below them, like the island’s heartbeat. Visibility was limited by the clouds and the snow, and they couldn’t see the horizon. It felt as if a cloak had been dropped around them, shielding them from the rest of the world.

Molly wrapped her arms around Kathleen, pulling her into a hug.

Kathleen nodded into her neck. “I know I’ll tend to get caught up in whatever games she’s playing. No matter how old I get or how long it’s been, she still knows how to wind me up. I’m afraid I’ll get lost in who I used to be.”

“I won’t let you.” Molly tightened her arms. “No matter what happens with your parents, we need to take care of us.”

Kathleen drew away enough to search Molly’s face. “You might not like who I become.”

“Is that what you’ve been afraid of?” Molly reached a mittened hand up to gently brush snowflakes from Kathleen’s cheek. “I will always love you, and I won’t let you get lost.”

Blossom whined and jumped up to place his paws on them. They both patted him.

Molly kissed Kathleen softly. “We’ll always guide you back home.”

Louisa sat at a table in the diner, a pad of paper before her. The door opened with a tinkle of the bell, and Miranda Shannahan came in, baby Charlie on her hip.

“Hi, Miss Louisa.” They joined her at the table.

“Hello, sweetie.” Louisa reached out to pat Charlie’s fat cheek. “How’s this little one doing?”

“Oh, she’s growing like crazy.” Miranda stripped off Charlie’s knit hat, her red hair all flyaway with static, standing out from her head like a crown of ginger fuzz.

“Where’s Ellis?”

“I left him with his dad. Tim is placing orders for the building supplies for the new school room. It’s exciting, isn’t it?” Miranda bounced Charlie on her knee. “I’m so glad these two will be able to stay onisland for school.”

The bell rang again, and this time, Rebecca entered, followed by Siobhan and Jenny. They all doffed their jackets and scooted extra chairs over to the table.

“Where are the others?” Rebecca asked.

“Upstairs, painting,” Louisa said, her sharp eyes taking in the dark circles under Rebecca’s eyes. “They’ll be down.”

As if on cue, Wilma, Irene, and Meredith came in from the hotel lobby, all wearing paint-splattered shirts.

“You all sit down,” Wilma said, going behind the counter and laying out a line of white coffee mugs. She sloshed fresh coffee into each. “Jenny, would you pass these out, please? And Rebecca, here’s yours.” She set another mug out, filled only with hot water, along with a teabag.

When they were all seated, Louisa folded her hands over the pad. “Now, this idea of Jenny’s is a good one. Katie and Molly will be overwhelmed faster than they realize. We don’t know how sick Christine will be when she arrives, or how quickly her condition may deteriorate. But we do know, aside from her illness, she hasn’t been a mother to Katie since before Bryan died. I don’t expect that will miraculously change now.”

Rebecca scoffed. “We know what Michael and Christine are both like. It’s best we hope they’ve changed but prepare as if they haven’t.”

“So what’s the plan?” Irene asked.

“Molly will still be busy with her work,” Jenny said. “It’s Kathleen, stuck working at the cottage, who will need the most help. In the beginning, it’ll mean us taking turns making meals to bring them. But sooner or later, Christine will worsen, and Kathleen will need more help to take care of her.”

“I don’t mean to be indelicate,” Miranda said, “but is the plan for her to stay here until she dies?”

The women gathered around the table exchanged glances.

“Yes,” Rebecca said at last. “She and Michael may change their minds, but from what he said, there are no more treatments for her cancer. Only comfort measures at this point, trying to keep her pain-free.”

“So that may mean anything from bathing her or helping to get her up,” Louisa said, “to sitting with her for an hour or two while Katie gets out of the house for some time to herself.”

She pushed the pad into the center of the table. “I thought we might begin with signing up to bring meals. One a week, something that will tide them over for a few days and is easy to heat up.”

One by one, the women pulled the pad to them, signing up for a week.

“I can pack up a box of extra things like soap, shampoo, laundry detergent,” Miranda offered. “I know what Kathleen and Molly usually buy as far as staples, like coffee, milk, and so on. I’ll have it ready at the market.”

“That would be lovely, Miranda, thank you.” Louisa beamed. “I knew we could count on you all.”

Jenny leaned forward. “Don’t say anything to Kathleen or Molly. If they know this is coordinated, they’ll probably try to say they don’t need help. We’ll just happen by with this food when it’s our turn, or drop by and offer to sit with Christine for a while.”

“Oh, we know how to pull off a plan,” Wilma said with a chuckle.

“Yes,” said Louisa, “but that girl, Katie’s ex,” she explained to Irene and Meredith, who’d exchanged a bewildered glance, “had come here to pull Katie away, back to her old life. This is to help Katie and Molly protect what they’ve built together here.”

“I’m worried,” Jenny admitted. “When Molly first came to me with the idea, I know she was only thinking she didn’t want Kathleen to have to make a choice. But taking care of a dying woman—” Her expression darkened. “Especially Christine Halloran, I really think this is more than the two of them will be able to do alone.”

“They’re not alone,” Irene said. “Look at this. They’ve got all of you planning and working out how to help them.”

Louisa patted her hand. “Us, dear. They’ve got all of us.”

Realizing she’d read the same few paragraphs about five times without taking a single word in, Rebecca snapped her book shut. She got up from her chair and went to the kitchen. It was spotless, but she moved the canisters and toaster, all the things lined up neatly along her counter, and wiped everything down, tucking it all back where it belonged. The dryer beeped. She went into her pantry and placed the dry clothes in a basket.

In her room, she dumped the contents of the basket onto the bed and folded everything. As she opened the closet to hang a couple of shirts, her eyes drifted to the back corner. There, on a shelf, stowed out of sight behind the clothes, was a box she hadn’t opened in years.

She pushed the clothes aside and slid the box off the shelf, carrying it out in front of her, as if it might explode. She took it to her living room chair near the windows. When she sat, with the box in her lap, she simply stared at it for ages before laughing at herself.

“You’re being so foolish.”

She lifted the top off and set it on the side table. Inside were old photos and letters, her name written on the envelopes in a hand she hadn’t seen for many years but would have recognized anywhere—the slightly backward slant, the loopy letters. She leafed through the photos first, some childhood images from the island, with Jenny and Bobby and their friends. There was Michael Halloran, tanned and shirtless on Little Sister’s crescent beach, leaning on an oar beside a scull resting on the sand.

But the photos she wanted most to see—and dreaded most to see—were the ones from her college days. There. She took a deep breath. She and Nadiya, standing with their arms wrapped around each other—Nadiya’s black curls and Rebecca’s straight black hair gleaming in the sun. She’d been a couple inches taller than Rebecca, stockier, but they were both young and laughing at something.

We were so happy for those years. What happened?

Her gaze dropped to the notes lying in the box. For as much as Rebecca had developed the discipline to practice meditation and introspection on a regular basis, her discipline also extended to not thinking about those things she wished to put behind her. And mostly that was everything to do with Nadiya. These notes, she knew, ran the gamut of emotions—from being blissfully happy together, despite the sniggers and whispers of the other women in their dorm, to the heartbreak and despair of their parting. Nadiya, if she’d kept them, had a similar collection written by Rebecca. It seemed they’d written each other almost daily, even if it was just a little note stuck in a textbook while studying, something to find later and bring a smile.

Why couldn’t we hang on to that? she wondered, but the answer came crashing down immediately. Because you were already taken, weren’t you?

From the marina, a deep horn sounded. The ferry. Rebecca put the lid on the box and set it on the floor beside her chair. She quickly slid her feet into boots, still zipping her jacket as she stepped off the porch. A few others were also heading in that direction to help unload the ferry and fill it back up again with whatever recycling or trash needed to go back.

But Rebecca wasn’t looking for a package or box. She stood in the shadows, watching from a distance. Fred was waving a vehicle off the ferry, a black Range Rover. She caught a glimpse of a pale, wasted face under a knit hat as the SUV drove by.

Christine and Michael Halloran were onisland.

Chapter 8

Kathleen turned down the volume on the ocean wave soundtrack she was listening to. Yup. Her mother was still in the room with the two beds, watching some show she was streaming on her tablet while her dad talked loudly on the phone downstairs. She could hear him pacing, but the phone cord only let him go so far before he had to change directions.

“Can’t believe they still don’t have cell service here,” he’d grumbled. “I need to stay in touch with people. I’ve got business I need to tend to.”

So do I, Kathleen had longed to remind him, but she bit it back. Remember why you brought them here. Remember why…

That mantra had been on her lips like a prayer for the last few days. Molly had stuck around the house at first, pretending to keep busy with projects and repairs, but the cottage didn’t really need anything at the moment.

“Go,” Kathleen had said at last. “You’ve got real jobs waiting for you. I’m fine.”

Molly’s eyes had drifted upstairs, where Christine had mostly stayed, content to let them bring her meals to her. “You sure?”

Kathleen had nodded in resignation. “I’m sure.”

She raised the volume again and resumed working on the book cover she was designing, with Blossom at her feet. He’d remained glued to her side, avoiding both Michael and Christine.

She gave up after a few minutes and got to her feet. Blossom hung back as she went down the hall.

“Mom, it’s close to noon. Would you like some lunch?”

Without looking up from her show, Christine replied, “I suppose.”

“Right.” Kathleen went downstairs to the kitchen, having to step aside to get around her father.

She let Blossom out the back door, made three chicken salad sandwiches, and poured three glasses of water. Her dad continued to pace and speak loudly to whomever was on the other end of the line about needing some kind of assessment done asap, while his laptop and a bunch of papers obscured most of the surface of the dining table. She carried one sandwich and drink upstairs. Christine didn’t look up as she came in.

When she set the sandwich down, Christine glanced over and frowned.

“It’s chicken salad,” Kathleen said. “All homemade. Do you not want it?”

“It’s fine.” Christine returned her attention to her tablet.

Kathleen stood there a moment longer and then left. Walking slowly down the stairs, she felt trapped. She reached for a jacket, went to the kitchen and wrapped her sandwich in a paper towel, and walked out the back door. Blossom sat on the porch, daring any rabbits watching from the woods to traipse into his yard.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

She led the way into the trees, following a rough trail that angled downhill, eventually dumping her out near the beach. To her relief, it was empty. Blossom raced across the sand, chasing a few gulls into the air. She walked to the edge of the surf where the still-icy sand crunched underfoot as she ate the last of her sandwich.

Closing her eyes, she stood for long minutes, listening to the surf and the mewing of the gulls. With the cold breeze on her cheeks, she felt her heartrate slow. The sun on her head was weak yet, with the promise that spring would soon be there. Rebecca had been trying to teach her to meditate, but she’d never been very good at it.

She missed her Keeper lessons with Rebecca. She missed long walks with Blossom, and then coming home to her wonderful, quiet cottage to continue her work. I miss my damn life. And then immediately felt guilty for feeling that way.

It was clear that her dad’s desire to have her around, and probably his only reason for agreeing to come to Little Sister, had been to turn all of Christine’s care over to her. He’d done next to nothing since their arrival. Somehow, she had to find a way to get through this.

With a resigned sigh, Kathleen called to Blossom and began the trek back up the trail to the cottage. When she emerged from the woods, she saw another vehicle pulled up near the front porch.

She circled the cottage and recognized Meredith’s Subaru. She and Blossom climbed the porch steps and entered to find Miss Louisa talking to Michael. Jasper trotted out of the kitchen to greet Blossom.

“Hello, Katie,” Miss Louisa said with an angelic smile—the one that warned her Louisa was enjoying irritating her father.

“Hi. What are you doing here?” she asked.

“That’s what I was wondering,” Michael muttered.

“Oh, we just wanted to come by to bring some supper.”

“What?” Kathleen glanced toward the kitchen.

“Meredith and I brought some chowder, enough to get you through the next few days.”

“That was so nice of you.” Kathleen went into the kitchen, leaving her dad to Miss Louisa’s care.

“Hi,” Meredith said, rearranging a few things to fit the large casserole dish into the fridge. “Some dinner.”

“Thank you so much.”

Meredith angled her head, studying Kathleen. “How’s it going?”

Kathleen opened her mouth to reply, but closed it without a word.

“That well?” Meredith reached for Kathleen’s hand, pulling her into the pantry, and closed the door.

“Aidan and Miss Louisa have told me more about…” She raised her gaze toward the upstairs rooms. “I’m so sorry, Kathleen.”

“Yeah.” Kathleen’s shoulders slumped. “It’s going about as well as you’d expect. Don’t know that this was such a good idea.”

“Could you have said no to going to stay with them if they hadn’t come here?”

Kathleen lifted one shoulder. “Probably not. My mother barely looks at me. And I feel horrible even thinking I don’t want them here.” She peered up at Meredith. “But I don’t.”

Meredith wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You’re not alone.”

Kathleen tried to take heart from that after Meredith and Louisa left.

“That nosy old bitch,” Michael complained before they’d even left the driveway. “She always had it out for me.”

Kathleen turned on her heel and went upstairs to her office, Blossom racing ahead of her. She closed the door and leaned against it.

“I’m not alone,” she whispered. “I’m not alone.”

The sun was risen but not yet high enough to light up the marina on the island’s north side. As Molly finished pumping fuel into a launch, she heard heavy footsteps and sleepy voices approaching. Aidan and Joey descended the hill from the parking lot, both of them with stubble covering their jaws. Joey went into the boathouse while Aidan came to the dock.

“You fueled up?” Aidan asked. “Thanks, Mo.”

“No problem. How’re things at the Woodhouse homestead?”

“Good,” he said with a grin. “Roy’s a hoot. That guy’s gotta be busy. He’s still looking at turning Miss Louisa’s cellar into a brewery. He actually made a drinkable ale a couple days ago.”

Joey emerged from the boathouse, carrying a canvas tool bag for the boats he and Matty were repairing at Big Sister. He stepped into the launch and dropped the tools onto the deck.

“Joey,” Molly said, “tell Matty that Kathleen and Mom and I are coming over next week. We’ll call Brandi to see what day works best. Mom wants to see the baby.”

He grunted and turned the key, kicking the engine to life.

Aidan glanced at Molly with a shrug and stepped into the boat, tugging a knit cap over his head. “See you in a few days.”

Molly untied the stern’s line from the cleat and waved as Joey eased the boat away from the dock. The launch chugged into the darkness, and she made her own way to the boathouse. She clicked on the ancient oil heater to take the chill out of the air.

With Kathleen’s Christmas desks done, she’d resumed work on a restoration of a 1954 Peterborough. Bobbing gently in the last bay, still covered under its tarp, was the 1937 Runabout that had been her birthday present last August. Someday, she’d have time to work on her own boat, but for now, the Peterborough was a paying job.

The teak flooring was in rough shape and was her current focus. She’d been able to get a few of the boards out intact, but others were so rotted that they were splintering and cracking as soon as she began prying.

Before long, she’d shed her sweatshirt, and sweat was dripping from her nose as she knelt on the decking, gently prizing another board loose.

“Come on,” she crooned. “Just a little more—”

The brittle teak split, the sound echoing inside the boathouse. With a frustrated growl, she dropped to her butt and swiped at her sweaty face with her T-shirt sleeve. The boathouse door opened, and her dad came in with two enameled mugs of coffee. He nudged a couple of upturned five-gallon buckets over with his foot.

“You’re here early.”

“Yeah.” Molly climbed out of the boat and joined him. “It’s easier if I get out of the house early. Before they’re up. Feel bad leaving Kathleen alone with them, though.” She sipped the hot coffee. “Not sure this was such a brilliant idea.”

“Michael was always… challenging, as Miss Louisa used to say.”

Molly laughed. “That’s an understatement. It’s pretty clear that, now Kathleen’s around, he’s leaving everything to her. And Christine, I mean, she’s horrible. Never a word of thanks or any acknowledgement of Kathleen at all that I can see. It’s all I can do to keep my mouth shut.”

“It’s your house, too.” Joe frowned. “No need to keep your mouth shut. Unless Kathleen wants you to.”

“I think she’s ready to explode, to tell you the truth.” She wagged her head toward the marina. “Told Joey to tell Matty that we’re coming to Big Sister next week. Got to get Kathleen some time away from them.”

“Probably a good idea. You know your mom—”

“Already factored her in.” Molly snorted. “You think we could get to Big Sister without a grandchild visit? Benjamin loves to see her.”

She tapped a fingernail against the dented mug. “Do you think, I mean, you and Michael go back, right? Can you get him out of the house for a day? Even a half-day. It’ll give Kathleen some breathing space.”

“I can try. Not like we were really tight, but I’ll call Bobby. See if he’s coming on the next ferry. We all grew up together. We’ll do something.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Molly drained her coffee. “And what’s up with Joey?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“He barely says a word around me. Is he pissed about something?”

Joe reached for her mug. “Not that I know of. I mean you two fell out after the storm. Maybe it’s that.”

Molly’s face darkened at the memory of the rescue that had nearly killed all of them last summer. “Yeah, but I kind of felt like we got past that. This is different.”

“Who knows.” Joe stood. “Let me know if you need a hand.”

“Might later,” Molly said. “Thanks for the coffee.”

She climbed back into the boat and started prying the next board. If Christine doesn’t die soon, I’m going to have to figure out how to get her and Michael off Little Sister. She paused at the uncharitable thought that she wanted this ordeal to be over with, but she decided to forgive herself.

“Just because she’s dying doesn’t change who she is.”

Having already seen Jenny, Kathleen, and Molly off for their day away on Big Sister, Rebecca sauntered up to the diner.

“Morning,” said a few of the men seated at the counter, with polite nods at her entrance.

“Land sakes,” Wilma tutted, hurrying over with a mug of steaming water and a few teabags. “You look like you could use something stronger than tea. Or something stronger in your tea.”

“Thanks. As a matter of fact, I do need coffee this morning.”

“Oh, dear.” Wilma’s eyes opened wide.

Rebecca glanced around, but there were no other diners. “Can you sit?”

“Sure. Just a minute.” Wilma scuttled behind the counter to pour two cups of coffee and joined Rebecca. “What’s up?”

Rebecca poured a little cream into her cup and stirred. “Have you seen Michael or Christine Halloran since they arrived?”

“No. From what I hear, they’ve not left the cottage.”

Rebecca nodded. “That’s what I figured but thought they might have been in for a meal or to the market.”

“Why?”

“Molly got Kathleen away to Big Sister, for the whole day. I think it’s time Christine got some fresh air, whether she wants it or not.”

Wilma grinned conspiratorially. “Want me to alert Siobhan and Miranda?”

“Would you?”

“Sure will.” When Rebecca made to scoot her chair back, Wilma reached for her arm. “Are you all right?”

Rebecca hesitated. “You met Nels when he came here with his parents one summer, right?”

Wilma nodded. “I was waiting tables that summer. We took a shine to each other right off. Wrote regular after that, and one thing led to another.”

“But,” Rebecca frowned down at her cup, “what if he hadn’t been willing to move here? Help you take over the hotel and diner? Do all the cooking? Would you have left to be with him?”

“I suppose one of my sisters could have taken over here if I had left, but they were busting to leave the island.” She stared out the window toward the marina. “Hard to imagine not being here with Nels, doing what we love, but if he’d not been willing…” She returned her gaze to Rebecca’s. “I wanted him more than the island. I would have left. What’s brought all this on?”

Rebecca lowered her eyes. “Nothing. I’ll have Christine here for lunch. Thanks, Wilma.”

Rebecca walked slowly back to her cottage. She was certain, even if she could dislodge Christine from her room, it wouldn’t happen this early in the day. She spent the next hour cleaning and then went out to her car.

Michael’s ostentatious Range Rover was parked in the drive of the Halloran place. She pulled up beside it and climbed the porch steps to knock, waiting for him to answer rather than opening the door as she normally would have.

When he did open the door, he frowned. “What do you want?”

“Good morning to you, too.” She pushed past him. “I’m here to see your wife.”

“Christine. Why?”

She fixed a smile on her face. “Because I’m guessing she hasn’t left her room, much less this house, since you arrived. Am I right?”

The flush of his cheeks confirmed her theory. With a slightly softer tone, she said, “Michael, is this really how you want her last days to go, however many of them there may be? Lying in bed, waiting to die?”

“Of course not.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, looking befuddled. “But she says I dragged her here. She didn’t want to come, but… I can’t handle this alone, and Kathleen wouldn’t come back to Philly, so…”

“I’m going to take her out.”

“Out where?”

“Out of this house. Out into fresh air. Out of herself.”

He waved a hand toward the stairs with a muttered, “Good luck with that.”

Rebecca paused halfway up. “You should get out, too, Michael. Go down the tavern, have a drink. Go for a walk. Do something. Go.”

Michael hesitated a moment, his eyes flicking up to the ceiling as he considered. To her surprise, he took his jacket down from a peg and left.

She climbed the remainder of the stairs and didn’t need a guide to Christine’s room. All she had to do was follow the tinny sound of sirens and guns. She knocked once, not waiting for a reply before stepping into the room.

“Hello, Christine. Rebecca Ahearn.”

Christine, who had jumped at her sudden appearance, fixed her with a baleful stare. “I know who you are.”

“Good. Thought you might like to get some fresh air.”

“You thought wrong.” Christine returned her attention to the tablet propped on a pillow on her lap. “Leave me alone.”

“Let me rephrase.” Rebecca stepped closer and snatched the tablet. She turned off the video and closed the cover. “Get dressed. I’ll give you fifteen minutes. If you’re not downstairs, you’ll be alone for the rest of the day. Not sure when anyone else will be here.”

“Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?” Christine’s eyes blazed.

“I’ll tell you who I am.” Rebecca turned to face her. “I’m Molly’s aunt and Kathleen’s friend. I’m a contemporary of your husband’s. And I’m sick of you making everyone around you miserable.”

“Michael!”

Rebecca laughed. “Pretty good lungpower. He’s gone, too. Just you and me. Fourteen minutes.”

She descended the stairs, not entirely certain this approach was the right one. But it wasn’t long before she heard the creak of floorboards overhead. When Christine descended the stairs, Rebecca held up a coat.

“Bundle up. It’s still cold out.” She knelt to help Christine into boots. “You’re going to need these.”

Christine glared at her but complied. A few minutes later, they stepped outside into a gray day.

“God, I hate this place.” Christine scowled as she followed Rebecca to her car and didn’t utter another word until Rebecca pulled into the cemetery.

Turning an icy stare in Rebecca’s direction, Christine said, “Come to show me where I’ll end up if I don’t change my ways? Ghost of island future?”

At that, Rebecca chuckled. “Something like that. Come on.”

She got out, but Christine remained stubbornly seated. Rebecca shrugged and walked into the cemetery, wandering among the stones to the ones she sought. As she’d hoped, Christine’s curiosity won out, and she followed after a few minutes.

“Most of the Hallorans are here.” Rebecca brushed some snow off Maisie’s stone.

“Not all of them,” Christine said bitterly.

“No, sadly.” Rebecca turned to her. “Where are your people, the Turnbulls, from?”

“North Carolina. We go back generations there. How do you remember my maiden name?”

“It’s my job. I keep track of the island genealogies. You and Michael met how?”

“At a dance at the University of Virginia. He came with a friend who introduced us. Michael was already working for a company in DC. He told me about this crazy island where he grew up. I thought he’d made it up till he brought me here the first summer we dated.”

Rebecca nodded. “I remember. We thought you made a nice couple.” She regarded Christine. “You seemed to enjoy the island then.”

Christine walked among the grave markers. “What wasn’t to enjoy? Summer, seafood, ocean.” She stopped. “I didn’t know then this place becomes a prison.”

“I suppose it can be to some,” Rebecca acknowledged. “I know, growing up, Michael always itched to get out, make his mark on the world beyond Little Sister. But the two of you seemed happy when you came back to visit. Maisie so looked forward to having you here.”

Christine’s mouth twisted into an ugly sneer. “That woman let my son die.”

“That woman,” Rebecca said softly, “lost what was left of her entire family that day. She didn’t only lose Bryan. She never saw Kathleen again. Never saw her son again. If you wanted to punish her, you succeeded.”

She studied Christine’s stony visage. “Doesn’t it get heavy? Carrying all that anger and resentment and bitterness around all the time?”

When Christine didn’t reply, Rebecca sighed and gestured toward the car. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Nothing to be frightened of. Just lunch at the diner.”

Christine stomped past her. “I’m not frightened of anything.”

Rebecca allowed herself a little smile and whispered, “We’ll see about that.”

Chapter 9

Louisa rocked, a yellow and apple green baby blanket slowly unspooling from her knitting needles. Jenny had returned from Big Sister, ecstatic with the news that Brandi was pregnant with their second child and was due in late August.

She smiled and hummed as she knitted. That trip to Big Sister had produced several unexpected changes. Kathleen had returned, apparently having decided that she didn’t need to spend every waking minute at her mother’s beck and call. She’d resumed her studies with Rebecca two or three mornings a week. Michael had rekindled a childhood friendship with Neil O’Malley, whom he’d encountered at the pub that afternoon. They were getting reacquainted over a few beers and games of pool down the pub a couple of afternoons a week. But the biggest change had been in Christine herself.

When she and Rebecca had arrived at the diner that day to find a small group of women already gathered and waiting for them, Christine had almost bristled. She’d softened a bit when she realized they weren’t there to interrogate or harass her, but it wasn’t until later, something Irene said, that changed everything.

Irene had seated herself beside Christine, engaging her in conversation. “My daughter and I are new here. We’re still learning some of the island traditions, but mostly soaking up being here. We understand you’re new, too. Do you enjoy art?”

That seemingly innocuous introduction had opened a door that Christine, to Louisa’s amazement, had stepped through. They’d chatted, and before they left the diner, Irene had invited Christine to the Woodhouse place for painting lessons.

“I hope it’s okay I did that,” Irene realized belatedly.

“Of course it is,” Louisa had assured her. “I was surprised she accepted.”

“Well, the undercurrent of disapproval was pretty strong,” Irene had said as they drove back home.

“Was it?” Louisa said. “I’m sorry for that. I guess it’s hard for us to forget the past. Maisie was so hurt by the way they cut her off after Bryan died.”

“I know there’s some painful history there, but since I don’t share it, it seemed maybe I could reach out in a way the rest of you couldn’t.”

Louisa smiled now, listening to the animated sounds of conversation coming from Olivia’s room. With the bed gone, they’d decided to make that Irene’s studio. The floor had been covered with wall-to-wall drop cloths, and two easels had been set up with a couple of small tables to hold paints and brushes.

“Who knew Christine Halloran would be in our house taking painting lessons?”

Louisa lifted her head. “It’s been a while since you came around, Ollie.”

“I’m always near, Lou, but you’ve got others with you now.”

“Do you mind? That they’re using your room?”

“Why would I mind? Not like I can use it. What do you think Maisie would say?”

Louisa rocked. “I hope she’d say what I did, that maybe it’s long past time for old hurts to be laid to rest.”

“I imagine staring death in the face can make anyone reevaluate their life. Not that I had time for that.”

Louisa paused her rocking. “Do you mind? That you went so fast?”

“Best that way. I’d have made you crazy if I lingered.”

Sudden tears pricked Louisa’s eyes. “I still miss you, sister.”

“I know, Lou. But you enjoy this while you have it.”

Loud bangs and cursing from the basement made Louisa jump. She got up from her chair and went to the kitchen while Meredith clattered down the stairs.

“Everything okay down there?” Louisa hollered.

“Fine,” came Aidan’s muffled voice up through the floor.

Meredith shook her head. “You have no idea what you may have unleashed, letting my father set up his brewery in your basement.”

“He said he needed electric down there, so Aidan volunteered to help. Seemed innocent enough.”

Meredith snorted. “Until they turn your cellar into a mad scientist’s laboratory and the whole house smells like ale.”

They went out to the living room. Meredith picked up the blanket, letting the softness cascade over her hands.

“This is so pretty.”

“I’ll be happy to make one for you.” Louisa gave her sideways glance.

“Not you, too.” Meredith handed the blanket back. “My mother keeps dropping all kinds of hints. Aidan and I aren’t even bonded yet.”

She sat on the sofa. “Actually, I did want to ask you something.”

“Yes, dear?”

“How would you feel about coming out of retirement?”

Louisa’s head snapped up. “What do you mean?”

“I’m thinking, even with a small class size, I could use some help keeping all the different grade levels on task. And surely some of the kids will benefit from having some individualized help with some subjects.” She studied Louisa hopefully. “It wouldn’t need to be every day, of course. I know you have things to do here. But we could work out a schedule.”

For the second time in just a few minutes, Louisa’s eyes filled with tears. “I would love that, Meredith.”

“Good.” Meredith stood and kissed Louisa’s cheek. “Tell Miss Olivia I said hello next time you speak with her.”

Gobsmacked, Louisa sat there for a moment. She chuckled to herself and picked up her needles.

The house was blissfully quiet. With her mom gone—God bless Irene, Kathleen thought—and her dad out, too, she had the house to herself. Ironically, now that she had time to concentrate, she found herself staring at a half-finished cover proof, unable to figure out what elements were missing.

Downstairs, the front door opened. Blossom scrambled to his feet and raced down the steps with a welcome whine.

“Molly?” Kathleen got up and followed. “What are you doing home? I thought you were working on Lena’s washer?”

“Fixed it.” Molly straightened from petting Blossom.

“Is everything okay?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

Molly came to her and cradled her face. “On this.” She kissed Kathleen, tenderly at first, then with more heat as lips parted and tongues flicked.

“Oh,” Kathleen moaned. She held Molly more tightly and kissed her again, her hands running over Molly’s butt to pull them more forcefully together.

Molly pulled away to peer into Kathleen eyes, stroking her hair off her forehead. “Do you realize how long it’s been since we made love?”

Kathleen’s forehead furrowed. “A while.”

“Since before you went to Philly. When you got back, you were so upset and focused on your parents, then after they got here, we’ve not had any time alone.”

“I know.” Kathleen gave her an apologetic smile. “With them just down the hall, I’d feel as if I’m a teenager, sneaking a quickie with my girlfriend.”

Molly’s brows shot up. “Did a lot of that, did you?”

Kathleen giggled. “Not a lot.”

“Well, we’re alone now, if you’re not too busy.”

Kathleen’s answer was in her grin. She took Molly’s hand and dragged her up the stairs to their room. As soon as the door closed, she yanked Molly’s sweatshirt over her head, quickly followed by the T-shirt and bra under it.

Molly groaned when Kathleen bent to take first one nipple, then the other into her mouth while her hands busily unbuttoned Molly’s jeans. Molly fumbled with Kathleen’s sweater.

“I want you naked, now,” she said, standing on her jeans hem to anchor it, while she pulled one leg free.

Kathleen obliged by shedding her clothes as quickly as she could. They tumbled onto the bed, a tangle of legs and arms as they grappled.

Molly’s eyebrows raised when she slipped her fingers into the wetness between Kathleen’s legs. “I think you were ready for this.”

She stroked and kissed and nipped, bringing Kathleen quickly to a climax that had her gasping as her body pulsed against Molly’s fingers.

“More than ready.” Kathleen had barely caught her breath before she reached between Molly’s legs.

Molly straddled her, giving Kathleen room to suck on her nipples while her fingers pumped and stroked until Molly bucked against her pressure with a loud exclamation. She collapsed against Kathleen, panting.

“Goddess, we needed this.”

“We did.” Kathleen held her, running her fingers through Molly’s hair. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Molly rolled off her, slipping an arm under Kathleen’s head to cradle her close. “We need to take care we don’t lose each other while we’re so worried about other things.”

“I know.” Kathleen nuzzled into her neck.

“We may need to do things a bit differently for a while,” Molly murmured, planting a kiss on Kathleen’s forehead.

Kathleen raised her head. “Like this?”

“Exactly like this.”

Kathleen settled back into the crook of Molly’s neck. “This is so nice.”

Molly held her tightly. “How are you doing?”

Kathleen didn’t answer immediately. “Okay.” Molly waited. “I can’t believe my mother has become friends with Irene. I don’t recall her ever having friends after Bryan, but maybe I just didn’t notice.”

“When I’ve been home,” Molly said hesitantly, “she doesn’t seem any different around here.”

“She isn’t.” Kathleen sighed. “Won’t look at me. Barely speaks. But she’s getting out of the house for a few hours. That’s something I wouldn’t have predicted.”

“Who knows? Like Rebecca and Mom said, maybe the island will help heal something inside her.”

“I’m not sure even Little Sister Island has that much magic.”

There it was. Rebecca stared at the computer screen showing the activity in the island’s bank account. Right there alongside the monthly payments to her and Molly was a new deposit—a very sizeable one. So, the coins and jewels must have generated some interest.

Even the estimate Nadiya had brought to her had been conservative, it seemed. She stared at the numbers. This should more than cover the renovation of the library and allow them to pay the same small stipend to Meredith as the island’s teacher.

A part of Rebecca wished she could have stayed to watch the auction from the back of the room, just to see what it had been like. If those items caused anything like the interest that had lit up Nadiya’s eyes, it would have been interesting. If they only knew how much more there is.

She logged off the account and closed the laptop, trying to ignore the pricking of annoyance that dogged her.

She could have called to tell me, she argued.

Why should she? challenged a more practical side of herself. She got the money transferred, as she said she would. You just saw it. Or is there some other reason you wanted her to call?

No less annoyed for knowing the answer to that question, Rebecca shoved to her feet and went to the library. Spring teased the island, though piles of snow remained in places. The islanders knew mid-March was too early to think winter had given up, but it was nice to wear nothing but a jacket without hat, scarf, gloves, boots. She felt lighter and tried to shrug off the irritation from earlier.

When she opened the library, she saw things as she’d left them—a stack of boxes in the corner, donated from the market and anyone who’d received things on the last ferry, and more stacks of books on the table. It was time to get the books boxed up temporarily so the shelves could be moved in preparation for Molly to get started with the addition.

She’d no sooner than tossed her jacket over a chair when she heard voices. A moment later, Kathleen and Meredith entered, closely followed by the dogs.

“Morning,” she said.

“Good morning,” Meredith said. “Can’t believe the school thing is happening. It feels more real now that we’re packing up.”

“Not backing out, are you?” Rebecca asked.

“No.” Meredith laughed. “I’ve got my teaching assistant all lined up. Miss Louisa agreed to help.”

“Really?” Kathleen asked. “That’s great.”

Rebecca gave Meredith an approving nod. “That will mean a great deal to her.”

They hung their jackets over other chairs while the dogs settled themselves under the table.

“Boxing by subject?” Meredith asked, hands on hips as she stared at the shelves around the room.

“I think keep them in the same order they’re in now,” Rebecca said. “We’ll label each box by subject and author, A-F or whatever.”

Kathleen climbed a stepstool to take books from the highest row of a shelf in the corner, handing them down to Meredith.

“How’s your mother?” Rebecca asked.

Kathleen glanced over her shoulder. “I wish I could say a changed woman, but let’s not ask for miracles. It is a small miracle that Irene has connected with her.”

“I wasn’t sure what to expect,” Meredith admitted. “Knowing from Aidan and Miss Louisa what she’d been like, but with my mom, she’s actually pleasant. She talks and even laughs sometimes.”

“That may say more about Irene than it does about Christine,” Rebecca said bluntly.

“Like Irene said, with you guys not having any history with her,” Kathleen mused, “maybe she doesn’t feel the need to be so defensive. Whatever. It’s nice to see her getting out of that room for a few hours, and she’s a little easier to be around when she is in the house.”

“And your father?” Rebecca asked.

“Even he’s different. Kind of. He’s been getting reacquainted with old friends, spending a few hours with them down the pub. But when he is at the house, putting together some business deal he’s cooking up, he’s on the phone for hours. Can’t wait to see what that long-distance bill is going to be.”

“Make sure he pays it.” Rebecca uncapped a marker to write on the side of a box of biographies.

They worked for a few hours, pausing for lunch when Kathleen’s stomach growled loudly.

“Hey,” Meredith asked as they made sandwiches in Rebecca’s kitchen, “I’ve been meaning to ask, how are we paying for this new school room? I mean, the island doesn’t collect property taxes, do you?”

“No, we don’t.” Rebecca had to fight to not roll her eyes at Kathleen’s immediate blush.

“Do we take up a collection or something?” Meredith asked.

Kathleen busied herself pouring water for all of them, almost hiding in the refrigerator.

“We have investments,” Rebecca said vaguely. “Our ancestors were wise enough to anticipate that there would be community needs. A few times, we’ve used that fund to rebuild a house after a fire, or help someone who lost a boat in a storm.”

Meredith grinned. “I’m constantly surprised at this island’s spirit, the way you all chip in to take care of one another.”

“I know,” Kathleen agreed, joining them at the table. “I felt the same.”

Rebecca was relieved to see that Kathleen had gotten her emotions under control. “We have enough to cover the cost for something like this that will benefit the entire island.”

They ate quickly and returned to the library. It must have been about two o’clock when the ferry’s horn sounded. Meredith’s head snapped up.

“Go,” Kathleen said. “We’ve got this.”

“Thanks.” Meredith grabbed her jacket and dashed out the door, Jasper on her heels.

“Not sure how she and Aidan manage,” Kathleen commented. “Being apart for one or two weeks at a time. It’s been hard enough when I had to leave Molly just twice. If I had to do it regularly…”

“This arrangement may work better for them,” Rebecca observed. “They’re both used to being on their own. Too much time together might be harder.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it like that.”

“You and Molly, I think, are more the exception than the rule.”

Sudden footsteps pounded across the library’s porch, and the door burst open. Blossom leapt to his feet with a bark.

“Here you are,” Jenny panted.

“What’s wrong?” Rebecca asked while Kathleen climbed down from the stepstool.

“Wilma’s been calling around, looking for you.” Jenny dropped, red-faced and sweating, onto a chair. “The ferry had a passenger.”

“A passenger?” Kathleen echoed. “Do they know they’ll be stuck here a whole month before the next ferry?”

Jenny nodded. “Wilma said she booked a room for an entire month.”

“She?” Rebecca stared.

Jenny gave her sister a grim look. “Nadiya Monroe is here.”

Chapter 10

Wilma plunked a steaming mug of coffee down on the table. “Look like you could use this,” she said sympathetically.

Kathleen raised her eyes, almost too numb to speak, but managed to mumble, “Thanks.”

The diner door opened, and Molly stomped in. “He did it. He left.”

Wilma got two more mugs of coffee and joined them at the table, sliding one over to Molly. “I’m sorry, Katie.”

“I can’t believe my dad left. Left me alone with my mother.” She immediately glanced up at Molly. “Sorry, you know what I mean.”

“I do,” Molly said grimly. “Business, my ass. He just didn’t want to stay here any longer.”

Michael’s announcement last evening that he’d be returning to the mainland when the ferry left this morning had gone over like a lead balloon. Christine had tearfully begged him to take her with him, but he’d argued that he needed to travel and she couldn’t be left alone at the house.

“I tried to get Aidan and Fred to say there was no room,” Molly said, “but it was obvious that wasn’t true. They couldn’t refuse.”

“We’ll still help out,” Wilma said, patting Kathleen’s hand.

“Thank you,” Kathleen said. “Otherwise, Molly might have to arrest me for murder.”

Molly snorted. “Where is she now?”

“I dropped her off at the Woodhouse place. Irene can babysit her for a few hours.” Kathleen dropped her head to her hand. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Molly looked around, though there was no one else in the diner at the moment. “What about this woman? This Nadiya Monroe?”

“She called a couple of days ago,” Wilma whispered, leaning in. “Knew about the ferry schedule, asked about internet, said she could work remotely for the month. But who is she?”

“I met her in Philly,” Kathleen said. “She was in Rebecca’s hotel room. She works for the auction house that sold things for us, but she and Rebecca knew each other somehow. Rebecca didn’t want to talk about it.”

As if their whispers had summoned her, Nadiya entered the dining room from the hotel lobby, laptop in hand. If she noticed the immediate silence and guilty expressions they shared, she didn’t let on. Wilma got up to bring her a menu.

She took one of the tables near the windows, giving her a view of the village’s main street down the hill to the marina. Tossing her scarf around her neck, she glanced in Kathleen and Molly’s direction with a nod.

Kathleen got up and went to her. “Nadiya, how nice to see you again. We met in Philadelphia.”

“I remember.” Nadiya took her hand.

“What brings you to Little Sister?”

“Mostly curious.” Nadiya gave her a small smile. “I remember Rebecca talking about this place. I had some downtime, and I can work remotely for a while. Thought it might be a nice break from city life.”

“Oh, it’ll be that,” Kathleen assured her with a laugh.

Molly came over, and Kathleen introduced them. Molly gave Kathleen a kiss on the cheek.

“Gotta get back to work. Helping Tim inventory all the building supplies that came in on the ferry. See you at home later. Nice to meet you, Nadiya.”

Nadiya gestured to the chair opposite. “Can you sit for a moment?”

“Sure.”

Kathleen sat down as Wilma returned to take Nadiya’s order.

“Be right up.”

Nadiya glanced out the window. “Cute town.” She picked up her phone and sighed. “Can’t believe there’s no cell service here, though.”

“It’s an adjustment, but you get used to it.”

Nadiya returned her gaze to Kathleen, studying her. “Rebecca said you were visiting family in Philadelphia.”

“I was. I moved back here a couple years ago.”

Nadiya leaned forward, her elbows on the table. “You lived in Philly and could move to a place as remote as this?”

Wilma arrived, carrying a tray with Nadiya’s soup and rolls, two cups of coffee, and a piece of pie. “You keep her company while she eats, Katie.”

“Thanks, Wilma.” Kathleen dug a fork into the apple pie and lifted it in a kind of toast. “You won’t be disappointed in the food. Nels is a wonderful cook.”

Nadiya sampled the soup, a creamy tomato. “It’s good.”

Kathleen let her eat in peace for a moment and then said, “Rebecca said the auction went well.”

Nadiya nodded. “It did. Better than I expected. Those items generated a lot of interest, and a lot of curiosity as to whether there’s more where they came from.”

Recalling her transparent response to Meredith, Kathleen tried to school her features into a neutral mask. “You’ll have to ask Rebecca about that.”

“Oh, I will.” Nadiya gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I will.”

Just as she had in Philadelphia when she knew there would be a knock on her hotel room door, Rebecca waited. It might have been more generous of her to go to the hotel and initiate a reunion with Nadiya, but I’m not feeling generous.

In fact, she felt resentful. This… this incursion into her space, onto her island, felt like an invasion. She had work to do, didn’t she? Her world didn’t grind to a halt just because Nadiya Monroe decided to plop herself down on Little Sister Island for a damned month.

Working alone—Kathleen was in the middle of an edit, and Meredith had a few precious days with Aidan before he had to leave again—she continued boxing up books. She’d begun sorting them as well, laying aside some that hadn’t been borrowed in a while, thinking it was time to arrange a swap with a library on the mainland. No library could keep every book forever. Most did book sales a few times a year, but since everyone here who’d had an interest in any of these books would have said something to her if they wanted a book permanently, she figured it was safe to let these select titles go.

She braced herself when she heard the measured footsteps on the porch, followed by a soft knock as the door opened.

“May I come in?”

Rebecca didn’t turn around. “It’s a public library.”

Nadiya gave a half-laugh as she stepped inside. “Always ready with a non-answer.”

Rebecca didn’t reply, instead reaching for the shipping tape and ripping a strip loose to close up the box she’d packed.

Nadiya wandered the room, perusing the shelves. Rebecca stole a glance in her direction, noting the way her black slacks swished around the full curve of hips, the colors of her tunic, the intricate knit of the shawl draped around her shoulders.

“Why are you packing the books?” Nadiya asked as she came around to the table where more books were stacked.

“We’re getting ready for some construction. Adding a school room this spring.”

“A school? Really.”

“Really. We’ve got a teacher living here now, and she’s willing to teach the island children, so we’re preparing for next year.”

Nadiya picked up a book and leafed through it. “You went to school here, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Rebecca replied. “Miss Louisa was the teacher here for decades, but several years ago, the state decided she didn’t meet their certification requirements. The kids have had to go offisland since. We’re looking to change that.”

“So they’ll be kept prisoner here, like you were?”

“We’re not prisoners,” Rebecca said sharply.

“That’s not how I remember it.” Nadiya set the book down and met Rebecca’s eyes for the first time. “I seem to recall your saying that you couldn’t wait to get off the island, to go away to college.”

“Wanting to go to college doesn’t mean I didn’t think of this place as my home,” Rebecca said. “Same for our children. Some will leave, some will make their homes here. No one is forced to stay.”

“But some are forced to go back.”

“What does that mean?”

Nadiya picked up another book, flipping the pages. “You saw the deposit from the auction?”

Rebecca blinked at the abrupt change of topic. “Yes.”

“I’ve had several inquiries from potential buyers, wondering if there’s more where those came from.”

Rebecca allowed a small smile at the irony that they were standing atop an entire room of artifacts from the shipwreck. “Is that why you’re here? Hunting for treasure?”

“Partly.” Nadiya’s dark eyes probed. “Is there more?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed.” Rebecca reached for more books to pack in the next box. “And now you’re stuck here for an entire month before the next ferry. Hope you brought plenty to keep you busy.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll have any trouble occupying myself for the next few weeks.” Nadiya turned on her heel and strode toward the door. “May I borrow this?” she asked, holding up the book in her hand.

“Of course. A good book will help to pass those long evenings at the hotel.”

“Do you need me to sign for it? Apply for a library card?”

Rebecca paused her packing and looked at Nadiya. “I know where to find you.”

Nadiya stared back for a moment and then yanked the door open, almost slamming it behind her.

Rebecca exhaled, leaning on the table. “Goddess help me. This is going to be a long month.”

Meredith tugged a turtleneck over her head, freeing her hair from the collar and smoothing the flyaway strands from the static electricity. The bedroom door opened, and Aidan came in, wearing nothing but a towel.

She smiled. “Better make sure that’s nice and snug. Wouldn’t want you flashing my mother.”

He grinned and undid the towel to run it over his damp hair, leaving it tousled. “The only one I want to flash is you.”

He pulled her to him for a kiss. Everything about him smelled clean and fresh, and it was tempting to yank that turtleneck off again.

“Uh uh,” she said, backing away. “I’ve got things to do, and so do you. Get dressed.”

She gave his butt a swat on her way to the door. Downstairs, she rubbed Jasper, who was still snug in his bed.

“Come on, old man. Let’s go out.”

He got stiffly to his feet and followed her out the front door and down the porch steps to do his business. She breathed deeply, sniffing something in the air. When Jasper returned, they went to the kitchen, where Miss Louisa already had coffee made.

“Good morning, dear.”

“Morning.” Meredith fed Jasper and then topped up Louisa’s cup before pouring one for herself. “It smells different this morning.”

Louisa glanced at her over the half-glasses perched on her nose. “You’re learning. Snow’s coming. That’s what you smell.”

“Isn’t it late for snow?” Meredith put two slices of bread in the toaster.

“March isn’t late for us. We’ve had snows in May, but not often. This will probably be the last big one, though.”

“You think it’ll be a big one?”

Louisa nodded. “The spring ones often are. We’ll want to fill all the oil lamps, check the batteries. The solar and wind can only do so much.”

The toaster popped. Meredith spread the toast with peanut butter and jelly and joined Louisa at the table as Aidan came in.

“Morning,” he said. “Weather coming.”

“How do you know that?” Meredith asked. “I smelled something different in the air when I went out.”

He wagged his head toward the window. “Can tell by the sky. It’ll be here by afternoon.” He turned to the stove to fry some eggs. “Hate to say it, but I’ll need to leave today.”

“Today!” Meredith stared at his back. “You aren’t due to catch the Big Sister ferry until Wednesday. I’d hoped we could spend the next couple of days together before you have to go again.”

“I know, but…” One of his shoulders lifted. “If this is a big one, the water’ll be too rough for me to get there. Part of the job.”

Meredith opened her mouth to protest, but his last remark hit her. It was part of the job. It was part of living here. Planning ahead—like filling the oil lamps—thinking of others, doing what had to be done. She swallowed her disappointment.

“I’ll drive you to the marina after breakfast,” she said instead. “It’s best you get there before the storm gets any closer.”

He turned to face her at last, his eyes telling her everything he couldn’t say, except, “Thanks.”

Meredith finished her toast, and Aidan slid one of his eggs onto her plate as he sat. “Do we need anything from the market?” she asked.

“Probably wouldn’t hurt to stock up on a few things,” Louisa said. “I’ll make a list.”

“Do you want to come?” Meredith asked.

“You don’t need me along this morning.” Louisa smiled at the two of them. “Safe voyage, Aidan. We’ll see you soon.”

She kissed the top of his head and left the kitchen.

Meredith forced herself to smile and make conversation while Aidan had his breakfast. They made plans to get up into the attic and see what all was up there next time he had a few days to spend on Little Sister.

“Now that my dad has turned the cellar into his brewery, we might be able to finish the attic into an extra living space.”

He answered, but she could tell his mind was already elsewhere.

“Go pack what you need,” she said. “I’ll clean up here.”

When he was ready, she drove the two of them into the village. Joe was already there, fueling up a boat.

“Good,” he said. “Get going. Already some chop out there, but not too bad yet.”

Meredith stood on the dock while Aidan stashed his oiled-cotton duffel in the boat. When he climbed back out to stand before her, she zipped his jacket up a bit more, and tugged his knit cap over his ears, fighting all the things she longed to say.

“I’ll see you soon,” she said simply, standing on her toes to kiss him. He wrapped his arms around her to kiss her harder.

“I love you,” he said when he let her go.

“Love you.” It was hard to say the words through the tightness in her throat.

Behind them, Joey stomped down from the diner with two travel mugs, a duffel of his own slung over his shoulder. “All set?”

“Brandi and Matty are waiting for you,” Joe said.

“See you in a couple days,” Joey said.

Meredith grabbed Joey’s duffel strap before he could step into the boat. “You take care, too.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek and let him go.

He stared at her, color rising in his cheeks. With a nod, he stepped into the boat and handed a mug to Aidan.

Joe undid the line from the cleat and gave the stern a shove with his foot. The boat slid away from the dock with Joey at the wheel. Aidan turned to wave one last time.

“Do you ever get used to it?” Meredith asked Joe as they watched the boat chug out of sight.

“Not really.” He draped an arm around her shoulders. “But the only way for them to go do what they have to is for us to not add to it. Do what we have to.”

She nodded. “Off to the market now. Do you and Jenny need anything?”

He chuckled. “She’s there now.”

She headed up the hill.

“Meredith?”

She turned.

“Thanks,” Joe said.

“What for?”

He tilted his head toward the dock. “Taking care of my boys.”

She smiled at him and went on to the market, where she found Jenny, one shopping cart nearly filled.

“You here to lay in supplies before the storm, too?” Miranda asked, bouncing the baby on her hip.

“Sure am.” Meredith tugged a cart loose. “Anything in particular you know Miss Louisa is fond of?”

Miranda came out from behind the counter to the produce section. “Take a few of our tomatoes. They’re from our greenhouse but almost as good as the ones she grows. She loves her tomato sandwiches.”

“And some of these,” Jenny volunteered, holding up a few oranges. “If she hasn’t taught you yet, ask her to make her orange cranberry bread. It’s wonderful.”

“I keep hearing about this bread,” Meredith said, accepting both the tomatoes and oranges. “Can’t wait to taste it.”

“Aidan and Joey took off?” Jenny asked casually.

“Yes. A few minutes ago.” Meredith tried to sound just as casual, but failed miserably.

“Never gets any easier,” Jenny said. “But I’m glad they got going now. It’ll be a lot worse later.”

“Good morning.”

They all turned at the sound of an unfamiliar voice.

Jenny was the first to find her voice. “Nadiya, good morning.” She strode over to offer a hand. “You probably don’t remember me. I’m—”

“Jenny,” Nadiya cut in. “Rebecca’s little sister.” She smiled. “I remember.”

“Can I help you find anything?” Miranda asked.

Nadiya smiled more broadly as she looked around. “I have a feeling if I don’t see it at the moment, it won’t take long to find it.”

“Got that right,” Miranda said as Charlie burbled and held a hand out to Nadiya.

“Hi, sweetie.” Nadiya gave Charlie a finger to squeeze.

“How are things at the hotel?” Jenny asked.

“Quiet.” Nadiya pried her finger loose. “But I’m getting a lot of work done. Wilma said a storm is heading this way, and we might lose internet for a few days. Thought I’d stock up on junk food while I can. Got a few books from the library.”

Jenny’s eyebrows shot up. “So you’ve seen Rebecca.”

“I have.”

Meredith felt she was watching a kind of tennis match, one where she didn’t understand all the rules.

Jenny nodded. “Well, after the roads are cleared again, we’ll have you up to the house for dinner.”

“That would be lovely. Thank you.”

Nadiya moved on, choosing a few bags of snacks and soft drinks to take to the register. “Bye,” she said as she carried her purchases to the door.

The bell was still tinkling when Meredith asked, “What was that all about? Who is she? Why is she here?”

Jenny’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the door. “She’s someone my sister knew a long time ago, and I don’t know why she’s here, but I think she’s going to be trouble.”

“Really? She seems so nice.”

“Oh, it’s not that.” Jenny sighed. “But there’s going to be trouble.”

Chapter 11

As predicted, the squall dumped two more feet of snow on the island but without the winds of the last big storm. Blossom bounded through the fluffy stuff, jamming his head into the snow to sniff out whatever critters were tunneling underneath. When he lifted his head, a small pyramid of snow sat on his muzzle.

Kathleen helped Molly shovel around the cottage and clear off the Toyota while Christine stayed sequestered in the room upstairs, though she complained about not being able to plug in her tablet.

“It’s heat or extras,” Kathleen had told her. “All my computers are powered off. This is how it is.”

Christine had resentfully settled for reading one of Molly’s detective stories by oil lamp. That and sleeping for hours.

“Sorry to leave you,” Molly said. “Gotta help Dad with the power generator. Hopefully, we’ll be back to normal by this afternoon.”

“Go.” Kathleen cast a glance upward. “With any luck, she’ll sleep most of the day.”

Molly and Joe refueled the island’s generators with diesel, performed a little maintenance while they were there, and then made a few heating oil deliveries to those who were running low, though all the islanders were conserving as much as they could. An early dusk was falling by the time she got back to the cottage.

She sniffed as she sat to unlace her boots. “Smells wonderful.”

Kathleen emerged from the kitchen, tossing a towel over her shoulder. “Good. Making my famous spaghetti sauce.”

Molly pointed a finger up. “How’re things here?”

Kathleen gave her a pained smile. “Mostly quiet. Thank goodness.” She kissed Molly. “Go get changed. Dinner’s almost ready.”

By the time Molly got to the kitchen, Kathleen was taking garlic bread out of the oven.

“Want me to call your mother down?” Molly asked as she poured three glasses of water.

“I’ll take a tray up to her,” Kathleen said. “She said she didn’t want to eat down here.”

Molly bit her lower lip to stop herself blurting the words that leapt to her tongue. Kathleen loaded a tray with a bowl of spaghetti, a plate with two slices of garlic bread, and one of the glasses.

“Be right back.”

Kathleen returned in a moment, and they sat to eat.

“You know,” Molly said carefully, “she was eating with us just a few days ago. Is she feeling ill?”

Kathleen gave a half-shrug. “Not sure. It’s just easier than arguing with her.”

Molly opened her mouth, ready to argue, but reconsidered. “It is more peaceful this way.” She reached for Kathleen’s hand. “This is delicious. Thank you.”

Kathleen kissed her hand. “Talked to Dad today. Well, Mom wanted to call him. He’s in Vegas. Says he’s still planning on being back here on the April ferry.”

Molly heard the doubtful tone in her voice. “You think he won’t?”

Kathleen twirled her spaghetti. “I think he’s enjoying not having to take care of Mom these last few weeks.”

“Do you think,” Molly began, carefully choosing her words, “she could go back with him in April? I mean, she seems to be doing well. They could hire help.”

“She does,” Kathleen admitted. “But he tried bringing in a few different nurses to help care for her. From what he said, it didn’t go well. It’d be the whole thing about leaving her alone. The pressure for me to go to them would only start up again.”

Molly nodded. “Well, you need to get out of here for a while. You go to the library tomorrow. I can stay here. Got a few things to take care of.”

The next morning, she pushed Kathleen out the door as soon as breakfast was done. “Go. Take the whole day. You and Blossom need a break.”

Kathleen gave her a grateful kiss and drove off in the Toyota. Molly busied herself outlining a timetable for the school construction project, trying to estimate how many days she’d need for each stage and when she’d need to have help lined up. She frequently rebuilt decks and porches, built an occasional shed or patched up an old garage, but had never taken on such a big job as this. It would be good practice for when she turned her attention to their own garage. She’d worked up sketches for that, too, but had to keep reminding herself it couldn’t end up being bigger than the cottage.

Her stomach growled, and she realized it was after eleven-thirty. She went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to see what she could make for herself and Christine but stopped.

“The hell with this.”

She went upstairs and paused outside the closed door. Taking a deep breath, she knocked and waited until she heard, “Yes?”

She opened the door. “It’s lunch time. If you’re hungry, come on downstairs.”

“Can’t you bring something up?” Christine didn’t bother to look up from her tablet, newly charged now that the power was back to normal.

“This isn’t a hotel with room service.” Molly tried to keep her voice even. “If you’re hungry, come down. If you’re not, fine.”

She went back down to the kitchen without waiting for a reply and began making herself a grilled cheese sandwich. A few minutes later, Christine shuffled into the kitchen in her pajamas and slippers.

“Grilled cheese?” Molly asked.

“Sure.”

“You could pour the drinks.” Molly busied herself at the stove, flipping the sandwiches until they were perfectly grilled on both sides. “Here you go.” She set a plate down in front of Christine and took a seat across the table.

For a couple of minutes, they ate in silence. Then, “You don’t like me much, do you?” Christine asked.

“Not much, no,” Molly replied casually.

“Because I’m here, in your space?”

Molly raised her eyes to meet Christine’s cold ones. “Because you’re a shit human being.” Christine’s eyes widened.

“You… you have no right,” Christine blustered. “You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

“The hell I don’t.” Molly set her sandwich down. “You’re the one who has no idea what this island went through after Bryan died. I watched my brother nearly kill himself over it.”

Christine’s nostrils flared. “He should have. Because of him, I lost my son!”

Molly sat back. “See, that’s the thing. You never seem to remember that you still have a daughter.” Oh, what have I done, Molly thought. Too late to go back now.

She leaned her elbows on the table. “I get that not all parents bond to all of their kids equally. I get that you might love one more than the other. But nothing forgives what you said to Kathleen.”

The expression of bewilderment on Christine’s face was almost comical. “What are you talking about? Said when?”

“What you said to her on her eleventh birthday.”

Christine’s brow creased as she thought. “I’m supposed to remember something I said on her eleventh birthday?”

It was Molly’s turn to look incredulous. “Yeah, when you said you wished she was dead. I think you’d remember that.”

“What? I never said any such thing.” But Christine’s eyes flitted back and forth as she clearly struggled to think back.

“She spent her eleventh birthday—a year to the day from Bryan’s drowning—alone.” Molly stared at Christine’s expression of confusion. “Michael was gone,” Molly prompted. “You called her into your room. That’s when you said it.”

“Said what?”

“You said, ‘why couldn’t it have been you?’” Molly glared at Christine. “Do you deny saying it?”

“I don’t…” Scarlet splotches colored Christine’s cheeks. “I was drinking a lot. I don’t remember saying… I don’t know what I said.”

Molly sat back, her mouth hanging open. “You actually think that’s an excuse? That you were drunk and don’t remember?”

“I can’t be held responsible for what I might have said when I was drinking.”

Molly leaned forward again, pointing a finger. “It wouldn’t have come out of your mouth, even drunk, if you didn’t think it. And Kathleen has lived since that day with the weight of knowing her mother would rather she be dead and her brother alive.”

She stood, her chair scraping backward. “That’s what I will never forgive you for.”

She stormed out of the kitchen, grabbed her jacket off the peg, and slammed the door behind her.

With the passing of that squall, spring seemed to have taken firm hold of the island. Snowdrops and crocus bloomed, little daffodils poked up in clusters. Rebecca loved this time of year, when walks along the island’s cliffs or sitting to pray on the bluff were accompanied by small pockets of warmer air interspersed among the chill breezes blowing off the ocean. Those little bursts of warmth brought the promise of the end of the long winter.

She’d spent the morning doing just that. Too many hours in the library packing the books and getting ready for the upcoming construction had left her out of sorts. Not enough time spent centering herself. At least, that what’s she told herself.

It has nothing to do with Nadiya, she insisted.

So why, sitting on the bluff, had her thoughts continuously circled back to their days together in Boston despite her repeated attempts to redirect her focus.

At last, she’d given up and returned home to her bungalow to shower and begin making cornbread for dinner. With the cornbread still warm from the oven, she wrapped the pan in a kitchen towel and put it in the back seat of her car for the short drive to the Cooper house.

She opened her sister’s kitchen door without knocking. “Where’s Joe?”

Jenny looked up from the stove, where she was stirring a large pot. “Still down the marina. He’ll be here soon.”

She reached to a back burner for a kettle and poured into a waiting mug. “Water’s hot. Make a cup of tea and sit down.”

Rebecca got a teabag for herself and poured a cup of coffee. She took both mugs to the table, choosing a different chair when the first one she pulled out was occupied by Minnow, curled up in a furry orange ball. Jenny slid the cornbread into the oven to keep warm and joined her.

“All set for the big dig?” Jenny asked.

Minnow sat up, peeking over the edge of the table to see if there was any food to be begged.

“As set as I can be.” Rebecca dunked her teabag into the steaming water. “Books are all packed, and the room is ready to be ripped open.”

Jenny eyed her sister over the rim of her mug.

“What?” Rebecca asked.

“Nothing.”

Rebecca snorted. “Right. I know that look. Out with it.”

“It’s just… have you seen Nadiya since she got here?”

“She came by the library. Poking around about whether there are more artifacts like the ones we sold.”

“Oh. You didn’t tell her anything?”

“Of course not.” Rebecca took a sip of tea. “If I’d had any idea she worked at that auction house, I’d have never dealt with them. All we need is someone asking questions.”

“Are you…” Jenny hesitated, seeming to be choosing her words carefully, “okay? With her being here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Rebecca demanded.

Jenny hesitated, then took the plunge. “Rebecca, do you remember when I came to visit you in Boston? When I stayed in your dorm with you?”

“Of course.”

“Well,” Jenny’s cheeks flushed, “I didn’t mean to snoop, I mean, I was looking through your textbooks on your desk, and I found a letter. From Nadiya.”

Rebecca’s mouth fell open for a few seconds. “Oh.”

“I know how much you loved her.” Jenny reached for her hand. “I was afraid you might not come back to Little Sister, that you might want to make a life with Nadiya on the mainland.”

Rebecca stared down at their hands. “I never had a choice.”

“Of course you did.”

But Rebecca shook her head. “No, I—”

The front door opened, and Joe called out, “Jenny?”

“Back here.” Jenny stood, casting a worried glance at Rebecca as Joe came into the kitchen, only he wasn’t alone.

“Nadiya.” Rebecca stared as Nadiya followed Joe into the room.

Nadiya stopped, apparently as surprised as Rebecca. “Hello, Rebecca.” She held out a bottle. “I brought wine, though I wasn’t sure what was for dinner.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Jenny said, taking it to set on the counter. “But thank you. Joe can you pour? Dinner’s ready.”

A few minutes later, they were seated with bowls of turkey chili and cornbread warm from the oven.

“Tell us about your work at the auction house,” Jenny said to Nadiya.

“Well, I’ve been there for over thirty years now.”

Rebecca studied Nadiya as she spoke, watching the way the light shone on the contours of her face, her long fingers playing with the stem of her wine glass.

“I told Rebecca,” and Nadiya turned to catch her, “that Boston wasn’t exactly a friendly city for a young Black woman in the eighties. Not in the art world anyway. So I spent a few years in New York before I was lucky enough to get this position in Philadelphia. The art scene there is smaller, we don’t get the huge auctions like Christie’s or Sotheby’s, but I like it. There have been more opportunities for promotion.”

“Do you specialize?” Jenny asked.

“My degree is in art history, so I usually research and help estimate values for the antique paintings and sculptures that come our way.”

“So why were you called in to see the things I brought?” Rebecca blurted.

Nadiya gave her a cryptic smile. “Because we don’t often see things that look like they came from a pirate ship. Cynthia had never seen anything quite like the coins and jewels you wanted to sell and decided she needed an extra assessment.”

From the corner of her eye, Rebecca saw Joe’s eyes flitting among the three women, and she suddenly wished she’d had the chance to warn him not to say anything. Luckily, he seemed to have decided that listening was wiser than speaking.

“I also told Rebecca,” Nadiya continued in a deceptively innocent tone, “that I hoped there might be more where those came from.”

Joe busied himself buttering another piece of cornbread.

“And,” Rebecca said quickly, “as I told you, they were a few family heirlooms we decided to part with.”

Jenny nodded and changed the subject. “Are you married, Nadiya? Family?”

Nadiya looked for a moment as if she weren’t going to be derailed by the question but then said, “Divorced. No children, much to my mother’s dismay.”

“Your mom still live in New Jersey?” Rebecca asked.

“Yes.” Nadiya’s mouth quirked into a smile. “She used to ask about you. Still does sometimes. Wait till she hears I’ve spent an entire month on your island.”

By the time dinner ended, Rebecca seriously wondered if she could take three more weeks of this. Nadiya’s voice was slightly different—deeper in timbre, more cultured—but it echoed and resonated deep inside Rebecca, the vibrations shaking loose old, old memories. She felt almost as if she had vertigo, off-balance and slightly off-center.

“I can drive you back,” Joe offered as the evening drew to a close.

As much as she didn’t want to, Rebecca heard herself say, “There’s no need for that. I’m heading that way.”

“You sure?” Jenny murmured as Joe walked Nadiya to the foyer.

Rebecca’s head gave a robotic nod. She shrugged into her jacket while Nadiya swung her shawl around her shoulders.

“Thank you so much for your hospitality. What with the storm and everything, I’ve been confined to the hotel and the village.”

Rebecca felt the rebuke. On her way to the car, Nadiya paused and looked skyward.

“I’ve never seen a sky like this.”

Rebecca stared skyward. “It’s even better than this. Get in.”

She drove them along the ring road, away from any houses, any lights, up near the cemetery, where the sky was black velvet, dotted with stars and constellations and galaxies those in cities could never see. She pulled over, and they got out.

“Amazing,” Nadiya breathed.

Rebecca stood beside her, watching the stars and inhaling her perfume. “I so missed this when I was in Boston.”

Nadiya lowered her eyes to focus on Rebecca. “Is this why you had to come back?”

“This is part of it.”

She felt the weight of Nadiya’s gaze.

“I’d like to know the rest of it,” Nadiya said softly.

Rebecca turned to meet her eyes in the starlight. “I’d like to show you.” She almost looked around to see who’d said that. “But you’ll need more rugged shoes than those.” She pointed at Nadiya’s black dress boots. “And preferably a real jacket. Not that shawl. It’s still wicked cold.”

“I have casual shoes,” Nadiya said defensively, wrapping her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. “But I didn’t plan to go on any expeditions.”

“I’ll see what I can scrounge up.”

They got back in the car, and Rebecca drove the rest of the way around the island, into the village. Pulling up in front of the hotel, she said, “Pick you up tomorrow at ten.”

True to her word, Rebecca was in front of the hotel at promptly ten a.m. She got out as Nadiya descended the stairs, wearing another pair of black slacks, a warm sweater, and—to Rebecca’s surprise—sturdy black walking shoes. Rebecca bit back the sarcasm that so easily leapt to her tongue, and instead held up a down jacket.

“I think this will fit.”

Nadiya frowned. “I will look like the Michelin Man in that thing.”

Rebecca shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She tossed the jacket into the back seat and got behind the wheel. Nadiya settled herself in the passenger seat.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Rebecca went in a different direction, driving up the Head where the huge wind turbines whooshed. Nadiya got out of the car and obviously decided the bite of the wind was worth the offer of that down jacket after all.

“We’ve converted the island almost completely to renewable energy,” Rebecca said proudly. “These make the majority of our electricity now. Most of our houses have solar panels and smaller turbines. We’re trying to be as self-sustaining as we can.”

“Why did Wilma warn me we might lose power during the storm?” Nadiya gaped up at the white windmills.

Rebecca shrugged. “Solar batteries obviously don’t last if we have a few days of stormy weather. Everyone’s stuck at home. We all save what power we have to keep furnaces running, for cooking. The whole island works together to make sure we all have what we need.”

Nadiya cast a skeptical glance her way. “People don’t do that. They only look out for themselves.”

“That was my experience on the mainland.” Rebecca strode over the granite toward where it looked as if it dropped into the ocean. “But not here. That’s why it was such culture shock there.”

She pointed at a small hump sitting on the horizon of the ocean. “That’s Big Sister.”

They stood, shoulder-to-shoulder, gently buffeted by the winds that were nearly constant at this elevation. Nadiya zipped her jacket against the chill.

“Your home is beautiful, Becca.”

The old nickname shook her. “You’re the only one who ever called me that.”

Nadiya shifted to face Rebecca. The wind tugged playfully at Rebecca’s hair, tossing black strands across her face. Nadiya gazed into her eyes and tucked the wayward strands behind her ear.

“Share your island with me.”

Chapter 12

The entire house filled with the aroma of orange and cranberry. Meredith’s face gleamed with a slight sheen of steam as she bent over the oven to check the loaves of bread baking inside.

“Not quite,” she pronounced.

“You’ve got a natural feel for this,” Louisa said proudly from the table where she was wrapping up four other loaves they’d already made. “This recipe has been handed down in our family forever.”

“What’re we doing with all these?” Irene asked.

“Gifts. But we’ll keep one here for us.” Louisa tied one gingham tea towel with a ribbon. “One to Mo and Katie. Mo is always fixing things around here and won’t charge me.” She paused. “Not so much now that Roy and Aidan are here, though. But still, they’ve got Christine to take care of.”

“Thought she’d start back up with our art lessons once the snow cleared.” Irene poured three fresh cups of coffee.

Louisa nodded. “That’s why I’m going to bring one over. See if she needs a talking to.”

“For someone with terminal cancer,” Irene observed, “she seems to be doing okay.”

“I suppose her status just means there’s nothing more doctors can do,” Louisa said philosophically. “Nature will take its course. As it does for all of us eventually.”

Louisa felt Irene’s attention sharpen.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course,” Louisa said. “I’ve been thinking a lot about Maisie. How much she wished Michael and Christine would bring Katie back to the island after… Oh, she felt so guilty, and there was nothing we could do to ease that burden. It’s hard to watch a friend suffer so.”

Meredith checked the loaves again. “Done.” She took them from the oven and set the pans on a wire rack to cool.

“Do you want me to come with you to see Christine?” Irene asked.

“That would be lovely.” Louisa reached for another towel. “We can make a few deliveries while we’re out.”

“Sounds good.” Irene cut a length of ribbon. “I can’t remember the last time I left this house.”

“Do you want to come along, Meredith?” Louisa asked.

“No thanks.” Meredith grinned. “I’ve got loads of lesson plans to write. Going down to the hotel. We really need to get internet here as soon as we can.”

“We’ll ask Katie who she used,” Louisa said. “Should probably call now and make arrangements for them to get here in April or May.”

“Good idea.” Meredith ran water in the sink to wash up the baking mess while Louisa went upstairs to change.

When she came back downstairs, she and Irene bagged up the loaves.

“All set?” Louisa asked.

“Aren’t we forgetting something?” Irene asked.

“What?” Louisa opened to bag to count.

“Mr. Woodhouse and Miss Olivia?”

Louisa reddened. “Oh, we don’t have to—”

“They haven’t been out of the house in ages, either,” Meredith said.

“You don’t think,” Louisa said, wringing her hands, “I’m not being silly?”

“Of course not.” Irene retrieved the wooden boxes from where they sat on the window sill. “Let’s go.”

Louisa’s heart lightened as Irene secured the boxes in the back seat with seatbelts. The old Ford rumbled happily along the road to the Halloran cottage. Molly’s SUV was gone, but Katie’s car was there. Irene got one of the loaves out of the bag.

“The first time Ollie and I came here after Katie came back,” Louisa recalled, “we walked right in, like we used to do with Maisie. You should have seen the look on Katie’s face.” She cackled. “We didn’t know then how private and protective she was. Of course, we didn’t know what she’d been through, either.”

Irene chuckled. “We’ll knock and wait to be invited in.”

When Katie came to the door, her mouth fell open in surprise. “Hi. Come on in.”

“I understand this is a favorite around here,” Irene said, holding up the towel-wrapped loaf.

“Gosh, yes!” Katie held it to her nose, inhaling deeply. “You brought this to me my first day here.”

Louisa met Irene’s eye, both of them trying not to laugh. “How’s your mother?”

Katie shrugged, glancing up the stairs and lowering her voice. “Kind of weird. She’s taking a shower now, but she’s been talking more, coming down to sit without being asked. Not sure what’s going on.”

“Good,” Irene said. “I wanted to talk to her.”

“She’ll be dressed in a few minutes. Come on back.” She led the way to the kitchen. “I’ve got coffee on.”

Katie poured three cups. “How’s Meredith doing? Is she getting nervous?”

“About what?” Irene asked.

Katie and Louisa both stared at her.

“The new moon in is two weeks,” Louisa said. “She and Aidan will be bonded then.”

“Oh, my gosh.” Irene laid her hands on her cheeks. “I completely forgot. I already think of them as married. Bonded. Whatever.”

“Not yet.” Louisa squeezed Katie’s hand. “Our first bonding since you and Molly.”

Irene beamed. “I love this island.”

Christine entered the kitchen at that moment. Louisa caught the derisive curl of her lip at Irene’s words, but it disappeared before Katie saw her there.

“Mom.” Katie got up. “Want some coffee?”

“Sure.” Christine pulled out a chair. “Thank you.”

“How’ve you been?” Irene asked while Katie got up to pour another cup for her mother.

“Okay.”

“I’ve missed having you for our lessons,” Irene said.

Christine looked at her skeptically. “You don’t have to do that. I know you’re just being nice.”

“But I’m not!” Irene leaned toward her. “I’ve missed teaching. And you show real promise. Your technique with watercolors is really improving.”

“You’re just saying that.”

Irene shook her head. “I never lie to my students. I might have to find… creative ways to word my constructive criticism for some, but not with you. I wish you’d come back.”

Christine’s features relaxed a bit. “I’d like that.”

“Good! How about we pick back up tomorrow?”

“I can drop you off,” Katie offered. “I have to go into the village tomorrow anyhow.”

“Thank you.” Christine’s gaze darted toward Katie, not quite reaching her face.

She never even looks at her, Louisa noticed as she observed their interaction. Katie watches and waits, but it doesn’t happen. That realization saddened her. I think I’m glad Maisie never had to see it.

Rays of sunlight slanted through the windows as Rebecca wandered the rooms, aimlessly straightening pillows on the sofa and swiping at imaginary dust on the side table. The kitchen was likewise neat and spotless, just the way she liked it. She lifted the lid of the slow cooker to stir the chowder she had simmering. The lid left a ring of condensation on the counter. She gave the counter another swipe and washed the spoon.

Everything was as ready as it could be. Except me. Am I ready?

She slipped on a light jacket and stepped out into a glorious morning. The trees were still bare, but birds chirped and hopped about, already building nests, as she made her way to the hotel. Nadiya sat on one of the porch rockers, waiting for her.

“Good morning,” Nadiya said with a smile that warmed Rebecca inside.

“Morning.”

Nadiya descended the porch steps, dressed in what Rebecca supposed was the closest she had to what she’d suggested as clothes fit for hiking—those sturdy walking shoes, yet another pair of black slacks, and what looked like a couple of shirts layered under a sweater.

“This way.” She nodded to the east, and Nadiya fell into step beside her. From the other side of the street, Rebecca saw Siobhan step out of her shop with a wide smile on her face. Rebecca hurried them out of the village.

“Where to today?”

“Have you been to the beach?”

“This island has a beach?” Nadiya looked skeptical.

“Of course we have a beach. Not a very big one, but still.”

They strode along the ring road, Rebecca waving to the few vehicles that passed.

“You know everyone here?” Nadiya asked.

Rebecca chortled. “Not hard. Not many people.”

“I was looking for real estate listings or rentals,” Nadiya said. “Asked Wilma, but she hemmed and hawed.”

“Why?” Rebecca lifted an eyebrow. “You thinking of relocating out of the city?”

“Hardly. I’m curious what a summer rental would cost.”

“Wouldn’t cost anything,” Rebecca said, “because there aren’t any.”

Nadiya stopped in her tracks. “None? No one on this island wants to rent out their house when they’re not here?”

“None.” Rebecca resumed walking, and Nadiya hurried to catch up. “We all live here full-time. Plus, no one can live on Little Sister unless they come from one of our family lines.”

“That’s crazy. You can’t stop people from coming here. Someone with enough money would make an offer that some islander would snatch up. You can’t control what people do with their property. You can’t stop them from selling if they want to.”

“Every time I hear someone not from Little Sister say that,” Rebecca said tartly, “I offer a prayer of thanks to our ancestors, who were wise enough to anticipate that and prevent it.”

“Prevent it how?” Nadiya challenged. “Sounds like discrimination to me.”

Rebecca laughed at that. “Discrimination. Yes, I suppose it is. We do discriminate. Against people who have no appreciation for what this island has to offer. Those who would tear down everything we’ve built to claim it for their own, like they did on Big Sister, where the original islanders now cannot afford to live.”

That silenced Nadiya for a moment, but Rebecca could see the arguments running through her mind.

“No one can sell or rent,” Rebecca said, “because none of us owns our houses. Our ancestors wrote protections into the island’s charter. We lease the houses, and no one can build more of them. They get passed down along family lines.”

They topped a hill, giving them a sudden view of the ocean beyond the island’s narrow ribbon of sand.

“Be careful here,” Rebecca said as they descended the rocky track to the boulders that made up a sea wall and then clambered over those to walk down to where the waves washed onto the beach.

“It’s so peaceful,” Nadiya said. She turned left and right. They were alone. “The only times I was ever at the ocean in Jersey, it was packed with people. You could hardly move. You went with me once. Remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” Rebecca shuddered at the thought. “This is what I love about this island. Gets busier in summer, when the ferry comes daily and brings offlanders to stay for a few days or a week. But still, if you need to, you can find times to be here alone.”

They walked along the beach, the sun warming them enough for Nadiya to pull off her sweater and Rebecca to take her jacket off.

“I used to think you were making it up,” Nadiya said. “When you talked about your island. But how do you live where you’re practically a prisoner in between ferries? An entire month with no contact from the outside world.”

Rebecca shrugged. “We do have boats. We could get to Big Sister or the mainland if we needed to. We learn to plan ahead. Stock up or make do without.” She stopped and inhaled the freshening breeze coming off the water. “We don’t need much.”

“You told me you’d become a minister,” Nadiya said. “Where’s your church?”

“Sometimes here.” Rebecca swept an arm. “Some of our services are held on this beach.”

She didn’t feel the need to mention that those were largely pagan celebrations that involved communal moonshine and smoking pot and, sometimes, nudity.

Nadiya turned to study her, and Rebecca had the distinct impression she’d read her thoughts.

“But we do have a chapel,” Rebecca said. “We can walk there next, if you’re not too tired.”

Nadiya laughed. “I don’t own a car. I walk everywhere. Show me.”

They hiked at a good pace, both of them slightly out of breath by the time they reached the island’s cemetery. Nadiya stopped.

“I thought we were going to your chapel.”

“We are.” Rebecca led the way among the headstones to the building beyond, deep in shadows.

She opened the door, and they stepped into the hushed interior. Nadiya’s eyes roamed, taking in the scattered pillows and cushions on the floor, the benches serving as pews.

“Most like to sit on the floor, especially if they have children,” Rebecca explained.

Nadiya went to the dais at the front, where the altar consisted of a rough slab of wood supported by two small pillars of stacked stone.

“You preach from here?” Nadiya asked.

“Not exactly.” Rebecca joined her. “I lead the islanders in some of our ceremonies. Occasionally I perform weddings here. And funerals.”

Nadiya stood behind the altar and looked back over the seating area. “Doesn’t look as if many people can fit in here.”

“Oh, we can pack a good many in,” Rebecca countered. “But most of our most important ceremonies don’t take place in here.”

“Where?”

Rebecca hesitated a moment, then stepped down. “This way.”

She led them outside, through the trees to the stone circle. They had to duck under the stone lintel into the interior.

“This is where we observe the winter solstice, unless the weather is really bad. And where we conduct other ceremonies.”

“It’s like some ancient archaeological site.” Nadiya bent to peer through a smaller opening in the eastern wall.

“Kind of.” Rebecca reverently touched the stones. “The First Ones observed the solstices and other ceremonies, but the Irish helped them build this.”

“First Ones.” Nadiya turned to her. “Who were they?”

“The indigenous people who lived here originally. When the ship went down in 1760, they rowed out to save the survivors, who were Irish. Most of them chose to stay here. All of our family lines are descended from those people.”

Nadiya’s eyes narrowed. “Is that where the coins and jewels came from?”

Rebecca cursed herself for allowing the conversation to be steered in this direction. “Possibly,” she answered vaguely. “As I told you, they’d been handed down. Some things are lost to history.”

She gestured toward the entrance. “Hungry? I prepared lunch.”

Nadiya followed her. “I wondered if you were going to invite me to your home.”

They set off toward the village. Nadiya studied the modest houses they passed.

“You can really be content living here?” she asked. “With so few people? No culture? No theater or museums or restaurants or…”

“Did you not just see what I showed you?” Rebecca retorted. “I live surrounded by the culture of my people. This island is a living museum. If I want to see other things, I can go to the mainland, but why would I? I have books to take me other places. I have the internet if I want it.”

She shook her head. “Do those things you mentioned really make you happier? More content?”

Nadiya didn’t reply.

“I know this may seem like a narrow life to some,” Rebecca said in a gentler tone. “But living here pares life down to the things that are really important—family and friends, hard work, prayer or meditation, an awareness that we are only one small piece of the fabric of this world. Not the center. That’s something I think most people out there,” she swept an arm toward the horizon, “could stand to be reminded of.”

“Still at it, dear?” Wilma refilled Meredith’s glass—iced tea now that it was afternoon. “Land sakes, those children will be the best-educated we’ve ever had.”

Meredith gave her a tired smile. “Thanks, Wilma. I’ve written lesson plans my whole career, but never for this many different grades. What was I thinking?”

Wilma pulled out a chair and sat down. Meredith lowered the lid of her laptop and squeezed another wedge of lemon into her tea. Over at the counter, a few men sat, chatting in low voices.

“The kids will be lucky to have you.” Wilma patted her hand. “And remember, you’re only likely to have a few at each grade level. Not a whole class.”

That didn’t lessen the amount of work that had to go into writing the plans, and Meredith was determined that they be up to par in case anyone from the state Board of Education came sniffing around.

“I have a feeling we’ll be scrutinized a bit more,” she said. “After what happened when they told Miss Louisa she couldn’t teach any longer, they’ll be looking for an excuse to shut us down.”

The door from the lobby opened, and Nadiya entered.

“Hello, ladies.”

“Ms. Monroe.” Wilma bustled over. “What can I get you?”

“Nadiya, please. And I think something light. A sandwich?”

“We’ve got fresh egg salad.”

“That sounds perfect,” Nadiya said, glancing in Meredith’s direction. “And iced tea, please.”

“Be right up.” Wilma disappeared into the kitchen.

“Do you mind if I take this table?” Nadiya asked, indicating the table next to Meredith’s.

“Not at all.” Meredith started to gather her notes and papers. “You’re welcome to join me. I can clear—”

“No, don’t disrupt your work.” Nadiya sat down. “This is fine.”

“How’s your visit to Little Sister going?” Meredith asked.

“It’s been… interesting.” Nadiya shifted her chair. “Quite a change from Philadelphia.”

Meredith laughed. “I can imagine. It was an adjustment for us, too. When my parents and I came here last summer from Oregon.”

Nadiya nodded. “Rebecca said you’re to be married to her nephew?”

“Yes.” Meredith beamed. “Well, we will be married, but we’ll also be bonded.”

“Bonded? What’s that?”

“An old island tradition, from what I’ve been told.” Meredith took a sip of her tea. “I’m still learning most of them. The culture here is so rich.”

“You think?”

“You don’t?”

Nadiya opened her mouth and then closed it, as if she were trying to carefully choose her words. “I think it’s been a long time since I was the only person of color in a place.”

“I don’t know exactly how you’re defining that,” Meredith bristled, “but every person here who comes from an island family has First Ones blood in their lineage, some more than others. The First Ones were here for hundreds, if not thousands, of years before the first Africans were brought to this country on slave ships.”

Wilma must have overheard as she approached with a tray. “Meredith is right. We can all trace our bloodlines back hundreds of years. Not many can say that.”

She placed a glass and sandwich in front of Nadiya and then turned to Meredith. “Brought you a sandwich, too, dear. You’ve been working hard all morning.”

“Thank you, Wilma.” Meredith pushed her laptop aside and slid the plate closer.

“I didn’t mean to offend anyone,” Nadiya said.

“You two eat up now.” Wilma left them to clear and wipe down the counter.

“Sorry if I’m a little defensive,” Meredith said. “It’s just that my mom and I only found out about our connection to Little Sister and the First Ones less than a year ago. My mom was given up for adoption by—by an island woman. We never knew. It’s been enlightening, learning more about the blended culture and traditions they’ve established here.”

Nadiya ate a few bites of her sandwich. “So you and your parents just decided to pick up and move here?”

“It was more than that.” Meredith wiped some egg salad from the corner of her mouth. “My mom and I were having dreams, for years, of a shipwreck. We never knew what they meant. Then, by accident, we discovered our connection to Little Sister, and everything clicked into place. When we got here last summer, it was like… coming home.”

“How interesting.” Nadiya studied her, and Meredith had the impression she’d become a museum specimen. “I don’t suppose you know anything about the coins and jewels Rebecca brought for auction?”

Meredith gave a half-shrug. “Didn’t even know she had anything auctioned.”

The bell rang, and Rebecca came in.

“Hi,” Nadiya said, and Meredith couldn’t help noticing how she lit up.

“Hello. Meredith.” Rebecca nodded. “Still at it?”

“I’ll probably be at it all summer.”

“Molly’s going to be measuring and staking the layout for the addition next week,” Rebecca said. She gestured toward Nadiya. “We’re walking out to the bluff, if you’d like to join us.”

“No, thanks.” Meredith glanced at the clock on the wall. “Aidan called this morning. He was coming over on the Big Sister ferry and planned to boat here with Joey. They should be in soon.”

“See you later then.”

Nadiya gulped down the last of her tea and left with Rebecca.

“What’s with them?” Meredith asked when Wilma came over to clear the dishes.

“Don’t know, but it’s nice to see Rebecca glow, don’t you think?” Wilma left her with a wink.

Meredith chuckled at the idea of Rebecca Ahearn glowing, but Wilma was right. There was a lightness to her lately. She went back to her lesson plans for about an hour, glancing frequently down the hill toward the marina. When she saw a boat chugging toward the dock, she quickly gathered her things and left money on the table.

“See you later, Wilma,” she called before hurrying out with her bag slung over her shoulder.

She got down to the dock just as Aidan eased up to it. Joey jumped out and tied the line to a cleat. He stomped by her without a word.

She stared after him. “Was that—” She turned to Aidan. “He had a split lip. What happened?”

He shrugged. “Not sure. But Matty has a black eye.”

“Did you ask them?”

He looked at her as if she were crazy. “No!”

“Why not?” she demanded. “Something obviously happened between them.”

He reached for his duffel. “They’ll tell us when they’re ready.” He wrapped an arm around her. “Rule one with the Cooper guys, don’t ask questions.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he silenced her with a long kiss. When they pulled away, he grinned at her.

“You were going to say something?”

“Never mind,” she murmured, standing on tiptoe to kiss him again.

Chapter 13

Kathleen sat on the front porch step, watching Blossom splayed on the grass, gnawing on a stick. She lifted her face to the sun and closed her eyes. Small pockets of snow remained in shady spots, but the air smelled of spring. She’d finally finished an edit and needed a breather before she tackled a new book cover.

Behind her, the door opened, and her mother stepped outside. Kathleen turned around.

“Do you need anything?”

“No.” Christine hesitated a moment and then sat beside her. “Only one more week until the ferry.”

“Is Dad still planning to come back?” Kathleen had heard her mom talking on the phone the morning before.

“He says so.”

Kathleen heard the bitterness and wondered if her mother resented Michael’s frequent business travel. She’d always assumed their time apart was mutually agreeable, but maybe not.

“I need to—” Christine stopped and changed her wording. “Could we go into the village? When you have time, I mean.”

“Sure. You need something?”

Christine shrugged. “I’d like to get Irene a little something, as a thank-you for all the time she’s been spending teaching me.”

“I’m in between projects. Would you like to go now?”

“Yes. Let me get my purse.” Christine stood. “Thank you.” She stepped toward the door and added, “Kathleen.”

Kathleen’s mouth fell open. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time her mother had said her name. Things had been weird the last week or so, just little things—Christine saying “please” and “thank you” more often, using a more pleasant tone when she did speak.

Christine was back downstairs in a few minutes, a colorful scarf artfully tied around her head to cover what little hair she had.

Kathleen held the back door for Blossom, and they drove into town. Molly’s SUV was parked in front of the empty sheriff’s office. Kathleen pulled in beside it. She pointed to Siobhan’s shop.

“Not sure what you want, but Siobhan’s your best bet for a nice gift.”

Christine got out and strapped her purse across her body. Kathleen couldn’t help but notice, when the strap pressed in between her breasts, how thin and frail she still was under her oversized sweater. As they approached Siobhan’s shop, the door opened and they almost ran into Aidan.

His dark eyes flicked back and forth between them. “Kathleen, Mrs. Halloran.”

“Hey, Aidan,” Kathleen said, but Christine pushed past him without a word.

“Sorry,” Kathleen muttered.

He gave a curt nod. “See you.”

Kathleen leaned into the shop, where Siobhan was already greeting Christine. “Take your time, Mom. I’ve got a few things to do. Meet you at the diner for lunch?”

“Sure,” Christine said without looking around.

Kathleen wandered across the street, through some of the back streets to the library, where Molly was laying out the addition. Kathleen took a moment to admire the lean denim-clad buttocks being presented to her as Molly bent over.

“Hey,” Molly said, “just in time. Can you hold the end of the measuring tape for me?”

Kathleen pressed it to the ground where Molly indicated, watching as she spooled out about twenty feet of tape and marked the spot with a stake, which she pounded into the soil. She laid the tape on the ground and walked along it, spraying short dashes of hot pink spray paint every couple of feet. When she got to Kathleen, she gave her a kiss.

“You’re a very good helper.”

“Glad to do my bit.”

Molly frowned. “Uh oh, what’s up?”

Kathleen realized she must have been scowling. “Sorry. My mom wanted to come to town, and we ran into Aidan.”

“Oh.”

“But before that, she was actually pleasant,” Kathleen added, forcing a smile. “And I realized, she’s been different for the last several days. Wondered what you knew about that.”

“Ah,” Molly said sheepishly. She gave Kathleen a lopsided grin. “I, uh, might have said a few things to her.”

“What? When?”

“The day I stayed with her while you got away for a few hours.” Molly picked up the tape and began cranking it back onto the spool. “She was being a pain in the ass, expected room service, and I… basically told her she was a jerk.”

“You—” Kathleen stared open-mouthed for a moment and started to laugh.

Molly rubbed the back of her neck. “And I might have told her she was a shit human being. Because of what she said to you.”

“Said to me when?”

“On your eleventh birthday.”

This time, Kathleen was at a total loss for words.

“I’m sorry,” Molly rushed on. “I know I shouldn’t have butted in. But your dad wasn’t there that day to hear it, and you were never going to say anything, and…”

When Kathleen’s brain clunked into gear again, she asked, “What did she say?”

Molly’s eyes hardened. “She says she doesn’t remember saying that, that she’d been drinking and couldn’t be held accountable for what she might have said when she was drunk.”

Kathleen’s face fell. “Oh.” She kicked at the dirt.

“And I said,” Molly went on, “it didn’t matter whether she was drunk or not. She obviously felt that way if it came out of her mouth, and she was a shit for thinking it.”

“Whoa.” Kathleen paced along the painted line, turned and came back. “Wow.”

“Sorry,” Molly repeated.

“No.” Kathleen threw her arms around Molly. “No. Thank you. I think maybe at least a little bit of it got through.”

She drew back and looked at Molly. “She said my name today. When she asked if we could come into the village. It sounded so foreign, I had to stop and think. It might be the first time she has spoken my name since I was ten.”

Molly closed her eyes. “I so wish I could take that away.”

Kathleen cradled Molly’s face in both hands and gave her a kiss. “Some things just are what they are.”

Nadiya trailed a finger over an old wooden sideboard. “This is nice. Old?”

Rebecca glanced up from where she was cutting chicken breasts into small pieces. “Yes. My grandfather made it.”

“What can I do?”

Rebecca pointed with her knife. “Would you mind slicing the onion?”

She tried to ignore the prick of awareness that Nadiya had been over for nearly every lunch and dinner the last few days. She’ll be leaving soon. Things will get back to normal, she reminded herself.

“So,” Nadiya said with a smile, “instead of going out for Mexican or Chinese or Thai, you have to make it at home?”

“Pretty much.” Rebecca set the chicken aside and poured some olive oil into a pan. “Unless you fancy fried cheese sticks down the pub or Nels decides to try making something exotic, your best bet for something a little different is to make your own.”

“Chicken curry is exotic?”

“It is around here. I haven’t had it in ages and got hungry for it. You complaining?”

“Not at all.”

But Rebecca heard the amusement. “Do you cook?”

“Rarely. I usually pick something up on the way to my apartment.”

“What, every night?” Rebecca turned to her in astonishment. “Your mother must be so disappointed. I recall what a wonderful cook she was.”

Nadiya scoffed and handed Rebecca the cutting board with the onion slices. “I’ve disappointed my mother in more ways than that.”

Rebecca cast a questioning glance in her direction, and Nadiya shrugged.

“She thinks I turned my back on my blackness.”

Rebecca adjusted the heat on the burner and picked up her wine. “That was an issue for you in college, I remember.”

“It’s always an issue. I feel like a woman caught with one foot each in a different world. If I go home, I have to leave my uppity art world persona behind—in the way I speak, the way I dress. I code switch. Everything changes for those few days.”

“Is it your blackness or your education?” Rebecca asked. “Your mom worked hard her whole life without a college degree, but didn’t your sister and brother go to college after you? I thought they both became teachers. Still, no one in your family has achieved what you have, unless things have changed.”

“It’s probably both,” Nadiya admitted. “And it has started to change a little. My nephew is in engineering school in Maryland.”

“That’s good, but it seems you chose the art world a long time ago.” Rebecca placed some of the onion in the oil. “No matter where you came from, there’d probably be some… compromise.”

“Compromise.” Nadiya nodded. “That was diplomatic.”

“Well, the art majors always seemed a little hoity-toity, don’t you think?”

Nadiya smirked. “I know you always thought so.”

“Always dressed in black, holding their cigarettes just so,” Rebecca mimed a pretentious pose, “pretending they saw great art in something that looked like a four-year-old’s fingerpainting.”

She grinned when Nadiya doubled over in laughter.

“Oh,” gasped Nadiya when she could speak, “it’s good to know some things haven’t changed.”

Rebecca’s grin slid away. “You mentioned that you were divorced.”

Nadiya didn’t answer immediately. “Yes. Veronica and I met in grad school. We were together for almost twenty-five years, but…”

Rebecca kept her eyes lowered as she added the chicken and spices to the pan. “What happened?”

“Same thing happens to lots of folks, I guess. Woke up one morning, looked at each other, and wondered why we were still together.”

Nadiya poured more wine for both of them. “There was nothing dramatic. No cheating or anything. At least not that I know of. We decided there was no good reason to remain a couple in name only. We’re still friends.”

“That seems pretty drastic to me after all that time.” Rebecca turned to study Nadiya’s profile, looking for signs of… what? “That’s a lot of years of history to walk away from. You didn’t want to try and work things out?”

“Seemed best to move on.” Nadiya picked up her wine glass and leaned against the counter. “How about you? Hasn’t there been anyone?”

Rebecca shook her head.

“What? No one? In all this time?”

“Hard to meet new people here,” Rebecca said, trying to sound nonchalant, but inside, how could there be?

“Oh, Rebecca.” Nadiya hadn’t been fooled. She laid a warm hand on Rebecca’s shoulder.

Rebecca clenched her jaw in an effort to keep her emotions from bubbling over.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Nadiya murmured.

“What good would that do?” Rebecca spoke harshly to keep her voice from cracking. “You wanted—needed—to go to grad school and stay in a city where you could do what you love. And I… I had to come back here.”

“But why?” Nadiya’s frustration broke through. “I never understood why you had to come back to this island and shut yourself off from the world! It’s as bad as being in a monastery.”

Rebecca dared to meet her eyes at last. “You’ve been here almost a month. I’ve shown you the places I love most. I was bound to this island from the time I was a girl. Maybe before I was born. I am her Keeper. The Keeper of the family records, the island traditions, her deepest secrets.”

She searched Nadiya’s eyes for any sign that she understood. Almost against her will, she heard herself say, “As much as I love you, I love Little Sister more.”

Nadiya leaned toward her, those dark eyes enormous this close, her lips slightly parted and inviting—but Rebecca recoiled.

Why did you say so much, you idiot!

She took the pan off the burner. “Let’s eat.”

Molly surveyed the layout for the addition—stakes at the corners, connected by string and the spray-painted lines. The island only had one piece of machinery that served multiple roles: plow, bulldozer, backhoe, thanks to interchangeable parts. Whenever anyone needed it, they borrowed it, which sometimes meant a game of “telephone” to figure out where it was. Luckily her dad had been the last to use it after the last snowstorm to plow the village’s streets and clear the marina parking lot. He’d then gone on to plow the ring road and dozens of island driveways. Some of the islanders had blades for their pickups, too, so the usual plow brigade had made its way around the island.

She got into the Toyota and drove to the Cooper place, where the tractor was parked in the drive with the blade still attached. As usual, the kitchen lights were on. She climbed the back porch steps and opened the door.

“Morning, Mom.”

“Mo!” Jenny pulled Molly into a tight hug. “Time for a cup of coffee?”

“Sure.”

Jenny placed a mug and a plate of banana bread on the table. “Things moving along down the library?”

Minnow trotted in, meowing and winding around Molly’s legs. Molly bent to pick her up. “All set to start digging. Gonna need the backhoe. Weather should be good for the next week, so I want to get the foundation poured and set.”

“Joe said the boys are all lined up to help.”

“Yeah. Aidan will be here for a few days, and Matty’s coming over. I think Brandi and Benjamin are coming, too.”

Jenny’s eyes lit up. “I know. Can’t wait to see that little boy. I’ll bet he’s grown so much since the last time we were there.”

Molly buttered a slice of bread. “Wanted to ask you something.”

“What?” Jenny reached for a slice.

“Rebecca’s been by while I’ve been working, of course.” Molly hesitated. “But lately, this woman, Nadiya, has been with her almost all the time. Usually they come by to check on me before they head off somewhere or other. Who is she?”

Jenny picked up her mug. “She’s someone Rebecca met in Boston. They went to college together. I met Nadiya when I went to visit Rebecca. And I knew then, they were in love.”

Molly’s hand froze mid-air as she prepared to take another bite. “In love.”

Jenny grinned. “I know you think us old folks don’t know anything about that.”

“No, it’s not that.” Molly set her bread down. “I mean anyone with eyes can see you and Dad are in love, but Rebecca. Really?”

Jenny nodded sadly. “Really.”

“What happened?”

“Not sure, but I think it was just life after college pulling them in different directions. Rebecca always felt she was meant to be Keeper.”

“Nadiya didn’t want to come here?”

“I don’t think Rebecca ever asked her. Seems Nadiya had a plan for her life that wouldn’t have fit with living here.”

Molly stared into her coffee. “Wow. Rebecca in love. Somehow, I never put those two things together.” She met her mom’s eyes. “What happens when Nadiya leaves?”

“I don’t know.” Jenny’s expression was grim. “I think she’s in for a hard time.”

Molly nodded. “Thanks for the snack. And the conversation.”

“It was good to have a few minutes with you, Mo.”

Molly watched her mother as Jenny carried the mugs to the sink. Impulsively, she gave her mom a kiss on the cheek, determined to make these moments happen more often.

“See you soon.”

When she stepped onto the porch, there was a truck parked next to her SUV, and the light was on in the garage. She investigated and found Aidan standing on a precarious stack of wooden crates on top of a weight bench as he shone a flashlight into the recesses of a loft space at the back of the garage. The beam played over an odd assortment of old sports equipment, scrap boards and bits of lumber, an ancient tent.

“What are you looking for?” she asked, steadying the crates when they threatened to topple.

Aidan didn’t glance down. “I can’t remember where I put it.”

“Put what?”

But he didn’t reply, just kept muttering to himself and shifting things out of the way, until finally, “Got it.”

He handed down a long object. Molly took it and kept hold of the crates as he climbed down.

“What is this?” she asked, studying the cracked, darkened wood. Her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh.”

She raised her gaze to Aidan’s.

“It washed ashore a few days after…” He raised one shoulder. “Pieces of Bryan’s scull washed up for the next few weeks. I think Dad got rid of most of them, but I kept this.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

He took the splintered oar from her, looking at it as if it were simultaneously a holy relic and something repulsive. Without answering, he gave her a one-armed hug and hurried out to his truck, leaving Molly staring after him.

Despite the warming weather, the ground was still hard—not quite frozen, but not yielding easily. Tim Shannahan sweated as he ran his rototiller through Louisa’s garden.

“He’s such a sweet man,” Louisa said to Irene and Meredith. “With all he has to do at the market, with their own garden and greenhouse, he takes the time every year to come and do this for us.”

Roy hovered, watching Tim carefully. Jasper sat beside Meredith, his ears twitching, as he watched this strange activity.

“Surprised he’s not taking notes,” Meredith said ruefully, knowing her dad was itching to get his hands on that rototiller.

“Oh, don’t you worry,” Irene said. “He will, as soon as he’s inside. Every new project is a wonder to that man. Especially if it involves machinery.”

“I think he was torn between this and the library addition,” Louisa said. “But with Joe and the boys all down there to help Molly, there was greater opportunity for hands-on here.”

Just as the words left her mouth, Roy must have said something to Tim, because the younger man waved him over, explained a few things, and let Roy continue tilling rows in the garden.

“Oh, Lord help us,” Irene muttered.

“Let him be,” Louisa said, chuckling. “Other than some crooked rows, he can’t do any harm.”

“So when do we start planting?” Irene asked.

“Soon,” Louisa replied. “Another week or so, and we should be reasonably safe from any hard frosts. But we can get more seedlings planted, if you’re willing.”

“Sure.” Irene rubbed her hands together. “You helping, Meredith?”

“Can’t today. The Coopers are having a family thing tonight while Matty and Brandi are here. Told Jenny I’d come early and help get ready.”

She glanced at her watch. “Matter of fact, I need to get going. See you all later.”

Jasper trotted beside her. When she opened the back door, he hopped up to plant his forefeet on the seat and then turned to look at her.

“Need a boost?” She hoisted his back end up and in, giving him a scratch as he settled. “There you go, old man.”

When she got to the Cooper house, a large tablecloth flapped gently on the clothesline. “How can we help?” she asked as she opened the kitchen door and followed Jasper in.

“Hi.” Brandi came in, Benjamin on her hip.

“Hey, there!” Meredith held out her arms, and Benjamin fell eagerly into them. “How are you feeling?”

Brandi laid her hands over her bulging abdomen. “Better now. Not sick every morning. Mostly tired.”

Jenny laughed. “Oh, I feel for you. But if you think you’re tired now, just wait until the next one is here. I think I was tired for about eighteen years straight.”

“Thanks,” said Meredith and Brandi in unison.

Brandi’s eyes widened. “You’re not—”

“Oh, gosh no!” Meredith shook her head. “Let me at least get through the bonding first. You will be back for that, won’t you?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Benjamin’s eyes were glued on Jasper as he wriggled to get down.

“Be gentle,” Brandi said when Jasper curiously sniffed the baby, earning a delighted squeal at the touch of a wet nose. Jasper backed away, and Benjamin crawled after him.

“Let them be,” Jenny said. “Jasper’s fast enough to get away from him.”

“What do you need done?” Meredith asked.

“Help me put the leaves in the dining table.”

“I can help,” Brandi offered.

“Not that,” Jenny said. “You can fold the napkins, if you don’t mind.”

She got Brandi situated at the kitchen table with a stack of freshly laundered napkins. Meredith helped Jenny stretch the dining table to its max with three leaves, and then Jenny got the good china out of the hutch.

“Haven’t had everyone together since Christmas.”

Meredith caught the wistful tone in Jenny’s voice. “You miss having them all closer, don’t you?”

“I do,” Jenny admitted. She glanced toward the kitchen. “I know Brandi’s folks depend on her to help with the restaurant, but I feel sometimes like I’m going to blink, and Benjamin will be graduating from high school.”

She walked around the table, setting out plates. “Time goes so quickly.”

“That’s what my mom keeps saying.” Meredith followed, laying the silverware and glasses. “But they’re not so far away.”

“I know.” Jenny waved an annoyed hand. “I’m just being silly and sentimental.”

Meredith paused setting the table. “Are you… does it bother you that Aidan and I are bonding?”

“Oh, no, no, no!” Jenny took Meredith by the shoulder. “You have been so good for him. For so many years, I watched him punish himself, but nothing Joe and I did got through to him.”

“Until Kathleen came along, right?”

“Yes, poor thing. That was her first Christmas back here, when things with her family kind of hit the wall. Somehow, learning what her mother had done got through to Aidan when nothing else could.”

Jenny laid the last of the plates. “I admit, I was worried he would backslide when Christine and Michael came back.”

“He has his moments,” Meredith confessed. “I catch him sometimes, staring off into nothing, so distant, and I can tell he’s thinking about Kathleen’s brother. He brushes it off, but I know it still eats at him.”

“I suppose it always will.” Jenny sighed. “I’ve wished so many times we could redo that day.”

“Scars,” Meredith said.

Jenny nodded. “We all bear scars from that day, some more than others.” She smiled. “But if we had a do-over, things most likely wouldn’t be where they are today, for Kathleen and Mo, for you and Aidan. So, we’ll count our blessings for where we’re at now.”

A couple of hours later, the house echoed with laughter and conversation, with Benjamin the center of attention, pulling himself to stand on wobbly legs. Of course, he fell onto his diapered backside the moment he let go.

“As soon as he can walk, I’m putting him to work down the marina,” Matty said. “He can help me fix boats.”

“I may recruit him first,” Molly said. “Still got to get a couple coats of spar varnish on that Peterborough, then it’ll be ready to head back to Big Sister.

“Might be able to help you with that while we’re here,” Matty offered. “After we get the addition framed.”

“Really?” Meredith caught a shadow settling over Joey’s face. “You guys planning on staying here that long?”

Brandi gave Matty a nod.

“Maybe.” He reached for her hand. “Thought we might stay through the bonding. The restaurant’s slow this time of year.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Jenny said, plucking Benjamin up to sit him on her lap and feed him bits of roll.

“I’m so sorry Kathleen couldn’t be here tonight,” Brandi said.

“She sends her love,” said Molly. “Christine hasn’t been feeling too good the last couple of days, so she thought she’d better stay with her. I’m sure she’ll see you guys soon.”

Meredith got up to help Molly clear away the dinner dishes. She threw a pointed look in Aidan’s direction, and he jumped up to carry a stack of plates while Jenny brought an enormous German chocolate cake out for dessert.

Joey stomped through the kitchen and out the back door while they washed and dried the plates. Meredith gave Aidan a push on the arm.

“Go see if he’s okay.”

“What?” He stared at her. “No.”

She rolled her eyes. “Aidan Ahearn Cooper Woodhouse, go talk to your brother.”

Molly chuckled when Aidan tossed his towel down in disgust and did as ordered. “You’ve got that down. Good job.”

Meredith grinned. “I swear, getting them to talk to each other is like pulling teeth.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Do you know what’s going on?” Meredith asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t see Joey’s split lip a few days ago?”

“No. What happened?”

“Don’t know,” Meredith said darkly. “But it’s something to do with Matty’s black eye. Aidan said he didn’t want to get in the middle of it. And now…” She glanced toward the dining room. “They’re talking about staying here for over a week, if they’re staying through the bonding. What’s up with that?”

Molly followed Meredith’s gaze out to where Brandi was telling more stories about Benjamin’s antics. “Not sure.”

“Is Christine okay?” Meredith asked. “I noticed when she was over a couple of days ago, her color didn’t look good.”

“Who knows?” Molly reached for another plate. “She’s kind of pissy with me, so I can’t tell if she’s really not well or just didn’t want Kathleen to have an evening away. Sure glad that ferry is coming Friday. Michael better have his ass on it.”

Aidan came in a couple of minutes later.

“Well?” Meredith asked.

He shrugged. “Said nothing’s wrong.”

“And you believed him?”

Aidan raised both hands. “What do you want me to do?”

“I swear.” Meredith threw down her own towel and marched out the back door.

She was back in a moment. She picked up her towel to dry another plate. “Joey is coming to dinner at our house tomorrow night.”

Aidan and Molly exchanged a glance. No one ever invited Joey anywhere.

“And that,” Molly would say to Kathleen days later, “should have told us something, but we weren’t listening.”

Chapter 14

Moonlight threw silvery rectangles across the furniture and floors. Rebecca paced through them, her slippered feet making no sound, but there was plenty of noise in her head. The last few nights had been filled with dreams, almost as soon as she fell asleep—dreams of her and Nadiya together when they were in college, stealing moments together to kiss and cuddle and make love everywhere they could, almost getting caught. But the danger was part of the thrill, wasn’t it? she asked as she strode another lap around her small bungalow.

In all the years since they’d parted, Rebecca had never felt the slightest pull toward anyone else. No other woman had ever attracted her—eyes or heart—the way Nadiya Monroe had. So fiercely proud and defiant, one of only a handful of Black students on campus back then, and certainly the only Black art history major. They were in the same section of Ancient Mediterranean History, and Rebecca had noticed her immediately. When she’d finally worked up the nerve to approach her and say hello, Nadiya had glared at her, certain she was coming over to challenge Nadiya’s right to be there. But Rebecca had seen through the dare in Nadiya’s eyes to the fear, the weariness at always having to defend her presence. The connection between them had been instant and deep. When the inevitable day of parting had arrived, Rebecca had left a large chunk of her heart in Nadiya’s keeping.

Rebecca paused in one of the patches of moonlight to stare at the sky. If she were really honest with herself, she’d hoped Nadiya had been as lonely as she’d been. It hurt a bit to know Nadiya had spent a significant portion of the years since college with another woman, while Rebecca had pined for what had been. What might have been.

And now she was here, but only for a few more days. You’ve wasted this entire month. A month you could have…

“Could have what?” she whispered aloud. “Rolled around in bed for a couple weeks and then have her disappear again?”

She closed her eyes. Goddess, she longed to feel Nadiya’s warm, naked body against hers. She accepted physical urges as part of any animal’s natural makeup, and she’d dealt with her own when she needed to, but nothing, no one could soothe the part of her that could only be satisfied within the circle of Nadiya’s arms.

Desire or fear? Which is stronger?

As Rebecca wrestled with herself, the sky began to lighten. Without giving herself time to think further, she got dressed and headed out. Threading her way among the trees and shadows, she almost ran into another person, outlined in silhouette. One inhaled breath of that unmistakable scent told her what she needed to know.

“Nadiya.”

Wordlessly, Nadiya reached for her, and all Rebecca knew was the softness of lips pressed to hers. The sensation was more wondrous than she remembered, and she wanted to drown herself in it. Time didn’t seem to exist while they stood, arms tightly wrapped around each other, while the kiss changed from tentative and gentle, to exploring and remembering, at last becoming heated and demanding.

When they pulled apart, both breathing hard, Rebecca was surprised to see how much lighter it had become. She took Nadiya by the hand and led her back to her cottage, straight through to the bedroom, where the covers were rumpled from Rebecca’s earlier attempts to sleep.

Nadiya stood still, letting Rebecca undress her, her eyes never leaving Rebecca’s face. Slowly, Rebecca unbuttoned Nadiya’s tunic and pushed it off her shoulders, smiling at the goosebumps that erupted when she traced her fingers over Nadiya’s flesh. She ran her fingertips along the lacy edge of the black bra and reached for the front closure.

“How considerate of you,” she murmured, meeting Nadiya’s eyes as she unfastened the bra, letting it fall away to take the heavy weight of Nadiya’s breasts in her hands.

Stroking her thumbs over the hardened nipples, she felt her own heart race at the hitch in Nadiya’s breath. She bent to take one nipple in her mouth, flicking her tongue over it and earning a groan from Nadiya who tangled her fingers in Rebecca’s hair, holding her there for a moment longer before lifting her face for another kiss. This time, Nadiya’s tongue scoured Rebecca’s mouth, urging both of them higher.

Nadiya reached for Rebecca’s hips, grinding against her. Nadiya pulled her mouth from Rebecca’s to run her tongue along Rebecca’s jawline to her ear. She nibbled on the earlobe, almost reducing Rebecca to a quivering mass.

“No more waiting,” Nadiya commanded, tugging Rebecca’s shirt over her head before they tumbled onto the bed.

Kathleen’s foot tapped spasmodically as she sat in her chair. Upstairs, Lena Clearwater was with Christine. As a nurse midwife, Lena was the only medical professional on the island. When the whites of Christine’s eyes had turned yellow the day before, Kathleen had called in desperation. From her recliner, Molly cast worried glances in Kathleen’s direction. Kathleen noticed and stopped her tapping.

“Sorry.”

They both jumped to their feet when Lena descended the stairs a few minutes later.

“Well?” Kathleen asked before Lena could say a word.

“She’s definitely jaundiced,” Lena confirmed. “I’m sure it’s the cancer affecting her liver. But Michael had already said it had spread.”

She reached for Kathleen’s hand and looked directly into her eyes. “We knew this was coming. It was a matter of when, not if. But she could go on like this for weeks. We don’t know.”

Kathleen nodded, but her eyes filled with tears. “I just don’t know how to…”

Molly took her other hand. “Michael will be here tomorrow. We’ll deal with it.”

“I’ve given her one of her pain pills,” Lena said, releasing Kathleen’s hand. “It should make her sleep for a while. Try to get her to take them regularly, with a little food. I know she doesn’t want to eat, but she’ll tolerate the medicine better if she can.”

She hoisted her bag higher on her shoulder. “And call me, day or night, if you need anything.”

“We will,” Molly said. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. This is what we do.”

Lena left, and Kathleen stood there, wringing her hands. Molly enfolded her in a hug.

“You heard Lena. Your mom’s going to sleep for a while. Why don’t you and Blossom go for a walk? I’ll stay here in case she wakes.”

“No.” Kathleen shook her head. “You need to get back to the library while you’ve got Matty and Joey here to help. I’ve already pulled you away for too long. I’m going to bake. Think I’ll do better if I stay busy. I need to make something as a thank-you to Lena anyhow.”

When Molly hesitated, Kathleen gave her a kiss and gentle push toward the door. “Go on. I’ll be fine.”

“All right.” Molly edged away. “But call Rebecca if you need anything. She can get over to me the quickest.”

“I will. See you later.”

Kathleen waved Molly off and went into the kitchen, Blossom on her heels. She laid out all the ingredients for Louisa’s orange cranberry bread and turned on the oven to pre-heat.

She was sifting flour into a large mixing bowl when there was a knock on the door.

“Hello?” called a voice from the foyer.

“Meredith,” Kathleen said, wiping her hands on a towel as she peeked out from the kitchen. “Come on in.”

Meredith and Jasper came through. “Brought you some of Louisa’s canned tomatoes and jam.” She set a basket on the counter. “She said you make a mean spaghetti sauce.”

“Thanks.”

Meredith took in all the ingredients laid out on the counter. “We’re interrupting you.”

“Don’t be silly.” Kathleen poured them both glasses of iced tea and sat at the table. “It’s good to see you. Seems like it’s been a while.”

“I know your mom hasn’t been feeling so great.” Meredith pulled out a chair and sat.

Kathleen’s eyes filled. “Lena was just here, and…” Her voice broke.

Meredith reached for her hand.

“Sorry.” Kathleen shook her head. “I’ve never been around anyone who’s dying. I mean like this, with terminal cancer.”

“I know,” Meredith said. “Me neither. My grandparents passed away of heart issues and natural causes at an age when it’s to be expected. Not like this.”

Kathleen took her glasses off to wipe her eyes. “All set? For the bonding?”

Meredith gave her the side eye. “You mean all set to walk around naked in front of people? No!”

Kathleen laughed. “I know. I wasn’t, either. Lucky for me, I’m pretty much blind without my glasses, so I couldn’t see them.”

“Wish I could rely on that.”

“How’s Aidan? Is he nervous?”

“He doesn’t seem to be. It’s Joey I’m worried about.”

Kathleen took a drink. “Joey? What’s up with him?”

“Not really sure.” Meredith rolled her eyes. “You know how guys won’t talk about what’s bothering them. But something’s up between him and Matty. Apparently they got into a fistfight, and now, they’re not talking to each other.”

“Wow.” Kathleen frowned. “Molly said Matty and Brandi were staying here through the bonding, but she hasn’t said anything about Joey.”

“No one ever says anything about him,” Meredith said. “Or to him. Maybe that’s part of the problem. We had him over to dinner. He’s quiet most of the time, kind of shy, but if you get him talking, he’s funny, smart, but definitely unhappy.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation with him,” Kathleen realized. “Only Aidan. Wonder what’s going on.”

“Don’t know.” Meredith shrugged. “I have a feeling something’s going to hit the fan soon.”

The staccato rhythm of hammers thwacking against nails resounded through the air, interrupted at regular intervals by the rumble of a compressor and the bang of a nail gun. Molly, Joey, and Matty were assembling the walls on the ground in preparation for standing them upright and anchoring them to the newly poured foundation. Aidan had helped for a couple days until he had to leave to bring the April ferry in tomorrow.

“Forgot the lag bolts,” Molly said, shuffling through the boxes of hardware. “Be right back.”

She jogged through the trees to where she’d parked the Toyota to rummage around in the cargo hold until she found the box she needed. The path back to the library took her past Rebecca’s cottage. The front door opened, and Molly prepared to call out a good morning, but she stopped in her tracks when she saw Nadiya and Rebecca, locked in a kiss. Nadiya drew away, caressing Rebecca’s cheek before descending the stairs to head in the direction of the hotel.

“I was going to wish you a good morning,” Molly said to her aunt as Rebecca watched Nadiya disappear, “but I think you’re already having one.”

She couldn’t wipe the grin off her face when Rebecca tried and failed to scowl at her. Giving up, Rebecca allowed herself to smile.

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

Molly bounded up the steps to give Rebecca a quick hug. “Good for you. Come by when you can, see the progress.”

Back at the build, she found her dad and Tim Shannahan there, ready to help raise the walls. One by one, they pushed them upright and got them anchored to the fasteners built into the foundation.

Rebecca arrived in time to see the start of the roof framing. Joey and Molly were on the highest ladders at the roof peak, with Matty and Joe on lower ones, handing up the boards to build the roof structure.

“Hang on,” Joey grunted, struggling to get a rafter lined up with the marks on the ridge board. He leaned to the side.

“Move your ladder,” Molly called out to him.

“Just about got it,” he said, leaning a little farther.

As if in slow motion, his ladder tilted, sliding in an arc until it fell free of the ridge board, pitching him to the ground. He landed with a sickening crunch and a scream of pain.

Molly and the others shimmied down their ladders as fast as they could, but Rebecca was the first to reach him. He held his right arm with his left, howling. Even from where she stood, Molly could see his grotesquely deformed shoulder.

“Oh, shit,” she muttered.

“I’ll get Lena,” Tim offered. He sprinted away.

The others did what they could to make Joey as comfortable as possible, with Molly’s bunched up sweatshirt under his head and Joe’s jacket rolled up to try and prop his clearly broken arm in a tolerable position.

By the time Tim returned with Lena and Jenny, Joey was no longer making any noise, but he was shivering, his eyes glassy.

“He’s in shock,” Lena said as soon she knelt beside him. Gingerly, she laid her hands on his upper arm, but he immediately howled. “It’s broken and dislocated. I could try and reduce the dislocated joint, but not with that fracture. He’s probably torn all the ligaments of that shoulder, too.”

She looked at Jenny and Joe. “No one on Big Sister can help with this. We’ve got to get him to the mainland now.”

Jenny’s face was almost as ashen as Joey’s. “We’ll need a few things—ID, insurance. I’ll gather all that if you lot can get him down the marina.”

Word had spread quickly, and other islanders arrived to help. They got a piece of plywood to use as a stretcher and carried Joey into the village and down the hill to the dock. Molly ran ahead to quickly fuel one of the launches.

“Keep him here on the deck,” Joe said when they got to the boat. “If we get him into the cabin and something happens, it’s too tight down there.”

Molly dragged one of the mattresses off a bunk, though, and they were able to lift Joey enough to slide it under him.

Rebecca had run to her cottage to gather extra blankets. They got Joey covered by several layers, propping his arm as securely as they could against the boat’s rocking.

Jenny returned in about fifteen minutes, accompanied by Brandi. Jenny held up a stuffed duffel. “Think I got everything we’ll need for a few days.”

Matty helped her into the boat.

“Call when you have an update,” Rebecca said as Joe started the engine.

Molly and Matty untied the lines, and the launch eased away from the dock. Vaguely, Molly noticed Nadiya standing alongside Wilma and Nels to see what the commotion was.

“Everyone come up to the diner for coffee and pie,” Wilma said, wrapping an arm around Molly’s shoulders.

Rebecca gestured to Matty. “Before you get back to work.”

“Back to work?” Nadiya sounded appalled. “You can’t be serious.”

Molly stopped in her tracks. “This is what island life is.” It came out more harshly than she intended, but her emotions were too close to the surface. “If you can’t handle it, you don’t belong here.”

Chapter 15

The night was silent, the air still, but a storm was brewing. Rebecca lay with her head resting on Nadiya’s shoulder, their bodies pressed together, her hand lying on Nadiya’s breast where she could feel her heartbeat, her slow, deep breathing. She was exactly where she wanted to be, but nothing felt right.

It was more than Nadiya’s impending departure in a few hours—though Rebecca didn’t want to think about that. There was a disruption in the island’s energy. Or maybe it’s all inside me, Rebecca thought. My energy. She hadn’t prayed or meditated for days. And then Joey’s injury on top of everything else.

When Aidan and Fred had arrived with the ferry yesterday afternoon, Fred was full of the tale of them stopping mid-ocean to talk to Joe and Jenny.

“We radioed Bobby,” Fred boasted. “Told him, they’ll be stayin’ with him and Laurie for a few days at least. Joey looked bad,” he’d added with relish at having such a good tale to tell.

Rebecca had a vague recollection that Michael Halloran had driven off the ferry, but she’d been too distracted to pay him any mind.

Nadiya had continued to argue about Molly and Matty getting back to work on the addition. “Their brother just had a horrible accident, for God’s sake. Why would you encourage them to act as if nothing happened?”

“We don’t act as if nothing happened,” Rebecca had tried to explain. “But we all know the risks of living this far out. What are they going to do instead? Sit around and replay that moment over and over in their heads? Worry themselves sick when there’s nothing they can do?”

In the end, they’d had to stop talking about it.

Nadiya stirred now, and Rebecca lifted her head. “Am I hurting your arm?”

“No.” Nadiya pulled her tight, kissing her forehead, her eyes while her free hand stroked along Rebecca’s naked side, teasing touches along her breast, her hip.

Rebecca shifted to lie on top of Nadiya and kissed her. Under her palm, Nadiya’s nipple hardened in anticipation of Rebecca’s eager mouth. Nadiya groaned and spread her legs, impatiently demanding Rebecca’s touch. Rebecca stroked Nadiya’s slick center, sliding inside her before bringing her to a climax. Nadiya’s body hadn’t stopped pulsing against Rebecca’s fingers before she pulled Rebecca up to where she could hold onto the headboard while Nadiya slid down the mattress until she could take Rebecca with her mouth, her hands grasping Rebecca’s hips while she licked and sucked until she brought Rebecca to an orgasm that left her shuddering before she collapsed beside Nadiya.

“Come with me,” Nadiya murmured.

“I think I just did.”

Nadiya gave a throaty chuckle. “Come with me to Philadelphia.”

Rebecca raised herself up on her elbows. “I can’t.”

“Why not? You have nothing critical keeping you here.”

“But I do.” Rebecca sat up. “I have things—”

“Like what? This non-existent congregation you minister to?” Nadiya stuffed her pillow under her neck to angle her head better. “I’ve been here a month, and I’ve not seen any signs of it.”

“It’s not—” Rebecca threw a hand up. “I can’t pick up and leave. I have a ceremony to perform for my nephew in a few days. I…”

Nadiya sat up, shifting to lean against the headboard. “Becca, we just found each other again after all this time. I don’t want it to end.”

Rebecca took Nadiya’s hand, twining their fingers together. “Neither do I, but I can’t leave the island.”

“You did when you brought the things to be sold.”

“That was different.” Rebecca withdrew her hand. “It was only a few days.”

“There are so many things I could show you. The museums we could go to, plays, trips to other places—all within a couple hours of Philly. There’s so much to do.”

“You’ve been here a month, and you still don’t understand, do you?” Rebecca got out of bed.

“Understand what? That the people who live here are shut off from the wider world? That you live like primitives—no medical facilities, no way out unless you travel hours by boat? Visiting is one thing, but who would want to live like that?”

“I thought…” Rebecca reached for her robe and slipped it on, snugging the belt. “No, you’re right. We belong in two different worlds.”

Kathleen jumped up at the sound of retching coming from down the hall. She ran to her mother’s room in time to see her vomiting into a trash can they’d kept near the bed for just such a contingency. She helped hold the bin with one hand, supporting her mother’s shoulder with the other until Christine was done. Blossom watched anxiously from the hall.

“Here.” Kathleen reached for a glass of water on the nightstand. “Rinse and spit.”

Christine did and then lay back, the yellowish hue of her skin highlighted against the white of the pillowcase. Kathleen went to the bathroom to dump the can’s contents into the toilet and clean it out. For a moment she stood, her hands braced on the sink, her jaw clenched. If she’d thought her father would be helpful, she’d been dead wrong. Ever since his return three days ago, he’d done little more than pop into her mom’s room for a few minutes a day.

With Molly busy at the library, it had been left almost completely to Kathleen to care for her mother while her dad once again set up a temporary office in the dining room.

“He could at least do some of the cooking,” Molly grumbled.

But the islanders had helped tremendously in that department. Between Wilma and Nels, Siobhan, the Woodhouses, and others dropping things off for them, they had more than enough food. Not that they really needed much for Christine. She’d almost completely stopped eating, as it usually came right back up. They hadn’t attempted to weigh her, but Molly figured she must be less than ninety pounds now. The longest walk she could tolerate was down the hall to the toilet, and even that was too long sometimes, resulting in the need to clean and change her plus wipe down the hall floor.

Kathleen got her mother settled again and went back to her computer with Blossom curled up at her feet. Molly had kept her up to date on Joey’s surgery to put his shoulder back together with a plate and screws for the bone and more repairs of the torn tendons and ligaments. He and Jenny were still at Bobby and Laurie’s house so Joey could follow up with his surgeon in a few days, but Joe was due back today.

“Invite him here for dinner,” Kathleen had insisted as Molly got dressed that morning. “We’ve got so much food, we’ll never eat it all.”

The afternoon wore on, and when Kathleen went to check on her mother, Christine was sleeping soundly. She went downstairs, where Michael was busily typing emails. She went into the kitchen to begin warming up some roast chicken and rolls for dinner. She made plenty of noise, letting the refrigerator door slam shut, moving the rack in the oven, getting dishes down from the cupboard. If she thought her not-so-subtle hints might bring her dad in to help, she was wrong.

Giving up, she muttered to herself while she peeled and cut potatoes and put them on to boil. She’d just gotten a large batch of frozen peas cooking when the front door opened. Blossom trotted out to greet Molly and Joe. Michael glanced up and then did a double take when he saw Joe.

“Didn’t realize what time it was,” he mumbled.

Molly ignored him, but Joe shook hands with him. They followed Molly into the kitchen and began setting the table.

“How’s Joey?” Kathleen asked.

“Okay,” Joe replied. “Lots of pain. They’ve got him in this sling with a kind of pillow holding his arm up, cinched around his waist. Can’t do much for himself right now.”

“Jenny staying for a while, then?”

“We’ll know more when he sees the surgeon. They said he’ll need rehab when he’s healed enough.”

He ran his hand through his hair, and Kathleen noticed how tired he looked.

“Everything’s ready,” she said. “Let’s fill our plates and eat.”

Michael was the first to sit with his plate. “Always was a problem living here,” he said around a mouthful of chicken. “So much easier on the mainland.”

Molly glowered at him, and Kathleen could tell she was biting back whatever she wanted to say to him. Joe filled them in with more detail on the initial trip to the emergency room and Joey’s surgery.

“I stayed until they released him,” Joe said. “Jenny and I talked. I really needed to get back, but she’s not comfortable leaving him yet.”

“Ferry’s running weekly now,” Molly said. “So they can get back whenever he’s cleared to.”

“Yeah.” Joe nodded. “Thank goodness Bobby and Laurie are there. They’ve been great. They wanted to come for Aidan’s bonding, but that’s all up in the air now. He came with me today.”

Kathleen smacked her forehead. “The bonding! I’m supposed to stand for Meredith. The new moon’s in a few days.”

Molly reached for her hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Why? Has Rebecca said anything?”

Molly frowned. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Rebecca at all the last few days. Not since what’s-her-name left on the ferry.”

“Her name’s Nadiya,” Kathleen corrected. “And don’t you think that’s kind of weird? You should check on her.”

Michael’s gaze skipped among them as they spoke, but he shoveled his dinner into his mouth and then got up and returned to the dining room, leaving his dishes on the table.

Joe rolled his eyes and carried his and Michael’s plates to the sink. “Anyway, I’m thinking the bonding will be put off at least a month.” He filled the sink with hot soapy water.

“I need to speak to Meredith and Aidan,” Kathleen said. She prepared another plate while Molly carried the rest of the dishes to the sink and began drying the ones Joe had washed.

“How’re things here?” Joe asked with an upward nod.

“Not great,” Kathleen admitted through a tight throat. She wrapped the leftovers and put them in the fridge, but she noticed the dark look Molly gave her dad.

When the dishes were washed, Joe drained the sink and dried his hands. Kathleen picked up the tray she’d set with some dinner and a drink.

“Wait a minute,” he said.

He strode to the dining room and grabbed Michael by the collar. “Come with me.” He nearly dragged Michael out to the front porch where Kathleen and Molly could see them talking. They couldn’t hear what was being said, but Joe was gesticulating and pointing.

When they came back in, Michael’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes shot daggers at Joe, but he took the tray from Kathleen.

“I’ll take this up,” he said.

Kathleen gaped as he disappeared up the stairs. “Thanks,” she said weakly.

“No problem.” Joe eyed Kathleen and Molly sternly. “How long has it been since you two did anything besides work?”

Kathleen stared dumbly at Molly.

“Tomorrow morning, you,” he jabbed a finger at Molly, “go for a row before you come to the library. And you,” he squeezed Kathleen’s shoulder, “go for a long walk.”

Blossom whined, and Joe grinned. “With your dog.”

The spring sunshine was warm on their backs as Louisa and Irene and Roy bent to plant the garden. A soft rain the day before had left the soil loose and easy to work in, if a bit muddy.

“Poke a hole,” Louisa showed them, “push the seedling into it and scrape a bit of dirt around it.”

She’d started carrots and beans in egg cartons, and had seed potatoes cut and ready to plant as well.

A scattering of birds watched them carefully, eagerly eyeing the freshly turned soil. Louisa noticed them.

“You can have the worms, but you leave our plants alone.”

“Why are we planting the beans here?” Roy asked. He straightened and gazed around. “I think the schematic I drew up—”

“Roy,” Irene glared at him. “When you break ground on your own garden, then you can arrange it any way you want. For now, we’re doing things as Louisa asks.”

Louisa chuckled. “No harm in taking a fresh look at things. We’ll look at your drawing for next year.” She lifted the floppy brim of her hat. “But beans have to grow up something, so having them on the edge here, near the fence, has always worked out.” She pointed. “See how the strawberries already want to spread out? If they’re allowed to, we’ll have strawberry runners among the carrots and onions and radishes.”

“See?” Irene bent again to her tiny carrots. “Just because you don’t see a pattern to something doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”

“Roy sees different patterns, that’s all.”

“Thank you, Louisa.” Roy gazed toward the house, where Meredith and Aidan were descending the porch steps hand in hand. “Look at their faces. That’s a pattern I think we all see the same.”

Irene and Louisa straightened as they approached.

“Well?” Irene asked.

“There really wasn’t much to discuss,” Meredith said. “We can’t get bonded without Jenny and Joey. I know postponing it another month or two will complicate other things, but we don’t have a choice.”

Aidan raised her hand to his lips. “I’ve canceled the time off I requested. I’ll boat to Big Sister today with Matty and Brandi, catch the ferry and bring ours in on Friday. I’ll see how Mom and Joey are doing.”

“Will Matty and Brandi be able to come back next month?” Louisa asked.

“Yeah. Even if it’s just for the day.” He draped an arm around Meredith’s shoulders. “Gotta go. See you all in few days.”

They walked to his truck where they stood talking for a few minutes before Meredith kissed him. He got in and drove off by himself. Meredith stood watching after him for a moment and then she came back to the garden.

“Can I help?”

“Thought you were going with him,” Irene said. “You didn’t have an argument.”

“No argument.” Meredith glanced in the direction of the road. “He said there was something he needed to do alone.”

“Alone?” Roy stared at her. “Not got another woman, has he?”

Louisa cackled. “Not likely. Unless she’s got an engine and propellor. That’s the only thing that could divide Aidan’s loyalty.” She moved further down her row to plant more beans.

“What then?” Irene asked.

“Not sure,” Louisa said. “But things have felt off.”

“What do you mean?” Roy asked, carrying another egg carton of seedlings to plant.

Louisa stood and pushed her hat back, looking around as if she could see something the others couldn’t. “When you’ve lived here a while, the island speaks to you.”

Roy looked as if he wanted to laugh. “Speaks to you.”

“Yes, well, not you.” Louisa smiled sweetly. “Usually it’s only the women.”

“What do we feel?” Irene asked, clearly intrigued.

“Most of the time, the island is healthy, happy. We reflect her contentedness. But then, there are times, like the last few weeks, when she just feels off. Kind of ill. Her energy is troubled.”

“You feel that?” Meredith asked. “How? What causes it?”

“Oh, I think we’ve enough going on to upset the island’s energy.” When the others stared at her, she explained, “Christine all by herself, the tension of her being here with Katie. That would be enough. But Rebecca is also causing a bit of a storm.”

“Rebecca?” Irene’s mouth fell open. “How do you know this?”

“I’ve known Rebecca her whole life. She has devoted herself to this island, a born Keeper, but she’s conflicted in a way I’ve never seen before.”

“Nadiya,” Meredith said, understanding.

Louisa nodded. “I think so. Nothing has ever tugged on Rebecca’s heart strongly enough to pull her away from Little Sister.”

“She’s leaving?” Irene gasped.

“No,” Louisa said slowly, drawing it out. “Not necessarily. But she’s torn, more than she ever has been.”

“So what does this have to do with Aidan?” Roy asked, bringing them back to the beginning of this conversation.

Louisa smiled at Meredith. “Since he realized he’s in love with you, that boy is more settled than I’ve ever seen him. But…”

“But Kathleen’s parents are here,” Meredith said. “There’s still a part of him that’s that fifteen-year-old boy, grieving and feeling guilty.”

Louisa patted her arm. “Whatever he has to do alone, I reckon it’s to do with the Hallorans.”

Molly’s back and thigh muscles burned and complained—and she loved every minute of it. Her dad was right. She needed this. Normally, she’d have had her scull out on the water as soon as it was warm enough, but she’d been so focused on this addition, that she hadn’t rowed once yet this season.

The scull slid onto the sand with a soft crunch, and she sat, breathing heavily, sipping on an energy drink for a few minutes. When her breathing had slowed a little, she got out and unlocked the oars. Once oars and scull were loaded on the Toyota, she drove home, already planning out the rest of the day. She decided to shower and change first, then drop the boat off at her parents’ garage on her way to the library.

Kathleen had said she’d leave for her walk after she got her mom’s breakfast. Molly was already planning what to say if she hadn’t left, but she was surprised to find Aidan’s truck in the drive when she got there. Hoping nothing had happened, she jumped out and took the porch steps two at a time.

“Mo.”

She whipped around and only then realized Aidan had been sitting in the truck. He got out and reached behind the seat, tugging out that old, broken oar.

“Aidan, what are you doing here?” She pointed. “With that?”

“Need to see Chris—I mean Mrs. Halloran.”

He shuffled his feet, and Molly had a sudden image of him as a teenager, getting chewed out by their dad after his latest reckless act of defiance—and there had been plenty of them after Bryan’s drowning.

“Come on in.”

When they stepped inside, Michael stood up from the dining table. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see your wife.”

Michael’s eyes flicked down to the oar with a puzzled frown. “What the hell—” But then his face went white, and he raised his gaze to meet Aidan’s.

“Your wife.”

“Come on, Aidan.” Molly tugged on his arm and led the way up the stairs.

At the door to Christine’s room, she knocked and eased it open. Christine was awake and turned over at their entrance.

“Christine,” Molly said, “my brother came to see you.”

Christine’s eyes, sunk deep in her emaciated face, opened wide at the sight of Aidan. “What do you want?”

Molly backed into the hall so Aidan could step into the room, his hands strangling the oar. “After… after Bryan’s body washed ashore, pieces of his scull washed up for weeks. Some found out to sea, some on our beach. This…” He held up the oar. “This was Bryan’s. I’ve kept it all this time.”

He pulled up the chair beside the bed and sat. Behind her, Molly became aware that Michael had come upstairs and was listening.

“I don’t really know why I wanted to have it,” Aidan said softly. “I guess it was just, having a piece of him. The last thing he touched.” His voice cracked, and he had to pause. “Anyway, I thought you might want to have it, for the same reason.”

Christine reached out a wasted hand to stroke a finger along the gray wood. “The last thing he touched.” Her gaze shifted to Aidan as her fingers wrapped around the handle. “Thank you.”

He left her with the oar lying beside her in the bed. Out in the hall, Aidan came up short when he saw Michael. Aidan gave him a curt nod and followed Molly back downstairs.

Out on the porch, Aidan raised his face and expelled a deep breath. “It was the last thing I had, the last piece of that day.”

“Maybe it was the last thing anchoring you to that day,” Molly said. “With the anchor line cut, maybe it won’t weigh you down anymore.”

His eyes shone as he nodded. He quickly swiped a hand over his face. “You might be right.” He gave her a quick hug. “See you soon, Mo.”

Chapter 16

Wilma rushed about, happily taking orders and filling coffee cups. Meredith noticed some unfamiliar faces among the breakfast crowd. The tourist trickle had begun, but Louisa had warned her it would become a veritable flood after Memorial Day.

“Nothing like Big Sister gets, though,” she’d added with a shake of her head.

Now that she’d lived here a few months and knew most of the island faces, Meredith realized how early the islanders must have been at their shopping and errands last summer when she and her parents were part of the flood.

“Here you go, dear.” Wilma appeared with her coffee and a plate of waffles.

“Thanks, Wilma.” Meredith grinned apologetically as she closed her laptop. “I won’t be taking up space here much longer. My dad contacted a tech to come on next week’s ferry and get our own internet set up.”

“Land sakes, it’s been no bother a’tall.”

“Hey,” Meredith said as Wilma turned to leave, “I’ve been trying to find Rebecca the last few days. Have you seen her?”

Wilma’s sunny expression darkened. She glanced over her shoulder, but no one demanded her immediate attention. She sat down at Meredith’s table and leaned close.

“Not seen her for days, myself. Not since the last ferry.”

“When Nadiya left.”

Wilma nodded, seeming relieved she didn’t have to explain that part. “Thought Rebecca might come down to see her off. Nadiya did, too. Kept looking about, hopeful like. Think she was pretty close to tears as she boarded.”

“The times I saw them together, Rebecca looked really happy.” Meredith buttered her waffle.

“Happiest I ever remember seeing her,” Wilma agreed. “Two different worlds, though, aren’t they? I’ve no idea how that was ever going to work out.”

She got up to take care of more diners, leaving Meredith to eat and ponder. How in the world could a woman be so hard to find on this island? She quickly ate and paid her bill. With a wave to Wilma, she carried her laptop out to her car and drove to the library, where the addition now had walls and roof sheathing.

“Wow.” She craned her head to where Joe and Molly were nailing down roof shingles. “Can’t believe how much you’ve got done.”

“Want to get it weather-tight as soon as we can,” Molly said after taking the roofing nails from her lips. “Then we’ll get to work on the interior.”

“Can I go in?” Meredith asked.

“Sure you can,” Joe called down. “But be careful.”

Inside, plywood subflooring was laid, but the walls were still studs, waiting for electric and insulation. A rack of windows leaned in the corner. She went to where she imagined her desk would be, turned and surveyed her imaginary students. Twirling in place, she laughed.

Outside again, she said, “Looks great! Can’t wait to get in there.”

“Couple more weeks, and you should be able to start setting up,” Molly said.

“You haven’t seen Rebecca, have you?”

“No,” Molly and Joe said in unison.

“Okay. See you later.”

She walked quickly over to Rebecca’s cottage and knocked. When she didn’t get an answer, she hesitantly opened the door. “Hello? Rebecca, are you here?”

Still no answer. Worried, she entered and looked into each room, muttering, “Please don’t be lying unconscious or something.”

The cottage was empty.

Bewildered, she hurried back to the Subaru and drove home. “Okay,” she said when she found Louisa reading in the living room, Jasper at her feet. “This island is only so big. Rebecca isn’t at home, and no one has seen her for days. Where could she be?”

Louisa glanced over her reading glasses. “I’d go to the chapel or the stone circle or the bluff. When Rebecca wanted to be alone, that’s usually where she’d go.”

“Thanks.” She patted her leg, and Jasper raised his head hopefully. “Want to come?”

He got up and followed her outside. They hiked along the ring road to the cemetery and made their way to the chapel. It was empty, but Rebecca had clearly been here. All of the pillows and cushions had been stacked in a corner, and the benches that served as pews were likewise pushed aside and balanced atop one another. A broom, mop, and bucket leaned against the wall, along with rags and glass cleaner.

“Working out her frustrations, I guess.”

Behind the chapel, through the trees, loomed the shadow of the stone circle. It, too, was empty.

“All right. To the bluff.”

They wandered into the trees, following a faint trail through the woods where clumps of wildflowers were blooming among the rocks. The trail dumped them out near a rocky outcropping Meredith had discovered early on, a place she’d felt how deep her connection to the island went. Rebecca sat almost exactly where Meredith had, gazing out at the ocean, a sheer cliff dropping below her.

Jasper beat her to the rocks. He scrambled up and nosed Rebecca’s arm. Without turning, she draped an arm over his back.

“You’re a hard woman to find.” Meredith sat beside them.

“Even here, if you want to be alone, you can do it.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the waves breaking against the granite core of the island below them.

“I suppose you want to talk about your bonding,” Rebecca said at last.

“No. I mean, I do want to talk to you about it at some point, but we really want Jenny and Joey to be there, so we figure May is the earliest it can happen.”

“That’s wise.”

Silence settled between them again.

“I don’t mean to intrude,” Meredith began hesitantly, “and I’ll leave if you want me to. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Okay.” Rebecca kept her eyes trained on the horizon. “What does that mean?”

Meredith sensed she wasn’t really waiting for an answer.

“Breathing. Waking up. Moving about. Functioning. I guess that could mean okay.”

“Or,” Meredith ventured, “it could mean you’re simply existing. Getting by as best you can.”

Rebecca nodded, and Meredith saw her throat work as she swallowed hard.

“Did you and Nadiya fight before she left?”

“Not really.” Rebecca turned to face her at last. “We merely rehashed the same reasons we couldn’t stay together more than forty years ago. She wants—needs—a city. People. I need Little Sister. Why did I think it could be any different now?”

Meredith studied her face, the dark circles under her eyes, the gaunt lines around her mouth. “But you wanted it to be different.”

Rebecca’s expression softened a tiny bit. “I did. I love her. I can say it, admit it now. She’s the only one I ever have loved. But love isn’t always enough. Not for this.”

She turned back to the sea.

Meredith reached a tentative hand out to squeeze Rebecca’s shoulder, certain she would jerk away from the contact. But she didn’t.

“I’m sorry, Rebecca. I don’t know what I would have done, if I’d fallen for Aidan but needed to stay where I was, asking him to give this up to come and be with me. Even if he’d agreed, I think I would have watched him die, a little at a time, and that would have killed me. I couldn’t have done that. I don’t know how you and Nadiya find a way to be together.”

Rebecca’s jaw muscles clenched as she fought for control. “We don’t.” She gazed at Meredith, her blue-green eyes hard as stone. “And I have to learn to live with that.”

A quiet had settled over the cottage, Kathleen realized. Not the peaceful quiet of looking up from her computer to realize she wasn’t inundated with traffic noise and sirens, like she had when she first came back to Little Sister. And not the comforting quiet of sitting with Molly in the evening when they’d finished work and dinner, reading together, with Blossom’s snores the only sound. Nor was it the wondrous quiet of standing outside under a velvety black sky that showed her more stars than she’d ever imagined were in the heavens.

This quiet was the quiet of hushed voices and muffled footsteps. This was the quiet of impending death.

Someone was always with Christine, though it was only to keep watch. She was no longer eating and rarely seemed to be aware of who was there in the room. Mostly, it was Kathleen who sat at her bedside, watching for the rise and fall of her mother’s ribs, wondering when the last breath would come. Will we notice? she wondered. Or will her last breath just slip away like a wisp of wind that brushes by, and we don’t even feel it?

No matter how Christine was positioned to try and keep her comfortable, the one thing she groped for wasn’t a hand to hold. It was that oar. She kept it in the bed with her, lying alongside her, her bony fingers gripping it tightly.

Molly had stopped going to work. “The rest can wait,” she’d said when Kathleen had fretted that the construction on the addition had been paused.

Others came by—Siobhan, Louisa with Roy and Irene and Meredith, Wilma, Jenny now that she and Joey were back onisland. They brought food and offered to stay, so that Molly could get Kathleen out for short walks.

A shadow moved across the door, and her dad stepped up behind her. As useless as he’d been over the past weeks, he now insisted on sleeping in the other bed in this room, so that Christine wasn’t alone through the nights. Kathleen often heard the squeak of the old bedsprings and knew that he was getting up to check on her.

“Go get something to eat,” he said. “I’ll stay.”

She got stiffly to her feet. Blossom was waiting for her in the hall. Even after all these weeks, he kept a wary distance from Christine and Michael.

“I’ll call if anything happens,” Michael said when she opened her mouth. “Go on.”

Down in the kitchen, Molly sat with her mom and Wilma, talking in low voices. Molly jumped up when she saw Kathleen.

“No change,” Kathleen said before anyone could ask.

“What would you like to eat?” Wilma went to the stove, where a pot simmered. “We’ve got Nels’s chicken and dumplings, nice and hot.”

“Sounds good. Thanks.” Kathleen sank into a chair. “How’s Joey doing?”

Jenny shrugged. “He doesn’t say much, but he’s still in a good bit of pain. We go back to the surgeon next week. Hope he can start therapy then and get moving.”

“Here you go, Katie.” Wilma set a bowl down while Molly got her a glass of water. “I’ve got to get back. I’ll check in later.”

“Thanks.” Kathleen ate while Molly steered the conversation in other directions, sparing Kathleen the need to talk.

When Kathleen was finished, Jenny insisted she and Molly go for a walk. Blossom leapt joyfully off the porch steps, dancing ahead of them, waiting to see which direction they’d go.

“Let’s walk the road,” Kathleen said.

Molly took her hand. “You look exhausted. I felt you tossing and turning again last night. You’re not getting much sleep.”

“Obviously, you’re not, either. Sorry to disturb you.”

“Don’t be silly. I know. It’s like we’re always listening.”

“I’m so afraid I’ll sleep through it, when it happens.”

They walked, and Kathleen looked around, puzzled. It seemed everything was getting ready to burst into bloom all at once.

“Wow, I hadn’t realized. Spring’s really here.” She gazed at the overcast sky. “Storm’s coming, though.”

“Yep. It’ll be here before morning. I’ve got the oil lamps out and ready. We’ll put one upstairs.”

Kathleen tugged on Molly’s hand to turn them around. “I better get back.” They changed direction, and Blossom came racing from where he’d been exploring in the woods.

“Thank you for everything you’ve been doing,” Kathleen said, raising Molly’s hand to her lips.

“I wish there was more I could do.”

“Just be with me.”

Molly pulled her into a tight hug. “Always.”

At the cottage, Jenny was getting ready to leave. “Who knows what Joey’s trying to do on his own, with one arm. Better get back. Call if…”

Molly nodded. “Thanks, Mom.”

Upstairs, Kathleen took up her position at Christine’s bedside. “Go check your emails,” she told Michael. “One of us might as well get some stuff done.”

The afternoon darkened as heavier clouds moved in, and Kathleen found herself dozing off in the chair. She jumped at the raspy sound of her name.

“Kathleen.”

The whisper was so soft, Kathleen had to lean over her mother to hear her. “I’m here.”

She gazed into her mother’s eyes, her heart pounding for some odd reason as she waited, listening hard. Christine gripped her hand.

“Tell Michael to cremate me. With this.” The knuckles of her other hand on the oar were white. “Promise me.”

Kathleen’s head gave a spasmodic nod. “Promise.”

Christine closed her eyes again. She released Kathleen’s hand, but the hand grasping the oar hadn’t loosened.

A low peal of thunder rumbled, on and on, while rain pattered against the window. In the distance, flashes of lightning illuminated the blue-black clouds that had covered the island for the last couple of days. Louisa sat and knitted, peering at Christine’s still form every few stitches.

Sitting at a deathbed wasn’t a thing to be relished, exactly… oh, but what I’d have given to be able to do this for Ollie.

For herself, when it came time for her own passing, she supposed there was something to be said about quick, like Ollie’s heart attack. But having time to say your final good-byes, to make amends if amends were needed before it was too late. Yes, she could see how this slow fading away of existence could heal many hurts.

Christine gave a rattling cough that racked her frail body. Louisa leaned forward.

“Do you need a drink, dear?”

Christine didn’t reply. Her half-open eyes stared, unfocused, and Louisa wondered what was going on in her head, what she saw. The oar was still cradled in her hand, hugged close. She wouldn’t let anyone take it away. Louisa wasn’t so sure Aidan should have given it to her, but the poor woman clung to it as if it were her boy come back to her.

How many times had Maisie bemoaned her carelessness in letting Bryan out of her sight that day? No matter how often Olivia and Louisa tried to remind her that she couldn’t have known what the boys were up to, that kids on the island had always run a bit wild as they couldn’t get into much real trouble—none of their reassurances could assuage Maisie’s guilt. Of course, the way Michael and Christine had blamed her for Bryan’s death had only piled on the guilt. Their taking Katie away, never letting Maisie see her granddaughter again, that had been beyond cruel. It had been easy to blame Michael and Christine for Maisie’s lonely last years, when she wore her remorse like a cloak.

“We should call them,” Louisa used to argue. “Tell them how much what they’re doing is hurting her.”

But Ollie had always talked her down, reminding her that Maisie had the two of them and the rest of the islanders, and that was enough. Of course, that was when Louisa was hiding the secret of her own baby she’d given up, and she knew how guilt could eat away at a soul.

Louisa set her knitting down, gazing out at the storm, lost in memories. A hoarse, rattling breath jerked her back to the present.

She bent over the bed, where Christine’s chest heaved with another ragged inhalation. Rushing out of the room, Louisa descended halfway down the stairs to lean over the banister.

“Katie! Michael! Come up.”

By the time they gathered around the bed, Christine’s body was still. No more ragged breaths. Her eyes already dull and lifeless.

Katie dropped to her knees beside the bed. “Mom? Mom!”

Michael stood, seeming to be in shock that this moment had come.

Louisa went to the window and opened it a couple of inches, despite the rain. “So her spirit can fly.”

Chapter 17

It was strange, Rebecca would muse later, that it took a death to pull her back into the life of the island.

Word of Christine’s passing had quickly spread, and she’d gone to the cottage as soon as she heard. She helped Louisa and Jenny clean and change Christine’s body into an unsoiled nightgown. When all was done there, she called Kathleen into the room.

“You should help with this.”

“With what?” Kathleen hung back as Jenny went downstairs.

“Preparing her for her journey.”

Louisa took Kathleen’s hand. “Come, Katie.”

Jenny returned a moment later with a bowl of ashes. Rebecca reached into her bag and took out a container of coarse salt and another of soil. The latter, she handed to Kathleen.

“What are these for?” Kathleen asked. She peered into Jenny’s bowl. “Are those from the fireplace?”

“Yes,” Jenny said.

“Told you,” Rebecca said, taking the lid off her container. “Preparing.” She grasped a handful of salt and sprinkled some on Christine’s chest and then more on the sheet, forming a ring all around her. Jenny did the same with the ashes.

“Christine Turnbull Halloran,” Rebecca said, “we honor your passing with these things: salt of the earth, earth itself.” She nodded to Kathleen to sprinkle the soil in the same pattern. “And ash, to which you will return.”

Jenny rubbed some ash into Christine’s forehead, each eyelid, her lips, and finally her chest.

“It reminds me of my tar abháile,” Kathleen said.

“It is,” Rebecca said. “The final journey home.”

They wrapped the sheet around the body, swaddling it.

“What now?” Kathleen asked blankly.

“Molly and Joe are building a casket,” Jenny said, placing an arm around Kathleen’s waist. “When they have it ready, we’ll place her in it for the ferry.”

“Will she come back here?” Louisa asked.

Kathleen shook her head. “I don’t know what my father has planned.” She glanced at the oar propped in the corner. “She wanted that to be cremated with her, but I don’t know if funeral homes allow anything else to be… in there.”

“Don’t worry,” Jenny reassured her.

“When did she ask that?” Rebecca asked.

“Couple of weeks ago.” Kathleen didn’t look her way, but her tone was definitely sullen. “You haven’t been around.”

“No,” Rebecca admitted, feeling the weight of her self-absorption. “I… I’m sorry.”

Kathleen gestured toward the bundled figure of her mother. “We didn’t do this for Miss Olivia.”

“Yes, we did,” Jenny said. “Before we laid her in the crypt at the cemetery. Remember, she died at Christmas, and it was weeks before we could get her to the mainland.”

“My grandmother?” Kathleen asked.

Rebecca nodded. “Everyone who dies here. Even Bryan, but we had to do it in secret before your parents arrived.”

“What about a wake?” Kathleen asked. “The only one I’ve been to was Miss Olivia’s, and I don’t see the island turning out with happy memories of my mother.”

“No,” Louisa said slowly. “But they will want to support you and Michael. So maybe a small one.”

When Molly and Joe carried the casket up a couple of hours later, they set it on the floor beside the bed. Michael trailed in behind them, standing back.

Molly removed the lid. “Hand me the oar, will you?”

Kathleen retrieved it, and Molly set it into a recess that had been hollowed out in the bottom of the casket.

“Now, when we lay her inside,” Molly said, “they can cremate everything, just as your mother wanted.”

“That’s clever,” Rebecca said.

Gently, they gathered around the bed to shift Christine’s body over to the edge of the mattress and then lowered her into the casket.

“Wilma and Nels are preparing bags of ice,” Molly said. “We’ll pack them around her when they’re ready.”

“We’ll take turns staying with her until the ferry arrives tomorrow,” Rebecca said. “I’ll take this first watch. Go get something to eat.”

The others filed out, leaving her alone with the casket. Rebecca sat down, trying to pray, but after fifteen minutes, she got up in exasperation and went to the window. The rain had stopped for the time-being, but the skies were still dark and angry-looking.

“Kind of like me,” she murmured.

A steady breeze playfully blew salt spray over the deck of the ferry. Meredith tossed her head, trying to keep her hair from blowing across her face as she stood at the bow. Glancing over her shoulder, she waved up at Aidan in the pilot house. Her first trip to the mainland since coming to live on Little Sister. It was somewhat somber, as the ferry carried Christine Halloran’s casket. Even Fred was more subdued than usual.

“We’re a funeral barge today,” he’d commented as he guided Michael’s Range Rover on board.

With the back seats laid flat, the casket was secured and draped with a dark blanket for the drive to Philadelphia. Molly, in her role as sheriff, had written up a death certificate and had arranged for the proper paperwork for him to transport the body.

When a stronger gust splashed her with spray, Meredith gave up and went inside to join Jenny, Joey, Michael, and her mother on the hard plastic seats lining either side of the cabin.

“Coffee?” Fred offered, but she caught Irene’s warning shake of the head and noticed her cup looked untouched.

“No, thanks,” Meredith said quickly. “I’m good.”

Jenny hid a smile. “What are your plans for the day?”

“Want to do a little shopping,” Meredith said. “Aidan and I are looking for rings.”

“But not for her wedding dress,” Irene lamented. “I have to admit, I’d looked forward to helping you pick one out ever since you were a little girl.”

“The beauty of this bonding ceremony,” Meredith said. “Whenever it happens, it won’t involve an expensive dress or tux.”

Joey, his arm still immobilized in his sling, snorted and turned to look out the window.

“You see the surgeon today?” Meredith asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Better let me out of this damned thing.”

“If he’s allowed to start physical therapy,” Jenny said, “we’ll stay with Bobby and Laurie for a few days.”

Meredith glanced toward Michael, who sat with his elbows on his knees, staring into his dented coffee mug. “Will you do a funeral or memorial service right away?”

It took him a moment to realize she was speaking to him. “No.” He sat up. “Um, after the cremation, there’s no hurry, so we can plan something whenever.”

An awkward silence fell over the group for a few minutes.

“Roy didn’t want to come along today?” Jenny asked.

Irene rolled her eyes. “He said he had something he wanted to do. I have a feeling he was waiting for a time when I was out of the way, and he could be alone with Louisa. I never have any idea what that man is planning. Now that we’ve got internet set up, it’s scary what he can research.”

“And order,” Meredith added. “Who knows what will be arriving on the ferries this summer.”

“Speaking of which,” Jenny said, “it’ll be here before we know it. The kids will be back. Your students next year.”

“I know.” Meredith felt a thrill of nerves just thinking about it. “I’m excited.” Looking at Joey, she said, “Maybe your arm will be better in time to help finish the interior.”

He shoved to his feet and slammed the cabin door open to stand on the deck.

“Sorry about that.” Jenny frowned in his direction. “He’s so bored and restless. Aidan was always my problem child, but now…”

Meredith got up and followed Joey outside. Approaching him cautiously, she simply stood beside him at the rail for a few minutes.

“You okay?” she asked at last.

“Just grand.”

She smirked. “You do sarcasm well.”

“Yeah, well, it’s about the only thing I do well.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged but immediately winced and grabbed his injured arm. When Meredith simply waited, he gave in. “Molly’s had her sheriff and fixit work for years. Aidan used to be the family screw-up, but now he’s a captain.”

“And you’re a fisherman. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, except—” He stopped abruptly.

“Except what?”

He stared out at sea, the wind whipping his black hair back off his face. He looked, she thought, like an old-time whaling captain. Or a pirate.

“Joey?”

“Brandi’s been working on Matty,” he grumbled. “Ever since…”

“Ever since the storm last summer,” she finished for him. “I can’t say I blame her for worrying. It nearly killed all of you.”

“I know.” He ran a thumbnail over a chip in the paint on the railing. “Anyway, she’s been after him to maybe quit fishing. Repair boats full-time. Maybe even move to Little Sister.”

“Really?” She nodded. “So that’s why they were here for more than that day.”

She faced him, leaning against the rail. “But what would that mean for you? Would you fish with someone else? You can’t go out alone.”

“No. Too dangerous.” He drove his hand through his hair. “I don’t know what I’ll do. Feels like everything, my whole life, is up in the air.”

She rubbed his good shoulder. “I know the feeling. Starting over in our thirties. Scary, huh?”

“Yeah, but you’re starting over with Aidan and Miss Louisa and your folks.”

And I’m all alone.

He didn’t say it, but she heard it nonetheless.

“You know,” she chided gently, “you have us, your family.”

“I don’t have anyone.” He shoved off the rail and circled around the cabin to the stern.

With a window-rattling sneeze, Molly finished sanding the last of the drywall seams. Cleaning up the dust would probably take an entire day, but this least-favorite part of the finish work was done. Joe and Aidan had helped her get all the windows in a few days ago. The wiring and plumbing were all finished.

“Just needs primer and paint now,” she said, turning in place to look everything over.

Baseboards and trimming out the windows and doors was something she was looking forward to.

Outside, she removed her mask and brushed off as much dust as she could from her jeans and T-shirt. She reached for the door and laughed when she saw her reflection in the window. Staring back at her was a white-haired version of herself.

“Guess that’s what I’ll look like when I’m as old as Miss Louisa.”

She leaned over and mussed her hair to knock out the dust. Driving home, she wondered what to expect today. Having the cottage to themselves again was nice, just the three of them, but Kathleen’s mood had been mercurial ever since her mom’s death.

Molly felt she was walking on eggshells every day when she got home, waiting to gauge Kathleen’s emotions. Sometimes, she wished Kathleen would sob and shout and get it over with, but the exact opposite had happened. Rather than cry, Kathleen had been weirdly stoic, going about the business of getting everything taken care of—packing up her mother’s things, taking care of most of the cremation preparations for her father—punctuated by unprompted bursts of anger. Not at Molly, nor at any particular thing that Molly could see, but a fury that sometimes left Kathleen shaking with it.

Joey’s doctor had cleared him to start his therapy, so Jenny hadn’t returned to Little Sister yet. She told Joe that Michael had gotten off okay for the drive back to Philadelphia. As far as Molly knew, Kathleen hadn’t talked to her dad since he got home. That alone seemed strange.

Blossom greeted her at the door. She let him out and cautiously entered the house, pausing for a moment when she heard banging from upstairs. Up in the hall, she found an old iron headboard leaning against the wall. She peered into the bedroom that Christine had used to find both beds in pieces. The twin mattresses were leaning against a wall, and Kathleen was bent over a frame, using a hammer to pound the hooks loose from the other footboard.

“What are you doing?” Molly asked.

Kathleen didn’t straighten. “Taking these apart.”

Molly quickly considered the wisdom of pointing out the obvious, and opted instead to ask, “Why?”

“These beds are older than my father. Think it’s time we replaced them.”

“Re—” Molly paused again and repeated, “Why?”

“Because.”

“Oh. That clarifies things.”

Kathleen stood at last, her glasses slipping down her sweaty nose. She pushed them back up. “Don’t just stand there. Help me.”

Molly quickly dropped to her knees and took the hammer from Kathleen to rap on the metal frame a couple of times, knocking it loose from the footboard. Another couple of whacks freed it from the headboard. Kathleen carried the pieces out into the hall and down the stairs. Molly grabbed the headboard in the hall and did the same, stacking them with the other bed parts on the porch.

“Where are they going?” she asked.

“Don’t care. I want them gone.”

Kathleen stomped inside and back up the stairs, leaving Molly staring after her. Blossom hopped up the stairs and leaned against Molly’s leg.

“Has she been like this all day?”

His tail thumped the floor in reply.

“That’s what I thought.”

Without asking any more questions, Molly helped Kathleen carry both mattresses and the other bedframe down to the porch. Upstairs, Kathleen stood in the middle of the empty room, her hands on her hips.

“That’s better.” Kathleen strode to the window and shoved the sash a little higher. “Need the air.” She spun slowly, inspecting the walls. “Think we need to paint in here, too. I’ll see what Tim has in stock.”

“Okay,” Molly said, still not sure what was going on. “I can help once I’m done at the library.”

“No need.” Kathleen gave a decisive nod. “This room I can paint on my own. Specially now it’s empty.”

“What about the beds downstairs?”

“Ask around. See if anyone needs them.”

“I can do that.” Molly glanced around. “What do you want to put back in here?”

“Don’t know yet.” A shadow passed over Kathleen’s face. “Let me live with it like this for a while, see what feels right.”

Molly stepped closer and rested a hand on Kathleen’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

For a moment, Kathleen didn’t answer, and Molly wondered if she might finally be ready to talk about whatever was going on.

“I’m fine,” Kathleen said brusquely. “Just ready to move on.”

Chapter 18

Despite the closed doors and protective drop cloth that Molly had taped up to separate the addition from the library, fine drywall dust had managed to seep through into the back room, coating all of the genealogy books. Kathleen had spent an hour damp mopping the floor and wiping down the table before she began to pull the books off the shelves, one by one, to carefully wipe them as well.

It had been ages since she’d studied. “I’ve probably forgotten everything I learned about the family lines,” she bemoaned.

“Well,” Molly had said, “Bealtaine is next week. Might be a good time for you to study that ritual. Help Rebecca lead us this year.”

“You think? Speaking of Rebecca, I haven’t seen her in ages, either. Only that one day at our house.”

“She’s around,” Molly had said vaguely, leaving Kathleen to wonder how much she’d missed, what with her focus on her mom the last several weeks.

Blossom, lying under the library table, sneezed and swiped at his nose with his paw.

“You probably shouldn’t be in here.” Kathleen led him to the door and nearly ran smack into Rebecca, who was entering. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.”

Kathleen stepped back to let Rebecca enter, and then shooed Blossom outside. “Don’t you wander off.”

She and Rebecca appraised each other and then in unison said, “You look like hell.”

Kathleen snorted, while Rebecca smirked.

“Fair enough.” Rebecca strode through to the back room. “Nice. Thanks for getting started.”

“Molly thinks she’ll be completely finished in about two weeks, and we can start putting all of the books back, helping Meredith get the classroom set up.”

“Sounds good. I’ll help you here.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes, but Kathleen felt Rebecca studying her, probing. She tried to ignore it as she tugged down another heavy book to dust off, but finally, she whirled to face Rebecca.

“What?”

“How are you doing?”

Everyone Kathleen had encountered since her dad drove onto that ferry had asked her the same thing. And to each she gave the same reply. “I’m fine.”

To her surprise, Rebecca laughed.

“You’re as good a liar as I am.” Rebecca rinsed her rag in a bucket of water and wrung it out until it was almost dry before picking up the next book. “Have you talked to Michael?”

“Once. He got her—” She’d almost said home. “Got her to the funeral home for the cremation.”

“Any date for a service?”

“Not yet. I think he wanted to get in touch with his sister.”

Rebecca’s head whipped around. “Moira? Didn’t you say when you came back here that you haven’t stayed in touch with her?”

“Yeah.” Kathleen gently swiped her rag over the faded leather of the Greatneck family book. “Not that I know of, anyhow. Last I knew, she was married and lived in California, but maybe my dad has a phone number or something.”

“Nothing like a death to pull a family back together, I suppose.”

“Family,” Kathleen scoffed.

“What about your mother? Are there siblings or grandparents on that side?”

“Gosh, I think so.” Kathleen screwed her face up, trying to remember. “No grandparents, but I think there’s a brother and a sister, both down South somewhere. One of the Carolinas, maybe? Think they came up for Bryan’s funeral, but that’s the last time I saw them. I don’t remember much from that day.”

Rebecca shook her head. “It’s hard to imagine families being so estranged from one another.”

“Believe me, the rest of the world is not like Little Sister.” Kathleen shot Rebecca a sidelong glance. “What about Nadiya? Have you spoken to her?”

“No.”

“Really? I thought, after she’d been here for a whole month, that you two might rekindle your friendship. Or something more.”

“I thought we might, too,” Rebecca admitted, much to Kathleen’s surprise. “But there’s no meeting in the middle.”

“Do you love her?”

She saw Rebecca’s jaw clench a couple of times before she said, “She’s the only one I’ve ever loved. Ever will.”

“I’m sorry, Rebecca.”

Rebecca nodded. “The things that separate us are too vast. More than just the ocean.”

She moved all of the books off one shelf and pressed on the back wall. To Kathleen’s amazement, a hidden panel popped forward. Rebecca reached in and pulled out another book, which she held out.

“Study this.”

“What is it?” Kathleen asked, opening the supple leather cover.

“The Keeper’s book. Our book of rituals. I want you to help me celebrate Bealtaine. And I think Meredith and Aidan will bond with May’s new moon. I know you’re standing for Meredith, but still. You should know the ritual.”

“Yeah, I was so nervous when Molly and I bonded,” Kathleen admitted sheepishly, “I’m not sure how much I remember. Besides being naked.”

“And blood,” Rebecca added drily.

Kathleen laughed, the first time she’d done so in a while. “How could I forget the blood?”

The early morning sun threw slanting shadows as Louisa wandered the woods along the edge of the road. Everything was coated in dew, and she was glad she’d worn her Wellies. Spying what she needed, she plucked some leaves and flowers, adding them to her basket. An approaching truck slowed down.

“Morning, Miss Louisa.” Joe stuck his head out his window. “Getting set for tonight?”

“Sure I’m getting set for tomorrow morning.”

He laughed. “See you at the beach.”

She waved as he drove off, and she continued her gathering. By the time she returned to the house, the others were having breakfast.

“Where’ve you been so early?” Irene asked, pouring a cup of coffee and setting it before her.

Aidan peered into the basket and grinned. “Ingredients?”

“Ingredients for what?” Meredith asked.

“Tonight will be your first Bealtaine,” Louisa said. “You and your mother need to learn how to make the cure.”

Meredith and Irene stared at each other.

“The cure for what?” Roy asked.

“Wait till tomorrow,” Aidan said. “You’ll know what for.”

At the continued befuddled expressions, Louisa explained, “Our Bealtaine celebration can leave most with a bit of a head the next morning. Ollie and I always make a big batch of this.”

“It’s wonderful,” Aidan said, a dreamy expression on his face. “Nothing like it.”

“We’ll have folks lined up at the front door before dawn,” Louisa said.

“You’re brewing?” Roy asked excitedly.

“We are.” Louisa patted his hand. “You can help, too.”

“We also have our May Day baby to celebrate,” Irene said.

“A year ago tonight,” Meredith said, gazing at Aidan, “we saw each other for the first time. In my dream.”

It made Louisa’s heart sing to see the besotted expression on his face. “We’ll do it up with a big dinner.”

A shadow passed over Meredith’s face, but she quickly covered it with a smile. Louisa, though, saw it. Hiding her own smile, she added some jam to a slice of toast.

“We’ve got a lot to do today. If you’re not helping in the kitchen,” she said with a pointed look at Aidan, “you need to busy yourself elsewhere.”

“We’ll be out of your hair,” he said.

“We’re going to help Molly get the addition painted,” Meredith said, brightening. “Then, it’s time for furniture. Can’t wait for the kids to see it.”

“They’ll be back onisland soon,” Louisa said. “So you’ll be just in time.”

They all finished breakfast and did the dishes quickly.

“See you later,” Irene said, giving Meredith a kiss on the cheek. “Happy birthday, honey.”

As soon as Aidan and Meredith had left, Louisa picked up the phone. “Rebecca? Is everything all set for this evening? Good. Be here by five.”

“I kind of hate keeping this from her,” Roy said. “She looks as disappointed as when she didn’t get a pony for her sixth birthday. She thinks we forgot.”

“We couldn’t forget her tar abháile,” Louisa said. “Let’s get cracking.”

Before noon, they had a birthday cake baked and cooling to be iced later, and a large pot simmering on the stove, with a gentle fragrant steam rising from it.

Roy sat at the table, scribbling furiously on a pad. “Now, how much lavender did you add?”

Louisa gently took the pen from his hand and led him back to the stove. “You need to learn to go by your gut.”

“My what?”

Irene snorted. “Good luck with that.”

“Your gut,” Louisa insisted. “Not everything can be quantified and put in a recipe or an equation, Roy. Sometimes, you just have to go with what feels right.”

The poor man’s eyes widened in terror, and he glanced over at his pad. Louisa ladled a small amount into a cup.

“Close your eyes.” When he hesitated, she squeezed his arm. “It’s okay. Close your eyes and take a sip. Tell me what you taste and smell and feel.”

“Feel?”

“Trust me.”

He frowned but did as she asked and took a small sip. “I don’t know what it’s supposed to taste like.”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” Louisa assured him. “It tastes different to everyone.”

His eyes shot open again. “How can it—”

“Trust me,” she repeated.

Irene raptly watched the interaction.

Roy took another sip, swirling the liquid around in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. “I taste… How can I taste bourbon? We didn’t add any. And pipe tobacco. How can pipe tobacco have a taste?”

He opened his eyes again.

“What do those things remind you of?” Louisa asked.

“My grandfather,” Roy said, his eyes going soft, focused somewhere in the past. “He had a dram of bourbon every night, and sometimes he’d let me have a little taste. He laughed when it made me cough. And his pipe. I loved the smell of his pipe tobacco.”

He took his wire-rimmed glasses off and dabbed at his eyes. “I don’t understand. I haven’t thought of him in years.”

“It’s island magic, Roy.”

“Magic.” He put his glasses on and frowned at her.

Irene slipped her arm through his. “We came here almost a year ago, honey. And this is the first time you’ve felt it.”

“You feel it?”

“Of course.” Irene beamed. “When I’m out drawing or when I’m standing on the beach, staring at the ocean, or sometimes, looking up into the sky here. It’s all around us.”

Louisa patted his arm. “We’ll make an islander of you yet.”

The house rang with laughter. All of the Coopers, along with Kathleen and Siobhan, had joined Rebecca and the Woodhouse clan for Meredith’s birthday dinner. It was the first time since Nadiya’s departure that Rebecca had been part of a large group of people.

I needed this, she realized. She felt some of the tension leave her shoulders and found herself smiling and laughing along with the others.

When she thought back, it had been like this after college, too. Being home on Little Sister had been where she needed to be, but it had taken months for her to stop feeling as if a part of her was missing—the part that loved and needed Nadiya. Gradually, the ache had gone away, but it was only now, with the perspective of time, that she saw how that part of her, the part that belonged to Nadiya, had never completely healed. She was like an emotional amputee with phantom pain, the feeling that the missing part was still there, despite it being gone and never coming back.

“Are you all right?”

Rebecca turned to her sister. “I’m fine.”

Jenny smiled sadly. “No, you’re not.” She gave Rebecca a one-armed hug. “But I’m glad you’re here tonight.”

Rebecca forced a smile. “Got things to do this evening.”

They sang and cut the birthday cake—a three-layered chocolate cake with cream-cheese icing—and Rebecca watched Meredith trying to act perfectly happy at everyone being there to celebrate her birthday, but she knew what Meredith really needed.

“I think we’ve made her wait long enough.”

Meredith’s head snapped up, a yearning bright in her eyes. “Yes?”

Rebecca nodded. “Yes.”

Meredith was on her feet before any of the others.

Aidan caught her hand. “You sure about this? If you do this, you’re part of the island forever.”

She rose on her toes to kiss him. “I love you, but I’d be doing this with or without you. I’ve been waiting for this ever since my mom’s tar abháile.”

“Let’s walk,” Louisa suggested. “It’s a lovely evening.”

It was as if the heavens had blessed Meredith’s special day. Spring warmth had settled like a blanket over the island, and the twilight sky was perfect—only a few high streaks of cloud caught the mauve hues of the setting sun while the sky itself slowly turned to indigo.

The group made its way to the cemetery and then back to the stone circle. Aidan scooped Meredith up in his arms and carried her under the low stone lintel.

“Not exactly over the threshold,” he said, “but close enough.” He set her down in the midst of a circle of candles, already set and waiting.

She stood, wringing her hands, as Rebecca opened a leather bag she’d brought. Aidan lit the candles while Rebecca dug a small hole in the earthen floor. She handed Kathleen a small wooden bowl—one that had been hollowed by hand and stone many generations ago, its base coated in sacred oils. Louisa held out a pine branch she’d broken off one of the trees on her way into the circle. She bent to one of the candles, letting the flame ignite the needles. It flared in the growing darkness, and Rebecca caught the ashes in her bowl.

Before Kathleen could ask, Meredith thrust out her hand and let Kathleen prick her thumb with a knife.

“I sterilized it,” Kathleen whispered with a wry look in Rebecca’s direction.

Rebecca rolled her eyes and mixed the drops of blood with the ashes and oils in the bowl. She then passed the bowl to Louisa.

“I could not be prouder than to be your grandmother and welcome you home, child.” Louisa dipped her thumb into the oil and ash and blood mixture. She smeared a bit on Meredith’s lips. “May you speak only truth.”

Meredith closed her eyes so Louisa could daub a bit of the mix on each eyelid. “May you see only beauty.” Next her forehead. “May you know your soul’s purpose while you journey through this life.”

Lastly, her chest, which Meredith had already bared by unbuttoning the top of her blouse. “May you know and give love, all your days.”

Rebecca scraped what was left of the blood and ash mixture into the hole she’d dug, covered it with earth, and tamped it down. “You are forevermore part of Little Sister Island.”

Meredith flung her arms around Rebecca. “Thank you.” She did the same to Kathleen and Louisa before turning to Aidan. “Only one step left, then it’ll feel as if I really, truly belong here.”

Embers from the Bealtaine bonfire rose into the cool May night, blending with the stars scattered across the sky. Blossom and Jasper romped with a few other dogs up and down the sand. The islanders danced in a circle, arms around shoulders, while Patrick Flaherty kept up a hypnotizing rhythm on his bodhrán. They sang songs Molly had heard since she was born, Irish songs of longing for home, laments for those lost, fast reels celebrating life.

She watched Aidan, arm in arm with Meredith on the other side of the fire, a huge smile on his face. Siobhan danced skyclad inside the wider circle, and Molly saw Irene give Roy a sharp jab with an elbow when he stared. But she couldn’t blame him. Siobhan looked like a beautiful fae, with her wild red hair lit by the flames whose light kissed the luscious contours of her white skin.

Rebecca nudged Kathleen, who went to the fire and threw some incense into the flames as she recited an ancient prayer for a safe season of harvesting the sea and the land. Molly held her breath for a moment when it came time for Kathleen to cut her hand and add blood to the fire. She did it, though she screwed her eyes shut and had to jab her finger a few times before she drew blood.

Then the pipe came around, each islander taking a drag or two. She noticed Kathleen took a couple extra puffs before passing the pipe on. The old bottle followed, filled with poitín. Molly took a small sip, as it usually packed quite a punch. She was pleasantly surprised at this brew, much smoother than usual. She took another sip before handing the bottle to her mom. She caught the pleased look on Roy Turner’s face as he watched the progress of the bottle. Suddenly, his new project in the cellar made sense. His ale wasn’t worth much, but he made an excellent poitín. She wondered if she should arrest him for making moonshine.

Gradually, the bonfire burned down and the dancing slowed. Molly was a little fuzzyheaded, but she saw Kathleen stumble on her way to a table to get something to eat.

“Hey,” she said, taking Kathleen by the arm. “Maybe we should head home. Still have to light the Bealtaine fire in our grate.”

Kathleen yanked her arm out of Molly’s grasp, almost losing her balance. “I’ll go to that cottage when I’m damned good and ready.”

From the corner of her eye, Molly saw a few heads turn. “Okay.”

“I’m the Keeper,” Kathleen said, swaying toward her. “The Keeper-to-be, that is. I did that tonight.” She pointed toward the fire, which was mostly embers now. “That’s who I am.”

“I know who you are,” Molly said tightly, feeling her cheeks burn, and not from the heat of the bonfire.

“Yeah, well…” Kathleen turned bleary eyes toward what remained of the flames. “Should have burned that thing years ago.”

“What thing?”

“Never mind.” Kathleen wove toward the bonfire. “Need to take some back.”

“I’ll get it.” Molly hurried to grab a stout branch from the pile of dry wood that had been stacked near the bonfire and jam it deep in the embers until it caught. She called for Blossom and took Kathleen by the arm.

Aidan appeared suddenly. “Want a ride home?”

“Thought we’d walk,” Molly replied, but after Kathleen stumbled again, she added, “On second thought, a ride would be great.”

He had a quick word with Meredith, and then he and Molly frog-marched Kathleen toward his truck. Molly and Blossom rode in the bed. She took care to hold the burning branch where any blowing embers wouldn’t hit the dog, while Aidan drove slowly, up the rocky track to the ring road and around to the Halloran cottage.

“Thanks, Aidan.”

He gave Kathleen a hand down.

“Yeah,” Kathleen said, blinking up at him, “thanks a lot.”

He leaned close to Molly as Kathleen climbed the porch steps, holding tightly to the handrail. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Can’t be any harder than getting you home used to be,” she muttered. “She’s a lot lighter.”

Inside, Molly knelt in front of the fireplace to light the small pile of kindling and logs she’d laid in the grate. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

Behind her, Kathleen collapsed into her chair. “Nothing’s going on.”

“Mmmm hmmm.” It took a couple of minutes for the wood to catch. When it had, Molly turned to face Kathleen.

“Wanna try that—”

She stopped. Kathleen was sound asleep. Molly got to her feet and tossed a fleece blanket over Kathleen, tucking it around her shoulders.

She sat back down in front of the fire, Blossom leaning against her thigh. She glanced back at Kathleen, her brow still furrowed in a frown, even in her sleep. “Goddess help us.”

Chapter 19

Though the weather had warmed over the last several days, Meredith thought the water looked icy. Even Jasper didn’t want to go in.

Kathleen must have read her mind because she chuckled. “Oh, it’ll be freezing. Don’t worry.”

They stood on the beach under the stars and a new moon. At the opposite end of the ribbon of sand, Aidan stood with Miss Louisa, but all Meredith could make out were shadows. The rest of their families and friends were gathered somewhere in the middle, waiting to greet them.

“I think I know the answer,” Kathleen began, “but I have to ask. You’re sure about this? Bonding can never be undone.”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything. Except coming to Little Sister.”

“Okay. You strip down here,” Kathleen said. “I wasn’t even allowed to wear my glasses. Only this.” She touched the shooting star hanging around her neck. “Wade into the water until you’re waist deep. It’s a gradual shelf, no drop-off. Wish I’d known that. Then you and Aidan walk toward each other. We’ll see you back on the beach.”

Kathleen gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and patted her thigh for Jasper, leaving Meredith alone in the dark.

She slowly peeled off her clothes, folding them into a pile on the sand. The night air caressed her naked body, a slight breeze playing with her hair. She tried not to think about the people who would see her, grateful that this ceremony was held under the darkness of a new moon. She stepped into the surf, gasping as the first wash of frigid water hit her skin.

With any luck, I’ll be numb before Aidan and I run into each other.

She had a sudden vision of them missing each other in the night, wading around in the ocean forever. Stifling a giggle, she sloshed into deeper water, gasping with each gentle wave. She went a little deeper than Kathleen had said, going out until she was chest-deep, and then turned south. Toward Aidan. Toward my forever.

Despite Kathleen’s assurances that there was no sudden drop-off, she felt with her feet as she walked. A shadow moved ahead, and under the glimmer of the stars, Aidan came into focus.

When they drew near, she reached for Aidan’s hand, but he shook his head.

“Not yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“We go under,” he said, “and come up together.”

“Like a baptism?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

She took a deep breath. In unison, they sank beneath the surface for a moment before clasping hands and breaking through to stand against the gentle push of the surf. Aidan swept his black hair back, and it shone in the starlight as it dripped diamonds of water onto his broad, muscular shoulders. She thought he looked like Poseidon, rising from the sea. All he needed was a trident.

Hand in hand, they waded ashore, where Kathleen and Louisa were waiting for them, some large object in their hands.

They stepped closer and wrapped a huge quilt around them. Meredith grasped her border gratefully, tugging it over her.

“This way.” Louisa led them up the beach to the group awaiting them.

Rebecca stood there with Irene and Roy on one side, Joe and Jenny on the other. Molly, Joey, Matty and Brandi and Benjamin, Siobhan—everyone she cared about was gathered here. Jasper and Blossom sat side-by-side, as if they knew something important was about to happen. The only ones missing were her friends from Oregon, Jan and Barb, but with school still in session, a trip east hadn’t been an option.

“Joyfully we gather here tonight,” Rebecca began, “to celebrate the joining of these two people—Aidan Ahearn Cooper Woodhouse and Meredith Turner Woodhouse.”

She gestured toward them. “You are wrapped together in a quilt—pieces of many, made one. In the same way, your two souls, through this bonding, will become one with each other, one with the island, and one with all those who came before.”

Under the quilt, Meredith reached for Aidan’s hand again.

“Meredith,” Rebecca said solemnly, “standing here as you are, knowing that all any of us can truly offer to another is heart and body and soul, do you take Aidan to be your bondmate, to love him and stay true to him only, caring for him through all of life’s joys and sorrows, for the rest of your days in this realm?”

Meredith opened her mouth to answer, but her voice caught in her throat. “I—I do.”

She heard her mother sniffle.

Rebecca repeated her words to Aidan. His voice shook, too, as he replied, “Yes, I do.”

Louisa and Kathleen both stepped closer and held rings in their palms. Meredith took the one Kathleen held.

“Aidan, like this ring, my love for you has no beginning and no end. My heart knew you before my mind did. Take this ring as a symbol of my pledge.”

She slid the gold band, engraved with a Celtic love knot, onto his finger.

He took the other ring, etched with the same knotwork, and slipped it onto Meredith’s finger, saying, “Meredith, when I saw you, I found the soulmate I’d been searching for, from before I was born in this realm, into the next, for all time. Take this ring as a symbol of my pledge.”

Rebecca drew the knife from her belt. They each held out a hand, and she quickly scored a shallow cut on their palms. She pressed their hands together so that the blood mingled and dripped onto the sand. She squatted down and buried the bloody sand.

“Your joined blood, no longer separate, is now part of Little Sister. For all time, you are bound to each other and to this island. Wherever you may roam, you take us with you, but you are always rooted here. We will be with you in times of trouble and celebrate your joys with you. When your life in this realm ends, you’ll become part of this island, sustaining those yet to come. Bright blessings on you, Aidan Ahearn Cooper Woodhouse and Meredith Turner Woodhouse.”

Meredith couldn’t be sure in the starlight, but she thought she saw tears shimmering in Rebecca’s eyes as she handed them handkerchiefs to wrap around their hands, and then there was a flurry of hugs and kisses, while Meredith tried to keep the quilt from being yanked away.

“You were right,” Matty whispered loudly to Brandi. “There was shrinkage.”

“Just wait,” Aidan flung back at him amidst a gale of laughter from everyone.

“We’ll continue the celebration tomorrow,” Jenny said. “Come on, everyone. Let’s leave these two alone.”

Roy reached for Jasper’s collar and tugged him in the direction of their car.

Meredith watched them all clamber over the sea wall before she and Aidan laid the quilt out on the sand and sat down upon it. She stared down at her hand, the ring glinting in the faint light from the stars, the handkerchief still wrapped around her palm.

“I thought I was prepared for how beautiful that ceremony would be,” she murmured.

Aidan tucked her wet hair behind her ear. “And I thought I was prepared for how beautiful you would be, but you’re more. Everything is more.”

The addition looked great, Rebecca had to admit. Bright and airy. Molly had done a wonderful job with the finishes and would start soon on making tables to serve as desks.

“I’ve got to get caught up on other jobs first,” she’d said. “Folks have been waiting weeks for everything except emergencies. And we’re buying chairs from somewhere. I am not making those.”

As much work as it had been to pack up all of the books, unpacking seemed like double. Kathleen had her own ideas about how to organize the shelves.

“We’re starting fresh,” Kathleen had argued. “We don’t have to do it the way it was before.”

“The way it was before made sense,” Rebecca countered defensively. “Alphabetical by author. Makes perfect sense.”

“Not if you don’t know the author.” Kathleen picked up a biography of Eleanor Roosevelt. “Who wrote this?” When Rebecca didn’t answer immediately, Kathleen said, “See? Biographies should be by subject.”

Meredith settled the argument. “Let’s make an old-fashioned card catalog. Every book gets one with cross-references and where it’s shelved. That way, we’ll be able to find anything. And I can teach the kids how to look books up. It’ll translate to computer listings when they’re doing remote searches of other libraries.”

Rebecca grudgingly agreed, and the three of them worked to create cards for each book as they unpacked, box by box. It took longer, but the end result would save a lot of time.

They sat at a table, making cards for the books they’d pulled out of yet another box. Jasper and Blossom lay on their sides, sharing a patch of floor warmed by the sun streaming in through a window. A delightful breeze drifted through the screens.

“Have you talked to your father?” Meredith asked Kathleen conversationally.

Rebecca saw the shadow that settled over Kathleen’s features as she replied, “He called. Got my mother’s ashes back.”

“Oh?” Rebecca lifted her head. “This is new. Is he talking about a memorial service?”

Kathleen shrugged. “No hurry, is there? Ashes can sit around till we’re good and ready.”

Meredith shot a questioning glance in Rebecca’s direction. Rebecca shook her head. Kathleen finished a set of cards and got up to shelve the books.

“Can’t believe Memorial Day is almost here,” Meredith said.

“Yay,” Kathleen grumbled. “Tourist season.”

“You okay?” Meredith asked.

Rebecca waited. She’d tried asking the same thing a number of times, without getting any kind of satisfactory reply.

“Yup.”

Rebecca put her pencil down, about to demand to know what was up, when Kathleen shelved the last of her books and said, “I’ve got to go. Have an edit I need to get back to. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Blossom scrambled to his feet and followed her out the door.

“What’s up with her?” Meredith asked.

“I have no idea.” Rebecca reached for a blank index card.

“Is she still this upset about her mother?”

Rebecca eyed Meredith. It was startling sometimes to see so much of Miss Louisa in her features. “You told me you know Kathleen’s story?”

Meredith nodded. “Aidan told me most of it, and Jenny and Molly have filled in other pieces. I know her brother died on her tenth birthday, and her parents only focused on his death after that, pretty much ignored her.”

“Especially Christine.” Rebecca bent over her card.

“Yeah,” Meredith said soberly. “To actually say to a child, why couldn’t it have been you. It breaks my heart to think what that must have done to her.”

Rebecca glanced up. “Exactly. It did affect her. She came here, pretty much a broken woman. Guarded, bitter, unsure of herself.”

“That’s not the Kathleen I got to know last summer at all.” Meredith tugged another book off the stack.

“No,” Rebecca agreed. “She’d healed. The island, Molly, belonging to a place where people love and value her—she’s not the same person.” She frowned. “Or she wasn’t. I was worried bringing Christine and Michael here might not be a good idea. It’s almost as if she’s reverted to the person they turned her into.”

“So you think it’s more than grief.”

“I don’t know. Everyone grieves differently, so it’s possible Kathleen is putting up walls again to protect herself from really feeling the loss, but…”

A heavy silence stretched between them.

“Speaking of walls and protecting oneself,” Meredith began tentatively, “how are you doing?”

Startled at the sudden change of subject, Rebecca stared at Meredith for a moment. “I’m—”

“If you say you’re fine,” Meredith interrupted, “I’m going to throw this book at you.”

Rebecca couldn’t help a reluctant grin. “Okay. I won’t say that.”

“Have you talked to Nadiya at all?”

“Why?” Rebecca ran her hand through her hair. “What would it accomplish? Except to rip the scab off the wound.”

“It’s just, the night of our bonding…” Meredith seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “I thought I saw tears in your eyes.”

“Well… so… What’s so unusual about that?” Rebecca huffed. “It’s a beautiful ritual.”

“It is.” Meredith practically glowed with the recollection. “But it got me wondering, have you never wanted to go through that ritual yourself?”

“No one has ever asked me that.” Rebecca sat back. She gave a quick shake of her head. “But it doesn’t matter. That ceremony, it can only be done for two people who are ready to bond to the island, not just to each other. That’s why Matty and Brandi haven’t done it.”

“Yet.”

“Yet,” Rebecca agreed. “Brandi wasn’t ready, though I think she’s leaning that way more and more. Especially now that they have children. By the way, I’ve got your marriage paperwork filled out for when you and Aidan formally take care of the name change.”

Meredith chuckled. “You’re very good at changing the topic. Going back,” she twirled a finger, “I agree about Brandi, but what about you?”

Rebecca lowered her eyes. “As Nadiya is the only person I’ve ever loved, the only one I could bond with, and as she will never commit to living here, it’s a non-issue.”

“It may be a non-issue here…” Meredith tapped her head with a sympathetic smile. “But not here.” She laid her hand over her heart.

Motes of dust drifted through the beams of sunlight that slanted in through the attic windows. Louisa sneezed and shuffled a stack of boxes, studying the labels that had been written on each.

“They must be up here somewhere.”

“They’re over there, sister, by the chimney.”

“No, they’re not, Ollie. I distinctly remember putting that box over here, near Mama’s old things.”

“And then you moved them that next year when we thought we had squirrels up here.”

“Did not.”

“Did so. They’re over by the chimney.”

Louisa huffed when none of the boxes she’d moved proved to be the one she sought. Grumbling, she went to the chimney.

“Told you.”

Louisa snorted. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“What do you want them for anyhow?”

“Oh, Katie’s having a hard time.” Louisa pried open the flaps on the box. “Ever since Christine died. It’s almost like she’s living Bryan’s death all over again. Thought seeing some of these might help.”

“Hope so, Lou.”

Louisa picked up the box and went to the attic stairs, where she paused. “Thanks, Ollie.”

She almost stumbled down the steps when Ollie added, “Tell Meredith I said hello.”

Downstairs, she set the box on the coffee table and began sifting through the contents. “Yes, these may help.”

She gathered everything into the box again and carried it out to her old Ford. A few minutes’ drive found her at the Halloran cottage. Molly’s SUV wasn’t there, but Katie’s car was. She retrieved the box from the back seat and carried it onto the porch, balancing it between her hip and the doorframe to free one hand so she could knock. It was a minute before Katie came to the door, Blossom wriggling out to dance around her.

“Miss Louisa, you know you don’t have to knock.”

“Well, I didn’t know if you might be in one of those vroom meetings, like Meredith has been with some of her teacher friends, and I didn’t want to interrupt if you were.”

“Come on in. Let me take that.” Katie carried the box to the dining room table. “What’s this?”

“Oh, just some things I thought you might want to see.”

“You’re being mysterious. How about some iced tea before you show me.”

“That sounds good, thank you, Katie.”

Louisa pulled out two chairs and tipped the box on its side while Katie got their tea. When she returned, Louisa sat down. Katie took the other chair, a curious expression on her face.

“After Maisie passed,” Louisa began, “Olivia and I were the main ones to put the house to rights while it waited. We didn’t know if Michael might come back at that point, but it turns out the cottage was waiting for you.”

Katie’s eyes were more worried than curious now.

“This box is mostly old photos, some in albums. Old family letters. Things like that.”

“I found some,” Katie said, and Louisa heard the ice in her voice. “In Nanna’s nightstand. My first Yule here.”

Louisa nodded. “I remember Jenny telling me. I’m sorry you found those letters the way you did, Katie. We must have missed those.”

A photograph of a young Katie and Bryan, sitting on the front porch of this cottage with Michael and Christine, sat on top. Katie recoiled.

Louisa quickly pushed that one aside. “Some of these go way back. Even before Maisie was born. You’ve probably never seen these.”

She leafed through some yellowed photographs. “Here’s your grandfather, Séan, and some of our gang.”

Young faces in old-fashioned swimming costumes laughed up at them.

“Back in our day, if anyone was going to Big Sister or the mainland, they’d go with a bag of film to develop. Not like now, when you can put the pictures on your computer. So it was always like Christmas, waiting for the photographs to come back.” She sighed wistfully. “Folks would gather at the diner and share their pictures. It was a grand time. Especially that one time Bert Callahan had taken photos of his wife in the nude. ‘Art’ he called it, but she never forgave him. They made the rounds for all to see before she could snatch them back.”

She rocked with laughter at the memory and picked up another photo.

“And you said you didn’t know your great-uncle Mick, Maisie’s brother. Here he is with little Maisie. She was about ten here, I guess.”

Katie’s mouth hung open as she leaned closer. “I’ve never seen these.”

Photo by photo, Louisa introduced Katie to her family. “Here are your great-grandparents. That’s Rosie, holding baby Maisie, not long after she was born.”

Katie stared, entranced.

“There’s so much more to your family than the sad parts.” Louisa laid a gentle hand on Katie’s shoulder. “I know you may not be ready for all of this now, but when you are, they’ll be here, waiting for you. Let me know if you have questions about any of them.”

High atop one of the wind turbines, Molly stood with her face to the wind. She’d never admitted to anyone, not even her dad, how scared she’d been to climb up there again after nearly toppling off last year when she’d foolishly unclipped herself from the safety rail prematurely. Hit by that gust of wind, hanging off-balance for those nanoseconds that seemed to stretch for eternity while she stared at the empty space between her and the ground—she’d wakened in a sweat more nights than she cared to remember from the dreams that forced her to relive those moments of terror.

She’d had to steel herself to go back up there the first time, making sure to clip on prior to climbing out of the hatch to stand on the platform. Now, she took a deep breath before checking the warning lights and blades and then lubing the gearbox. When she was done, she stood and gazed around. In the distance, the ferry chugged in their direction. She knew they were too far away to see her, but she waved anyhow.

“All right, Mo?” Joe’s voice echoed up the turbine shaft.

She leaned over the hatch and hollered, “Yeah. Coming down, Dad.”

She stepped into the hatch and descended a few rungs on the ladder before unclipping her safety rope and securing the hatch cover above her. Quickly, she lowered herself the rest of the way inside the turbine tower to where Joe waited.

“Everything looks good,” she said as she undid the climbing harness. “Ferry’s on its way.”

“Already seeing a good number of tourists at the hotel,” Joe said. “I think Wilma’s looking forward to the kids getting home to help at the hotel and diner.”

They drove into the village, where Molly recorded the maintenance she’d done in a logbook before going to her office on the village’s main street. Not that Little Sister needed a sheriff most of the time. The island rarely had troublemakers. Still, there were things she had to do, like filling out a death report on Christine Halloran, or the accidental drowning of that boy last summer.

She brushed off a thick layer of dust on her desk, glad her mom hadn’t seen it first, and pulled out a form she had to send in quarterly with the island’s crime statistics. Zero robberies. Zero carjackings or thefts. Zero assaults or rapes. Goddess, I love this island.

By the time she finished, the ferry horn had blasted as it entered the marina and docked. She locked her office and hurried over in time to help her dad secure the gangplank.

“Got a return guest for you,” Fred called out as the cabin door opened and a familiar figure emerged.

“Nadiya,” Molly said in surprise. “Nice to see you again.”

Nadiya’s face broke into an uncertain smile. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Molly noted the suitcase in her hand. “You do know the ferry won’t be back for a week. It won’t start running daily until next week, after Memorial Day.”

“I know.”

“Does Rebecca know you’re here?”

“No.” Nadiya’s eyes swept the area around the marina. “Don’t say anything. I wanted to surprise her.”

“Oh, I think it’ll be a surprise.” Molly watched her make her way up the hill, hesitating a few seconds before going to the hotel.

“What do you make of that?” Aidan asked as he strode off the ferry.

Molly gave him a one-armed hug. “Not sure. I kind of thought Rebecca was maybe getting over her, but now…”

“Yeah.”

They stepped aside to let Fred guide two cars off the ferry.

“We should warn Rebecca,” Molly said.

Aidan grabbed her arm. “Don’t get your hackles up.”

“But—”

“You always get all protective about the island anytime an offlander comes. You did it when Kathleen came back.”

“I know, but—”

“You did it when the Turners came here last summer.”

“All right, all right,” Molly grumbled. “But don’t you think Rebecca deserves a heads up?”

“I don’t think so,” Aidan said slowly. “She’s let us get slapped upside the head with our own issues more than once. Maybe she needs a dose of her own medicine. Promise you won’t say anything.”

“I won’t.” She raised her hand in their secret—and forbidden—childhood pledge. “Honest Injun.”

Chapter 20

That’s the last of them.”

Rebecca shoved the last book from the last box into position on its shelf. The card catalog was complete—new index cards all neatly printed with each book’s information.

“And guess what I found online?” Meredith’s face lit up. “A real oak card catalog cabinet thing from an old library. Apparently people are repurposing them for art supplies and such, but ours will be repurposed for its original purpose!”

“Any luck with chairs for the classroom?” Rebecca slit the tape to break down the box and fold it flat.

“I think so. A school system in Massachusetts is tearing down an old school to make room for a new one. I’ve sent emails asking if we can buy a few dozen chairs.” Meredith straightened a couple of books. “They should be getting back to me any day. Might have to talk Aidan into a road trip.”

“Maybe a honeymoon,” Rebecca suggested.

Meredith laughed. “That’s what I was thinking.”

“Well, we’ve done enough here today.” Rebecca clicked off the lights. “Thanks for all of your help.”

“Thanks for letting me help.”

Rebecca sent her a sharp glance. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“No offense,” Meredith said as they stepped out onto the library’s porch where Jasper had been on guard duty. “I just have the feeling you don’t always like people in your space.”

Rebecca snorted. “Guess I’m pretty territorial.”

“Not territorial, exactly…” Meredith said carefully. “More protective.”

“Protective,” Rebecca echoed. “I guess that sounds better than territorial.”

They walked through the trees, the shrubs and flowers all in full bloom. Jasper trotted ahead, sniffing as he went.

“Goes with the job of being the island’s Keeper, though, doesn’t it?” Meredith said. “It’s your job to be protective.” She waved and veered toward the road, whistling for Jasper to come back to her. “See you.”

“Bye.” Rebecca strolled slowly toward her cottage, still thinking about what Meredith had said.

She stopped short when her house came into view and Nadiya got up from the porch chair. She had to force her feet to keep moving.

“Hello, Rebecca.”

“Nadiya,” Rebecca heard herself say, but her voice sounded tinny, far-away. “What are you doing here?”

Nadiya searched Rebecca’s face as she climbed the porch steps. “These past almost two months since I left… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. About us.”

She lifted a hand to gently cup Rebecca’s cheek. “I’ve missed you.” She tilted her head and brought her mouth to Rebecca’s, her kiss tentative.

For a moment, Rebecca stood like a statue, willing herself not to respond, but her body, it seemed, had a mind of its own. As if she were watching from outside, she saw her hands lift to embrace Nadiya, watched her mouth open to take Nadiya’s hungrily. Nadiya returned the pressure, her lips parted, her tongue searching. The heat that kiss generated scorched Rebecca, sending her heart racing, causing an explosion of lust that left her throbbing and aching.

She broke the kiss long enough to pant, “Goddess, I need you. Now.”

They stumbled into the cottage and through to the bedroom, each of them tearing clothes off as they went, leaving a trail behind them.

Hours later—or was it only minutes, Rebecca wondered lazily—she and Nadiya lay spent, the sheets tangled.

“Are we ever going to move beyond getting each other into bed as fast as possible?” Rebecca asked.

“Are you complaining?”

Rebecca wanted to laugh, but it caught in her throat. She intertwined her fingers with Nadiya’s, studying the way the sunlight highlighted their skin. Mahogany and bronze. Wood and metal. One warm, living; the other cold, lifeless. They could be joined as disparate elements of furniture or sculpture, but they could never truly be one, seamless and organic.

She sat up. “Why are you here?”

“I told you.” Nadiya reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind Rebecca’s ear. “I’ve missed you. More than I care to admit.”

Rebecca got out of bed and searched for her clothes. Following their trail, she got dressed as she went, until she was fully clothed and standing in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of wine.

Nadiya joined her in the living room a moment later. Rebecca hesitated a second and then took the armchair, leaving Nadiya no choice but to sit on the sofa.

“How have you been?” Nadiya asked.

Rebecca didn’t answer immediately. She swirled her wine in the glass, studying the way the liquid cast prism-like reflections. “Not great,” she admitted at last. “After you left… it took me a while to find my center.”

“And now… I’ve knocked you off-center again?”

Rebecca raised her eyes to meet Nadiya’s. “I don’t know.”

“I suppose I should have called,” Nadiya said. “Asked if it was okay that I came back.”

“I don’t know what I would have said,” Rebecca admitted.

“The thing is…” Nadiya got up suddenly and went out to the porch. She was back in a few seconds, holding a small bag. “I went to see my mom a couple weeks ago, and I was going through some old boxes. Came across this.”

Rebecca took the bag from her and peered inside. “Oh, my goddess. I can’t believe you still have this.”

She reached in and withdrew a carved wooden shoe. Inside lay a smooth white pebble inscribed with one word—DARE.

Muttering to herself, Kathleen scrolled through an author’s responses to her feedback on a manuscript. This author was one she’d worked with on several projects, and he was always receptive to her comments.

Usually, she corrected as she read. He was arguing for a greater role for a minor character that she’d thought superfluous, as he had plans for a follow-up book featuring that character.

“Fair enough.”

She spent the next couple of hours reading through the manuscript again with that fresh information in her head. Her stomach rumbled. Blossom must have heard it, too, because he raised his head hopefully.

Stretching, she got stiffly to her feet. In the hall, she paused at the doorway to the now-empty bedroom where—

“It’s my room, not hers.” She gritted her teeth.

The walls were newly painted a cheerful soft green, and the white trim on the windows had also been freshened. It looked welcoming. Ready for whatever it turned into next, but Kathleen hadn’t decided what to do with the space.

“Let’s leave it like this for a while,” she’d countered when Molly had ticked off suggestions such as getting a TV and turning it into a den, or maybe making it more of a library with built-in shelves.

She knew Molly was keeping a wary eye on her, as were most of the others. “Don’t know why they keep asking if I’m all right,” she grumbled now as Blossom raced her down the stairs.

They stepped outside, and he sailed off the porch, not bothering with the stairs at all. An interloping rabbit took off, and he chased it into the woods before trotting back, his tail waving proudly at having done his job.

She stood for a moment, listening to the quiet under an overcast sky that promised rain later. “We’d better enjoy it now. Memorial Day this weekend. Come on, let’s get dinner.”

She mixed up a quick meatloaf and got it in the oven as Molly pulled up in the Toyota.

“Good timing,” she said, greeting Molly out on the porch with a kiss and two cold bottles of Harp’s.

“Not sure which of you I’m happier to see,” Molly said with a grin. She gave Kathleen another kiss and took a long pull from the bottle. “Both.”

They sat on the porch while Blossom did another perimeter check of the yard.

“How was your day?” Kathleen asked.

“Busy. Dad and I spent almost the entire day doing maintenance on the generators. Figure with the increase in tourist traffic next week, there’ll be a bigger pull on electricity. How about you?”

“Just editing.”

Molly shifted to sit with her back against a pillar. Kathleen mimicked her on the other side, gazing around the yard.

“I was thinking,” Kathleen said, “now that the library addition is done and you’re kind of caught up on all the fix-it jobs, you might get started on our garage.”

“Really?” Molly sat up, her eyes bright.

“Yes, really.” Kathleen laughed. “What, you thought I didn’t mean it?”

“Well,” Molly shrugged, “it’s a really big gift.”

“It’s something we’d both use. It’s practical. You need to have your exercise stuff here at home.”

Molly stood and held out a hand. “Let’s pace it off and see where the best site would be.”

Kathleen allowed Molly to pull her to her feet. Together, they sauntered around the yard, figuring out the best location and orientation for the new building as scattered drops began to fall.

“You know,” Molly said, “I think my mom’s kind of sad I might not be coming by there to work out or get my scull after we have our own space.”

“Your mom needs her own project.” Kathleen reached for Molly’s hand. “With all of you gone except Joey, she’s got time. What would she enjoy doing for herself?”

Molly opened her mouth but then closed it, clearly befuddled. “I don’t know. She’s always been so busy taking care of us, I have no idea what she actually likes doing.”

“Maybe it’s time she found out.”

From inside the house, the telephone rang. They jogged to the back porch and into the kitchen where Kathleen picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Kathleen. It’s Dad.”

“Hi, Dad,” Kathleen said with a wary glance in Molly’s direction. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, really.” Michael cleared his throat. “I was thinking, you know, your birthday’s coming up next month, and I thought maybe I could come out—”

“No,” Kathleen cut in. “No, that won’t work.”

“Why not?”

Kathleen ignored the puzzled expression on Molly’s face and turned her back. “Uh… we won’t be here. Molly and I already have plans to go away.”

“Oh.”

She closed her eyes against the disappointment in his voice. “Gotta go, Dad.”

“Oh, okay. Well, it was good talking to you.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

She hung up, hunching her shoulders against Molly’s probing gaze.

“Where are we going?” Molly asked. “And when?”

Kathleen gave her a sheepish grin. “For my birthday. We don’t really have to go anywhere. Just made up an excuse. He wants to come out here.”

Molly’s expression shifted into that cautious one Kathleen had seen a lot lately. “And you don’t want him to.”

“No! Why would I?” Kathleen folded her arms.

“Well, for years, they ignored your birthday when you wanted them to acknowledge it, and now… he wants to, and you don’t.”

“So?” Kathleen heard the mulish tone in her own voice.

“Don’t you think maybe he’s lonely?”

“Oh, so because he’s now lonely, I’m supposed to be around whenever he wants father-daughter time.”

“Kathleen—”

The patient, cautious tone made Kathleen’s skin crawl. “Don’t!”

Molly held up her hands. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t speak to me as if I’m a five-year-old.”

Molly’s raised eyebrows told Kathleen she was acting like a five-year-old, but she couldn’t help it. She kicked the screen door open and stomped down the stairs into the rain.

Behind her, she heard the squeak of the hinges and knew Molly was following her, but she didn’t slow down. She made it into the woods before Molly caught her, taking her by the elbow.

“Hey.”

Kathleen slowed, flooded with shame when she saw Blossom slinking up to her, his tail tucked between his legs. She bent to him, stroking his soft head, and he nuzzled her cheek.

When she straightened, Molly moved to stand in front of her. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Why not?”

“Stop being so patient!”

But Molly only stepped close enough to wrap her arms around Kathleen and pull her in. Against her will, Kathleen felt the rising tide of tears. She stood stiffly, refusing to soften into Molly, though part of her wanted to let it all go, to be rid of this… this poison that had filled her for weeks. She pushed away.

“Don’t.”

Kathleen ripped her glasses off and pressed her fingers to her eyes. She didn’t want to see the disappointment in Molly’s face.

“When…” She wasn’t sure how to begin.

Soft drops of rain plopped through the trees, hitting her head and shoulders, but she ignored them.

“When my mother was… I was sitting with her one afternoon. She called to me and took my hand and…”

Kathleen’s throat closed down, and she took a shuddering breath. “It was our last chance to make things right between us. I really thought she was— But all she wanted was a promise from me to make sure the oar was cremated with her.”

She was so angry now she was trembling. “Even then, all she could think of was fucking Bryan and his fucking oar! God, how I hate her!”

She bent over and screamed till her throat was raw. Blossom scrambled behind Molly, peering through her legs. When she couldn’t scream anymore, Kathleen dropped to her knees, spent and empty. Molly knelt in front of her and embraced her again. This time, Kathleen let herself collapse into Molly’s body as the tears she’d been holding back burst loose. Blossom wriggled in close, whining and nudging them.

When Kathleen’s tears slowed, Molly helped her up, keeping an arm wrapped around her shoulders, all three of them thoroughly soaked by now.

“Come on,” Molly murmured. “It’s time to go home.”

Meredith made the bed with a lighter-weight comforter, now that the warmer weather had settled over the island. Starting tomorrow, the ferry schedule would shift and Aidan would be home with her every night. Maybe a vase of fresh-cut flowers on the nightstand with a couple of candles would set the mood. Not that they really needed help in that department.

Out in the hall, she heard noises from the room at the end. When she peeked in, Irene was propped on a stool at her easel, sketching the layout for a painting from a drawing she’d done in her pad. Meredith peered over her shoulder.

“That’ll be nice,” Meredith said.

“Thanks. Siobhan wants more paintings to sell in her shop this season.” Irene turned to her, her eyes shining. “Can you believe my paintings are being bought by people?”

“Of course I can. Always told you your work was good enough to show.”

Irene blushed and laughed. “I know you did, but I always saw myself as nothing more than an art teacher, never an artist.” She sighed happily. “It’s wild how much our life has changed, Meredith.”

“I know.” Meredith wrapped an arm around her mom’s shoulders. “It was just a year ago, we were still wondering about the dreams we had, trying to find answers about the shipwreck.”

Irene set her pencil down, her brow furrowed. “Do you believe in ghosts, honey?”

Meredith drew back. No one knows about that. “Why?”

Irene went to the other easel, the one that Christine had used. “Sometimes I feel a presence. I wonder if it’s her.”

“I don’t know. I mean, I believe we can connect with spirits sometimes.” Meredith hid a smile. “But Christine never struck me as someone who would remain anchored to the island. I mean, she hated it here. Except for her time with you. That’s the only time I ever saw her when she seemed to be content. I think you offered her something she needed in those last months.”

“You think so?”

Meredith nodded. “I do.” She gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

In the doorway, she paused. “And if you think you feel someone with you, say hello. See what happens.”

“Oh, go on.” Irene shooed her away with a chortle.

But Meredith was certain she heard an answering laugh as she descended the stairs.

The beach was crowded.

“Six people?” Nadiya laughed. “You call this crowded?”

“I do,” Rebecca grumbled.

“This is nothing compared to the Jersey shore. So many people, you can hardly see the sand.”

Rebecca shook her head at the recollection. “Which is why I only ever agreed to go there with you that one time. Never again.”

Nadiya laughed again, a deep, full-throated laugh that made Rebecca’s heart sing. “And here I thought you were just being a curmudgeon.”

“I am a curmudgeon.”

“No.” Nadiya linked an arm through Rebecca’s as they walked barefoot through the surf washing up onto the sand. “You were used to this.” She raised her head to the sky and took a deep breath. “I’m beginning to understand why this is so hard for you to leave.”

They walked to the end of the beach and then went to sit on the boulders that formed a sea wall to brush their feet off and put their shoes on. They climbed the trail back up to the ring road and began the trek back to the village.

More cars passed them than Rebecca had seen for months prior.

“You were right,” Nadiya observed. “Even I can see there’s more traffic now.”

Rebecca shrugged. “The tourists and the dollars they bring are the price we pay for our sanctuary the rest of the year.”

“Sing it for me.”

The request came out of the blue. Nadiya had asked sporadically ever since she’d given Rebecca that shoe and pebble.

“Told you, I don’t remember the words.”

It was a lie, of course. Back then, Rebecca had been certain that Nadiya would be forever by her side. That they would never have enough of walking through life together, never turn the pebble loose to meet her new road.

“When do you have to go back?” Rebecca asked.

“Monday. Then I’ll catch the train back to Philly.”

Two more days. And then what? Rebecca wondered.

Nadiya seemed to read her mind. “But I’ll be back when I can.” She must have realized what she’d implied. “If you want me to.”

“I do.” The words came out of her mouth before Rebecca could snatch them back. “But… I don’t understand what we’re doing.”

“Why do we have to be doing anything?” Nadiya slipped her arm through Rebecca’s again. “Can’t we just take what time we have? Can’t that be enough?”

Can it? Rebecca wasn’t sure. That was the problem. She wasn’t sure of anything any longer. Wasn’t sure she could be happy without Nadiya in her life. Wasn’t sure if she was meant to be here, alone, for the rest of her days. Being Keeper had been enough for her for decades, but now… Is it enough?

Chapter 21

The Toyota, newly washed and waxed, sat prominently on the main street, the faded stars on each front door still clearly visible. Molly thought it was a good idea to give the tourists regular glimpses of it, along with her presence, checking on things.

“Mornin’, Sheriff,” came a drawling voice.

Molly grinned at Siobhan. “Mornin’, ma’am.” She touched a finger to the brim of her baseball cap.

Siobhan laughed and went back into her shop. Molly followed, taking in the shelves crammed with candles, pottery, jewelry, wood carvings, along with witchy paraphernalia like wands, small cauldrons, incense, crystals, and bottles filled with various oils and herbs.

“Wow, you’re fully stocked.”

“’Tis the season.” Siobhan dusted as she roamed the shelves. “Already busy. I’m looking forward to the kids getting back. I’ll need the help.”

Molly had a thought. “Have you talked to my mom?”

“Jenny?” Siobhan paused her dusting. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Molly said quickly. “I was thinking, you know, with the house mostly empty now, she might need something to do. Something that doesn’t involve cleaning or cooking or taking care of us.”

“That’s a thought.” Siobhan pursed her lips. “It would be nice to have someone older and reliable who could help me keep an eye on things. Speaking of which, kind of, how’s Joey?”

“Last I heard, he’ll stay on the mainland two or three more weeks for his shoulder therapy, then probably come back here.”

“What’s Matty been doing?”

“He was taking Big Sister folks out for halibut season, but that’s tapering off now. Not sure. He won’t go fishing alone.”

“Do you think he and Brandi will move here?”

“Don’t know. While we were building the classroom, he kind of talked like they were leaning that way.”

“It would be nice for the babies to grow up here.”

Molly paused at her wistful tone. “Your biological clock isn’t ticking, is it?”

Siobhan’s face registered shock for a moment before she broke into a full belly laugh that had tears running down her face. “Goddess, no.”

She wiped the tears away. “But we need young ones to feel that connection to the island, to want to stay here.”

“Hopefully, Meredith teaching the kids here will do that.”

“I hope so.” Siobhan shook back her red curls. “How’s Kathleen?”

The unexpected question caught Molly off-guard, and she stared suspiciously at Siobhan. “Why?”

“I’ve sensed a darkness around her. A heaviness. It feels…” Siobhan paused. “More than grief. I wanted to check on her, but it felt intrusive.”

“It is.” Molly shook her head. “More than grief. Not intrusive. She wouldn’t talk for ages, but she finally shared—” Molly hesitated.

“I wouldn’t want to pry,” Siobhan said, guessing at Molly’s reluctance.

“I don’t think she’d mind, and to tell the truth, I don’t know how to help her,” Molly admitted. “All the hours Kathleen spent sitting with her mother, taking care of her, she was still hoping that they could reconcile.”

“Ah.” Siobhan’s eyes closed in understanding.

“One day, when Kathleen thought Christine was going to say something, all she wanted was Kathleen’s promise to make sure she was cremated with Bryan’s oar.”

Siobhan’s eyes snapped open. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah.” Molly grimaced. “Aidan found it after the storm. Kept it all those years. Then he gave it to Christine.”

“So she was able to cling to him even into death.”

Molly nodded. “And Kathleen is still left out.”

“That’s explains the weight I feel.” Siobhan narrowed her eyes. “Has the cottage been cleansed?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, goddess, it hasn’t been.” Siobhan shook her head. “How long was that oar in the house?”

“Not sure.” Molly shrugged, trying to remember. “A few weeks, maybe?”

“If you and Kathleen don’t mind, I’ll come by and do the cleansing. The sooner the better.”

“Okay.”

Siobhan came to Molly and hugged her. “I’m sorry. For both of you. This must be hard.”

“Thanks.” Molly hugged her in return, taking in Siobhan’s scent of wildflowers. “It’s mostly hard because I don’t know how to help. Kathleen doesn’t want to see her dad, even though he called and offered to come out for her birthday.”

“Michael might be feeling the same weight.” Siobhan released Molly. “Christine’s obsession with Bryan may have left him out, too.”

“I never thought of that. He always seemed so cold to Kathleen, I figured he was just as wrapped up in Bryan.”

Siobhan gave Molly’s arm a comforting rub. “He may have felt like that, but I have a feeling his time here woke something in him. If she could give him a chance, she might find him a changed man.”

The village was still in darkness as Rebecca made her way to the market. One thing islanders learned quickly was to get their errands done early during tourist season.

“Morning, Miranda.”

Miranda glanced up from where she was putting out more tomatoes. “Morning, Rebecca.”

Rebecca picked one up and sniffed. “From the greenhouse?”

“Yes. We’ve got the outdoor garden planted, but these’ll have to do for now.”

Rebecca put three in her basket, along with lettuce and carrots.

“How much longer is your friend staying?” Miranda asked.

Rebecca kept her eyes on the produce. “She’ll be leaving with the ferry today.”

“It’s nice she’s been able to visit.” Miranda gave Rebecca a pat on the back as she went to the counter to ring up Lena Clearwater. “Can’t remember the last time you had someone.”

Lena, plunking all of her items on the counter, said, “Yes, I had a nice conversation with her at the diner when she was here in March. Fascinating work she does for that gallery.”

Rebecca smiled, adding some peppers and a sack of potatoes to her basket. No secrets here. Rebecca was usually on the probe-and-find-out end of the island’s goings-on, not the hope-no-one-notices end. That, obviously, was not happening.

When Lena had paid and said good-bye, Rebecca took her items to the register, where Miranda rang her up.

“Enjoy your last day with her.” Miranda helped Rebecca place everything in her canvas tote bags. “Hope she’ll be able to come back soon.”

Rebecca merely nodded and hurried home. By the time Nadiya got up and wandered sleepily into the kitchen, Rebecca had a skillet of diced peppers and onions sizzling.

“Mmm, that smells so good.” Nadiya stepped up behind Rebecca, wrapping her arms around her and kissing her neck.

“If you distract me, these will burn, and you’ll have to have cereal for breakfast.”

Nadiya gave a throaty laugh and one last kiss. “All right.”

Rebecca pointed with her spatula. “I picked up some coffee from the diner for you. Should still be hot.”

“Oh, thank you.” Nadiya flipped open the lid of the travel mug and took a sip. “I know you like your tea, but I need coffee in the morning. We gotta get a coffee maker.”

They both froze for a moment.

“Uh,” Nadiya stammered, “I’ll set the table.”

Rebecca turned back to the stove, stirring in beaten eggs to scramble with the peppers and onions. In a few minutes, they were seated with breakfast.

“What’s happening at the gallery?” Rebecca asked.

“We’re getting ready for a big auction,” Nadiya replied. “A private collection is being liquidated. Should bring in four to five million.”

Rebecca’s fork clattered against her plate. “Dollars?”

Nadiya laughed. “Yes. Dollars. This is what we do.” She tilted her head, her dark eyes probing. “Of course, I could sell more pirate booty if you have some.”

Rebecca cursed herself for bringing the gallery up at all. “Afraid not, matey.”

“No more gold coins or jewels fit for kings, huh?”

Rebecca focused on her eggs. “If there are, they’re buried deep below.”

Determined to change the subject, she asked, “What would you like to do with the rest of your time here?”

“Could you take me up to where the windmills are?”

“The Head? Sure the views are incredible from up there.”

“I’d like to get some photos to show people back home.”

“Did you bring a camera?”

Nadiya shook her head as she took a sip of coffee. “I will next time. But I have my phone. Might not have cell reception here, but it still works as a camera.”

Next time. Rebecca half-listened as they finished breakfast and Nadiya talked some more about her mother wishing Rebecca would come for a visit. She said there’d be a next time.

It seemed the morning flew by way too fast. The Head, back around to the beach for another seaside stroll through the surf which was almost up to the sea wall at high tide. Before Rebecca knew it, Nadiya had emerged from the bedroom with her bag packed and a tight smile on her beautiful face. The ferry sounded a melancholy blast of its horn, signaling that it was boarding.

“Don’t come to the marina,” Nadiya said in a low voice. She stepped closer and kissed Rebecca tenderly. “This is hard enough without having to say good-bye in front of other people.”

Nadiya took her hand and pressed something into her palm. A pebble. “Picked it up near the windmills,” she murmured. “When you see it, think of me.”

Rebecca’s throat was too tight to speak, so she merely nodded and slipped it into her jeans pocket. She blinked, and Nadiya was gone.

“I don’t understand why we have to do this,” Kathleen said. “The room is empty. We got rid of all the beds and furniture. It’s been painted. It’s just sitting empty.”

But Siobhan walked slowly around the bedroom, her hands up as if feeling for something. “That’s a good start, but not enough.”

She went to a large tote bag she’d brought with her and handed Molly four white pillar candles. “Set these at the compass points, will you? Oh, and open the window all the way.”

Molly stood for a moment, orienting herself before placing the candles on the floor and then shoving the sash as high as it would go.

To Kathleen, Siobhan handed several pieces of wood. Some were twisted and gnarled, others looked like ordinary branches.

“What are these for?” Kathleen asked.

“Tree magic.” Siobhan held up one of the branches. “This is hawthorn, and these,” she picked up two others, “are alder and blackthorn. They help in cleansing and protection.”

“What about this one?” Kathleen turned another gnarled piece over in her hand. “It looks like driftwood.”

“It is.” Siobhan met her eyes. “Driftwood is a merging of earth and water. Important for this particular cleansing, I think.”

Kathleen blinked and lowered her eyes. “Where do you want these?”

“Place them between the candles in a large circle. I’ll lay out the hemlock and yew.”

Molly straightened. “Aren’t those poisonous?”

“They are, but they’ve powerful magic as well.” Siobhan went to the door, where Blossom lay in the hall watching everything. “I need to close the door. Do you want to be in or out?”

He scrambled into the room, crouching in the corner. Siobhan closed the door and, when everything was laid out, they stepped into the circle. She spread her arms, spinning slowly in place, and the candles ignited.

“Close your eyes,” Siobhan commanded. She murmured words that Kathleen couldn’t make out, but they didn’t sound like English.

A whisper of air moved through the room, swirling around them. Siobhan stepped away, and Kathleen opened her eyes to see her holding a small bundle of bound herbs. She held it to one of the candles until it began to smoke, and then she walked around the interior of their circle, waving the thing to spread the smoke. When she completed her circle, she placed it in a small pewter bowl she’d set in the center. Smoke continued to billow into the room until a haze hung over everything.

“A peaceful death is beautiful, quiet, a last breath that bridges the journey a soul makes from one plane to a first breath in another, like stepping through a door.” Siobhan’s voice was soothing, hypnotic. “But this room, this house, has been tied to a death that was not peaceful. That kind of death leaves an imprint in this realm, like a shadow of something cold and heavy. That oar had to have been imbued with everything Bryan was feeling and thinking as his life ended—his terror, his regret. And by Christine clinging to it, she clung also to all of those negative emotions.”

Siobhan raised her face skyward. “They fill this room. They must be forced to move on, or the negative energy they are intertwined with will continue to feed on those it comes in contact with.”

As if someone had opened the door, the smoke began to swirl and writhe about—a living thing—angry and agitated.

“We free you, Bryan, and you, Christine, of any last anchors that tie you to this realm. Go, be finally at peace.”

Obeying her command, the undulating smoke began to swirl faster. Kathleen felt a brush of air against her cheek, and strands of Molly’s hair blew across her forehead. Siobhan swept her arms toward the open window. With an audible sigh, the smoke drifted through and out. Siobhan closed the window and turned to them.

Molly, her voice trembling, asked, “What in the world was that?”

“That,” said Siobhan, “was the last of the negative energy left behind. It tends to linger, looking for something to latch onto, to feed on.”

She took Kathleen’s hands between hers. “Now, your house is your own.”

Windshield wipers slapped a regular rhythm to swipe away the soft rain as Aidan drove them into the village. It wasn’t crack-of-dawn early, like on marketing days, but Meredith smiled as she saw a few early tourists determined to get out and enjoy the island despite the rain.

“That was us, last summer.”

Aidan reached for her hand, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “But no more.”

She kissed his hand in return. “No more. But that reminds me, by the time we get back from Massachusetts, Jan and Barb will be on their way. Two whole weeks here! Can’t wait to see them.”

He glanced in her direction, his dark eyes holding an anxious expression she’d come to recognize.

“I’ve told you a thousand times,” she said, “and I’ll tell you for the rest of our lives, I’ve never been happier than since we came here. Since I found you.”

“But you left everything,” he countered. “Your job, your friends.”

“I’ve made new friends, and I have a new job. And my old friends are still my friends. I really want them to meet you. I don’t think they quite believe you’re real.”

His mouth curled into an embarrassed grin. “What, exactly, have you told them?”

She laughed wickedly. “Nothing too personal. Just the usual, ‘he looks like Poseidon’, you know.”

He bellowed with laughter. “Poseidon?”

“My own personal god of the sea.”

He parked at the marina. “See you in a couple hours,” he said with a quick kiss.

There was always stuff that needed to be loaded onto the ferry—the island’s garbage or recycling or stuff being shipped to the mainland. That and Aidan did a thorough check of the ferry before every departure. A few ferries had broken down mid-voyage, and he was adamant it wouldn’t happen on his watch if he could help it.

She stood gazing at him as he strode along the dock, until she realized she looked like a fool, standing there with a silly smile on her face.

She turned toward the diner, thinking to kill time with a second breakfast, but then noticed lights on in the boathouse. She knocked lightly on the warped door and dragged it open.

“Hey, Meredith.” Molly straightened from where she was working on an old, dilapidated boat bobbing in one of the docking spaces inside, prying a board off the boat’s bow.

“Is this the boat the islanders gave you for your birthday last year?”

“Yeah.” Molly wore a mournful expression. “Doesn’t look much different, does she?”

“Well, um…”

But Molly shook her head and tossed the board onto the pile on the dock. “Between the restoration projects we take on for Big Sister, and then the library addition, plus all my other jobs, I’ll never get this one restored.”

“Sure you will. The addition is done now, so there’s that off the list.”

“Kathleen and I want to build a garage at our cottage. If I start that now, this will have to wait again.” She ran her hand lovingly over the pitted chrome rails.

“What year is it?”

“She’s a 1937 Runabout,” Molly said proudly. “In her prime, all of this mahogany would have had a mirror finish and the brightwork would have gleamed.”

“It will again. Maybe Aidan can help on his days here this winter.”

“That’s a thought.” Molly climbed up onto the dock and picked up the boards. “I’ll start by cutting new boards to replace these.”

She carried them to a workbench. “You and Aidan headed for the mainland today?”

“Yes. We’ll take our time driving down to pick up the school chairs we bought. I’ve always wanted to visit Boston.”

“Traffic and construction. That’s what you’ll find in Boston,” Molly said matter-of-factly.

Meredith laughed. “And museums and history and—”

Molly’s face broke into a wide smile as she turned the lights off. “You’re taking Aidan to museums?”

“Your brother’s horizons are broadening.”

“If anyone can broaden them, it’s you.” Molly held the door, and they stepped outside.

The rain had stopped, but the leaden sky promised more to come.

“Hey,” Molly said, “did Mom talk to you guys about Kathleen’s birthday?”

“Got it on the calendar, right after we get back.” Meredith paused and looked around to make sure they were alone. “Saw her at the library yesterday. She seemed… I don’t know. Better. Happier than she has in a while. Not quite back to normal, but better.”

“She is.” Molly shuffled her foot, swiping at the wetness on the deck boards. “Siobhan came over and did a witchy thing.”

Meredith’s brow furrowed. “A witchy thing?”

“Yeah.” Molly ran her hand through her hair, reminding Meredith of Aidan when he was embarrassed. “She said that oar Aidan kept and gave to Christine had all kinds of negative energy tied to it, plus the negative energy Christine brought with her. She did a ritual.”

“Like an exorcism?” Meredith tried not to laugh.

“Never saw anything like it. I swear, it was like some spirit or entity was in the room with us for a while, all fearful and angry, and then… it whooshed out the window. The air felt lighter. I know it sounds crazy.”

“A little,” Meredith admitted. “But one thing I’ve learned since coming here, crazy and Little Sister go together.”

Chapter 22

Kathleen nodded to a family of five who looked as if they were on their way to the beach, judging from the swimsuits they were wearing, along with the bags of towels and plastic beach toys and balls and boogie boards. She chuckled as she pedaled. They all acted as if this island had a huge expanse of beach.

Blossom beat her to the library, where the door was already open. She put down the kickstand on her bike and opened the screen door, pausing when she heard music. It took her a second to realize it was Rebecca, humming from the back room.

Not wanting to startle her, Kathleen stomped a little as she crossed the front room. The humming stopped. Rebecca looked up when she entered.

“Morning.”

“Morning, Rebecca. What was that song?”

Rebecca’s cheeks colored. “Nothing. Just an old song from college. ‘By My Side.’”

“From Godspell. I thought I recognized it.”

She took in the books Rebecca had laid out. “What’s on the docket?”

“You started going through the old chronicles when we had that quake last year, but then we stopped. I think it would be a good idea for you to continue, learn the island’s history in more detail.”

“I can do that.” Kathleen sat down, thumbing through one of the old leather-bound journals. “Have we recorded what happened?”

“Only a few notes.” Rebecca tilted her head. “Would you like to do it?”

“Really?”

“Really. Go into as much detail as you can recall of what others felt that day. Outline the things that happened last summer.”

“Even though we don’t really know what the island quake was warning us about?”

“I’m not sure they knew what the past ones were warnings of. We’re no different.”

Kathleen bit her lip as she considered. “I think it would be a good idea to write up a draft first before trying to put it in the chronicles in ink.”

“Good idea.”

The screen door creaked open.

“Hello?” called an unfamiliar voice. “Anyone here?”

Rebecca went out front, leaving Kathleen to begin her account of the strange events of last year, from the quake in the spring, to the arrival of the Turners and the revelation of their connection to Miss Louisa, to the accidental drowning of that boy.

She wrote randomly, getting her thoughts down as the recollections came to her. Vaguely, she was aware of Rebecca helping a few tourists find some reading material.

Under the table, Blossom snored at her feet as she wrote, scratched out, wrote some more, but the motion of her pencil stilled. Drowning…

For decades following Bryan’s death, she’d had nightmares about drowning, about his cold, white body when it washed ashore. She’d been terrified of boats—a fact that Molly had initially ridiculed when Kathleen had first returned to live on Little Sister, pointing out the obvious when one lived on an island.

Her parents had blamed Nanna for Bryan’s drowning, for letting him hang out with Aidan and the other boys, for letting him die, but for Kathleen, who’d known how Bryan was sneaking out of the cottage at night, all the stupid things he was doing that summer, it was Bryan she blamed.

“How’s it going?”

She jumped as Rebecca returned. “Fine. I’m trying to make sure I remember everything.”

Rebecca sat down, and Kathleen felt her gaze, probing.

“How did your parents die?” Kathleen asked, not sure where that question came from. “I’ve never asked Molly.”

“My father had an accident, when he was about fifty,” Rebecca replied. “An engine hoist chain broke, and the engine fell on him. Crushed his pelvis. He was never the same after that. Died of an aneurysm that burst, but the doctors thought the artery had been damaged in the accident. Then my mother and I lived in our cottage until she was eighty-two. She passed in her sleep, the year before Maisie died.”

Kathleen kept her eyes glued to the paper in front of her. “So it was peaceful?”

“It was. She went to sleep in this realm, woke in the next. Why are you asking?”

“I wondered because…” Kathleen doodled on the page. “Siobhan came to our house…”

“Ah,” said Rebecca with a nod. “She cleansed it.”

“Yes.” Kathleen peeked up, but Rebecca wasn’t laughing. “She said between Bryan’s emotions as he died, bound to that oar, and my mom, that they both brought a lot of negative, dark energy into the house.”

“Did you feel it?” Rebecca asked.

“I did. It wasn’t evil or anything like that, but it was really heavy. After she was done, it felt like there was more light on everything. As if I’d been looking at everything through sunglasses or something.”

“Makes sense.” Rebecca studied her. “But something is still bothering you.”

Kathleen’s chin quivered. “It’s just that, even after she was here for a couple of months, living with us, with me taking care of her, my mother still could barely look me in the eye.”

“You thought she’d finally see past Bryan,” Rebecca said softly. “See the daughter she’d ignored for so long.”

Wordlessly, Kathleen nodded.

“You know, Kathleen, you’re allowed to be angry with them, Bryan and your mother.”

Kathleen’s head jerked up to meet Rebecca’s knowing eyes.

“It doesn’t mean you didn’t love them. Anger and love are two separate things. Bryan was selfish. So was Aidan. I love my nephew, but he was an ass. Bryan never had to live with the consequences of his selfishness like Aidan did. Your mother was selfish, too. She loved Bryan more than she ever loved you. I don’t know if she could have helped it, but she didn’t try.” Rebecca squeezed her arm and stood. “You’ll have to find a way to live with that.”

The sun was warm on Louisa’s neck as she bent over the strawberries. Adjusting her floppy hat to avoid a sunburn, she continued plucking the succulent fruit. Beside her, Irene did the same. Unlike Louisa—who was wearing a pair of Ollie’s old dungarees, stuffed into her Wellies and cinched at the waist with an old belt of Daddy’s—Irene wore shorts with a sleeveless blouse and battered canvas sneakers. Roy was more cautious, wearing a ventilated long-sleeved shirt with his pants tucked into high-top hiking boots. A wide-brimmed hat completed his sun protection.

“You’re pale as a ghost,” Irene often teased, but she also admitted, “He burns like a lobster. Always has.”

“Not all of us have Native blood,” he grumbled.

The strawberries had taken advantage of the warm spring to send runners every which way, so that the patch that was dedicated to them had spread out considerably.

“These will be delicious with shortcake this evening,” Irene said enthusiastically.

“They will,” Louisa agreed. “Ollie made the best shortcake.”

“And you’ll teach us how to make strawberry preserves?” Roy asked, carrying his bucket over to add his strawberries to a large bushel basket sitting in the grass.

“Because someone ate all the preserves from last year,” Irene said.

“I have no idea to whom you are referring,” Roy replied, but he grinned as he bent over to pick some more.

“When are your brother and his husband arriving?” Louisa asked, shuffling her bucket along.

“They said late June,” Irene said. “I think they’re planning on a longer visit this summer.”

“It will be lovely to see them again,” Louisa said.

Hours later, their backs aching from the picking and then the cleaning and cutting of all the berries, they sat on the front porch with tall glasses of tea. Louisa and Roy both had books, while Irene had a sketchpad propped in her lap.

“This is the life,” Roy said contentedly as he rocked, his book lying closed on his lap.

Louisa peered at him over her half-glasses. “You don’t miss your old life?”

Irene paused her pencil, waiting for his answer.

“You know, I thought I might.” He nodded. “I mean, I enjoyed the slowdown last summer when we came here, but it was just for the summer, right? I kind of wondered if it would feel too slow, too quiet once we were living here.”

“You never said anything, honey,” Irene said.

He shrugged. “What could I say? Meredith made it clear she was moving here no matter what, and with you and Louisa finding each other, it seemed meant to be. I couldn’t stand in the way of that.”

Irene reached for his hand, and he took it with a smile.

“But I’m happy to admit, I’m enjoying this a lot.”

“What about that spreadsheet and all those projects?” Louisa teased.

He released Irene’s hand and raised a finger. “I still think it’s a good idea to have all those things spelled out where we can see them and prioritize them.”

“I agree.” Louisa took a sip of tea, eyeing the peeling paint along the railing and the pillars. “With the salt air, there’s constant maintenance to be done. It was more than Ollie and I could keep up with. What would you think about helping me paint this porch?”

Roy stopped rocking and sat up. “You mean it? What about the window trim? I was looking, and all the windows need work.”

“No ladders until Aidan or Molly can help out,” Louisa said firmly. “But we could tackle the porch, I think.”

Roy practically jumped out of his chair. “I’ll go to the market and see what colors Tim has in stock.”

A moment later, the car disappeared down the drive.

“So much for slowing down,” Irene said with a shake of her head.

The dark line of the ocean horizon stood out in stark contrast as the sky was slowly washed in hues of rose and orange and crimson. It would storm later, but for now, the sea was calm under Molly’s oar strokes. In the distance, terns and gannets searched for breakfast. Behind her, Little Sister rose up from the gray haze of fog that had blanketed the island when she woke.

It had been hard, dragging herself out of bed, where Kathleen probably still slept. But if she didn’t get out now, she wouldn’t at all. The waves would get higher—especially if a storm was coming—and she’d be surrounded by tourists asking all kinds of questions about her scull and wanting to try one themselves. And then we’d have to rescue them all.

She’d had too little of this so far this season. The time alone, just her and the skinny little boat on the water, this was time she desperately needed. Her back and arms and thighs burned, but it was a sensation she loved.

The water around her erupted with the sudden appearance of about a dozen curious dolphin heads, bobbing as they encircled her. A young one, more intrepid than the others, swam close and rolled onto its side to eye her. Molly grinned and reached over to slap her hand against the water. The young dolphin slapped back, and the game was on. They leapt and chattered and swam a bit closer, so that the scull bobbed wildly for a moment.

As suddenly as they’d appeared, they swam on, leaving Molly to resume her course. As she neared the beach, the incoming tide helped to propel her onto the sand.

“Morning.”

A disembodied voice came from the direction of the sea wall, and a figure emerged from the mists.

Molly almost fell over as she stepped out of the scull. “Jeez, Kathleen, you scared the heck out of me!”

Blossom, tongue lolling, came galloping down the sand from where he’d been chasing gulls.

Kathleen helped Molly drag the scull further out of the water. “Good row?”

“Great. I really needed that.” She unlocked the oars. “Were you out for a walk?”

“Kind of.” Kathleen took the oars while Molly squatted to pick the scull up, sweeping it into position overhead.

They carried everything up to the Toyota. Molly lifted the boat onto the rooftop rack while Kathleen stuck the oars in through the tailgate.

They all got in. Molly took a long pull from a bottle filled with an energy drink and mopped her sweaty face with a towel. With the SUV in gear, she began driving up the rocky trail to the ring road.

“So why were you kind of out for a walk?” Molly asked, turning toward home. “You were sleeping when I left.”

“Not really. I was lying there, thinking, when you left.”

Molly waited, casting a sideways glance in Kathleen’s direction. If she judged by the way Kathleen’s lips were tightly pressed, the words were about to come bursting out, whether Kathleen wanted them to or not.

“You thought I was cruel, didn’t you, when I told my dad he couldn’t come here for my birthday?”

Oh, crap. Knowing she had to reply honestly, Molly tried to frame her words carefully. “I thought you were doing what you needed to for yourself.”

Kathleen huffed in exasperation. “That was tactful.”

“I think,” Molly tried to clarify, “that what you need and what your dad needs might not match up right now. I do suspect he’s lonely. Even if he traveled a lot before to get away from home, he’s there all by himself now, and I’m betting that’s making him look at things a bit differently. Plus, his time onisland may have reminded him of when he wasn’t such a bastard.”

This time, Kathleen let out a real laugh. “Got to go back almost thirty years for that.”

“Still, he wasn’t always like he is now.” Molly reached for Kathleen’s hand. “And I have a feeling he might be remembering what that was like.”

Kathleen let her head fall back against the headrest with a groan, her eyes closed. “I should call him. Tell him to come.”

“You spent way too many years tiptoeing around, doing what everyone else in your life wanted,” Molly reminded her. “You don’t have to do anything that doesn’t feel right for you.”

“But that’s the problem.” Kathleen turned beseechingly in her direction. “I’m not sure I know what’s right for me.”

Chapter 23

Nearly the entire island had gathered in the village, waiting for the ferry to arrive. An excited buzz filled the air, and the anticipation made it feel like Christmas, with a visit from Santa imminent. Meredith and Jasper waited with the others, partly to help welcome the next load of children returning to Little Sister for the summer, partly to greet Jan and Barb, who were also due to be on this boat.

“We can’t wait to see this magical island of yours,” Jan had teased when they’d called last night from Portland.

A ripple went through the crowd when the ferry was first spotted in the distance. It seemed to take forever for it to chug into the island’s little harbor and up to its dock. Joe and a couple of others got the ramp locked in place while the kids stood at the rail, waving and shouting. With the ramp secure, the herd of children burst through the gate and stampeded off the boat. Half the kids stopped to hug Jasper on their way to greet their parents.

It reminded Meredith of a nature documentary where penguin chicks and parents all somehow manage to find one another after being separated. She recognized many of the kids, and a few of them said hello to her.

One little boy ran to her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Hi, Isaiah.” She tousled his hair.

He raised his freckled face to her. “You’re still going to be our teacher, aren’t you?”

“I am. Wait till you see our new classroom.”

He gave her a grin—minus his two front teeth—and ran off to tell his mother.

“Thought that one was yours for a minute.”

Meredith whipped around. “Jan!” She pulled her friend into a tight hug. “And Barb! Oh, it’s so good to see you both.”

Barb embraced her, too, and they all laughed at the mêlée surrounding them.

“These are the ones who go to school offisland,” Meredith explained. “I’ll be teaching some of them come fall.”

“Okay,” Jan said, glancing back at the boat, where Fred was signaling cars off the ferry. “Please tell me that’s not Aidan.”

Meredith doubled over with laughter. “No,” she gasped when she could speak. She pointed as Aidan and Joey emerged from the dark depths of the cargo hold. “That one.”

Jan’s mouth dropped open, but no words came out.

Barb stared, too. “Which? I think I’m seeing double.”

Meredith looked again and realized, with the two of them side by side, how much the brothers looked alike. “The one on the right. That’s Aidan. The other is his brother, Joey.”

“Joey,” Jan echoed, and Meredith heard her dream-like tone.

Meredith trotted up the gangplank to give Aidan a kiss and grabbed him by the arm. “Come here, you two. I want you to meet my friends. Aidan Cooper Woodhouse and Joey Cooper, this is Jan Warner and Barb Tilko.”

They shook hands all around, and Meredith noticed that Joey was still cautious with his right arm. “Careful,” she said when Jan kept hold of his hand, “he broke that arm.”

“Fighting a whale, no doubt,” Jan said.

Barb snorted, and Aidan’s face split into a wide grin, while Joey’s bronze cheeks burned a deep red.

“Uh, no,” he said. “Afraid it was falling off a roof.”

“Don’t be so modest,” Meredith said, giving Aidan a poke in the ribs. “He was helping to build our new classroom. It was pretty precarious, getting the roof beam in place.”

“OY!” Fred bellowed. “One car left, ladies. Off ya go!”

Barb hurried back onto the ferry to get into her SUV and drive it off. “Which way?”

“I’ll show you.” Meredith gave Aidan another quick kiss, and then she and Jasper got in the back seat. “Up the hill to the hotel.”

Jan turned in her seat, still watching Joey. “He’s gorgeous.”

Meredith shared an amused glance with Barb. “I suppose he is.”

She helped them carry their bags—one small carry-on for Barb, but two large suitcases for Jan—into the hotel.

“Wilma,” she said when they entered the lobby, “I’ve got more guests for you.”

“Hello, ladies.” Wilma beamed at them. “We’re happy to have you.”

Meredith accompanied them up to their room, noticing how nice the fresh paint looked with the nautical bedspread. “Do you need to rest?”

“No,” said Barb. “I’m starving.”

“You’re in the right place,” Meredith said. “Wilma’s husband, Nels, is the best chef. Come on.”

Down in the diner, they ordered lunch and drinks, and then Meredith reached for both their hands. “I’ve missed you both so much. Tell me everything.”

When a teen server brought their food, she shyly held up a small plate. “Nels said to bring this scrambled egg for Jasper.”

“Thanks, Sydney.” Meredith reached down to scratch Jasper as he lay under her chair.

“Do they always treat him like this?” Barb asked, leaning over to watch him eat eagerly, licking the plate clean when the egg had disappeared.

“They were wonderful with him last summer, but ever since the accident with the boys…”

“That was so sad,” Jan said.

“The dogs were the heroes that day.” Meredith’s throat tightened with the memory.

While they ate, Jan and Barb caught Meredith up on all the news of their school colleagues—which teachers were dating, who was getting married or divorced, who had transferred to other schools.

“And,” Jan said with an apologetic grimace, “I suppose I need to tell you that Grant got married.”

It took a few seconds for the news to sink in. “Married.”

“You’re not upset, are you?” Jan asked, grabbing Meredith’s hand.

“No.” Meredith shook her head emphatically. “I’m wondering who was stupid enough—” She stopped herself and held up a hand. “I don’t mean that. Completely.” She composed her features and pasted on a smile. “Who to?”

“Cindy Gardner.”

Meredith snorted. “Cindy Gardner?” She shrugged. “I hope they’ll be very happy.”

Jan gave her a sardonic smile. “You mean they deserve each other.”

“Something like that.”

It was amazing to Meredith that her world had once revolved around people like Grant and Cindy, people whose judgement of others boiled down to what kind of car they drove and what brand of clothes they wore. She glanced down at her own shorts and blouse as Jan went on about other people they knew, and she realized she hadn’t bought one new item of clothing since arriving here. She’d barely spent money on anything but groceries and household bills. And I haven’t missed it one bit.

Kathleen stood on the back porch, watching Molly lay out the footprint of the new garage, spraying orange spray paint to connect the stakes she’d driven. As she’d done with the addition to the library, Molly had worked up an estimate of the lumber and supplies they’d need for the plan she and Kathleen had drawn.

“You do know we can’t make this three times the size of the cottage,” Kathleen had joked when Molly suggested they add a finished second floor.

“But if we set this part aside,” Molly protested, pointing to the floor plan, “for a workout area, and if I take this part,” she pointed again, “for a workshop, it won’t leave room for both vehicles.”

“Neither of our vehicles has ever been in a garage,” Kathleen had reminded her. “And you have a workshop down at the boathouse. Do you need one here, too?”

She’d watched the indecision parade across Molly’s features as she wrestled with her dream garage versus the reality of limited space.

In the end, Molly had prioritized storage for her scull, a workout area, and room for Kathleen’s car, which wasn’t much use in heavy snow anyway.

“Please don’t spray paint the dog,” she called as Blossom followed Molly, sniffing at the painted lines and sneezing.

With a resigned sigh, she left Molly to it and went inside. She stood in the kitchen, one hand on the receiver of the phone while she took a couple of bracing breaths.

“Can’t put this off any longer.”

She lifted the receiver and dialed the number. She listened through three rings… four. Just as she was getting ready to hang up before the machine picked up, the phone on the other end was snatched up.

“Hello?” came her father’s breathless voice.

“Hi, Dad. Sorry if I pulled you away from something.”

“No, it’s okay. I was on the treadmill.” He paused, and she heard him drinking something. “What’s up?”

“Well, you’d mentioned maybe coming to the island next week.”

“I thought you were going away.”

She swallowed. “Um, we were, but our plans have changed. So, I thought I’d call. I know it’s last-minute, so if you have other plans—”

“No,” he cut in. “I don’t have any other plans. I’d love to come up and spend your birthday with you. If it’s all right with you. And Molly, of course.”

She knew she was responsible for his caution. No matter how often others reminded her that her parents had ignored her birthday for twenty-five years, he was trying now. If she cut him out of her life, she’d be as bad as they’d been.

“We’d love to have you.”

“Great!” He cleared his throat. “Great. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Bye.”

She hung up and went upstairs to try and get some editing done, but as soon as she sat down at her desk—the setup that was still crammed into one corner of the room she shared with Molly—she got up and went down the hall. Bryan’s old room still held Miss Olivia’s old double bed.

“There’s no hurry,” Miss Louisa had said when Kathleen had mentioned getting it back to them. “Irene is using Ollie’s room as her studio, but if the bed is in your way, you let us know.”

Kathleen turned to the room across the hall. The empty room. The one she hadn’t been in since the day Siobhan had been there. Tentatively, she reached one foot over the threshold and set it down. Nothing. She stepped completely into the room and listened, her arms out to the side as she turned in place, feeling for what, exactly?

She didn’t know, but again, there was nothing. Nothing but an empty room. As it should be. She sat on the floor, her back against the wall, her knees hugged to her chest.

She was still there an hour later when the screen door squeaked downstairs.

“Kathleen?”

She didn’t answer. Blossom ran up the stairs, his nails clicking as he explored room after room until he found her. Molly followed, stepping cautiously into the room when she found them.

“Are you okay?”

Kathleen glanced up at her. “Not sure.”

Molly sat beside her, waiting.

“One of the most profound things that will ever happen in my life happened here.” Kathleen’s eyes flicked around the naked walls. “A death happened in here. But I suppose every room that sees such a thing happen feels like that to the people who knew or loved that person. It feels kind of like a shrine to that passage, an empty space where that person used to be. And yet, it means nothing to anyone else. Nothing in the space actually changes. When, really, everything changed.”

Molly took Kathleen’s hand, cradling it between her own.

“Rebecca told me,” Kathleen continued softly, “that I would have to find a way to learn how to live with the fact that my mother loved my brother more than she loved me. It’s funny. I’ve always known it here.” She tapped her forehead. “But I don’t think I ever really knew it here,” she laid her hand over her heart, “until now.”

She squeezed Molly’s hand. “I think this room will make a good office and library, as you suggested. After lunch, I’ll move my desks and computers in here. When you have time, we’ll build bookshelves and make this our den. Maybe get a TV.”

Louisa rocked on the front porch, which still smelled faintly of paint. The first-floor windows and porch trim all gleamed with a fresh coat of glossy white, thanks to Roy, with some help from Irene and Meredith and Aidan, all of whom had refused to let her lift a finger. Jasper lay beside her, tranquilly watching a couple of rabbits hop around the yard. Inside, she heard rushed footsteps and muttering through the screen.

“Are you sure I can’t help with anything?” she called.

“No,” came Meredith’s voice.

“We’re getting a last few things ready,” Irene hollered.

Louisa chuckled. This get-together with Meredith’s teacher friends was her first social gathering since moving here, and she’d been jumping up every few minutes to dust or sweep or rearrange.

A few minutes later, the screen door opened, and Meredith plopped down on the top step with a glass of water while Irene took another rocking chair.

“I know, I’m being silly,” Meredith confessed.

“Not at all.” Louisa shooed Meredith’s worries away. “If you lived elsewhere, newly married, you’d be setting up your own home. As it is, you’re welcome to do whatever you’d like to make this house acceptable to your friends.”

Meredith choked on her drink and sputtered, red-faced. “That’s not—”

“It’s all right, dear. I know this old place is run-down, not the kind of home your friends are likely to be impressed with.”

Meredith got up and came over to squat down in front of Louisa. “That’s not what I’m nervous about. You know I love this home, this island, you. I want Jan and Barb to see what I see, to love it all as much as I do.”

Louisa took her hand. “If they don’t, it’s their loss.”

But when Barb’s SUV pulled in, Meredith leapt down the porch steps to greet them. Irene called for Roy, and they all stood for introductions.

“Mom, Dad, you remember Jan. And Barb, you’ve met my mother, but not my father, Roy. And this,” she took Louisa’s hand, “is my grandmother, Louisa.”

“Welcome to you both,” Louisa said.

Jan’s blond hair caught the sunlight, but the silver strands in Barb’s dark hair shimmered, and Louisa suspected it wasn’t just the sun.

“Oh, my gosh,” Jan said, staring from Meredith to Irene to Louisa and back again. “You’re all… who was that triple goddess? Maiden,” she said, pointing to Meredith, and then to Irene, “mother, and—”

“I guess that makes me the crone,” Louisa said wryly.

“The wise woman,” Barb said. “But Jan’s right. The resemblance is remarkable.” Her eyes probed, flicking around them.

“You see it, don’t you?” Meredith asked, watching her intently.

“See what?” Roy asked.

“Barb is Coquille,” Meredith explained. “Her grandmother, Jeanette, is the healer Mom and I went to visit. That’s when we realized our dreams were about Little Sister.”

“I’m not a healer,” Barb said, “but I have the ability to see Native blood in others. I saw it in Meredith before we knew of her connection to this island.”

“Fascinating,” Roy murmured. “And what do you see now?”

“I’ve never been anyplace other than tribal meetings where this many people have that aura about them.”

“Stands to reason,” Louisa said with a shrug. “Every islander has First Ones and Irish blood mixed up somewhere in their genealogy. Some more of one, others more of the other, but we all carry both.”

“Is, uh, anyone else coming this evening?” Jan asked innocently.

Meredith laughed. “As a matter of fact, yes. Joey will be coming with Aidan after he’s done unloading the ferry. They should be here soon.”

Barb held up her bag. “We brought wine and beer. Let’s drink while we wait.”

Before they’d finished pouring, Aidan’s truck rumbled from the drive. A few minutes later, he and Joey came in.

He gave Meredith a quick kiss. “I’ll go shower. Be back in a minute.”

That left Joey, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Louisa handed him a beer and matches.

“Would you mind getting the grill going? Jan can give you a hand, if you need an extra.”

“Well, that was transparent,” Barb muttered, standing beside Louisa on the back porch to watch Jan squirt lighter fluid on the charcoal.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Louisa gave her a wicked grin. “Joey is a dear boy, but if left to his own devices, he’ll still be single and living with his parents when he’s sixty. He needs a nudge now and then.”

“A nudge?” said Meredith, who had overheard. “Might need to be a shove, or he’ll never take the leap.”

Rebecca handed Barb a steaming mug of tea. “You didn’t want to go to Big Sister with the others?”

“I live in a coastal town,” Barb said with a shrug. “I imagine there’s nothing there I need to buy, and I’m more interested in speaking with you.”

Rebecca studied Barb’s face—good, open, she thought, no artifice, no games. “What did you want to talk about?”

Barb busied herself stirring some honey into her tea. “When Meredith brought us by to show off her new classroom—she’s really proud of it, by the way—and introduced us to you, I saw…” She met Rebecca’s eyes. “Many find it strange, what I see, but I have a feeling you’ll understand.”

Rebecca leaned her elbows on the table. “Tell me.”

“Usually, I only see it around certain people. It’s different for each.” Barb struggled to explain. “Sometimes, it’s like a faint smudginess to their outline, other times it’s little pops like fireworks, or sometimes the whole person glows. When I was a kid, I thought everyone saw this, but I gradually realized they don’t. And I also realized I only see it with those who have Native blood.”

She twirled a hand. “Since coming here, I feel like I’m on overload.”

“What do you see with me?” Rebecca asked, intrigued.

Barb tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, as if she were adjusting her focus. “With you, it’s probably stronger than I’ve ever seen. Which puzzles me. I mean, my grandmother, others of our elders, they’re as Native as you can get, so it can’t just be that.”

She gazed out the window for a moment. “It’s something to do with this island. I’ve been a few places that connected to my core, on a visceral level, but nothing like this island. It’s stronger here than anywhere I’ve ever been, and I don’t understand why.”

“Fascinating,” Rebecca murmured. “This island does have its own magic. Some connect to it more strongly than others. I think it may be because the old ways, the old connections to the spirits of sea and air and land and animals, they were never lost to us. Over on Big Sister, they’re all but gone. Walking around there feels… vacant. Dead. It makes me sad, so I rarely go there.”

Barb nodded. “That makes sense. Can you tell me more about this role you have here?”

“The Keeper of the Record, you mean?”

Barb nodded again.

“It’s something our ancestors established maybe ten or twelve years after the shipwreck that brought the Irish to these shores. They realized they wanted to memorialize what had happened, as well as what they’d grown. They knew enough to know that this blended culture was unique. The Irish had lived through English attempts to subjugate their language and culture, and the First Ones knew that Europeans had done the same with other tribes on the mainland. The isolation of this island helped, I’m sure, to protect them, but they made a conscious decision to keep to their traditions.”

“Meredith said you don’t own the houses.”

“We don’t. The island trust owns them; we only lease. We’re only caretakers of this place. It’s not ours to carve up and divvy out, any more than we could do that with the ocean or the air. It’s my job to chronicle the lives and events of the island. Births, deaths, bondings. We keep each family’s genealogy in a separate book.”

Barb sat up straighter. “May I see? Is that permitted?”

“Of course.”

Barb gulped the rest of her tea and stood. Rebecca chuckled at her eagerness.

The morning was still cool, a light breeze fluttering the leaves on the oak trees that surrounded the library. Rebecca unlocked the door and ushered Barb inside. They went behind the library desk and through the door into the back room. Briefly, Rebecca wondered if Barb’s senses would detect the artifacts below them, but she seemed to be focused solely on the books lining this room.

“These are incredible,” Barb murmured, running a finger along the spines.

Rebecca pulled down the first chronicle of the island and set it on the table. Barb took the chair beside her as she opened the tome, its aged brown leather leaving a little coppery dust on her fingers.

“Here’s the beginning,” Rebecca said. “The writing is hard to decipher until you get used to it, but this describes the wreck and how the First Ones rescued those they could.” She ran a finger down another paragraph. “Here, they tell how some of the Irish chose to leave, but most decided to stay here and make a life with the First Ones. We’re not sure how they communicated at first, since the First Ones’ language wasn’t a written one.”

Barb leaned over the book, her eyes scouring the tiny lines of writing. “This is fascinating.”

Rebecca went to another shelf and pulled down the Ahearn book. Sitting beside Barb, she opened it.

“This is our family’s record.” She traced the lines. “Generation after generation. And here,” she flipped more pages, “are brief biographies of every member of the family. Some left, naturally, and we don’t always have much information on them after they do, but others, we have basically an entire life summarized here forever.”

“I can’t believe this,” Barb said, her eyes glued to yellowed pages. “What a treasure you have here.”

Rebecca smiled. “We do have a treasure. And we work hard to keep it.”

Chapter 24

Molly backed her dad’s truck up beside the Cooper house. As she got out to unload it, the screen door opened, and Joey stepped onto the porch.

“Need a hand?” he asked.

“Sure, if it won’t bother your shoulder.” She lowered the tailgate.

He reached for a couple of folded lawn chairs. “How many chairs did you borrow?”

She shrugged. “A fair few. I invited about twenty, but you know how these things are. It’ll turn into a full céili, and we could end up with half the island.”

She slid a sideways glance at him. “Meredith’s friends are still here. I know they’ll be coming.”

As she expected, Joey’s cheeks burned a deeper red under his stubble. She leaned against the truck. “Out with it.”

“Out with what?” But he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“You and Jan, that’s what.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Nothing to say.”

“Joey,” she said, planting her hands on the tailgate behind her and hoisting herself up to sit. “I know you and I, we don’t talk much, but what’s going on? You and Matty? You don’t seem to be in any hurry to get back to fishing. What’s up?”

Still avoiding her gaze, he leaned against the truck beside her. “Been thinking.”

She rolled her eyes, glad he wasn’t watching her. This was like pulling teeth. “About?”

“I don’t think Matty’s going to go back out fishing. Not full-time like we were. Brandi wants him home more.” He gave a half-shrug. “Can’t blame her. Out before dawn, back God knows when. Now him with two kids.”

She studied him and realized she’d not really looked at him in ages. Not since that day the boat broke down. She’d been so angry with him over that. Their dad had told her how bad he felt, that his carelessness had nearly cost all of them their lives, but she hadn’t been ready to listen.

“What will you do?” she asked gently.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Dunno. Thought about calling Danny.”

She stared at him. “Uncle Danny? Dad’s brother Danny?”

“Yeah. From what Dad says, he’s running a pretty good charter fishing business out of Fort Lauderdale. Might need a mate.”

“Wow.” Of all the possible scenarios Molly might have imagined for her brother, moving to Florida wasn’t one of them. “You’d really leave Little Sister?”

“What the hell else am I going to do, Mo?” His voice was harsh with his frustration. “Dad’s got the marina, you’ve got your fix-it work and sheriffing. Aidan’s a ferry pilot now. Everyone else here who’s still fishing is partnered up. They don’t need anyone else.”

“There’re always boats that need repairs or restoring,” Molly said.

“Yeah, but…” He gave her a sideways glance. “Meredith asked me if I liked it. Fixing boats. Fishing. Never thought about whether I liked it. Just did it. But maybe I don’t want to anymore.”

He grabbed a couple of chairs and hauled them to the back yard near the picnic table. Molly followed with a couple more.

“Don’t say anything,” he muttered. “Not until I figure things out.”

“I won’t. Just don’t do anything crazy.”

He gave her a curt nod and went back for more chairs. When they were all unloaded from the truck, she went into the house.

“Need any help, Mom?”

Jenny looked up from the table where she was filling a pie crust with cherries. “Hey, Mo. I think I have everything under control here. Kathleen’s birthday carrot cake is in the fridge. Got the chicken marinating. Miss Louisa and her girls are bringing salads, Rebecca burgers.”

“Great. I’ll go get the drinks down the market. Miranda was going to pack up a couple coolers full for us. The chairs are all out.”

“Saw Joey helping.” Jenny fixed Molly with that look she knew so well. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Molly wasn’t sure how her mother always knew when something was up with one of them. “I think… Joey’s trying to figure some things out.”

She decided to change topics before Jenny could pry more from her than Joey wanted her to reveal. “Has Siobhan talked to you?”

Jenny swiped a stray lock of hair off her forehead, leaving a streak of flour. “Are you the one who planted that idea in her head?”

Molly pasted an innocent expression on her face. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” But as she turned to go, she glanced over her shoulder. “You really should take her up on it.”

Before she hit the screen door, Jenny’s voice stopped her. “Speaking of taking someone up on something, is Michael really coming?”

“He’s supposed to be on today’s ferry.”

“He’d better be.” Jenny frowned. “I swear, if he lets that girl down one more time, I’m going to string him up by the—” She caught herself while Molly grinned.

“By the what now?”

“Go on,” Jenny said, shooing her out. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

The market was crowded, as it usually was in high season. Miranda, busy behind the counter, waved.

“Hi, Rebecca. Tim’s got you all sorted.”

“Thanks.”

Rebecca wound her way through tourists looking for snacks and souvenirs, a few very pink people perusing the aisle of sunscreen—too late for that.

“Try this,” she suggested to one young woman, who was moving slowly, holding her arms away from her sides. Rebecca pointed her to a bottle of aloe. “Helps soothe the burn.”

“Thanks.” The woman tried to smile, but even that was too painful.

Rebecca made her way to the meat counter, where Tim was waiting for her. He held up a zipped cooler bag.

“You’re all set,” he said. “Two dozen burgers, plus some hotdogs from an organic farm in Maine. All local, grass-fed.”

“I’m not sure that makes the cattle feel any better about being turned into hamburgers and dogs,” Rebecca said wryly.

He grinned apologetically. “Guess you’re right. Just makes us feel better about eating them.”

She took the bag from him. “You’re coming later?”

“Course. Can’t miss a chance to do it up for Charlie’s first birthday. Miranda’s got three of the kids scheduled to work tonight. Allison and Rachel worked for us last summer, so they know the ropes.”

“See you soon.”

Rebecca hoisted the bag and wended her way toward the door. Normally, she did her marketing first thing in the morning, like most of the islanders. It was almost claustrophobic, being crammed in there with the tourists. She took a deep breath as she stepped outside.

“Rebecca!”

She froze. Michael Halloran was getting out of his Range Rover, parked in front of the pub. Her eyes darted to the marina. Aidan and Fred were almost done unloading the ferry from the look of it.

“Michael. You just arrived?”

“Few minutes ago.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I asked Patrick to set aside a keg.” He glanced at the heavy bag in her hand. “You headed to the Coopers?”

“I am.”

“I can give you a lift, if you like.”

An immediate refusal leapt to her tongue, but he’s making an effort, she realized. “Thank you,” she heard herself say instead. She put her bag in the back seat while he went into the pub.

When she opened the passenger door, she paused with one foot in, one foot out. The seat wasn’t empty. A polished wooden box was strapped in securely. Behind her, the tailgate opened, and Patrick wheeled a keg out on a handcart. The men hoisted it into the back of the SUV. Rebecca unbuckled the seatbelt. When Michael climbed in, he glanced over and saw the box cradled on Rebecca’s lap.

“Oh, uh, I thought… you know, Christine should be here.”

“Of course. She probably enjoyed the ride.”

He gave her a sharp frown, as if he thought she might be laughing at him. “I know I’ve been a right bastard,” he offered—by way of what? Apology? Explanation?

Rebecca pursed her lips.

He scoffed. “This is where you’re supposed to say, ‘No, Michael, you haven’t been a bastard.’”

“I’m not accustomed to lying.”

He bellowed a laugh. “Fair enough.”

She allowed a small smile to play across her lips. “I’m not sure I can stomach a kumbaya moment with you. Drive.”

An embarrassed silence filled the vehicle as he put it in gear and drove slowly through the village. Clueless tourists stepped out into the street without checking traffic, obviously counting on the cars and trucks to stop for them.

“I suppose it would be bad PR for the island if I turned a few of them into speed bumps,” Michael grumbled, echoing her own thoughts.

“Might need to ask our sheriff to hand out a few warnings.”

At the Cooper house, he pulled in alongside several other vehicles, including Molly’s Toyota. Rebecca held up the box.

“Oh,” he stammered, his eyes darting to the people already gathered.

“She was your wife, Michael.” She placed the box in his hands. “Settle her someplace comfortable.”

She got out and retrieved her bag from the back seat, taking it straight into the house without a backward glance. Miss Louisa was already helping Jenny in the kitchen, along with Irene and Roy, who was setting out a stack of unbreakable picnic plates and bowls.

“Come here,” she said to them. “You need to see this.”

From the kitchen window, they watched Michael gently place the box in a sunny spot in the grass alongside Miss Olivia and Mr. Woodhouse’s boxes.

“Will wonders never cease,” Louisa murmured.

Late that night, Kathleen lay nestled in Molly’s arms, her head buzzing pleasantly from one too many glasses of Guinness. Molly’s hair smelled faintly of wood smoke from the firepit they’d sat around after dinner. Down the hall, her dad was snoring in the guest room, while downstairs…

The memory made her jerk.

“You okay?” Molly asked softly.

“Yeah.”

“Nice evening?”

“It was. Charlie was a hoot with her birthday cake.”

Molly’s chest rumbled a little with her laughter. “Miranda and Tim are going to have their hands full with that one.”

Her hand smoothed Kathleen’s hair, tucking it behind her ear. “Looked like Michael had a good time.”

“Yeah. I haven’t seen him laugh and talk like that in I don’t know how long.”

They lay there for a long moment, neither wanting to bring up the thing they were both thinking.

“He was full of surprises tonight,” Kathleen said at last.

“You okay?” Molly asked again, her arms tightening. “With her being here?”

“I guess.” Kathleen shifted to gaze at Molly’s profile. “Not like I could leave her sitting out on the porch or in the car.”

Molly smiled. “Guess not. But if the dearly departed can talk to each other, I imagine Miss Olivia gave her an earful.”

Kathleen snorted. “Would’ve loved to have heard that conversation.”

“Do you feel…” Molly rolled her head to press her lips against Kathleen’s forehead. “You know, the negative stuff Siobhan drove out of here, has any of it come back?”

“I don’t think so.” Kathleen lifted herself up onto an elbow, her other hand cradling Molly’s cheek. She bent down to kiss Molly, a soft, lingering kiss. “She doesn’t have any power here anymore.”

It seemed she’d barely laid her head back down on her pillow when suddenly, it was morning and she was alone in the bed. She stretched and listened. Vague voices came from downstairs. She hurriedly got dressed and used the bathroom.

Down in the kitchen, Molly and Michael were sitting at the table. And they’re actually talking to each other. Blossom, though, still wasn’t convinced. As soon as he saw her, he scrambled out from where he’d been hiding under the dining table, peering through the table and chair legs at everyone.

“Morning,” she said as she went to pour herself a cup of coffee. She dropped a slice of bread into the toaster and leaned her backside against the counter.

“Feeling okay this morning?” Molly asked.

“Fine,” Kathleen replied. “I didn’t have that much to drink.”

“It was a nice party,” Michael said.

“It was.” Kathleen caught Molly’s short wag of her head in his direction. “Thanks for coming. It means a lot.”

He smiled. He actually smiled. “I’m really glad you and Molly changed your minds about being here and asked me.”

The toaster popped, giving Kathleen an excuse to turn away and busy herself making her breakfast. And to stop myself asking why he’s only doing it now. She gripped the knife so hard her hand trembled. Stop. He’s here now. Now is all that matters. She knew that wasn’t entirely true. Maybe, now is enough.

Molly kept the conversation going while Kathleen ate, but as soon as the last bite of toast disappeared, Molly stood.

“Got a few jobs to get to today.” She leaned down and kissed Kathleen. “Might have to arrest a few people,” she added with a grin in Michael’s direction. “See you two later.” She gave Kathleen’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before she left.

Michael got up to refill his cup and came over to top off Kathleen’s.

“Thanks.”

He sat down again, and an awkward silence filled the space between them.

“So,” she began when she couldn’t stand it any longer, “are you going to haul Mom’s ashes around with you everywhere like Miss Louisa does?”

“Oh.” He blushed, and, for a moment, she had a flash memory of what he used to be like, back when the family was whole and happy. “I don’t—I mean, only here. Because they understand.”

“They do.” She recalled how odd it had seemed at first, but she now found it endearing. For Miss Louisa. If Christine Halloran’s ashes were going to be a permanent feature of any visit with her dad, Kathleen might have to rethink things.

“But I would like for us to decide when to have a ceremony and, you know…” He trailed off awkwardly.

“What kind of ceremony?” she wondered. “You guys didn’t belong to a church, did you?”

“No.” He frowned. “I hadn’t thought about that. I mean, I figured, when I buy a… I don’t even know what to call it—those little slots they have in cemetery mausoleums for urns and things—that the cemetery people would provide someone.”

“Can her ashes be buried with Bryan?”

“I don’t know.” He blinked a couple of times as he considered, then he raised his eyes to hers. “I need closure, Kathleen. I know Miss Louisa has carried her father’s ashes around forever, and now her sister, too, but I can’t do that.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “I don’t want to forget your mother. It’s not that. I need to move past this.”

She studied him, knew this was what Bryan would have looked like one day. “I know. I think I do, too.”

A thought occurred to her. “What if Rebecca did it?”

“Rebecca?” He sounded startled at the suggestion.

She shrugged. “Just a thought. She is ordained.” The mention of being ordained reminded her that she was supposed to be working on this herself.

“It might be fitting,” he mused. “Would you ask her?”

“Sure.” She started to voice her next thought and then hesitated. “Dad, would you want part of the ashes to be interred here?”

He stared at her for a moment, clearly groping for a response.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” she added quickly. “I just wondered, since she died here, and since Bryan’s oar is part of what’s in the box.” She paused. “Nothing of Bryan was ever buried here. It’s almost as if he never existed.”

He gave a sideways nod. “You’re right. We took him away, buried him in Philly. It seems right that part of them stays here.”

Kathleen breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t exploded at the suggestion. “Good. I’ll talk to Rebecca, and we’ll arrange something while you’re here.”

The launch rose and fell gently with the swells. Aidan cut off the engine and nodded to Joey, who dropped an anchor.

“This the spot?” Meredith asked.

“It is.” Aidan pointed to the western horizon. “In about an hour, you’ll see a sunset you’ll remember the rest of your lives.”

“In the meantime, that fried chicken is calling me,” Jan said, opening a large picnic hamper.

“Then let’s eat.” Meredith handed Barb a stack of plates and utensils to pass around.

In a few minutes, plates full of food from the diner—“we insist,” Jan had said. “You guys have been feeding us since we got here, and I am going to get home ten pounds heavier.”—with icy bottles of soda to wash it down, they ate in the middle of the ocean.

“Never anticipated a picnic at sea,” Barb said. She looked around, but there was nothing—not another boat, no land in sight in any direction. “I’ve lived beside the ocean my entire life, but I’ve never been this far out. It does make you feel small.”

“This is nothing,” Joey said. “We know we’re only an hour from home,” he pointed to the west, “back that way. But when you’re miles and miles out, in ten, fifteen-foot waves, having to haul the nets in before you can head back, it can feel like the loneliest place on earth.”

Jan hung on Joey’s every word, the drumstick in her hand temporarily forgotten. “I wish we could stay the rest of the summer.”

“Me, too.” Joey stared at her for a moment, and then, flustered, busied himself with his plate.

Meredith caught Aidan’s eye and gave him a little pushing motion.

“Uh, maybe you could stretch your trip out a little,” he said. “Isn’t this your summer vacation from work? Wilma isn’t usually full-up at the hotel.”

Jan glanced hopefully at Barb. “Maybe. We’ll talk about it.”

The sky show began as they finished eating. Scattered clouds caught fire in amazing tones of blood-red scarlet and blazing orange. The sun’s orb appeared and disappeared behind the streaks of clouds as it lowered toward the horizon. Bit by bit, it sank into the sea.

“That was spectacular,” Jan murmured. “And we have some pretty impressive sunsets on the west coast.” She turned to Joey. “Maybe you could come out sometime, you know, for a comparison.”

Joey ducked his head, mumbling something about needing another piece of cake.

Aidan snorted. “He’s never been farther west than Freeport.”

Meredith jabbed him with an elbow. “But I think a trip to the Pacific coast is a must-see for anyone.”

Joey hauled up the anchor, and Aidan started the engine. As the launch chugged back to Little Sister, Barb shifted seats to sit beside Meredith.

“I’m so glad we came, Meredith,” Barb said. “I respected what your dream, your blood memory, was telling you about this place you were connected to, but…” She looked skyward, breathed deep. “I can’t wait to tell my grandmother about all of this. I’d love for her to come with me some day and see this.”

“That would be wonderful,” Meredith said. “It would be so nice to see her again.”

“I want her to see your island—to see a place where memories are long and the old ways are honored, respected.”

Meredith thought about that and then said, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Barb looked at her in befuddlement.

“For reminding me. When we got here last year, when I was learning all about the island and its history, I felt all of that. But as you said it, I realized, I’ve already come to take it for granted. I don’t ever want to forget how special this is.”

Chapter 25

Kathleen stood at the rail of the ferry with a few other passengers, offlanders who were ending their holiday stay on Little Sister. It was a gray day—gray sea, gray sky with heavy clouds, so that it was impossible to tell where ocean ended and sky began.

The others moved into the cabin, but Kathleen stayed where she was. Behind her, the door opened, and she figured her father was coming out to check on her.

“Best get inside, gal.”

She smiled at Fred’s voice. “You said that to me my first time back here, remember?”

He stood beside her at the rail. “I do. Didn’t know what you were thinkin’, comin’ back in October, didn’t know enough to come in out of the spray.”

She chortled. “Guess I still don’t.”

“Didn’t think you’d stick it out, but you made a liar out of me.”

“Glad about that.”

He laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Heard the ceremony for your ma was real nice.”

“It was. Thanks.” She glanced toward the cabin, where her dad sat, his laptop open. “We’re headed to Philly now. For the last one.”

“Mo not comin’?”

“She and Rebecca will be on the ferry in a couple weeks. She had jobs she needed to finish before she could get away.” She paused. “And I need to help my dad clear things out.”

He squeezed her shoulder and released her. “Don’t catch a chill, hear?”

“I won’t.”

He went back into the cabin, leaving her with her thoughts.

Can a person feel like a color? she wondered. If so, she matched her surroundings. She felt gray, as if her outlines were smudged and indistinct, as if, were she to walk into the gray out there, she would simply fade into it.

She wasn’t really angry with her mother anymore. Or her dad. She wasn’t really anything. The ceremony had been beautiful. Rebecca and Molly had got word out, and nearly the entire island had shown up at the cemetery where Rebecca had said some nice words about Christine finally finding some peace with the past and laid a portion of the ashes in the small hole Molly had dug. Not a real grave, but it would have a permanent marker eventually. Just a wooden board for the time-being.

Now, on to the final stage of this journey. Will it be over then?

She wondered that again several hours later, when the Range Rover pulled into the driveway. The trip had been pleasant enough, with her dad chatting more animatedly than normal about catching up with old friends on the island. But once they were in the house, Michael with a suitcase in one hand and the wooden box in the other, a heaviness settled over them.

He looked a little lost as he stood there in the vast two-story foyer.

“Here.” Kathleen set her bag down and took the container from him. “How about we put this here for now.”

She placed the box on the mantel in the family room. “There. I’m going to unpack.”

There was no room in this house that really felt like hers anymore. She chose one of the four bedrooms in a wing on the opposite side of the house from the master. It didn’t matter which. This was barely more than a hotel to her.

She found her father still standing in the family room, staring at the fireplace. It was unnerving to see him so undecided, so lost.

She took him by the arm. “Come on. I’ll make us some dinner.”

“I could fix something,” he offered.

“Right.” She snorted. “Frozen pizza, I’ll bet. No thanks.”

She whispered a prayer of thanks there were a few staples in the freezer and some of the canned goods she’d bought. She was able to whip up a meal of sautéed chicken tenderloins and green beans with rice.

“This is good,” Michael said as he took his first bite.

“Thanks.” Kathleen raised her fork. She had a feeling she was going to have to take charge. “We’ll go the funeral home tomorrow. Take care of an obituary and schedule a service. I guess they can also help us figure out what to do with the ashes.”

He nodded vaguely.

They ate for a moment, and then she said, “What now?”

He looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“You going to pick back up with your work? You traveled a lot.”

He frowned as he ate. “Changed that while your mom was sick. Most of my contacts got used to remote meetings. That doesn’t have to change.”

“Doesn’t have to not change,” she pointed out. “And this house.”

“What about it?”

“It was huge for two. It’s even bigger with you here alone. Who cleans?”

He shrugged. “I kept the service we were using.”

She glanced around at the polished, hard surfaces. “You could sell. It would probably fetch a nice price.”

His eyes widened. “Sell?”

“You could get a smaller house in Philly, maybe even in this neighborhood if you wanted.” Kathleen leaned her elbows on the table. “Dad, you could go anywhere. Start over.”

“Start over,” he echoed, but he looked lost again.

She cleared her throat, determined to say the rest of what was on her mind. “And I want you to know, I’m okay if you meet someone.”

He choked on the bite he’d tried to swallow. She half-rose, but he took a drink and sputtered, “Meet someone!”

“Dad,” she said patiently, “you’re still young, good-looking. You’re not going to be alone unless you want to be. Just,” she held up a hand, “please don’t take the first one who sets her sights on you.”

“What are you talking about?”

She gave him a pitying look. “You’re going to be a target for a lot of single women. Widowed, divorced, whatever. Take your time before you commit to someone new.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he grumbled.

“Right.” She reached for her glass. “I’ll remind you of this conversation in six months.”

“Oh, I’m going to miss you both so much.” Meredith gave Jan and Barb tight hugs.

“We’ll be back,” Barb promised. “And I’ll bring my grandmother next trip.”

“Yes,” Jan said, her eyes darting around, searching the marina, “we’ll be back.”

“I’m so glad we got to meet your uncles before we left,” Barb said, hoisting her suitcase into the cargo area of her SUV.

Meredith lifted one of Jan’s bags inside. “I am, too. They’re a hoot. It’ll be good for Mom and Dad to have them around for a while.”

They got the last of Jan’s luggage stowed away, and then Fred waved Barb’s vehicle onto the ferry. Meredith walked Jan aboard.

“I’m sorry Joey isn’t here.”

Jan gave a nonchalant shrug that Meredith knew was forced. “Doesn’t matter. Guess he had better things to do.”

Aidan stomped onto the deck. “I’d love to have you come along on this trip, and you will if you don’t disembark now. I run on-time.”

“Go get in your captain’s chair or whatever it is you do.” She gave him a kiss and a swat on the butt. “We’ll just be a minute.”

He shook his head and muttered to himself as he climbed the steps into the pilot house.

Meredith’s throat was tight as she gave her friends one last hug. “Call me when you get home. Remember you can’t text me here.”

“Positively primitive,” Jan said with a shake of her head.

“Positively heaven,” Barb corrected. “What I’d give for students’ cell phones not to work.”

Meredith walked back down the gangplank and helped Joe unlock it from the dock. A few minutes later, the ferry sounded its horn and began the slow chug out of the marina. Barb and Jan remained on deck, waving to Meredith until they were out of sight.

“Nice girls,” Joe said.

“Thought Joey might come down to say good-bye.” Meredith watched his face for any telltale signs that he knew something, but Joe grinned.

“Joey?” He walked away, chuckling to himself.

She wandered up to the hotel, where she found Kenny rocking on the porch, a coffee cup in his hand. “Gosh, it’s good to see you guys.”

“You, too, sweetie.” He reached for her hand. “The holidays weren’t the same, visiting with you all on a computer screen instead of in person.”

“I know.”

They rocked together for a few minutes.

“You guys are still happy, after all this time?” he asked.

She chuckled at the hopeful note in his voice. “Afraid so. I think this is going to stick.”

“Damn.”

The screen door opened, and Art poked his head out. “There you are. Morning, Meredith.”

He took the chair on her other side. “Your hunk of a husband set sail?”

“He did. He’ll be back this evening. Thank goodness he was able to get the ferry schedule changed. If he were gone every night, I don’t know what we would have done.”

A thought occurred to her. “I have a question for you two. Aidan’s younger brother, Joey, is he gay?”

“Who?” Art asked.

“The handsome one at dinner who was carved from the same block of granite as Aidan,” Kenny said.

“Why were you noticing handsome men?” Art asked.

“Sweetheart, I’m married, not blind,” Kenny replied.

Meredith giggled. “Back to my question.”

“Why are you asking us?”

“Well,” Meredith stared in the direction the ferry had gone, “my friend, Jan, really liked him, and she couldn’t have been more obvious about it, but…”

“That dog won’t hunt?” Kenny finished for her.

“I don’t know if the dog won’t hunt, or if he doesn’t recognize the scent of what he should be hunting. Aidan said he can’t remember Joey ever having a girlfriend, but that doesn’t always mean anything on this island. So, it got me to wondering. Is he gay?”

“And you think we’ll know?” Art asked.

“Aren’t you guys supposed to have some telepathic sense about these things?”

They both burst into laughter.

“Honey,” Kenny said, “at our age, we have GD.”

She frowned. “GD. What’s that?”

“Gaydar dysfunction. Some things don’t work like they used to.”

Art held up a finger. “About that—”

“Oh, no.” Meredith shot out of her rocking chair and vaulted down the porch steps, their laughter following her.

Before Louisa could get up, Art topped off her glass with some of the wine they’d brought. “I do believe you’re trying to get me tipsy.”

He chuckled and sloshed some more wine into his own glass. “Maybe.”

The two of them were alone on the porch while Kenny and Roy encircled the house, taking inventory of the projects that needed to be done. Irene was finishing a painting up in her studio and had hollered down to make themselves comfortable until she could join them.

“How are you doing?” Louisa asked.

He glanced at her. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“I seem to recall that last summer, when Irene was figuring out her connection to me, you were having a difficult time. Learning the way you did that you were adopted, and that your parents had never told you.”

He rocked for a few minutes, watching a rabbit nibbling its way across the yard. “Have to admit, it shook me pretty good.”

She nodded. “I expect it did.”

He swirled the wine in his glass. “Kenny was wonderful, of course. Listened to me grumble and complain for months. But it was Roy who helped the most.”

“Roy?”

“He sent me long emails, reminding me that a lot of people have to create families of choice when their birth families don’t accept them for being gay or marrying outside their race or a million other reasons. He said we never had to do that as far as Kenny and I were concerned, so we were luckier than many.”

She studied him, the strong profile with the hooked nose, jutting chin, dark beard shadow. “We could do that now.”

He turned to her. “What do you mean?”

“You’re my daughter’s brother. In most families, that would make you my son.” She smiled at his slack jaw. “Your choice, of course. Just know that I would be honored to think of you and Kenny as mine.”

He couldn’t seem to speak.

“I waited a long time for Irene to find her way back to me, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted her to. Now that she has, my world feels bigger. Better. We can make our family whatever we want it to be.”

She got to her feet and plucked her gardening hat off the back of the rocker before leaning down to kiss Art’s cheek. “Think about it.”

She left him and carried her wine with her to the garden. With her hat in place against the sun, she wandered her neat rows, picking a few weeds. She plucked a plump strawberry and popped it into her mouth, followed by a swallow of wine.

Sighing happily, she found Kenny and Roy sitting at the picnic table behind the house. “May I join you?”

“Of course.” Kenny held a hand to assist her while she lifted a leg over the bench.

“What are you two plotting?” she asked.

“A coup of this delightful island,” Kenny said.

Roy chuckled. “It would probably not be so delightful if a coup did happen.” He rubbed at his left shoulder.

Louisa noticed. “Are you all right?”

“Just sore from painting the trim,” he said. “It looks pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

They all turned to gaze at the house.

“Some stain on those shingles will protect them,” Kenny noted.

“That will be our next project,” Roy said. “Aidan can’t easily take an extended time off during the summer, but Molly promised to put us on her schedule. Between her, myself, Meredith, Aidan in the evenings, we’ll get it done this summer.”

“It makes me feel bad,” Louisa said, “the state this old house has fallen into.”

“Don’t,” Kenny said. “It’s not in bad shape at all. Nothing some TLC can’t fix. Art and I can help if we’re still here when you’re ready to do this.”

“I’ll leave you to your plotting,” Louisa said, spinning on her backside to swing her legs over the bench. “And you might want to go see if Art is okay. I may have upset him.”

She stood behind Roy and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re a good man, Roy Turner.”

Behind her, as she walked to the back porch, she heard the men mutter, “What was that about?”

Chapter 26

Kathleen and Michael were both surprised to receive a phone call from Christine’s brother, Archie, saying that he and the other sister, Diana, would be driving up from Charlotte.

“Well, this is turning into a little family reunion,” Michael said after inviting them to stay at the house.

Kathleen had already planned for Molly and Rebecca to stay with them, but Molly, naturally, would be sharing her room. “The inn will be full.”

She’d placed one more phone call, inviting Nadiya to the service.

“Thank you for asking,” Nadiya had said warmly. “I’m not sure I can get away from the gallery in the middle of a workday, but I’ll try.”

When Molly and Rebecca had arrived a couple days ago, Kathleen had rushed into Molly’s arms. “I’ve missed you so much.”

The tightness of Molly’s embrace eased some of the heartache of the past couple of weeks.

“You okay?” Molly had asked.

Kathleen had nodded into her neck before pulling away. “Just going through all of Mom’s things. Bagging up her clothes and jewelry and stuff. It was harder than I thought it would be, but it’s done.” Casting a quick glance to make sure her dad was busy talking to Rebecca, she added, “If I hadn’t done it, he never would have. He’s been pretty useless with all this.”

“Relax,” Rebecca said Wednesday evening when Kathleen got up for about the twelfth time to look out the window toward the street. “Checking every ten minutes won’t make them get here any sooner.”

“I haven’t seen them since I was ten,” Kathleen reminded her. “What are they like?” She’d wanted to ask, “Are they like Mom?” but wasn’t sure how that would go over.

“I don’t know,” Michael had replied. “I haven’t seen them for more than twenty-five years, either.”

“Speaking of,” Kathleen said to him, “did you call your sister?”

“I tried,” he said. “The last number I had for her wasn’t good, and I couldn’t find a Moira Halloran online. She’s probably married now. I’m not even sure she’s still in California.”

When at last a Mercedes sedan pulled into the drive, Kathleen’s heart pounded as they all went out to greet the newcomers. My aunt and uncle, she thought. These people are supposedly family, but they’re strangers.

Her aunt, Diana Turnbull Holbrook, looked like a plumper, happier version of Christine. The same blue eyes, but hers are like periwinkle, not ice. Her uncle, Archie Turnbull was a surprise—completely bald with a substantial girth and a big smile on his face.

“Little Katie, my lawd,” he exclaimed when he saw her. “I ain’t seen you since you was this big!” He held a hand about waist-high and pulled her into a crushing hug. He gave Michael a similar hug, nearly lifting him off his feet.

“You look so like your daddy,” Diana said, giving Kathleen a gentler embrace.

Michael held an arm out toward Rebecca and Molly to make introductions.

Andy squinted his eyes as he studied Rebecca. “Didn’t we meet at Bryan’s funeral?”

“No.” Rebecca cast a quick glance in Michael’s direction. “No one from the island was able to make the trip.”

“That was diplomatic,” Molly whispered in Kathleen’s ear so that Kathleen had to fake a coughing spell to cover her snort.

Any nerves Kathleen had had about her aunt and uncle melted away with their kindness and their laughter.

“We hated that Christine withdrew so after Bryan’s passing,” Diana said, her delicate phrasing accentuated by her soft accent.

Apparently Archie thought she was too delicate. “Hell, we sent cards, we called, we tried to get her to open up, but she shut us all out.”

“I deeply regret that we didn’t get to say good-bye, however,” Diana added with a reproving glance in Michael’s direction.

It didn’t go unnoticed. “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “I tried to convince her we should call you all, let you know what was going on.”

“She didn’t even want Dad to tell me,” Kathleen said in his defense. “He did anyhow, and she did come to spend her last few months on Little Sister. I hope it did her some good to be back there.”

“Bless her heart,” Diana said.

Later that night, alone in their room, Molly said, “They were unexpected.”

“Tell me about it,” Kathleen agreed. “How is my mother related to them?” She caught herself. “Was.”

She took her glasses off and laid them on the dresser as she changed into pj’s. “I’m never going to sleep tonight.”

Molly crawled into bed and held up the covers. “Come here.”

Nestled in Molly’s arms, Kathleen took a deep breath.

“I’ve missed this, too.”

Next thing she knew, sunshine was peeking through the curtains and Molly was already up and gone. She hurriedly showered and dressed to find the others gathered around the table. Diana jumped up and went to the stove.

“Pancakes?”

“Sure, thanks.” Kathleen poured herself a cup of coffee and heard Archie trying to convince Michael he needed to come to North Carolina for a visit.

“Family is family,” he insisted. “Y’all need to come down and get reacquainted.”

They were still trying to talk him into it as they got into two cars to caravan to the funeral home and, from there, to the cemetery.

“Well, they’re certainly interesting,” Rebecca observed from behind the wheel of her car.

“You can say that again,” Kathleen said from the passenger seat.

If the ceremony on Little Sister had been uplifting, beautiful, healing, the experience at the funeral home was its opposite. Kathleen stood beside her father next to a small velvet-draped table that held the wooden box of ashes to greet those who attended.

They were almost all Michael’s friends, colleagues, golf club members. Christine didn’t seem to have had any friends of her own, Kathleen realized. No garden club or gym buddies or bridge friends—do people even play bridge anymore?—and it made Kathleen wonder what her mother had done with the last quarter century of her life.

Diana and Archie stood on her other side, shaking hands with people and accepting condolences as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

The one bright spot was when a warm hand clasped Kathleen’s and a familiar voice said, “I’m sorry, Kathleen.”

Kathleen whipped around to see Nadiya standing before her. “Oh, my gosh. You’re here!”

She flung her arms around her. “Thank you for coming.”

“I’m glad I was able to get away for a few hours.” Nadiya kissed her on the cheek.

“Dad, this is Nadiya Monroe, an old friend of Rebecca’s.”

Kathleen stole a glance in Rebecca’s direction. Her eyes were wide, glued on Nadiya. Michael and Nadiya exchanged a few words, but Kathleen’s attention was caught by another woman standing at the back of the room. She was watching the reception line, but made no move to get in it. She met Kathleen’s eye and, for several seconds, they stared at each other before Michael introduced Kathleen to another golf friend of his. When she looked around again, the woman was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’d she go?” she muttered. She gestured Molly over. “Did you see her?”

“Who?” Molly searched the room.

“A woman, maybe a little younger than we are, really short reddish hair. She looked so familiar.”

“I don’t see anyone who looks like that now,” Molly said.

“Me either. Keep an eye out.” Kathleen couldn’t explain what it was about the woman that had unsettled her so, but whatever it was left her stomach in knots. She started to leave her dad’s side to go out to the lobby and look around, but just then, the funeral director asked everyone to take a seat.

Nadiya sat beside Molly in the row behind Kathleen and Michael along with Diana and Archie.

“I’d like to welcome everyone to this celebration of life,” the funeral director began in a solemn voice that didn’t sound very celebratory to Kathleen.

She found herself fighting the sudden urge to laugh.

“I want to introduce…” He consulted a card in his hand. “Reverend Rebecca Ahearn, a friend of the family.”

Rebecca seemed to be flustered. She shuffled a few pages of notes she’d prepared, and one of them fluttered to the floor. She quickly bent over to retrieve it, but knocked her shoulder into the lectern, nearly upsetting it.

Kathleen had to press a fist against her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Rebecca spoke a few brief words about Christine, and Kathleen realized how hard it must be to try and find something honest to say. A loving mother, nope. A beloved figure of the community, not so much.

“She struggled to find joy in life after her son died,” Rebecca was saying when Kathleen’s attention snapped back to the moment. “But spending her last months with her daughter hopefully brought her some of the peace that eluded her in prior years.”

When she finished, everyone was invited to be part of the procession to the cemetery, though most had said they had to get back—back to work, back to the golf course, back to their lives, Kathleen thought. And that is that.

Kathleen rode in the funeral home’s limousine with her dad and aunt and uncle. She whispered a prayer of thanks that it was a nice day. Funerals in the rain were so depressing.

They gathered at the graveside, the first time Kathleen had stood beside Bryan’s grave since the day he was buried. A small hole had been dug, awaiting Christine’s ashes. So they’ll be together for eternity, just the way she’d want, Kathleen thought in a detached kind of realization. She knew this was the last time she’d ever be here.

She felt something, as if someone had nudged her. She turned, and there was that woman. The one she’d seen at the funeral home. She was standing apart from the small crowd, under a tree where she could watch everything. Again, she met Kathleen’s gaze and gave a small nod.

Kathleen tried to signal Molly to point her out, but Rebecca and the funeral director called for everyone’s attention. Michael placed the box in the hole, and Rebecca tossed in a handful of earth she’d brought from the island.

“Christine, may you find the peace in the next realm that eluded you in this one.”

The funeral director frowned in confusion, but quickly stepped forward to thank everyone for coming. Apparently, the cemetery people would seal the hole and grass after they left.

Kathleen strode away from the small crowd, scanning the grounds, but the woman had disappeared.

“Who are you?”

Rebecca held a mug of tea, gazing out the window of Nadiya’s fourth-floor apartment. Not quite skyscraper-high, but still higher than anything on Little Sister, unless she climbed the wind turbines, which was not on her bucket list.

Down below, people hurried to and fro, probably on their way to work. Same as Nadiya would be in a few minutes.

Nadiya emerged from the one bedroom, clasping an earring in place. “I’m sorry I can’t spend the day with you.”

She was beautiful in a blouse of deep plum over forest green slacks and black boots. Just the sight of her made Rebecca’s breath hitch a little.

She smoothed her hand lightly over Nadiya’s soft silver curls. “You spent the night with me. I didn’t expect the day, too.”

Nadiya leaned in for a lingering kiss and pulled away with a moan. “Any more of that, and I won’t get to work.”

She went into the kitchen to gulp the last of her coffee. “I’m surprised you accepted my invitation, to tell the truth. I didn’t think your niece was going to let you out of her sight.”

Rebecca chuckled. “Molly can be… protective. And I admit, I was a little surprised myself to hear me say yes. But I want to see what your life here is like. You spent a month on Little Sister.”

“Plus.”

“True. You’ve been back since.” Rebecca frowned out the window. “I don’t know if I could survive a month here.” She whirled around. “Not that I’m inviting myself to be with you for a whole month.”

It was Nadiya’s turn to laugh. “Are you asking if we’re ready to move in together?”

“I don’t know,” Rebecca confessed. “I don’t know what we are or what we’re doing.”

Nadiya came to her and cupped her cheek. “We don’t have to answer that this morning. Wander around. Enjoy yourself.” She pointed to the table. “I wrote down the code to get into the building, and there’s a key to the apartment. I’ll see you this evening.”

She gave Rebecca one last kiss and left.

Back at the window, Rebecca watched for her, smiling when Nadiya glanced up and blew her another kiss.

Rebecca took her time getting showered and dressed. She had one more cup of tea with a piece of toast while she gazed out the window again. The sidewalks were less populated now that she figured most folks were at work, but there were still more people down there than she typically saw in a week on the island.

She picked up the scrap of paper with the code and tucked it and the key into her pocket. Outside, she stood for a moment, trying to decide which way to go. It occurred to her that she’d better memorize the street name and number, too, or she might not find her way back to this building.

She spent the day getting oriented to the area for several blocks around Nadiya’s apartment, taking in the locations of parks, museums, historical sites. Places she would make a point of visiting over the next—she stopped walking so abruptly, the person behind her almost ran into her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

The next what? How long are you thinking you’re going to be here? What are you doing?

She stood, listening to the din of city buses and cars, people hurrying past her, and couldn’t answer.

Unlike last summer, when the hotel had been their base, Art and Kenny spent most of every day at the house with them. Meredith listened to the teasing and the banter coming through the screens from the porch or the back yard as she spent hours up in the room she shared with Aidan, hard at work on her laptop, writing up lesson plans for all the grade levels she expected to be teaching.

“Don’t spend too much time working, girl.”

Meredith paused at the now-familiar voice. “I won’t, Miss Olivia.”

“Your uncle seems happier than he was last year.”

“I think he is,” Meredith agreed. “Part of it is probably that he’s had time to accept he was adopted, like Mom.” She smiled. “Part of it is Miss Louisa making him feel like a member of the family.”

“People were always drawn to Lou, like honey.” A throaty chuckle filled the air. “Not me. I was more vinegar. I liked my few.”

Meredith tilted her head. “Would you have liked us?”

“Wouldn’t be talking to you now if I didn’t.”

Meredith’s eyes welled. “That means a lot.”

They paused at a burst of laughter from the porch.

“Go on now. Work will always be there. Family won’t.”

Meredith closed her laptop and stretched as she stood. Out on the front porch, Jasper lay on his side, resting in the shade.

“Taking a break?” Louisa asked.

“Yes.” Meredith dropped down to sit cross-legged next to Jasper, gently rubbing his belly, which earned a tail thump. “Sounded as if you guys were having too much fun out here. Thought I’d better supervise.”

“Good idea.” Kenny grinned. “We are likely to get in trouble.”

“Want me to make you an iced tea, honey?” Irene asked, holding up her glass.

“Something tells me that’s an adult beverage.”

“You betcha,” Art said.

“I’ll do it.” Roy pushed up from his chair but immediately reached for a pillar to steady himself.

“Roy, are you okay?” Irene asked, half-rising.

He waved her back down. “Got up too fast. Dizzy.” He straightened. “I’m fine, but I think my next glass will be plain tea.”

He went into the house, and Meredith shifted to lean against a pillar with her legs stretched out, her fingers buried in Jasper’s thick fur, scratching deep into his ruff where he liked it. “Feel good, old man?”

A crash of glass from inside made them all jump up. They raced into the kitchen to find Roy vomiting into the trash bin, a glass shattered on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped when he could speak. “Suddenly felt sick.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Art said as Kenny bent to pick up shards.

Roy mopped at his face with a kitchen towel. “Must have eaten something that disagreed with me.”

“You don’t look good, honey.” Irene laid a hand on his forehead. “No fever, but your color isn’t good. You need to lie down.”

He needs to get to a doctor now. He’s having a heart attack.

Louisa’s eyes widened and her hand flew to her throat at the same time that the words echoed in Meredith’s head.

I’m the only one here who’s had one. I’m telling you.

“Dad,” Meredith’s voice shook, “I think you might be having a heart attack.”

“What?” Irene’s head snapped around. “Why would you—”

Thinking quickly, Meredith put the pieces together. “You’ve been rubbing at your shoulder and chest for days, thought it was the painting. Now, getting sick, your pasty complexion. This is a heart attack.”

“Where the hell are you going to take him?” Art demanded. “There’s no hospital on this goddamned island.”

“Big Sister,” Louisa said. She reached for the phone. “I’ll call Joe. You get what you’ll need. Hurry.”

Meredith and Irene ran upstairs, but Irene froze in the middle of their room, her hands clutching her hair.

“I don’t know what we’ll need.”

“Get Dad’s wallet,” Meredith commanded. “Any insurance cards, ID. I’ll pack a change of clothes for both of you.”

She couldn’t remember where they’d put the suitcases. Probably in the attic. She ran down the hall and found a tote bag in the studio. Dumping out pencils, sketch pads, tins of watercolors, she skidded into the bathroom to grab toothbrushes and toothpaste, a hairbrush, her dad’s razor. Back in the bedroom, she threw in underwear, a pair of pants and clean shirts for both her parents.

“We haven’t needed any of these things for months,” Irene said, rummaging around on the dresser for Roy’s wallet. “Where’s my purse? Downstairs, I think.” She clasped her hands to her chest, looking around helplessly. “How long will we be gone?”

“We don’t know.” Meredith zipped the tote closed. “We can buy anything we forgot. Come on.”

Meredith thrust the bag into her mom’s hands and hurried to pack a few things for herself. Downstairs, Roy was seated at the table with Kenny who was keeping a close eye on him while Art paced agitatedly.

“We’ll have him there in a few minutes, Joe.” Louisa hung up. “There’s a medical clinic on Big Sister. It’s closest and the best place to start. Joe is fueling a boat up now. I’ll call the clinic to let them know you’re on your way.”

Meredith helped Kenny get Roy to his feet and out the door. “Stay here,” she said when Jasper wanted to come along.

Louisa took him by his collar.

Irene gave her brother a quick hug. “We’ll phone as soon as we know something.”

“Mo!”

Molly looked up at her dad’s urgent holler. She climbed out of the Runabout and sprinted to the marina office.

“That was Miss Louisa. Roy is having a heart attack. Meredith and Irene are bringing him to Big Sister.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I’ve got five rentals out and none due back for hours. All I’ve got is the fishing boat.”

She glanced toward the boathouse. “The Runabout’s not done, but she runs and is seaworthy. We can take her.”

“Okay. Fuel up.”

Fifteen minutes later, the Runabout bobbed at the dock, idling as they helped Roy aboard. Joe had tossed in four life jackets and a few bottles of water. He handed Molly an emergency bag, packed with flares, a radio, and a thermal blanket.

“Just in case.”

She met his gaze with a curt nod. “Call Mom and Kathleen. I’ll call when we get there.”

With Roy settled between Irene and Meredith on the bench seat at the stern, Molly eased the eager boat forward. Ignoring the no-wake rule of the marina, she pushed the throttle, and the little craft leapt across the water.

Once they were on open water, Molly opened the throttle further, grateful she’d finished with the engine work early in this restoration. The rails and other brightwork were missing, all sent away for new chrome, and the seats still had their cracked and deteriorated leather. The deck boards were a hodgepodge of old and new, unvarnished, but none of that mattered now.

Meredith shifted to the seat beside her.

“How is he?” Molly asked over the roar of the engine and the wind.

“Seems okay.” Meredith’s hand gripped the edge of her seat. “Wish Aidan were here.”

“Take this.” Molly handed her the waterproof bag. “See if there are binoculars in there.”

Meredith searched and lifted a pair out.

Molly pointed to the west. “See if the ferry is coming. It’s about time.”

Meredith raised the binoculars. “Hard to see with the bounce.”

“Sorry.” Molly slowed a little.

“Yes! I see it.” Meredith lowered the glasses.

Molly sped up again. “Dad will let them know what happened when they pull in. Aidan’ll come tonight if he can.”

She glanced back at Roy. His gray visage was not reassuring. “Give him sips of water. Just enough to stay hydrated. But don’t let him drink too much.” She faced forward again. “If he’s chilled, wrap him in that blanket.”

The trip seemed to take forever, but at last, Big Sister’s hulk came into view. The harbor master had cleared the path into the marina, and an emergency crew was waiting at the dock with a gurney and a portable defibrillator. Molly slid the Runabout neatly alongside the dock so that the medical team could jump aboard to do a quick assessment of Roy’s condition. They helped him to stand and assisted him out of the boat.

“This is ridiculous,” he tried to protest when they urged him to get onto the gurney.

“Roy Turner,” Irene said, her own face white with worry, “you do as you’re told!”

With a resigned nod, he lay back. They strapped him in and quickly rolled the gurney away from the marina.

“Go,” Molly said to Meredith. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Meredith linked arms with her mom, and they followed the medical team to the clinic. A small crowd had assembled to see what all the fuss was.

Molly eased the Runabout over to an empty slip and tied her up. She went to the marina office. “Thanks, Kent. Can I use your phone?”

“Sure, Molly. Hope he’s okay.”

She called her dad. “We’re here. Roy handled the trip pretty well. They’re taking him to the clinic now. I’ll call when I know more.”

“I’ll let everyone know,” Joe assured her. “Aidan’s here now.”

Molly hung up and jogged to the clinic where Meredith paced in the waiting room. A few other people were seated in chairs along the walls, including a mother with a crying, red-faced toddler.

“Mom went back,” Meredith said when Molly entered. “Only one person, they said.”

She dropped into a seat beside Molly and rested her head on her hands, elbows on knees. “Of all the things I imagined about living on Little Sister, I never pictured something like this.”

“I know.” Molly gave her back a brisk rub. “Maybe this won’t turn out to be anything serious.”

Even to her own ears, the words rang hollow. The question is, how serious is serious, and can they take care of it here?

The outer clinic door opened, and Brandi waddled in. “Jenny called. I hurried over as fast as I could.”

Molly jumped to her feet. “Sit down or you’re going to go into labor right here.”

“Oh, believe me,” Brandi grunted as she lowered herself into Molly’s vacated chair, “they’re prepared.”

She turned to Meredith. “Any word?”

“Not yet.”

The other people waiting shuffled restlessly as minutes ticked by and no one was called back.

“This is ridiculous,” the woman with the fussy toddler muttered.

A man a few seats away from her, holding an ice pack to his knee, glanced in Meredith’s direction and said in a low voice, “I think there’s an emergency in the back.”

He stood and hobbled to the window. “My knee isn’t that bad. I’ll come back tomorrow if I need to.”

“Thank you, sir,” the woman behind the desk said gratefully. “Sorry about this.”

“No worries.” He paused near Meredith. “Hope everything turns out okay.”

“Thanks.”

Too restless to sit, Molly paced, taking the same path Meredith had been wearing in the floor tiles.

“It must be hard, being here again for something like this,” Brandi said, watching Molly. “After, you know, last summer.”

Meredith gaped at her and then Molly. “I forgot.” She grimaced. “Not forgot. I mean, I wasn’t here, just the vet’s clinic, so…”

“It’s okay.” Molly had been trying not to remember—the hours of searching for the little boys who’d been swept away from Little Sister by the fierce currents; Jasper and Blossom having swum after them to try and rescue them; finally finding them, one boy clinging to life only because Blossom had somehow managed to keep him afloat, the other dead despite Jasper nearly killing himself trying to hold him up. She continued pacing, rubbing her forehead in an effort to erase those thoughts.

It felt like hours before the inner door between the waiting room and the rest of the clinic opened.

A man in scrubs entered the lobby. “Meredith Woodhouse?”

Meredith jumped up. “Yes?”

He gestured her through. She cast a backward glance in Molly and Brandi’s direction. Molly forced a smile.

“Damn, I hate waiting,” she muttered, taking Meredith’s seat.

They didn’t have long to wait, however, as Meredith returned in a few minutes.

“It is a heart attack,” she said in a strangled voice. “Too serious for them to take care of here. He’s got to get to a hospital on the mainland. The last ferry of the day had left right before we got here. Aidan is bringing the Little Sister ferry here now. We’ll take him straight to Portland.”

She reached down to where she’d stashed her and Irene’s bags under a chair. “Good thing we packed for something like this.”

Kathleen sat in her new office space upstairs. A summer breeze drifted through the screens, fluttering pages of notes on her desk. She kept one ear tuned for the ring of the telephone in the kitchen as she worked on a cover design.

It had been three days since Roy, Irene, and Meredith had gone to the mainland.

“They said one vessel was almost completely blocked,” Aidan had reported by phone late that night. “And another is more than fifty percent. They’re going to try a stent, but he may need bypass surgery.”

A telephone tree had been buzzing around Little Sister any time there was an update.

“They got two stents in, now they’re watching him.”

“They transferred him out of ICU, now to the cardiac unit.”

“He’s allowed to get up and walk around with a nurse.”

Art and Kenny had temporarily moved in with Miss Louisa. “She shouldn’t be alone through this,” Kenny had said.

Aidan had traded ferry runs with other pilots so he could be on the mainland every night. Bobby brought the ferry to Little Sister, offering further news as he and Laurie were housing Aidan, Meredith, and Irene during Roy’s hospitalization. “They’ll probably need to stay with us for another couple of weeks after they discharge him, since he’ll have follow-up appointments. The doctor said he shouldn’t be as far away as Little Sister in case anything happens.”

“That’s my point,” Art had grumbled when Jenny and Joe had everyone over for dinner. “What if something else happens? I know you all love your island.” He’d glanced around apologetically. “But you gotta admit, medical care here is an issue.”

Kathleen had gripped Molly’s hand under the table, giving it a warning squeeze to stem the retort she knew was about to leap from Molly’s mouth.

“Rebecca should be here,” Molly had fretted a couple of hours later after Miss Louisa and the uncles had left. “We need to call her.”

“Not yet.” Jenny had been adamant.

“But we should have the Keeper here at a time like this!” Molly had insisted.

“We have Kathleen,” Jenny had reminded her.

“I didn’t mean—” Molly had turned in horror. “I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay,” Kathleen had said. “I’m not Keeper.”

“Close enough.” Jenny had been unperturbed. “This is Rebecca’s ‘what-if’ moment.”

“What do you mean?” Molly asked.

“I saw how close Rebecca and Nadiya were in college,” Jenny had mused. “I don’t think my sister has ever stopped questioning whether she made the right choice then. She has devoted herself to the island at the expense of her own happiness.”

“She’s not unhappy,” Molly had muttered in a mulish tone.

But as Kathleen gazed out the window now, the book cover temporarily forgotten, she wondered. Wondered what it would feel like if she’d had to choose between Molly and Little Sister. Wondered if Rebecca could stay away from the island that had been her lifeblood and her calling all her life. Wondered if she really could fill Rebecca’s shoes as Keeper if she didn’t return.

Chapter 27

Arm in arm, Rebecca and Nadiya strolled along a sidewalk, harshly lit by shop windows of those places still open. Overhead, the bit of night sky that could be seen was flat and black, unrelieved by any stars. Streetlights glared down, covering everything in a yellowish light that almost made Rebecca squint.

“You haven’t said anything,” Nadiya prompted. “What did you think?”

Rebecca didn’t answer immediately. “It was… interesting.”

“Interesting.” Nadiya didn’t bother to hide her amusement. “What does that mean?”

“It means, most of those paintings looked as though a bunch of kindergartners had done them,” Rebecca said bluntly.

“I grant you, modern art is an acquired taste, but—”

“No.” Rebecca gave a definitive shake of her head. “Modern, old, in-between—art is more than paint that was thrown at a canvas or garbage glued to a wall. That,” she pointed in the direction from which they’d come, “that was painful.”

As if realizing she’d been a bit harsh, she added, “Now, Maxfield Parrish, that mural you took me to see—”

“The Dream Garden.”

“Yes, that was incredibly beautiful.”

“But there’s more to art than the classics,” Nadiya argued. “And not all art is meant to be beautiful. Sometimes, it’s meant to reflect the ugliness around us. To elicit a visceral reaction.”

“Well,” Rebecca gave her a side-eye, “if that was the goal tonight, they succeeded. My reaction was definitely visceral.”

Nadiya squeezed her arm and chuckled. “I see I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

Rebecca’s heart thumped, but she said nothing. They walked most of the next block without speaking.

“I don’t have that much time, do I?” Nadiya asked quietly.

“It’s been three weeks,” Rebecca said. “I can’t remember the last—No. I’ve never been away from the island for this long since I went home after college.”

Nadiya steered them through a small park that had been built on the site of a dilapidated apartment building. A few other couples strolled through the summer night, soft voices and clasped hands casting an intimate bubble around each.

“I thought if I could show you all there is to do and see out here,” Nadiya said.

“And it’s been wonderful,” Rebecca said quickly. “But… I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You don’t have to.” Nadiya pulled them to a halt. “I’ve seen it the last few days. There are times when I know you’re not with me, and I know where you are. It’s in your blood. That island. You can only stay away for so long.”

Rebecca nodded, reaching up to caress Nadiya’s cheek. “I’m on empty, running on fumes.” She tried to smile, but tears sprang to her eyes instead. “I love you, Nadiya. I always have. I always will. I wish I could make a life with you. Here. On Little Sister. I don’t know how to do it. You need this. I need the island.”

Nadiya pressed her mouth to Rebecca’s, and as always, the world around them was forgotten as Rebecca lost herself in the softness of those beloved lips.

“Spend one more night with me,” Nadiya murmured. “Love me one more night.”

The next morning, her body blissfully relaxed even if her mind was foggy from lack of sleep, Rebecca stared out the window of a northbound train. In her hand, discovered as she reached into her jacket pocket for her ticket, was a round pebble.

“This is from Miranda and Tim,” Irene said as she carried a big crock of clam chowder into the kitchen. “We are never going to eat all this stuff.”

“Oh, yes we will.” Art took the cover off and gave it a sniff. “If I’d known how the islanders could cook, we’d have sent Roy to the hospital earlier.”

“You’re awful.” Irene gave his shoulder a slap.

Louisa, washing the morning’s batch of freshly picked tomatoes, chuckled. “We do know how to eat.”

“It’s a lot of food.” Kenny surveyed the counters covered with platters of baked goods, baskets of vegetables and fruit, while the refrigerator was filled to bursting with casseroles, soups, stews.

“Did I hear my name taken in vain?” Roy strolled into the kitchen, red-faced and sweaty. He went to the sink to rinse his face and blot it with a towel. Jasper went to his bowl to noisily lap up some water before plopping on the floor, panting.

“How are you feeling?” Irene asked, ushering Roy to a chair.

“I’m fine, dear.” Roy wiped his wire-rimmed glasses on the hem of his T-shirt. “Ready for some lunch.”

Meredith followed him, also red in the face and breathing hard. “He’s getting harder to keep up with,” she griped. “And to think, last summer, I walked this entire island.”

“You’ve been spending too much time at your computer.” Roy grinned proudly. “I’m following my doctor’s instructions. He said I needed more exercise, so I’m getting more exercise. We walked all the way to the beach and back!”

“And he’s recording it all on a spreadsheet,” Meredith said wryly.

“Of course he is.” Irene pursed her lips. “What would you like for lunch?”

Louisa let a platter of sliced tomato on the table. “Tomato sandwiches?”

They pitched in to serve up cups of chowder—“you know,” Art wheedled, “since it’s hot, it’d be a shame not to take advantage of it.”—and a quick salad of tomatoes, onions, and peppers along with some of the bread dropped off by Lena Clearwater when she’d come by to check Roy’s blood pressure.

“Lena’s the island midwife when we need one,” Louisa had explained, “but she’s the only nurse we have.”

“So she will be keeping an eye on you, Roy,” Irene had said sternly a few days prior when Lena showed up with her blood pressure cuff and stethoscope.

“You can log it in a spreadsheet,” Kenny had added helpfully.

Louisa joined them at the table now, having made her sandwich, and dredged up the words she’d been dreading. “We’ve been tiptoeing around this for the last week, ever since you got back.”

It seemed everyone froze mid-bite.

“But we may as well hash this out,” she continued. She took a bite, dabbing at a bit of tomato juice dribbling down her chin.

Meredith’s eyes roamed to each person seated around the table. “You’re not going to start, are you?”

“No, dear,” Louisa said, “they’re not.” She set her sandwich down and reached for her glass. “This heart attack has changed things.”

When Roy opened his mouth, she held up a hand. “It has. We can’t deny that. It brought home how real the risks are of living on this island.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Art muttered. Kenny gave him an elbow, but Louisa shook her head.

“Sure we’ll get nowhere by not talking about it.” She folded her hands. “I wish Aidan could be here, but we all need to say how we’re feeling about this. Honestly. With no judgement from anyone. We’re family.”

Kenny squeezed her hand gratefully. “Miss Louisa talks sense. You guys are hours from help if something happens. This time it was a heart attack.”

“Last time, it was Joey Cooper’s broken arm,” Irene offered, though she looked most unhappy about reminding everyone.

“And I’ll tell you,” Louisa added, “that there’ve been accidents at sea. By the time our boys get back, sometimes it’s been too late. Not that that’s happened for a while now, but it has happened.”

“The same could be said for fishermen putting out from anywhere,” Meredith said. “Fishing is dangerous business, no matter what. But our life here is mostly calm, steady.”

“Until it isn’t,” Art pointed out. “And we’re clear across the country.”

Roy reached for Irene’s hand. “I know this was scary. For all of us. It would be foolish not to at least talk about whether staying here is wise.”

Louisa’s heart clenched at his words, but she fought to keep her expression neutral. “So, let’s talk.”

She picked up her sandwich while comments flew back and forth. Art, naturally, wanted his sister nearer, but Kenny was more pragmatic.

“We’ll be retiring soon,” he said. “We don’t have to stay in Oregon. We can easily relocate east. Doesn’t have to be Maine, but closer.”

Meredith latched onto that. “It would be great to have you nearer.”

“Yes,” Irene said eagerly. “You could even come for a month or two at a time over the holidays.”

“None of this addresses the reality of getting medical help here,” Roy said in his analytical way.

Another silence fell over them as the unanswerable settled like a heavy net.

Sweat dripped from Molly’s chin and nose as she bent over a pair of boards with a power saw. With the boards cut to length, she hoisted them onto her shoulder and carried them over to where Joey was up on a ladder, waiting to help position them to frame the roof of the new garage.

“Ask him to help you,” Jenny had pleaded. “He’s doing nothing but lying around the house all day. Never thought I’d mind that he’s not fishing, but this has gone on long enough.”

“What?” he’d asked when Molly went to him. “You gonna get me back up on that horse?”

“Something like that.” Molly had held out a tool belt. “Give me a hand.”

The garage was going up quickly. With the warmer weather, the concrete foundation and pad had cured more quickly than the addition on the library had. The conversation consisted mostly of grunts and “hand me the level”, things like that.

So Molly was surprised when Joey asked, “You seen Meredith lately?”

She settled the rafter into its hanger. “Yeah. Saw her yesterday. She and her dad were walking. Think she’s trying to help him get more exercise since he got back.”

The conversation lagged while they nailed the rafters into their hangers. Joey took a little longer, since his right shoulder couldn’t easily get into position. His aim with his left hand was off, making him curse freely when he missed. Molly climbed back down to cut more boards to length, giving him time to get his end done.

“So you didn’t talk to her?”

It took Molly a minute to remember where they’d left off. “Uh, no. Not yesterday. I did see her down the market a few days before that. Why?”

He shrugged and reached into a pouch for another nail. “No reason.”

Right. Molly almost laughed, but knowing her brother, she waited.

Three rafters later, Joey said, “Just wondered if she’s talked to her friends.”

“Jan and Barb?”

“Yeah.”

“Think so.”

They shifted their ladders to the other side of the building.

“They coming back anytime soon?”

This time, Molly was more prepared to follow. “Not that she said. It’s a long way. Maybe next summer.”

“Oh.”

“She did mention that Jan was disappointed not to see you down the marina the day they left.”

“Really?”

Molly fought hard not to laugh. “I think she really liked you, Joey.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure looked that way from where I was sitting.” She stole a glance at him as he nailed his end of the last rafter, but couldn’t read anything in his expression. “Maybe you should talk to Meredith. Get Jan’s number or something.”

He slid his hammer into the ring on his belt and climbed down. “Might do that.”

Blossom loped easily beside Kathleen as she bicycled along the ring road. A few other islanders were out and about early, getting their marketing or other errands done before the tourists began buzzing. Molly had left for an early row before getting back to work on the garage, which was now under roof.

“It’ll be so nice to have our own,” Molly had said last evening, staring at her work with a pleased expression.

Kathleen had considered taking a long walk this morning, but decided the bike would accomplish a couple goals—getting some exercise and picking up some groceries all in one trip.

“Morning,” she said to the store in general.

“Morning, Kathleen.” Miranda glanced up from where she was ringing up a large cartful of items for another islander, a woman named Abby, whom Kathleen didn’t really know beyond her name and recognizing her.

Blossom found the water bowl, lapping thirstily. He lay down, panting, and let Ellis and Charlie pet him. A few other islanders also roamed the aisles with carts or tote bags. Kathleen nodded at them as she passed, filling her own cart.

When Kathleen brought her items up to the checkout, she saw that Blossom was flat out on his side, the kids using his belly as a pillow.

“Might have to hire him as a nanny,” Miranda whispered. “If you could keep shopping for another hour, I might get them to sleep.”

Kathleen chuckled, transferring everything from cart to counter. “He’s welcome to stay.”

“Right.” Miranda shook her head. “He’d never let you out of his sight.” She rang items up, placing them in the bags Kathleen had brought with her. “Have you seen Rebecca?”

Kathleen’s head snapped up. “Rebecca? She’s back?”

“Got back yesterday.”

“I didn’t know. I’ll swing by. Thanks for telling me.”

She paid for her purchases and picked up her bags. “You want to stay here?” she asked Blossom, but he was already wriggling out from under the little ones, who were moaning their disappointment. “We’ll be back.”

Outside, she tucked her bags into the panniers on her bike. “Gonna be a slog hauling this uphill to get home. Why do I always forget that part?”

To delay that workout, she pedaled instead to Rebecca’s cottage. The lights were on, and the front door was open, so she put down her kickstand and knocked.

“Come in,” Rebecca said by way of greeting.

Kathleen tugged open the screen door and went in with Blossom trotting ahead. “You don’t even know who it is. Hasn’t your time in Philly taught you better? I could be a serial killer.”

Rebecca gave her a sardonic look over the rim of her tea cup. “If you were a serial killer, you wouldn’t have knocked.”

“There is that.” Kathleen grinned, stopping herself short of giving Rebecca a hug and settling instead for a pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you.”

“Sit down. Make yourself a cup of tea and tell me what’s been going on.”

Kathleen poured a mug of hot water from the kettle and plucked a teabag from the basket on the table. “You mean besides Roy Turner’s heart attack?”

“Heard about that,” Rebecca said, pushing a plate of biscotti across the table.

“Let me guess. Fred?”

“He did rather relish telling the tale,” Rebecca said drolly. “But I spent the night with Bobby and Laurie before I caught the ferry. They’d already filled me in. How is he?”

Kathleen dunked her biscotti into her tea to soften it. “Seems to be doing really well. Meredith is walking him all over the island. But…”

“But what?”

“Molly said Aidan told her that the family is discussing whether living on Little Sister is smart. The uncles are pushing for them leaving.”

“All of them?”

“I don’t think so. Just Irene and Roy. Meredith and Aidan would stay.”

Rebecca leaned forward. “How’s Miss Louisa?”

“Don’t know. I haven’t wanted to interfere one way or the other, and I haven’t seen her by herself.”

“Hmmm.” Rebecca frowned as she reached for another biscotti. “Can’t say I blame them for at least thinking about it. Living here has always had its risks.”

“I’d hate to see Irene and Roy leave, though.”

“It would break Miss Louisa’s heart,” Rebecca agreed. “After only just finding her daughter.”

Kathleen studied Rebecca’s face. “How are you? How’s Nadiya?”

“She’s good. And as you can see, I’m fine.”

“I see that you won’t look at me as you say that.” Kathleen cradled her mug. “How was it, being in the city?”

Rebecca did meet Kathleen’s gaze. “It was… okay. For a few days. But the longer I was there, the more it felt as if it was all closing in on me. I couldn’t breathe.”

Kathleen nodded in sympathy. “I know what you mean. I grew up there, and still, when I go back, I feel the same.”

She braved a rebuff and laid her hand on Rebecca’s forearm. “How do you and Nadiya find a compromise?”

Rebecca swallowed hard, lowering her eyes again, but not before Kathleen saw the tears shimmering there. “I don’t know that we can.”

Chapter 28

The open curtains fluttered slightly as a breeze drifted through the screen. Meredith lay, listening to the soft noises carried in on the air. An owl hooted somewhere, and over the crickets she heard the little rustles of a rabbit or squirrel, probably hiding in the undergrowth of the stand of trees behind the house. Restless, she flopped onto her back.

“Can’t sleep?” Aidan rolled over, laying his arm across her.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” She kissed his forehead. “You should be sleeping. Can’t have the ferry pilot dozing on the job. Go back to sleep.”

She slid out from under his arm and padded downstairs in her T-shirt and shorts. Jasper raised his head from where he slept in a bed in the living room. She patted her leg, and he followed her out onto the porch. She kept the screen door from slapping and waking the whole house. When she sat down on the porch, Jasper leaned against her. She wrapped an arm around him, holding him close.

Overhead, clouds scudded across a sky lit by a half-moon. A ghost glided by on silent wings—a snowy owl. Probably the one she’d heard. It clutched something in its talons. Though she knew for the owl to live, something else had to die, it hurt her heart.

Why is there always a price to be paid?

“Will you want to leave if they do?” Aidan had asked, keeping his face carefully neutral, when he’d learned of the family discussion.

“No.” For Meredith, that was definite. “I promised to teach. The island has invested money and resources in setting up a place to do that. You and I will stay. Besides, we can’t leave Miss Louisa alone now.”

But it would be a wrench to have her parents move back to the mainland. She knew they wouldn’t return to Oregon. They’d be close, and I’ve lived a few hours from them for years. I can do it again. Once, she’d wondered if it would feel claustrophobic to be living under the same roof as her mom and dad, but these past months had been wonderful.

“Oh, Jasper.” She buried her face in his neck.

She jumped when the screen door creaked behind her. “Miss Louisa. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t, Meredith. I was awake, too.” She sat down on Jasper’s other side, and he lay down between them.

They sat quietly for several minutes, listening to the night sounds all around them.

“What do you think they should do?” Meredith asked softly.

“Oh, that’s not for me to say.”

Louisa’s silver hair, unbound and loose on her shoulders, shone in the moonlight. Meredith was struck, not for the first time, with the realization that this was probably a preview of what she would look like when she was an old woman.

“If you’d known,” Meredith began, but hesitated. “You know, about Miss Olivia’s heart, what do you think the two of you would have done?”

Louisa turned to her, studied her for a moment. “Have you asked her?”

“What?” Meredith stared, feeling very much like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar, but Louisa chuckled.

“I know she talks to you. I’m glad she does. So, have you?”

“No,” Meredith said sheepishly.

“Can’t see Ollie living anywhere but Little Sister, no matter what she might know. She’d say, ‘we’re all going to die sometime of something, Lou’, and then she’d shrug and get on with the business of living.”

She gently patted Jasper’s head. “It’s different for all of you. Or at least for Irene and Roy. They only just came here. The island isn’t in their bones.” She smiled. “But I think it is for you.”

Meredith nodded. “It is. It was before I came here, and it’s only grown deeper. Aidan and you, the kids I’ll teach, the kids we might have, I can’t imagine living anywhere else now.”

“No one ever said living here was easy,” Louisa said. “But for most of us, it’s worth it.”

Molly ground her teeth in frustration as she drove into the village. Her boat was almost done. The garage had exterior walls and was waiting for insulation. She had all these partially done projects and wasn’t working on any of them.

Miranda had called early that morning. “I’m so sorry, Mo, but the kids flushed a toy down the toilet, and we can’t get it unclogged. Can you come?”

Before that, it had been calls to repair porches and patch roofs before the weather turned. All things that needed to be done, which pushed her own jobs to the back burner.

An hour later, she grimaced as her snake tugged a small sodden teddy bear out of the Shannahans’ toilet. She dropped it into the trash can and scrubbed her hands three times. After giving the toilet a few flushes to make sure everything was moving again, she packed up her tools and went through the house to the market.

“You’re good to go,” she said to Miranda.

Miranda raised her eyebrows. “Really? You went there?”

“Not intentionally.” Molly grinned. “Where’re the kids?”

“With Tim in the greenhouse. Why?”

“Wanted to let you know the culprit was a small teddy bear.”

Miranda covered her eyes. “Let me guess. He had a little purple bow tie?”

“Yeah. Not sure which kid did it, but as it was… uh… soiled? I decided to toss it. If you want to clean it, it’s in the can.”

“It’s Charlie’s.” Miranda sighed. “I swear that girl is going to be the death of me. But her brother probably helped. I’ll take a look and decide if it’s worth it.”

“Good luck.” Molly hurried out of the market and carried her tools to the Toyota. If no one knew where she was, she might be able to get a couple hours’ work in on the boat while she was here.

In the boathouse, she tugged a tarp off the seats she was in the process of reupholstering. Rolls of scarlet leather waited, but first she had to get the old stuffing ripped out and then put new foam in its place.

A loud flapping startled her, and a one-legged gull fluttered to perch on top of a piling.

“Well hello, Cap’n Jack. Haven’t seen you in a while.” She went to the bench where she kept a sealed container with a few snacks. “What do we have today? How about peanut butter crackers?”

She tore open a pack, shoving one in her mouth, and held one on her palm. Approaching the piling, she said, “Will you take it from me?”

The bird regarded her, tilting his head and flapping his wings, though he stayed put. She stood quietly, the cracker in her hand, and waited until he dipped his head to pluck it gently from her. He flew a few yards away to land on the boathouse floor and peck the cracker into pieces he could eat.

She went back to work, cutting pieces of foam for the bench seat. The boathouse door opened, and Joe stepped inside.

“Here you are. Saw the Toyota.”

“What’s up, Dad?”

“Your brother asked for a family meeting.”

Molly straightened. “Matty? He asked for one a few months ago, and then everything went…” She threw her hands up in a gesture of explosion.

Joe frowned. “You know, I don’t know for sure. Your mom just said ‘your son’.” He shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out tonight.”

“What do you mean we’ll find out tonight?” Kathleen demanded two hours later when Molly went home to shower. “How can you not call your mom to ask more questions?”

Molly shook her head in bewilderment. “Why? Wait until we’re there, and then we’ll know.”

“You’re as bad as the men in your family,” Kathleen grumbled.

But Molly admitted her curiosity was piqued when they arrived at the same time as Meredith. “You know what’s going on?”

Blossom trotted over to greet Jasper before they did a sniffing tour of the yard.

“No. Jenny called this afternoon.” Meredith held up a hand before Molly could ask. “And I got no more details out of her. She said there’s a family meeting tonight. So here we are.”

They all tromped up the porch steps and into the house, where fans were blowing in every room to keep the sultry air moving. They found Jenny in the kitchen.

“Joe’s waiting for Matty and Brandi,” she said. “The ferry’s unloading now, then Aidan will come as soon as he’s cleaned up.”

She put Kathleen and Meredith to work making salads while Molly went out to get the grill started.

Molly swatted at a few mosquitoes as she poked at the charcoal.

“Here.” Kathleen held a bottle of bug spray in one hand and a cold Guinness in the other.

“Thank you,” Molly said gratefully. She quickly spritzed herself with the bug spray and then took a long pull from the bottle.

“Where’s Joey?” Kathleen asked.

Molly lowered the beer and frowned. “No idea. Where the heck is he?”

Joe’s truck pulled in, and they went to greet Matty, who was helping Brandi down.

“No Benjamin?” Molly asked.

“My mom’s keeping him for us tonight,” Brandi said. “He’s got a cold and was fussy.”

“You look like you’re ready to pop,” Molly said.

“Three more weeks,” Brandi said with a roll of her eyes. “But I don’t think we’re going to make it that long.”

They got her into the kitchen where Jenny insisted she sit with a cold glass of lemonade and her own fan. Meredith helped her prop her swollen feet on a chair.

Brandi closed her eyes. “Thank you.”

Joe went upstairs to shower. By the time he got back downstairs, Aidan had arrived. The guys carried the platters of chicken and burgers out to the grill.

When the talk in the kitchen turned to babies, Molly began edging toward the door and made her escape as soon as she could.

“Baby talk?” Matty guessed.

“Yeah.”

He touched his bottle to hers. “Come join the cavemen.”

“Cavepeople.”

Aidan snorted. “Speaking of.”

He nodded in the direction of the driveway, where Joey was climbing out of his SUV.

“Where you been?” Molly asked as he sauntered over to them.

He gave a half-shrug. “Busy.”

“So, who called this meeting?” Molly asked.

“Me,” Joey said.

“I did,” Matty said at the same time.

They stared at each other.

“What’re you—” Molly began.

“Hang on,” Joe cut in. He flipped the burgers. “I don’t think I can do this more than once. Wait till we’re at the table. And I’m on my second beer.”

When the meat was done and everyone was seated, there was a conspicuous lack of conversation while the food was passed around. The only sounds were the whirr of the fans that had been repositioned around the table and the chink of silverware against plates.

“All right,” Molly burst out when she couldn’t stand it any longer. “What’s up?”

Matty and Joey looked at each other.

“You go first,” Joey said.

Matty reached for Brandi’s hand. “We’ve made a decision. We want to be bonded.”

No one said anything for a moment until Kathleen hesitantly said, “But… you have to live on Little Sister to get bonded, don’t you?”

Brandi beamed at them. “We are.”

“You are what?” Molly asked.

“We’re moving to Little Sister.” Brandi’s smile filled her face, but Matty’s gaze was flicking back and forth between Jenny and Joe.

“Wait,” he said. “That is, if it’s okay with Mom and Dad.”

“Good time to ask,” Aidan muttered. Molly saw Meredith give him a nudge.

Brandi’s smile faltered as Jenny and Joe stared at each other.

“Weren’t you going to work for Siobhan?” Molly tossed out. Kathleen laid a calming hand on her thigh under the table.

“I just started,” Jenny said. “But I’m sure we can work around my hours.”

“What about the restaurant?” Aidan asked. “I thought your folks kind of needed you there.”

Brandi, obviously having caught on that this wasn’t being received the way they’d anticipated, said, “My sisters are helping out there now.” She laid a hand on her bulging belly. “We want the kids to grow up here.”

She sent a cool glance in Molly’s direction. “We’re not looking for a built-in babysitter, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

That’s exactly what I’m thinking, but again, Kathleen’s squeeze of her thigh warned Molly not to say that aloud.

“Of course you aren’t,” Jenny said. “We’d love to have you here. You know how much I’ve missed having more time with Benjamin, and now a new baby. We’ve more than enough space, with Molly and Aidan’s rooms empty.”

“Mine will be empty, too.”

Every head turned toward Joey, and it seemed they all began talking at once. Joey simply took another bite of hamburger and chewed placidly.

Meredith took charge. “Everyone, please settle down.” When they did, she said, “Now, tell us what’s going on.”

He set his burger down and took a drink, allowing the tension to build. “I’m leaving Little Sister.”

Another uproar exploded, with Aidan and Matty and Joe all yelling at once. Meredith again got everyone quieted down.

“Care to expand on that?” she asked pointedly.

He grinned at her. “I’m going to drive to Oregon with your uncles.” He cast a scornful glance in Aidan’s direction. “Further west than Freeport. I want to see the country.”

“Then what?” Joe demanded.

“Then, I’m going to Florida to work for Danny.”

Jenny glared at Joe. “How did your brother get involved in this?”

Joe tossed both hands up. “How the hell do I know?”

“I called him,” Joey continued. “He’s got three charter fishing boats now and needs another mate. No more snow for me.”

A stunned silence fell over the table.

Molly sagged against her chair. “Well, damn.”

Rebecca sat with her laptop, smiling at the email Nadiya had sent that morning. We got a new consignment of modern sculptures to auction. Thought you might want to bid.

She’d included a link, and when Rebecca clicked on it, burst out laughing. They were hideous. She typed a reply. That would be a firm NO.

The emails weren’t daily, but nearly. Where before, Rebecca often went days without even opening her laptop, she now found herself eagerly checking her email every morning over breakfast, her heart jumping a bit any time she saw one from Nadiya. It did help, having this way of communicating.

“But how long will this be enough?” she mused to no one. How long before Nadiya met someone, someone there, someone to have dinners with, go to museums or the theater with? While Rebecca was here, alone, on Little Sister.

Funny, she realized as she thought it. She’d never considered herself alone on this island.

“This is ridiculous.”

She closed the laptop and charged out the door. She had almost two hours before the library’s posted hours, not that anyone really paid attention to those. Legs churning, she was breathless in no time. Gone soft in that city. No hills, no ocean.

She’d intended to go to the bluff to meditate but found herself instead walking up her sister’s drive. With no need to knock, she went around back and up the steps into the kitchen.

Jenny stood holding out a mug. “Had a feeling I’d be seeing you.”

As Jenny often had these feelings, Rebecca didn’t question, simply accepted the mug and joined her sister at the table. The oven timer dinged, and Jenny got up to pull a baking pan out. She quickly iced two cinnamon rolls and plated them.

“So,” she said, sitting again, a fresh cup of coffee for herself, “what’s up?”

“Who said anything was up?”

When Jenny only tilted her head and waited, Rebecca gave a half-laugh. “Nothing really. Just…”

“Missing Nadiya?” Jenny finished for her.

Her throat suddenly tight, Rebecca could only nod.

“When can she come to the island again?”

Rebecca stalled by eating some of her roll. “Probably not until fall. After Labor Day.”

“Pretty time of year. Ferry will be weekly by then. She’ll have to stay a bit.”

A small smile tugged on Rebecca’s lips. “I know.” Deciding to change the topic, she asked, “Tell me about Matty and Joey.”

Jenny laid out their plans. Rebecca eyed her over the rim of her mug.

“How do you feel about that? You and Joe were almost down to an empty house.”

“I know.” Jenny looked haplessly around the kitchen. “I feel I’ve spent most of my life cooking and worrying about my family.” She shrugged. “But I love taking care of people. I could be content working in Siobhan’s shop, but to have the grandkids here, to watch them grow up. Nothing could make me happier.”

“No reason you can’t do both,” Rebecca pointed out. “Might be good for you to give Brandi some space, if she’s to think of this as her house, too. She might even want to work. She’s used to it, at her family’s restaurant. And what in the world is Joey thinking?”

“Honestly, I have no idea with that boy.” Jenny tore a chunk off her roll and stuffed it into her mouth. “He goes from doing nothing for weeks to ‘I’m driving cross country and moving to Florida.’ He’s never been anywhere! Never wanted to go anywhere.”

“I’d say he’s about to get a crash course on off-island life.”

“Joe called his brother. Danny says his fishing business is booming, and he really needs experienced seamen for his boats. He’s excited to have Joey come down. He said he and Joyce will put Joey up in the apartment over their garage until he figures out whether he’s staying for good.”

Rebecca lifted her mug in a toast. “Life is about to change, sister.”

Jenny touched her own mug to Rebecca’s. “Isn’t that the truth.” She took a drink. “What about you? Any plans to go back to Philadelphia?”

“No.” Rebecca’s voice was definite. “Three weeks was enough.”

“Maybe,” Jenny mused. “This time.”

“What does that mean?”

Jenny lifted one shoulder. “Only that, maybe the only way for you and Nadiya to be together is to do it in spurts. Like joint custody of the relationship. She comes here for a while, you go there for a while. It could work.”

“No,” Rebecca began with a firm shake of her head. “That could never work.”

But Jenny just smiled.

Chapter 29

Meredith paced the length of the porch, muttering to herself, hands gesticulating as she stalked back and forth.

“Who’s winning?”

She whipped around to see her dad standing on the other side of the screen door. He stepped out onto the porch.

“I always heard you, talking to yourself,” he said, taking one of the rocking chairs, “but I never witnessed one of these arguments for myself.”

She blushed and dropped into the chair beside him. “I think I’m losing.”

“Hmmm.” He surveyed the yard. “Care to talk about it?”

“I’m trying to figure out how to talk to Art and Kenny about what they’re doing with Joey.”

“Don’t you approve?” He glanced her way. “I thought you wanted him to take charge of his life.”

“I did.” She caught herself. “I do. But this seems like such a drastic step to take.”

Roy pushed to his feet.

“Where are you going?”

He grinned and nodded toward where the Jetta was turning into the drive. “I’ll leave you to tackle these two on your own.”

“Chicken.”

He chuckled as he disappeared into the house. Kenny and Art got out of the car, but stopped about twenty feet away.

“Uh oh.” Art looked like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. “I think we’re in trouble.”

“Now, Meredith,” Kenny said calmly, holding his hands up in supplication, “before you build up a head of steam—”

She planted her fists on her hips. “Too late.”

“Oh.” Kenny dropped his hands, and both men climbed the porch steps, resigned to their scolding.

“What were you thinking?” she demanded. “Taking Joey Cooper clear across the country?”

“Excuse me,” Art said, glaring at her, “weren’t you the one who was encouraging him with your friend?”

“That’s different!”

“Last I checked, Joey is a grown man,” Kenny pointed out. “I think he’s allowed to make decisions for himself.”

Meredith swallowed the retort on her lips. Deflating, she sat down again. “You’re right.”

They took two other chairs and waited.

“How did this come about?” she asked, struggling for calm.

“He came to us at the hotel,” Art began. “Two, no, three days ago. Asked us when we were flying back. We told him we’d extended our stay until later in August. He asked how we’d feel about driving back with him. We took him up on it.”

“He seems like a nice guy,” Kenny said. “Plus you wanted to know if he’s gay. I think at the end of a coast-to-coast trip, we’ll know.”

Meredith pressed a hand to her eyes. “It feels like everything around here is in upheaval all of a sudden.”

Art twisted around in his chair to look through the window and make sure the coast was clear. “Have Irene and Roy made a decision?”

“If they have,” Meredith grumbled, “they haven’t told me.”

“Yes.” Kathleen sat back, tilting her head to inspect the book cover she’d created. Finding the right image had been a challenge, but she’d finally found one she thought the author—a successful indie—would be pleased with.

She got up and went across the room to gaze at the image from a distance. The title font was still easily readable, and the image remained striking. This would stand out as a thumbnail alongside other miniature book covers.

“Just a few things to clean up,” she mumbled as she returned to the computer, working her magic.

It felt like magic when it all came together. Sometimes it was a slog, going through image after image, or struggling to find a font that worked. Not this time. Siobhan might be a witch with real magic, but Kathleen felt pretty proud of this one.

With the proof sent off for the author’s approval, she stood to stretch. “We’ve been sitting too long.” Blossom raised his head hopefully. “Ready for a walk?”

He leapt up and raced down the stairs, dancing impatiently in front of the door. She filled an aluminum water bottle and tucked it into the side pocket of a small day pack along with a folding bowl and a bag of cashews. Out on the porch, the humidity wrapped around her like a warm, moist blanket.

“We’ll definitely work up a sweat in this.”

She circled the cottage and took the path through the woods, Blossom zigzagging ahead of her, searching the underbrush for rabbits to chase. She was soon breathing hard.

“Got to get back in the habit of doing this every morning before it gets hot,” she panted when she paused to take a drink. She poured some water into the bowl. Blossom slurped noisily and then trotted on.

She followed the trail until it gave way to the rocky outcropping of the bluff. Clambering up onto the rocks, she shrugged out of the pack and sat, allowing her breathing to slow while the wind off the ocean cooled the sweat on her face. A few strands of damp hair stuck to her cheek. She brushed them aside and closed her eyes, Blossom lying beside her, his tongue lolling.

Down below, the waves crashed against the granite base of the bluff. She listened to the pounding, heard the distant mewing of gulls. Time ceased to exist as she felt the island’s roots, solid, unperturbed despite the relentless assault of the sea. I have always been. I will always be.

Blossom shifted to sit up, and Kathleen opened her eyes. It had been ages since she’d felt that kind of peace, that kind of connection. She reached up and realized her cheeks were wet with tears. Removing her glasses, she used her T-shirt hem to wipe her face dry.

“Let’s go.”

Taking a different path, they worked their way around to the ring road and turned toward home. Their path took them past the cemetery.

“Miss Louisa?”

Kathleen veered off the road. Blossom loped ahead of her to where Louisa was kneeling next to a grave.

“Hello, Katie.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Cleaning up Mama’s grave.” Louisa gathered up a handful of leaves and plucked a few weeds. “I already cleaned up Maisie’s.”

Kathleen felt a pang of guilt that she hadn’t been the one to tend her grandmother’s grave. “I should have done that.”

“Oh, you had enough on your plate, what with Christine and Michael. I enjoy visiting.”

Kathleen gave her a hand getting to her feet. “Did you walk here?”

“I did.” Louisa bent to brush off the knees of Olivia’s old dungarees. “Irene and Roy had what sounded like an argument this morning, and I thought they might need some privacy.”

“Guess there isn’t much of that in your house these days.” They picked their way among the headstones. “Any idea which way they’re leaning?”

Louisa cackled. “Depends what time of the day you ask. Roy seems determined that he’s fine, and they should stay. I think Irene is the one who’s torn. She wants so badly to stay on Little Sister, but I don’t know if she’d forgive herself if he were to have another heart attack and die.”

“No one can control when we die.”

“True.” They ambled along the edge of the road. “But I think it would feel to her as if they ignored what should have been a warning.”

“Is her brother getting into the middle of it?”

Louisa gave her a wry look. “Right smack dab. Kenny tries to stay out of it. He’ll support them, no matter what they decide, but Art is doing his best to talk them into leaving.”

“Tough decision.”

“It is.”

Kathleen studied Miss Louisa’s profile. “How would you feel? If they left?”

“Oh, I’d be fine. I still have Aidan and Meredith.” Louisa took Kathleen’s hand. “And all of you.”

She swung Kathleen’s hand as they walked. “How about you? How are you doing?”

“I’m…” Kathleen thought about the time she’d just spent out on the bluff. “I’m doing better than I have in a long time.”

With the Toyota, newly washed and waxed to maximize the visibility of the faded stars on the doors, parked ostentatiously on the main street of the village, Molly marched to the hotel. Little Sister rarely needed a sheriff, but apparently, today was one of those days.

Her day had begun with back-to-back phone calls from her dad and Wilma. From what she pieced together, a group of four college-aged guys had gotten drunk yesterday while out on a rented boat and had damaged not only the boat, but had also caused quite a ruckus at the hotel, waking half the hotel’s guests in the wee hours with loud music and shouting.

She’d donned her sheriff’s shirt and badge—“haven’t needed this for a while,” she’d commented to Kathleen—and drove into the village.

“Morning, Wilma.”

Wilma beamed at her. “Morning, Sheriff.”

“What’s the room number of our troublemakers?”

She banged on their door until they answered, bleary-eyed and wearing nothing but boxers.

“Get dressed, all of you,” she ordered.

“What for?” the one who’d opened the door asked, rubbing his eyes.

“You’ve got five minutes to get your butts downstairs,” she said. “Or I’ll be back. With deputies.”

It took nearly ten minutes, but they stumbled down the steps, hair tousled and definitely hung over.

“You’re going to make good on the damage you did to that boat yesterday,” she commanded.

“What damage?” one of them sneered. “You can’t prove we did it.”

“Don’t even.” Molly glared at him, her hands resting on her duty belt. “I just did a tune-up on that boat myself, so I know what condition it was in. I don’t know what you ran into, but the entire port side is scraped now.”

They worked hard at not looking at one another.

“So how much?” asked another, reaching into his back pocket.

“Oh, we’ve something else in mind.” She crooked a finger at them. “This way.”

She led them down the hotel’s stairs, around behind the market, to the large bins where the islanders all brought their garbage and recycling.

“You’re going to load this on the ferry.”

“The hell we are,” said the one who’d tried to buy his way out of trouble. “Let’s go.”

“See, the thing is.” Molly smiled when they stopped to look at her. “My brother is the ferry pilot.”

Right on cue, Aidan appeared. “Everything all right, Mo?”

“Depends.” Molly turned back to the four guys. “You’re not leaving until this is all loaded on the ferry.”

“You can’t do that,” one of them protested. He dug his cell phone out of his pocket, but scowled at the screen, spinning in place, holding the phone overhead.

“Cells don’t work here.” Molly waited until he shoved the phone back into his pocket and glared at her. “This is your fine. You’re going to work off the damage you did. You don’t get to toss money at it and walk away.”

“Gentlemen,” Aidan said, lowering the side of the first bin. “I’ll show you where to take this.”

For several seconds, they stood, glaring at Molly belligerently, but then the first one shuffled after Aidan, and the rest followed. Bag by bag, they hauled the garbage from the bin, walking it down the hill to the marina and transferring it into an identical one on the ferry. Fred, having caught on, cheerfully guided them.

“You do know,” Aidan muttered to Molly in a low voice when the guys were out of earshot, “we normally use the forklift to exchange these bins for the ones on the ferry.”

Molly grinned. “I know. But this will keep them busy for a couple hours. And when I tell them to never come back here, I don’t think they’ll argue.”

Wilma brought her and Aidan big mugs of coffee. “I like the way you think, Mo.” She chortled as she went back inside.

“Hey,” he said, “you weren’t in town yesterday when we got in, were you?”

“No. Why?”

He glanced over his shoulder toward the hotel. “Funny thing.”

But just then, Fred bellowed at one of the guys whose bag had split open, dumping trash on the ferry’s deck. Whatever the funny thing was, it would have to wait.

“Gotta go.” Aidan shoved his coffee mug into Molly’s hand and jogged down the hill.

He went to work doing his pre-launch check of the ferry while Molly sat herself in a conspicuous spot to supervise the trash transfer. By the time they finished, the four young men were dripping sweat and just as smelly as the garbage had been.

“Be thankful this island recycles as much as we do,” she said to them. “Or there’d’ve been a lot more garbage.” She gestured toward the hotel. “Go shower and pack up, gentlemen. And when you settle with Wilma, I recommend you tip the hotel staff generously. Ferry leaves in forty minutes. You’d better hurry.”

They ran into the hotel, jostling to get through the entrance. She was still laughing to herself as she carried her mug into the diner.

“I don’t think they’ll give you any more trouble, Wilma.”

“Thanks, Mo.” Wilma waved toward a table near the windows. “How about some breakfast? Got you out early with that lot.”

“Won’t say no.” Molly nodded to people—all tourists this time of day—as she wove through the tables to sit where she could see the ferry.

Fred was beginning to let cars drive on, directing them into neat rows, and she saw Aidan talking to their dad, both of them laughing. Wilma deposited a plate heaped with eggs, bacon, and toast before her with a fresh cup of coffee.

“Whoa.”

“You earned it.” Wilma gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Glad we’ve got you, Mo.”

Molly smiled to herself as she dug in. She was halfway done with her meal when she froze with her fork in midair. A woman had just walked into the diner from the hotel lobby—thirtyish, really short red hair, slim build. She could have been Kathleen’s twin, except for the hair and no glasses. The woman scanned the diner, looking for an empty table, but her eyes stopped when she saw Molly. For a moment, they stared at each other, then the woman turned on her heel and went back out the way she’d come.

“What the—” Molly twisted in her seat, frantically waving Wilma over. “That woman,” she pointed at the door, “looks like Kathleen. Who is she?”

Wilma looked blankly toward the lobby door for a few seconds, but then her expression brightened. “Oh, her! I meant to say something to you.” Wilma sat down and leaned in so she could speak in a whisper. “Came in on yesterday’s ferry. Reservation for two weeks. Asking all kinds of questions about Little Sister.”

“What’s her name?”

Wilma cocked her head toward the lobby, and Molly—the rest of her food forgotten—followed her out to the lobby desk. Wilma spun the hotel register around so Molly could read it.

“Eryn Grant.” She stared at Wilma. “Who the hell is Eryn Grant?”

Rebecca left a note on the main table in the library, asking anyone who borrowed a book to write down their name and the title as well as when they expected to return it.

“How can you do this on the honor system?” Meredith had asked when she first saw Rebecca do this.

“Well, I can’t spend my entire day sitting in the library, can I?” Rebecca had simply shrugged. “We get sporadic visits anyway, and sometimes a few days go by with no one coming in.”

But today, she was too agitated to sit there. She’d tried to read for a while, but couldn’t concentrate. Something was up. She stepped onto the library’s porch and took a deep breath, then laughed at herself.

“You think you’re going to sniff it?”

Something was definitely in the air. Before she could walk the short distance to her cottage, Jenny’s SUV flew toward her, spraying a little gravel as she braked hard.

“What is it?” Rebecca asked.

Jenny leaned out of her window. “Brandi and Matty are on their way.”

“On their way where?”

“Here! They’ve decided that the baby needs to be born here. Get in.”

Rebecca hopped into the passenger seat. “Where are we going?”

“To Lena’s. I want to make sure she’s prepared. I want to know what I need to have ready at the house.”

Rebecca chuckled as Jenny drove up the ring road toward Lena Clearwater’s house. “You act as though this island has never had a baby born on it before.”

“Well, it’s been almost thirty years since the last one I gave birth to.” Jenny reached over to smack her sister’s arm. “Might be a few things I forgot or never noticed from where I was.”

“Well, I remember.” Rebecca closed her eyes. “Much as I’ve tried not to.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Sorry.” Rebecca kicked herself over that comment. “It made me very glad I never had to give birth. But you gave me three beautiful nephews and a niece, so I forgive you.”

Jenny whipped into Lena’s drive and leapt out almost before she’d put the vehicle in park and turned it off. She ran up the porch steps, scattering a few chickens pecking about in the yard, and had her hand raised to knock when Lena met her at the door.

“Come in.” She waved Jenny and Rebecca toward the table. “Have a seat. Something to drink?”

“Just water for me,” Rebecca said.

“Same.” Jenny drummed her fingers on the table.

“What’s going on?” Lena asked as she set the glasses on the table and pulled out a chair.

“Brandi,” Jenny said, beaming. “She wants to have the baby here! She and Matty are moving here for good.”

“For now,” Rebecca corrected. “We’ll see if they stay. I have my doubts.”

“Why would you say that?” Jenny demanded.

“She’s used to the things Big Sister has that we don’t,” Rebecca said simply. “Plus, I don’t think her family’s going to let her go without piling on the guilt.”

“Oh.” Jenny frowned. “You may be right.”

“But having the baby here is still a big step,” Lena said soothingly. “It’ll be one step closer to all the things the baby can look forward to—a Passing when it’s time, and if we save the placenta, we can do a naming ceremony when they’re ready.”

She jotted down a list of the things Jenny should have on hand for the birth.

“I’ll be ready,” she promised. “Call me, any time.”

“Thanks.” Jenny gave her an excited hug.

Back in the SUV, Jenny became more thoughtful. “There’s been something. I could kind of feel the island’s vibrations, something getting ready to happen. This must be it.”

“Must be,” Rebecca echoed, but to herself, I don’t think so.

Chapter 30

The late summer twilight lingered, casting longer shadows across the yard. Kathleen and Molly sat on the front porch of the cottage in comfortable cushioned chairs they’d ordered as a joint June-August birthday present to themselves. Behind the house, the new garage was finished on the exterior, but still waiting for finishes on the interior.

With the print in her book getting harder to read in the dusk, Molly closed her book and sat, staring vacantly out at the yard.

“Everything okay?”

Molly’s head jerked around. “What? Oh, yeah. Just thinking.”

“I could smell the smoke.”

“Very funny.”

Kathleen shifted to sit cross-legged in her seat, facing Molly. “Whatever you were thinking, it looked deep.”

“My thoughts are always deep.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the distinctive click of a bicycle freewheeling along the ring road. A lone cyclist came into view, coasting slowly. When the rider spied them, he or she jumped on the pedals and sped away.

“Late for a bike to be out,” Kathleen observed. “Getting dark.”

“Yeah.” Molly frowned in the direction of the road.

“You sound worried.”

“Not worried, exactly.” Molly leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Remember when you saw someone at your mom’s memorial service, a woman. You went looking for her but couldn’t find her.”

“Yeah.”

“What did she look like?”

Kathleen scrunched her eyes, trying to recall. “Told you, short red hair, like really red. Only caught a couple glimpses of her, but something about her looked familiar.”

She opened her eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“There’s a woman, checked into the hotel couple days ago. She kind of matches that description. You haven’t seen her, have you?”

“I haven’t left the house the last few days. Been working on that edit.”

“Does the name Eryn Grant mean anything to you? E-R-Y-N?”

Kathleen thought for a moment. “No. Is that her name? Unusual spelling.”

“Yeah. Wilma showed me the guest book.”

“Something about her got your attention.”

“It was weird,” Molly said. “The morning I had to go sort out those idiots who scraped up Dad’s boat. I was in the diner when she came in. She took one look at me and skedaddled.”

“You are intimidating when you’re in sheriff mode.”

Molly grinned. “I like that. Might have been the badge, but it was more like she saw my face and took off.” The grin faded. “She could be your twin. Even Wilma noticed the similarity.”

“Really? Well, now you’ve got me curious. How about we go into the village in the morning, maybe some early shopping and breakfast out. I haven’t had Nels’s corned beef hash in forever.”

Molly sat up. “Like reconnaissance?”

Kathleen rolled her eyes. “You read too many private detective novels. No. I mean, like let’s have a conversation.”

Kathleen spent a restless night, filled with dreams—her mother, Bryan, Nanna. They all paraded through her head for what felt like most of the night. She woke tired and agitated. This mystery woman, if it was the same one, this Eryn Grant, had also made an appearance, always on the fringes so that Kathleen never got a good look at her.

She sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Leaning over to kiss Molly’s shoulder, she said, “Need a hot shower.”

By the time she’d showered and dressed, she felt marginally better. Molly had let Blossom out and fed him.

“Be ready in a wee bit.” She ran upstairs to clean up and get dressed.

A few minutes later, they were in the Toyota.

“You looking to make a statement?” Kathleen teased.

“Doesn’t hurt to have the island squad car front and center,” Molly replied. “In case she’s a fugitive.”

“If you recall, you thought that about me.” Kathleen smirked at the recollection. “Surprised you didn’t already do a background check.”

“Thought about it,” Molly admitted. “But I don’t want to abuse my contacts, and since I don’t have any reason to check on her—yet—thought I’d better wait.”

She parked in front of her office again, and they hurried to the diner. A few locals still occupied the counter stools. They all exchanged greetings as Molly and Kathleen took a seat, Blossom curling up under the table.

“Well, land sakes.” Wilma bustled over with two coffee mugs. “Isn’t this nice?” She quickly glanced around the diner, but only one other table held tourists this early. Leaning over, she whispered, “She hasn’t come down yet.”

“Who?” Kathleen asked, but Wilma chortled.

“Corned beef hash?” she asked Kathleen, who nodded. “Bacon and eggs for you, Mo. Be right up.”

She hurried off, and Kathleen turned to Molly. “How did she know?”

“I don’t think much gets by Wilma.”

They sipped their coffee, casually smiling at a few early risers who entered the diner, some who had clearly just dragged themselves from their beds judging by their bedhead.

Wilma brought Molly and Kathleen’s breakfasts. “She’ll be down soon. She’s one of the early ones.”

Kathleen was digging into her corned beef hash when Molly muttered without moving her lips, “She’s here. Four o’clock.”

When Kathleen turned to look at the wall clock over the kitchen passthrough, Molly rolled her eyes.

“Your four o’clock. Behind you.”

Kathleen swiveled in her seat. There she was—the woman from the funeral home and the cemetery. The woman saw her at the same instant and started to reverse course, but Molly shot to her feet and hurried over to her.

“Wait!” She gestured toward Kathleen. “Please, join us.”

Clearly reluctant, the woman followed Molly back to the table. Blossom sat up to sniff her knees. Molly pulled out one of the chairs at the table, and the woman sat.

“Kathleen.” She glanced in Molly’s direction. “And you’re Molly.”

“How do you know that?” Kathleen stared into a face that even she could see resembled hers. “Who are you?”

Before the woman could reply, Wilma plunked down another mug of coffee and topped up the other two before hurrying off.

The woman’s eyes scoured Kathleen’s face with open curiosity. “I’m your cousin, Eryn.”

“My—” Kathleen stared harder. Of course she had cousins out there. She’d just met an aunt and uncle she didn’t know. “How? I mean, which side of the family?”

“The Halloran side.” Eryn stirred cream into her coffee while Kathleen’s brain whirled furiously.

“That’s obvious,” Molly muttered. “Look at the two of you.”

“There are no—” Kathleen’s mouth fell open. “Wait. My dad’s sister, Moira?”

Eryn nodded.

“But… we haven’t,” Kathleen looked helplessly to Molly and then back to Eryn. “No one has heard from your mother since she left Little Sister.”

“I know.” Eryn frowned down at her mug for several seconds. When she finally spoke, it was as if a dam had opened, and the words poured out. “I didn’t know about you guys. I didn’t even know my mom had a brother, but then when I found out, I had to go digging and learn more. That’s when I found out about your dad and your family. And this island! I didn’t know anything about this place. It’s so cool!”

She gazed out the window with wide eyes.

“But you were at my mother’s service. And at the cemetery,” Kathleen said. “How did you know about that?”

“I wasn’t stalking you or anything like that,” Eryn blurted. “It’s kind of a long story.”

Wilma reappeared with a loaded tray. “Took the liberty.” She set a plate of scrambled eggs and hash browns in front of Eryn. Her eyes flicked from one to the other, but she only said, “You eat up now.”

“Not sure where to start.” Eryn reached for the ketchup.

“Start at the beginning,” Molly suggested, waggling a crispy piece of bacon.

“Hush.” Kathleen gestured with her fork. “Start with when your mom left the island.”

“Um, okay, but I don’t know that much. She told me she grew up in New England but never got more specific than that so I never really knew where. She came to San Jose, met my dad. They got married. I’m an only.”

She paused to eat a few bites while Kathleen studied her avidly. The freckles, the short, red hair—more coppery than Kathleen’s—looking purposely mussed, the blue eyes. Molly was right. They could be sisters. No wonder she looked familiar.

“Are your parents still alive?” she asked.

“Oh, yes.” Eryn looked up from her plate. “Mom is a real estate agent, and Dad works for the city, in the zoning department.”

“What do you do?” Molly asked.

“I’m a security analyst now. Got a degree in computer technology at Stanford and stayed on there for a few years, but the FBI was hiring and I applied—you know, you do that, never thinking they’re really going to call you—anyway, they did, which was a total surprise, cause you—”

“You don’t think they will,” Molly interrupted. “Got that.”

“Right.” Eryn’s cheeks reddened. “Anyway, then you have to get a security clearance, and that means everyone in your family and all your friends have to be cleared, so that’s when I learned about Little Sister Island and,” she looked at Kathleen, “your dad and everything.”

She pushed her hash browns around on her plate. “When I asked my mom questions, she finally told me about growing up here. But she made it sound like an awful place where nobody has a future. She said she couldn’t wait to get as far away from here as she could. Only I don’t get that.”

Eryn leaned forward. “I mean, so far, everyone I’ve met here seems really nice. And this island seems like a place I’m meant to be. And maybe it explains—”

“What?” Molly asked around a mouthful of toast. “Explains what?”

“Nothing.” Eryn ducked her head and shoveled a few bites in.

Molly exchanged a bemused look with Kathleen. The silence lasted only a few seconds.

“Anyway,” Eryn continued, “I knew about your mother and father and brother—I could see he died, but it took some digging to find out how. Sorry about him, by the way. I knew they lived in Philadelphia, so I kept tabs every so often, doing an online search. And I saw your mother’s obituary—sorry about her, too—and when the service was going to be, and I had to see for myself. I mean,” she paused to draw a breath, “all these years, I’ve thought we were it. Just the three of us and my dad’s sister and her family, and then I found out about all of you, and… well, I wanted to see for myself. I was hoping we had grandparents still alive, but now I know we don’t, so that’s kind of sad, but…” Her voice trailed off.

“Wow.” Kathleen was at a loss for what else to say. Her breakfast forgotten, she stared at Eryn. “Welcome to Little Sister. Cousin.”

Sitting at her desk, Meredith perused her classroom. Tables and chairs sat ready. One table against a side wall held three computers, reconditioned ones the island had purchased, along with a satellite for internet. Bookshelves along another wall held textbooks for the various grades.

“Everything is ready. Just need the kids.”

A few more families, having seen the classroom become a reality, had decided to give it a go, keeping their children onisland for the fall semester at least.

I think I’m being given a test drive, she’d written to Jan and Barb. Talk about pressure.

She swiped at scattered motes of dust and went into the main library, where Rebecca was putting a few books back where they belonged. Jasper got up from where he’d been stretched out on his side in a patch of sunlight and followed her.

“Can’t tell who’s more nervous,” Rebecca said over her shoulder, “you or the kids.”

Meredith laughed. “Might be a tie.”

“You asked about Joey,” Rebecca said. “Saw him heading to the marina on my way here.”

“Thanks. Can’t figure out how he manages to disappear when I want to talk to him. This island isn’t that big.”

Rebecca snorted. “Same way he always seemed to be able to disappear when there was work to be done. Always showed up at mealtimes, though.”

“See you later.” Meredith held the screen door for Jasper and headed toward the marina.

“Hey, Joe,” she said when she got to the office. “Looking for Joey.”

He nodded toward the boathouse. “Last I saw him, he was in there.”

“Thanks.” She hurried to the weathered building and tugged at the side door. It opened with a loud creak of rusty hinges.

“There you are.”

Joey looked up from where he was working on a boat engine, his hands coated in grease. “Here I am.”

“You’re a hard man to find, considering this is such a small island.” She reached for an empty five-gallon bucket and turned it upside-down to serve as a stool.

“Been around.”

She sat for a few seconds, but he seemed to be concentrating on getting several bolts loosened. “So,” she prompted.

He didn’t respond.

She tried again. “Joseph Ahearn Cooper.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Now, that’s low. You sound like Mom.”

She grinned. “It was, wasn’t it. Did it work?”

“Maybe.” He bent over the engine again.

“So, you, heading to Oregon with my uncles.”

“Is there a question in there somewhere?”

“Yes, there’s a question! What the hell are you doing?”

His mouth twitched. “I’m getting out to see more of the world than Little Sister Island.”

“Since when? How did you come up with this idea? And Florida? Really?”

He carefully set the bolts in a chipped ceramic bowl at his feet. “That’s a lot of questions.”

“I’ve got more.” She took a deep breath in an effort to curb her impatience. “But let’s start with those.”

“Well,” he said slowly, sitting on his own upturned bucket. “Ever since your friends were here, and Jan talked so much about the Pacific coast, I’ve had an itch to see it for myself.”

“Fair enough.”

“And,” he continued with a half-shrug, “I thought I might catch up with Jan while I’m there.”

“Really?” Meredith knew this would thrill Jan, but, “Have you called her? Told her you’re coming out there?”

He blushed under his stubble, suddenly very invested in scrubbing some of the grease off his hands with a greasier rag. “No.”

“Might want to.” She read his hesitation. “I know she’ll be excited to see you.”

His eyes raised to meet hers. “You think?”

“I think.” She barely controlled the urge to roll her eyes. “So why my uncles?”

He shrugged again. “They’re headed in that direction. Seemed stupid for them to fly when I’m driving that way.”

“I’ll grant you that. I think they’re looking forward to spending time with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Why’re you so surprised that people would want to be with you?”

He lowered his gaze again. “It’d be the first time.”

“That’s not true.”

“How would you know?”

It came bursting out so forcefully, she knew it had been brewing for a long time and had nothing to do with her.

He shoved to his feet. “Ever since Aidan and Bryan and that stupid race. Everyone’s all, ‘Oh, how’s Aidan coping?’ and when he started drinking, they were all, ‘Oh, poor boy. He’s trying to drown his sorrows.’ And Molly and Matty and I had to keep picking his drunk ass up and hauling him home. And then Matty, barely out of school, meets Brandi and decides to get married and start a family, and everyone’s all, ‘Oh, how wonderful! Jenny and Joe will have grandkids now.’ And all the time, I’m standing around, and it’s like I’m invisible!”

He lashed out, kicking his bucket across the boathouse. Meredith jumped. As quickly as the storm had come, it blew out, leaving Joey deflated.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Joey.” She stood and went to him. “I think you’re a great guy. And I don’t think you’re invisible at all.” She laid a hand on his shoulder, felt the tense muscles. “I think they’re so used to you being around, maybe they don’t always let you know how much they appreciate you.”

He gave her a side-eye. “Right.”

She raised her right hand. “Honest Injun.”

He snorted and opened his mouth.

“I know,” she said before he could. “Don’t let Rebecca hear that.”

A stack of boxes toppled, scattering across the attic floor.

“Miss Louisa?” came Aidan’s voice. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she called, but it was too late, as his footsteps thudded on the attic stairs.

“What’re you looking for?”

“Oh, I need a box for the baby blanket.” Louisa bent to pick up a couple, comparing the two.

Aidan looked around. “You’ve got a lot of boxes up here.”

“Good boxes. Hated to throw them out.”

She saw the smile he quickly hid. “Just you wait. You’ll do the same someday.”

“Probably.” He nodded toward her right hand. “Will that one do?”

“I think.”

He quickly restacked the rest of the boxes. “Can’t believe Matty and Brandi are moving here for good.”

“Your mother will be happy.”

“Dad, too.” He straightened with a frown. “I think they’ll miss Joey a lot. Glad the house won’t be completely empty for them.”

Louisa made her way to the stairs. “Can’t remember the last time we had this much excitement on the island.” She paused, remembering how much excitement they’d had last August. “I mean, the good kind. Not like that poor boy.”

“I knew what you meant.” He preceded her down the steps, keeping an eye on her as she descended. “You’re right, what with our family and then Kathleen’s cousin showing up out of nowhere.”

“Sure that was unexpected.”

“Have you met her yet?” He turned off the light and closed the attic door.

“Not yet. Figured to give them a little time with her first, but I do want to meet another of Maisie’s granddaughters.”

“Funny how it kind of skipped a generation, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?”

They continued to the main floor of the house, where the finished blanket lay folded on the sofa. Louisa sat down to tuck it into the box while Aidan took an armchair.

“Well, Miss Maisie’s daughter took off, no word from her in decades. Kind of the same with Michael. Until recently. But the grandkids came back to the island.”

“It is odd,” Louisa agreed. “For the life of me, I can’t figure out why Moira was so dead set on leaving Little Sister the way she did. I thought Maisie and Séan were good parents. And Michael didn’t turn against the island until Bryan—”

She stopped abruptly. “Sorry, Aidan.”

He rubbed his knuckles over the bristles on his jaw. “No, you’re right.”

A long silence stretched between them. Louisa studied him—no longer carrying the guilt that had been like an anchor tied to him for so long, but something else seemed to be weighing on him.

“What is it?” she asked.

He gave an embarrassed chuckle. “It’s just, with Matty on kid number two, I got to thinking…”

“Is it time for you and Meredith? Have you talked about it?”

“No!” He squirmed in his chair. “I mean, only in ‘do you want to have kids someday’ terms. I mean, we’ve only been bonded a few months, and she’s getting ready to start teaching. The timing isn’t…”

“Aidan,” Louisa interrupted. “I’m obviously no expert on who should get pregnant and when, but if the two of you are ready to take this step, everything else will work out.”

“You think?”

“Talk to the girl.”

He nodded and got his feet, coming over to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks.”

Louisa sat there for a moment, thinking about what it would be like to have a baby in the house.

“Say good-bye to a full night’s sleep.”

Louisa smiled. “Not necessarily, Ollie. Some babies sleep through the night.”

“Hmmpphh. As if we’d know.”

Louisa’s smile slid off her face.

“I’m sorry, Lou. I didn’t mean—”

“No. You’re right. I never even got to hold Irene. I have no idea what she was like as an infant.” Louisa’s eyes teared up.

“None of that, now. Better get to work on a new baby blanket.”

Louisa dashed the tears away. “You’re right. Let me look through my yarn.”

Chapter 31

Rebecca parked at the Halloran cottage. Knocking once, she opened the screen door and called out, “Kathleen?”

“In the kitchen.”

She walked through, pausing to pat Blossom who came out to greet her. Hefting the bag in her hand, she said, “Brought a couple of bottles of wine.”

Kathleen turned from the counter where she was shredding a large carrot. “Good call. Have a feeling we’ll need it.”

Rebecca stashed one of the bottles in the fridge before opening a couple of drawers, searching for a corkscrew for the other.

“So, this long-lost cousin of yours.”

“Yeah.” Kathleen tossed the carrot into the salad she was putting together. “That’s why I wanted you to be here tonight.”

She reached for a few radishes and began slicing them. “She knows too much to be a fake, but why anyone would fake this, I have no idea. Molly, of course, thinks there must be something nefarious behind it.”

She added the radishes to the salad and slapped the knife down. “Why the hell can’t things calm down? Go back to the way they were before.”

“Before what?”

But Kathleen only ground her teeth and picked the knife up again, looking as if she wanted to stab something with it. Rebecca handed her a glass, and Kathleen took a large gulp.

“Wouldn’t you be curious, if you learned your mother came from a place you’d never known about? Want to see it for yourself?”

“Maybe.” Kathleen tapped a fingernail against the glass. “Do we do a Passing?”

“Why?” Rebecca paused her sip of wine. “Is she asking to move here?”

“No.” Kathleen’s face blanched. “Oh, goddess, what if she does want to? Is she entitled to the cottage?”

“First come,” Rebecca said. “Relax.”

“But if she’d found all this out a few years ago,” Kathleen sloshed wine as she waved her hand, “if she’d come here before I did, she could have claimed this cottage, couldn’t she?”

Rebecca lifted a shoulder. “That’s how it works. If she could prove she came from the Halloran line. But she didn’t get here first. You did. The cottage is yours. So unless you and Molly want to extend an invitation…”

“We just met her!”

“Relax,” Rebecca repeated. “Most likely, she has a lot of questions she wants answers to. Where is she, by the way?”

“Molly spent the day working on her boat, said she’d bring Eryn with her.”

“How can I help?”

Rebecca took over with the salad, dicing tomatoes, while Kathleen and Blossom went out back to get the potatoes and onions, already wrapped in foil, roasting on the grill.

By the time Molly and Eryn arrived, the coals were about ready for the steaks. Blossom raced to the door, wagging his whole body.

“Let me shower,” Molly said, bounding up the stairs. “Be down in five!”

Eryn stood just inside, a large container in her hands. “I asked Wilma if you and Molly had a favorite dessert, and she said you like all of them, so I brought an assortment.”

“You didn’t have to do that, but thanks.” Kathleen nodded toward the kitchen. “Come on in. This is Molly’s aunt, Rebecca Ahearn. Rebecca, this is Eryn Grant, Moira’s daughter.”

Rebecca extended a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

For a long moment, they stood, studying each other.

“You look like Molly,” Eryn noted. “The eyes. You have the same eyes.”

“And you look like your mother, and hers. I can see Maisie in you.” Rebecca’s gaze flitted to Kathleen. “You really could be sisters.”

Kathleen flushed and busied herself pouring glasses of ice water for everyone. Molly was back down in a few minutes, her wet hair combed back off her forehead.

“How’s everyone like their steaks?” she asked, opening the refrigerator. “Oh, crap.” She paused. “I guess we should have asked ahead of time—do you eat meat?”

Eryn accepted a glass of wine from Rebecca. “Not often, but yes, I do. I’ll take mine medium-well.”

“You sure?” Molly reached into the fridge for the glass pan where the steaks were marinating. “Thought all Californians were organic and vege-whatever.”

Rebecca watched as Eryn waited a beat and then said, “Not all. I mean, most of my friends there are vegan, and now, lots of my coworkers are Asian Americans—from India, Bangladesh, Pakistan—so I’m used to eating lots of vegetarian food. In California, we’re spoiled by having year-round access to fresh everything. Something you folks up north probably can’t relate to.”

“First challenge passed,” Rebecca murmured into her glass.

Molly grinned and went out to the grill, Blossom glued to her side, ever hopeful one of the steaks would just happen to fall.

“I think he might trip her,” Eryn observed.

“He’s tried that,” Kathleen said. “Everything’s ready. Might as well go keep an eye on Molly till the steaks are done.”

They refilled their wine glasses, and Kathleen got a cold Harp’s out of the fridge, handing it to Molly.

“What do you do for the FBI?” Rebecca asked.

“Wait.” Molly flung up a hand. “You’re not going to have to kill us after you tell us, are you?”

Eryn raised her glass. “Depends how much of this I drink. If I say too much, I might have to.”

“She reads too many spy novels,” Kathleen said.

“Our work is more boring than most people think,” Eryn said. “Most of it involves forensic monitoring of networks for any online activity or chatter as part of investigations.”

Rebecca suspected this was a deliberately vague reply. “Tell us about your parents.”

Eryn pulled out her phone and swiped to a photo. “Here they are.”

She showed them a handsome couple, a man in his late fifties, balding, astraddle a bicycle. But Rebecca’s attention was focused on Moira, her hair still chestnut, though Rebecca doubted it was natural, keen eyes staring back at her as she stood beside her bike.

“Your mother hasn’t changed much.” She handed the phone back.

“You knew her?”

“I knew Moira and Michael. We grew up together. Went to school here with Miss Louisa as our teacher.”

“Did something happen?” Eryn asked. “Something that made my mother want to leave the island?”

“Not that I know of.” Rebecca tried to keep her expression neutral as she asked, “But she never spoke of Little Sister?”

“Not to me.” Eryn shook her head. “I suppose she told my dad where she was from.” Her gaze shifted to the cottage. “But this is where she lived? Where she grew up? Where all the Hallorans have lived?”

“Yes.” From the corner of her eye, Rebecca saw Molly place a calming hand on Kathleen’s shoulder.

Eryn took a step toward the house, her eyes alight. “Why did she leave?”

Meredith climbed down from a stepstool, where she’d placed the last jars of canned tomatoes on the uppermost shelf.

“That should last us the winter,” she pronounced as she returned to the kitchen. “What next?”

Louisa dried her hands and smiled. “Time to dig up the potatoes.”

Art looked up from the table. “You’re kidding. Isn’t the work ever done around here?”

“Ant, grasshopper,” Irene quipped. “Get it done while we can.”

“And believe me,” Roy echoed, “those preserves we had all winter were better than anything you can buy.”

“Come on,” Kenny cajoled. “Let’s get our farmer on. Thought you said farmers were sexy.”

Art glared at him. “I said that good-looking guy at the farm market was sexy. Not the same.”

“It’s all right, dear.” Louisa gave Art a pat on the shoulder. “Not everyone is cut out for physical work.”

Meredith had to rush outside with her hand clamped over her mouth to cover her laughter at such transparent manipulation. Transparent, but it worked. Art clomped down the steps, still muttering to himself. They shouldered pitchforks and shovels, while Louisa handed out bushel baskets to Irene and Meredith.

Roy met them at the garden. “I’ve been looking this over.” He pointed to the large section of garden devoted to the potatoes. “I think the most efficient way of—”

“For God’s sake, Roy,” Irene interrupted, “they’re potatoes! We don’t have to be efficient. And I don’t think you should help. You shouldn’t be bending or lifting—”

“Stop it, Irene!” Roy glared at her. “I’m not an invalid, for crying out loud. If you don’t want my help, I’ve got other things I can be doing.”

He strode off toward the house, leaving a stunned group staring after him.

“Well that’s something you don’t see every day,” Kenny said. “Think that might be the first time in forty years I’ve ever heard Roy get angry.”

“You’re worried about him,” Louisa said soothingly. “He’ll understand once he cools down.”

But Irene had tears in her eyes. “We’ve been arguing a lot lately. We never did before.”

“Let’s get digging,” Meredith suggested, but she cast a worried glance toward the house.

Louisa showed them how to turn the earth and uncover the potatoes. “Don’t rub all the dirt off. They keep all winter if they’ve got a healthy coat of soil on them.”

When the first basket was filled, Meredith volunteered to carry it to the cellar. She found the cellar door already propped open and her dad down there, tending to his brewing apparatus.

“You okay?” she asked quietly as she gently dumped the potatoes into a large wooden bin.

“Fine.” Roy filled a bottle with clear liquid.

“You know,” Meredith said, laying a hand on his shoulder, “Mom’s worried about you. Afraid something else will happen.”

“I know it.” He poured a little of the liquid into a cup and sampled it. “Taste this.”

She took a cautious sip and immediately gasped. “I didn’t know this was poitín,” she rasped when she could speak. “When did you start brewing this?”

“Last winter.” Roy gave her a proud smile. “You didn’t know I made the poitín we drank at Bealtaine?”

Meredith coughed and tried to take a deep breath. “No. It’s good. Once you get past the kick.”

“That’s what everyone said.” He capped the bottle, twisting it in his hands. “Meredith, I know your mom is frightened, and I’m not minimizing how serious my heart attack could have been. But I feel great. Better than I have in years. She has to stop treating me like I’m going to keel over any second. Her hovering is… strangling me.”

“Have you talked to her about this?”

“Every time I try, she says I’m in denial about what happened.”

“Do you want me to talk to her?”

He raised his eyes. “Would you? I don’t want to put you in the middle.”

“You’re not. I worry about both of you.” She hesitated to ask the other question on her mind. “Have you decided what you’re going to do? About staying here?”

He frowned and turned back to his still. “No.”

“Art and Kenny are leaving next week with Joey,” she reminded him unnecessarily. “Art is still doing his best to talk Mom into you guys coming back with them, at least to the mainland.”

“I know.” Roy’s voice was hard, bitter. “What… what would you think if your mother went without me?”

Meredith gaped at his back for several seconds. She shifted around so he’d have to face her. “You’d separate?”

“No! Not really.” He tried to meet her eyes, but couldn’t. “I don’t know. She could get a place there, and I’d stay here.”

“Have you talked to her about this?”

“Not yet,” he admitted. “Don’t say anything. You know. About what I said.”

Meredith, forcing a calm she didn’t feel, bent to pick up her basket. “I won’t.”

Ignoring the little twinges of guilt that kept poking at her, Kathleen doggedly scrolled through the manuscript she was editing.

“I’ve got work, haven’t I?” she’d argued to Molly, who wasn’t arguing back. “I can’t just drop everything because some cousin I’ve never heard of decides to drop into my life.”

“Mmm hmm,” had been Molly’s only reply.

Still, almost as if they were whispering behind her back, the box of photos that Louisa had given her repeatedly drew her attention from where they sat on a bottom shelf of the bookcase. Ignoring them, she turned to her monitor, trying to concentrate, but after a couple of hours of this, she slammed her hand on the desk, startling Blossom. He leapt up from where he’d been sleeping, barking at nothing.

“Sorry, sorry.” She bent to soothe him. “Didn’t mean to do that.”

She pushed back from the desk and went to the bookcase to get the box. Inside, the faces of long-dead relatives smiled up at her—faces she realized she’d come to think of as hers alone. Her family. Her ancestors. Her lineage. Only it wasn’t just hers any longer. None of it.

Picking through the photos, she began setting some aside. When she had about a dozen, she took them to the scanner and printed them. She tucked the prints into a large envelope and went downstairs to the phone.

“Wilma? This is Kathleen. Do you know if Eryn is there at the hotel?”

A few minutes later, she headed out the door with the car keys. “Come on,” she said, waving Blossom into the back seat. “No idea where she could be on her bike, but we’ll see if we can find her.”

She slowly drove the ring road, passing small groups of other tourists cycling around the island. She stopped at the cemetery, wondering if Eryn might be there, searching for familiar names on the stones, but there was no sign of her. She continued around the island until she drove into the village.

“Maybe she’s shopping.” She let Blossom out, and they wandered the main street. In the gift shop, she waited until a couple of customers finished paying for their purchases. “Hey, Siobhan.”

“Kathleen,” Siobhan beamed at her. “How nice to see you. What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for—” Kathleen stopped short. “I suppose you’ve heard, a cousin of mine is onisland.”

“Oh, yes.” Siobhan’s eyes narrowed. “I heard. I thought I’d get a chance to meet her, but I think she’s been avoiding me.”

“Why would she avoid you?”

Siobhan gave her the tiniest smile. “She probably has her reasons. Same as her mother, I’d imagine.”

Kathleen gaped at her. “You knew her mother?”

Siobhan shook her head. “Not me, but my grandmother did. Anyway, how can I help you?”

Kathleen had nearly forgotten what she’d come in for. “I’m looking for her. For Eryn. But you probably don’t have any idea where she is.”

“I’ve no idea, sorry.”

The shop’s bell tinkled, and a new group of tourists came in.

“Thanks.” Kathleen gave a little wave and exited the building, standing for a moment on the sidewalk.

In exasperation, she and Blossom headed to the library. She hadn’t been there in almost a week, what with work and Eryn’s arrival. Her Keeper lessons had become more sporadic, she realized. Ever since Rebecca and Nadiya had reconnected.

She stepped through the screen door and found the front room empty, but the door to the back room was ajar. She went behind the desk and pushed the door open wider.

“Hey, Rebecca, I—” She stopped abruptly. Rebecca and Eryn sat at the table, one of the large books open before them. “What’s going on?”

“Hi,” Eryn said brightly.

Rebecca looked at Kathleen over her reading glasses. “I’m showing Eryn some of her—and your—family line.”

“Why?” Even as she said it, Kathleen heard the challenging tone in her own voice.

Rebecca’s eyebrows raised. “She’s a Halloran. Same as you. She wanted to know more about the family.”

“It’s so amazing!” Eryn said. “I never knew so much about our family, all these generations, it’s so cool to see this!”

Kathleen stood there a moment, her cheeks burning. “Oh. Well. Here.” She tossed the envelope on the table. “You can add these to your study session.”

“You’re welcome to join us,” Rebecca said.

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”

“Kathleen—” Eryn began, but Kathleen turned on her heel and stomped through the front room and out the door.

Blossom’s high-pitched bark stopped her. She went back and yanked the door open for him. “Sorry. Let’s go home.”

“Focus.”

When Matty continued to stare at the window sash in front of him, Molly leaned over and gave him a poke with the handle of her paintbrush.

He jerked to look at her. “What?”

“Concentrate on what you’re doing.”

“Easy for you to say,” he grumbled, dipping his brush into his paint bucket. “Your wife’s not having a baby.”

“Yours isn’t, either, at this very minute.” Molly gentled her tone. “You know Mom would call right away if Brandi went into labor. You hovering isn’t helping.”

“Who said I’m hovering?”

“Mom,” Aidan volunteered from up above them where he was applying stain to the weathered shingles under the eaves.

From the corner of the house, Joey chimed in. “Brandi.”

Molly dipped her brush into her paint. “Dad.”

“Shut up.” But Matty grinned. “Guess I have been a little overprotective.”

Down below, Louisa shaded her eyes with her hand. “How’s it going up there?” Before Matty could ask, she added, “No, your mother hasn’t called.”

Molly glanced down at her. “What do you think?”

“Oh, it looks so wonderful.” Louisa clasped her hands and stepped back. “This poor old house was so sad. It looked like a ragged quilt, with the old gray shakes patched with new ones. Ollie and I couldn’t keep up. Never thought it would look like this.”

The four Coopers had insisted on doing all of the high ladder work, leaving Roy and Irene and Meredith, along with Art and Kenny, to tackle the ground floor. All the windows had been scraped to get rid of the old, flaking paint, and loose panes had been reglazed. Now all of the windows were receiving fresh coats of durable white paint to withstand the constant barrage of weather thrown at all of the island houses. The old, split or curled cedar shakes had been replaced, and the entire house sported a fresh stain, a cheerful blue-gray.

A few hours later, everyone gathered in the yard to inspect their work.

“That’s better,” Roy said with satisfied nod as the group circled the house.

“I can’t thank you all enough,” Louisa said.

“You don’t need to thank us,” Meredith said, wrapping an arm around her. “It’s our house, too. She just needed a facelift.”

Art rubbed his shoulder. “Forget the plastic surgeon. I might need an orthopedic surgeon.”

Kenny stood behind him to dig the heel of his hand into Art’s tight muscles. “Think of it as payback for all the food and drink we’ve consumed.”

“Sure there’s no such thing as payback when you’re family,” Louisa said.

Molly stood frowning at the house.

“What is it?” Irene asked.

“Uh,” Molly pointed. “I see a few places that need touching up.”

“She’ll be doing this for days,” Joey said with a scoff.

“You guys go ahead and clean up,” Molly said, repositioning a ladder. “I won’t be long.”

Everyone froze when the telephone shrilled from the kitchen. Matty sprinted inside. The others held their breath, trying to listen. Matty exploded through the screen door a moment later.

“It’s time!”

He raced toward the driveway and then skidded to a stop. “You’re okay without me?”

“Go!” Molly nudged Joey. “Go with him. I don’t trust him behind the wheel.”

Joey jogged to his SUV. Aidan stood looking after them while everyone else went inside to clean up.

“You okay?” Molly asked him.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” He helped her position a shorter ladder to get to one of the first-floor windows. “I’ll give you a hand.”

Knowing Aidan was as much a perfectionist as she was, Molly didn’t argue. It killed her to see missed spots or paint smudged on the windows. They each took one of the windows, touching up here and there.

“Another grandbaby,” Molly said. “Can you believe it?”

“Mmmm.”

“Mom’ll be in heaven.”

“Mmmm.”

Molly glanced in Aidan’s direction. “She’ll probably kick Matty and Brandi out and keep the baby and Benj.”

“Mmmm.”

“All right.” She shifted on the ladder to face him. “What’s up?”

“What?”

“Don’t even.”

Aidan focused on running his brush along the edge of the window frame, careful not to get any paint on the shingles. “Do you ever feel like we’re still kids, but playing grown-up?”

“Not sure what you mean.”

Aidan sighed. “When did Matty grow up enough to be a father? And he’s good at it. Benjamin’s a great kid. I still feel like I’m sixteen. How do you suddenly prepare yourself to be responsible for a whole new life?”

“Never really thought about it,” Molly admitted. “Maybe growing up is something that happens stage by stage. I’ll never be a parent. No desire whatsoever. So I guess I’m gonna skip that stage.”

She glanced over at him. “What about you?”

He didn’t reply.

“Aidan, you’re responsible for people’s lives every day on that ferry. I think you’ll be ready for whatever comes next.”

Chapter 32

A few gulls circled, mewing as they did, their sharp eyes on the lookout for any unsuspecting tourists to steal food from. Louisa chuckled as she placed her tote bags in the back seat of her Ford.

“Not this morning.”

Next to the market, the hotel’s screen door slapped shut, and Eryn Grant stepped outside. Louisa veered in that direction.

“Good morning,” she called as she climbed the stairs, her half-glasses bumping on her chest from where they hung on a beaded lanyard around her neck.

“Morning.” Eryn eyed her curiously.

“I’m Louisa Woodhouse.” Louisa thrust out her hand.

Eryn shook it. “Eryn—”

“Oh, we all know who you are.” Louisa kept hold of her hand. “I was good friends with your grandmother, Maisie.”

“Really?” Eryn’s face lit up. “I’d love to know more about her.”

“Would you be joining me for a cup of coffee and some tall tales?” Louisa led the way into the diner.

Wilma immediately waved and reached for a couple of mugs. “Good morning, Miss Louisa.” She set the steaming cups down on the gleaming tabletop. “Have you seen Jenny’s new granddaughter yet?”

“Little Bridget?” Louisa beamed. “No. I’ll go by in a day or two.”

“I see you met Eryn.”

“I have. Thought I’d tell her a bit about Maisie.”

“Breakfast?”

“I already had mine.” Louisa glanced toward Eryn. “Have you eaten?”

“The usual?” Eryn said.

“Be right up.” Wilma hurried off.

“So,” Louisa began, folding her hands, “I understand you didn’t know anything about Little Sister when you were growing up.”

Eryn shook her head. “My mom never told me anything about this place.”

Louisa nodded. “Moira was a hard one to read.”

Eryn paused her stirring of cream into her coffee. “You knew her?”

“Sure I taught here for ages and ages. I had your mother and Michael in school.”

Eryn leaned forward. “What was she like?”

Louisa studied Eryn’s face, so like Maisie’s—and Katie’s. “She was bright, inquisitive. A good student.”

“But—” Eryn paused as Wilma delivered her breakfast.

“Here, Miss Louisa.” Wilma set a piece of strawberry pie in front of her. “You eat this and keep her company.”

“Thank you, Wilma.” She took a bite of the pie, wiping a bit of whipped cream off her upper lip. “You were asking?”

“If my mother seemed happy here, what happened? Why did she leave and never come back? Why didn’t she ever tell me about this place?”

“I don’t know.” Louisa frowned as she thought back. “I remember, she was one of my older students—they often helped me with the little ones in our one-room school—when something happened. She went from being a happy, talkative girl to sullen and moody. I never could get her to tell me why.”

They both ate for a few minutes.

“It about killed Maisie when Moira packed up and left after graduating.”

“And she never knew why, either?”

Louisa shook her head. “No. And later, after Bryan died—you knew about that, didn’t you?”

Eryn nodded. “That was sad.”

“It was tragic, in so many ways. After that, Maisie lost the rest of her family. Michael refused to come back. Wouldn’t bring Katie to spend summers here anymore. Poor Maisie died never seeing her family again.”

Eryn, her breakfast temporarily forgotten, leaned her elbows on the table. “Rebecca showed me our family book, our line. Kathleen and I are the last, aren’t we?”

“I’m afraid so. Have you been able to spend much time with Katie?”

Eryn cleared her throat and busied herself with her breakfast again. “She, uh, I think she’s been busy.”

Louisa gave her a knowing look. “What happened?”

Eryn lifted one shoulder. “She came to the library when Rebecca and I were—I think, maybe, she doesn’t want me here.”

“Nonsense.” Louisa waved a hand. “Katie’s not like that.”

“She kind of threw an envelope of old pictures at me and walked out.” Eryn peered up at her. “I haven’t seen her since, and I don’t feel like I’m welcome to go over there.”

Louisa considered. “Katie’s had a hard time of things recently, with her mother. It wasn’t just Christine’s passing.” She hesitated. “There were years of hard feelings there that Katie had to come to terms with. I’ve a feeling she’s a bit unsettled to learn of you, that’s all.”

“You think?”

“I do.” Louisa patted her hand. “Tell you what. You come to my house for lunch tomorrow. I’ll ask Katie to come, too. We’ll sort this out.”

She gave Eryn directions. “If you miss it, anyone can tell you where the Woodhouse place is.” She scraped the last bite of pie off her plate when a thought occurred.

“Eryn, what’s your middle name?”

Eryn gave her a puzzled frown. “Séana. Why?”

Louisa smiled. “I don’t think your mother left Little Sister as completely as we thought.”

The air was heavy with humidity and the metallic scent of ozone coming through the screens. Outside, thunder rumbled as flashes of lightning forked through the sky. Rebecca, as all the islanders did with every storm, had readied her oil lamps as the storm approached.

The solar panels and wind turbines they’d installed would continue to provide electricity for a while, but the longer a storm system held, the more their batteries drained. The island’s electric generator was often overloaded during storms, and in the summer, the hotel still needed power for guests and the diner, and shops needed lights and fans. The more individual houses could lessen their energy needs, the better for all.

She pulled her lamp nearer and bent over the Keeper’s book. She hadn’t had it out since she and Kathleen had had to decide what artifacts to sell. Her eyes drifted from the page before her to picture Nadiya that day at the auction house. The shock of seeing her, the spark in Nadiya’s eyes, the hitch in Rebecca’s chest—all the things that had let her know the connection between them was real, still there after all those years.

Only a couple more weeks.

The time she’d spent with Nadiya, as sporadic as it had been, had planted a seed of thought. Just a kernel of an idea. Sooner or later, she’d have to see if it could be reality.

A gust of wind swept rain through the window. She jumped up to lower the sash and reached for a towel to blot the scattered drops from the table and the book.

She sat back down to read over the pages she’d flipped to, the pages that outlined the ancient ritual for naming the island’s next Keeper.

“Should have done this long ago,” she muttered.

But the timing had never felt right. All the months with Christine’s illness and death, the island’s first upcoming school year in ages, the sudden arrival of a lost Halloran.

“Excuses.”

She was running out of them now. She sat back, a frosty glass of tea in her hands, staring out at the rain as she recalled the look on Kathleen’s face when she’d walked in to see her with Eryn Grant.

“I’m sorry,” Eryn had mumbled after Kathleen had walked out. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t be silly,” Rebecca had reassured her.

Eryn’s curiosity was natural, and they hadn’t been doing anything wrong—so why do I feel I broke something with Kathleen?

She lowered her gaze again to the book, her finger tracing the lines of tiny writing. “What if the answer is no?”

“You sure you can’t join us?”

Kathleen looked hopefully to Molly, who was wolfing down her breakfast after a pre-dawn row.

“Can’t,” Molly mumbled around a mouthful of oatmeal. “Gotta get Duncan Strongwind’s porch roof replaced. They had a couple inches of water in their living room with that last storm. Told him last summer it needed to be replaced. Couldn’t keep patching it, but that guy is so tight-fisted. Wouldn’t put the money into it. Now, they’ll probably have to replace some of their flooring and wallboard, too.”

She gulped some coffee. “You’ll be fine. We liked Eryn. Didn’t we?”

Kathleen pushed her eggs around on her plate. “Yeah.”

Molly reached for her hand. “She’s not here to take your place.”

“What is she here for?” Kathleen heard it, the petulance. “Sorry. I’m being ridiculous.”

“Not ridiculous. Overprotective.” Molly grinned. “That’s my job, remember? I can still do a background check on her.”

Kathleen snorted. “And have the FBI come down on us because someone was spying on one their people?”

She shook her head at herself. “I’ll be fine.” She gave Molly a kiss and picked up her empty bowl. “Go. I’ll take care of the dishes.”

“Thanks. Tell me all about it tonight.” Molly paused on her way out. “Remember, going away dinner for Joey tomorrow night.”

She rushed off, leaving Kathleen to clean the kitchen before heading upstairs to work, which ended up being a waste of a morning. Try as she might, Kathleen kept worrying about what she could possibly say to Eryn to excuse her behavior at the library.

By the time she and Blossom headed out, she’d talked herself into apologizing. “It’ll be awkward, just the three of us,” she said to herself as she placed a dozen of yesterday’s cookies in a tin. “You’ll have to make it right somehow.”

When she got out of the car, she stood staring at the house for a few minutes before Meredith stepped outside with Jasper. The dogs had a brief romp in the yard before trotting into the trees to take turns peeing on everything.

“You coming in?”

“Yeah.” Kathleen chuckled. “I’m admiring the new look. You staying for lunch?”

The dogs raced them up the porch steps.

“Yup. Louisa asked Mom and me to join you guys.” Meredith turned to her as they walked toward the kitchen. “That’s all right, isn’t it?”

“Very all right.”

Meredith must have heard the relief in Kathleen’s voice, because she stopped mid-stride. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kathleen repeated. “I’m fine.” She held up her container. “Cookie?”

“Not before lunch,” Louisa called out. “You’ll ruin your appetite.”

“Dog ears,” Meredith whispered as they entered the kitchen.

Louisa, who was slicing tomatoes, turned around, hands on hips. “Did you just say I’m a hundred in dog years?”

Kathleen giggled. “Older.” She gave Louisa a hug. “So, what’s up with this lunch?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

But Kathleen wasn’t fooled by Louisa’s innocent tone. “Where’re the guys?” she asked instead, figuring she was more likely to get an answer to this query.

“Sent off to do man-things,” Louisa said. “So we can have a women-only luncheon.”

“Luncheon?” Meredith echoed, trying not very successfully to hide her grin. Kathleen rolled her eyes as a knock came from the porch.

“I’ll get it,” Meredith said. She returned in a moment with Eryn in tow. “I’ll go let Mom know everyone’s here. She’s been painting up a storm the last few days.”

“Hi, Eryn,” Kathleen said, forcing a smile.

Eryn, who’d been hanging back, smiled in return. “Kathleen.”

“Now,” Louisa said sternly, spying the bag in Eryn’s hand, “I told you not to bring anything.”

Eryn shrugged. “Feels like bad manners to show up empty-handed.” She hefted the bag. “This is some cheese and crackers, munchies.”

“Well, thank you.” Louisa pointed her knife. “Katie, will you get a plate down for Eryn to set things out? This isn’t going to be a fancy meal. Cold sandwiches. I’ve got tuna salad and egg salad, or you can have a tomato sandwich like I’m going to have.”

Irene and Meredith joined them, everyone milling around to help lay the sandwich fixings out and get drinks poured.

“Wow,” Eryn observed, eyeing Louisa, Irene, and Meredith. “Anyone could tell you guys are related.”

Her expression reflected her confusion when the others all laughed.

“We didn’t know we were related until last year,” Irene said, passing the bowl of tuna.

Meredith launched into the tale of how she and Irene had dreamed for years about a shipwreck, without knowing what it meant, and how they’d eventually figured out the connection to Little Sister Island.

“It wasn’t until we were here last summer,” Meredith said, “that we figured out how we’re connected to the Woodhouse family.”

“You’re kidding.” Eryn sat, forgetting to eat, as she listened.

“True story.” Irene tilted her head. “We hear you’re a long-lost cousin of Kathleen’s.”

“Yeah.” Eryn poked her slice of tomato back into her tuna sandwich. “I had no idea I even had cousins.” She cast an apologetic glance in Kathleen’s direction. “Sorry. Cousin.”

“Did you ever have any weird dreams growing up?” Meredith asked.

“No.” Eryn squinted as if trying to see her past. “Nothing like yours. For me, it was just a feeling sometimes…” She stopped, blushing furiously.

“What kind of feeling?” Irene asked.

“Well, it’s not the kind of thing you can talk about if you need a security clearance,” Eryn admitted.

“Nothing goes past this table,” Louisa commanded, looking around at each of them in turn.

“Agreed,” Kathleen and Meredith said simultaneously.

Kathleen’s curiosity was piqued more than she wanted to admit. She found herself leaning forward.

“There were times,” Eryn began, still looking embarrassed, “when I could have sworn someone was whispering my name. Random times, random places. Sometimes in my sleep. I actually knew the voice, can still hear it. I used to whip around, certain if I could look fast enough, I’d be able to see who it was. Never did.”

She stuffed her mouth with a bite of sandwich.

“That’s about as bizarre as our story,” Meredith said. She turned to Louisa. “Have you ever heard of anyone coming back to Little Sister with a story like this?”

“No,” Louisa said slowly, her eyes narrowed. “I never have. But I think it was meant for you to find us.” She glanced deliberately in Kathleen’s direction.

“Yes,” Kathleen blurted, taking the hint. “I think you were meant to be here.” She met Eryn’s gaze. “I’m glad you found us.”

“Really?” Eryn’s tone reflected her uncertainty.

Kathleen nodded. “Really.”

Anyone approaching the Cooper house would have heard a raucous roar of conversation and laughter. It seemed almost all of the island population stopped by for at least a drink, if not to share a dish and stay to eat.

Brandi and the baby were, naturally, a center of attention, with Matty standing proudly and protectively alongside. Meredith was one of the few allowed to hold the little one, her shock of black hair a contrast to startlingly blue eyes as she blinked up into Meredith’s face.

To Meredith’s embarrassment, she was suddenly and inexplicably choked up. “She’s beautiful,” she managed to mumble as she handed the baby back to Brandi.

She hurried over to one of the tables where a bucket filled with ice held a few wine bottles. She poured herself a large cup—one of the unbreakable picnic variety—and took a big gulp. Joey ambled over to pluck a beer from the cooler sitting beside the table.

“You okay?” he asked, staring hard at her.

“Yeah.” She forced a smile and sat on the picnic bench. “Just… how can everything be so happy and so sad at the same time?”

“Sad?” He popped the top of his beer and sat beside her.

“You and Art and Kenny leaving tomorrow. I know you’re off on a grand adventure, and I’m happy for you, but I’m going to miss you.”

Joey suddenly found his knees very interesting. “You’re probably the only one.”

“You know that’s not true.” Meredith leaned over to bump her arm against his.

He lifted a careless shoulder. “Feels that way.”

A small group of young kids ran by, all of them waving plastic wands that left a trail of bubbles in their wake.

Joey lifted his beer in Matty and Brandi’s direction. “Even this is more about them than me.”

Meredith was about to protest that he was wrong, but the knot of people continuously gathered around the little family silenced her.

Joey sat up. “Anything you want me to take to your friends?”

“My love.”

“Great,” he said gruffly. “I’m here to bring you Meredith’s love.”

She laughed and rubbed his back. “You be sure to say it just like that.”

He grinned and wandered off to get something to eat, leaving her to watch the people milling about the yard. Art and Kenny had apparently made friends with most of the islanders over the course of their extended stay this summer, judging from the way they were working the crowd. And over there, Kathleen and Eryn were talking with Rebecca and Jenny.

Meredith caught sight of her mom, talking to Siobhan, probably about supplying new paintings for the gift shop. It took her a moment to find her father, over on the far side of the yard, deep in conversation with Joe.

This was how they were lately. Not fighting or arguing, just not together. Unless they were all gathered at the table for a meal, Meredith couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen her parents hanging out together. Her dad hadn’t said anything more about a separation, but that conversation nagged at her.

A whiskery kiss on the side of her neck brought her out of her reverie.

“Deep thoughts?” Aidan asked as he took Joey’s seat beside her.

“Kind of.” She hadn’t shared her father’s conversation with anyone, not even Aidan. “Just watching everyone.”

His gaze drifted toward Matty and Brandi. “They look happy.”

Those damned tears were suddenly back. She jumped up and almost ran around to the front of the house, Aidan on her heels.

“What is it?” he asked, pulling her into his arms.

“I d-d-don’t know,” she sobbed into his shoulder.

He bent his head to lay his cheek against hers. “The baby?” he murmured.

She nodded.

“Me, too.” He stroked her hair. “But I’m terrified.”

She lifted her tear-streaked face to him. “Why?”

He tried to pull away, but she saw the tremble of his chin and grabbed his arm. “Why?” she repeated.

“I don’t know what kind of father I’d be. I’ve made so many mistakes.”

She laid her hand on his cheek. “You’ll be an amazing father. Your mistakes don’t define you, Aidan. You’ve used them to mold yourself into something else. You’re a completely different man.”

She drew him down to kiss her.

“I know I don’t have forever,” she whispered when they parted. “I’m already thirty-seven, but I’m getting ready to teach here for the first time.”

“I know.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “How about we time it so you’ll give birth during the summer.”

She snorted. “I don’t think it works like that.”

He gave her a lop-sided grin. “I was thinking that it would give us an excuse to put a lot of extra time in, trying, you know… after you get your school year off to a start.”

She couldn’t help smiling. “Oh, you were?”

He nodded. “Lots and lots of trying.”

Chapter 33

Though the island’s children were all still home for at least a few more weeks and the summer tourist season continued in high gear, Little Sister felt emptier. Not that Rebecca had ever spent a lot of time with Joey, but knowing her nephew was around, that Jenny’s family was all nearby, it had been something she’d taken for granted. When Matty had moved to Big Sister to be with Brandi, there’d been a small pang, but not like this.

It wasn’t only Joey. Irene Woodhouse’s brother and his husband, for the time they’d been here, they’d become part of the island community. It was certainly quieter without them. When the three had left a few days ago, there’d been tearful good-byes down the marina. Jenny in particular, hadn’t been able to stop her tears as she clung to Joey.

“We’ll get him set up with a cell phone as soon as we get to the mainland,” Kenny had promised. “So you can call anytime.”

It was kind of strange to think of a man Joey’s age needing to be tutored on things others took for granted, like cell phones.

“But I was the same,” Rebecca had recalled, “during that time I spent with Nadiya. There were things I’d never seen or done before, like using her cell phone to summon some stranger with a car instead of calling for a taxi when we wanted to go somewhere.”

To everybody’s surprise, Irene had gone with them. “I have a few things I need to take care of on the mainland,” she’d said vaguely, when even Roy and Meredith seemed shocked at her departure.

Rebecca tapped her finger absently on the side of her tea cup as she thought. A knock and call from the front of the cottage snapped her back to the present.

“Morning,” said Kathleen as she and Blossom entered the kitchen. “You said you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes.” Rebecca got up to pour another mug of hot water. “Have you spent any more time with Eryn?”

There it was—the slightest shadow over Kathleen’s features, and then it was gone.

“Some. Miss Louisa had us all over for lunch a few days ago, and then yesterday, I went with her to the cemetery, to show her our family’s markers.”

“That was nice of you.”

“Figured that was the least I owed her,” Kathleen wagged her head, “after that day at the library. Sorry I was so rude.”

“Understandable that you’d feel protective and possessive of your family and its history, after all these years thinking you were it.”

Rebecca leaned forward, planting her elbows on the table. “That’s kind of what I need to talk to you about.”

Kathleen choked mid-sip and had to cough before she could sputter, “What’s what you need to talk to me about?”

“Your role here.” Rebecca reached across the table for the Keeper’s book. “If you’re to be the next Keeper, we need to make it official.”

“What do you mean?” Kathleen frowned. “You’re still here. Why would I officially become the Keeper now? And what’s official about it anyhow?”

Rebecca got up and busied herself for a few minutes, cutting a couple of slices of banana bread she’d baked the day before. She sat back down and pushed the plate toward Kathleen. She stalled a bit longer by buttering her slice, but finally Kathleen slapped the table.

“Are you going to answer?”

“Nadiya is planning to return to the island after Labor Day,” Rebecca said at last.

“Okay,” Kathleen said slowly. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“I hope so.” Rebecca allowed herself a small smile, but then the smile faded. “Kathleen, I don’t—”

It was a moment before Rebecca trusted her voice. “I don’t want to live without her in my life. More than she is now. I don’t know for sure how she feels, but…” She forced herself to meet Kathleen’s eyes. “If she’s willing, I want to start spending more time with her. In Philadelphia.”

Kathleen’s mouth opened and closed as she considered the ramifications of this. “What exactly does that mean? You’d live there full-time? Basically retire as Keeper?”

“No,” Rebecca said quickly, recalling what Jenny had said. “More like joint custody, split between us. I can’t stand too much time in the city, but I was thinking I could probably tolerate a month at a time, then back here for a month. Through the winter when the ferry only comes monthly anyhow. And then we could see what the warmer weather schedule might be.”

She held her breath, waiting for Kathleen’s reaction. “You’re the only one I’ve spoken to of this. I haven’t talked to Nadiya yet, so this may all be for naught.”

Kathleen chewed slowly, still thinking. “Has the island ever had two Keepers before?”

“Not that I could find.” Rebecca laid a hand on the book. “And I think the Keepers would have recorded such a thing if it had happened. Usually, a new Keeper wasn’t brought on until the former was old and nearing end of life.”

“Are you…” Kathleen asked.

Rebecca burst out laughing. “No. I’m not dying. That’s why this is rather unusual.”

“Do we need to run this by the Council?”

“I suppose we should notify them, but this, I think, is for us to do.”

Kathleen sat back. “What, exactly, is for us to do?”

“There’s a ritual.”

“Of course there is.” Kathleen dropped her forehead to her hand. “And it involves blood.”

“Curiously enough, it does.” Rebecca couldn’t keep the amusement from her voice. She flipped through the pages to the back of the book. “This ritual is one only the Keepers know about. Part of it is to swear never to reveal it to anyone else.”

Kathleen raised her head. “You’re kidding.”

“Not kidding.”

“I can’t even tell Molly?”

Rebecca gave a firm shake of her head. “That was never an issue for me, obviously. But you can’t tell her. I suppose you’ll have to ask her to accept this as part of the position.”

She hesitated. “I’ve never told anyone this, either, but when I was seven, I had a dream. The most vivid dream I’ve ever had. In it, I saw myself doing this, going through this ritual. This is why I always knew I would become Keeper. I never felt I had a choice.”

Kathleen frowned. “Would you have chosen to be Keeper if it was a choice?”

“A year ago,” Rebecca said softly, “I would have said yes without hesitation. But now,” she gazed out the window for a second, “I don’t know.”

“What’s involved?”

“It’s a kind of vision quest.” Rebecca spun the book around to Kathleen. “It’s a little different for each of us. It’s done during a nighttime storm. The First Ones believed the island’s spirits were most active in the thunder and lightning, and it’s for the island to accept or reject us.”

Kathleen stared hard at her. “What do you mean, accept or reject?”

“Just that. The island gets to choose.”

“So, there’s a chance, I could go through all this, and the island could say no?”

“I don’t—” Rebecca paused at the look in Kathleen’s eyes. “Yes.”

A warm nighttime breeze ruffled the curtain. Molly turned over, her arm automatically reaching out to touch Kathleen, but when it kept moving without encountering her, she woke completely. She propped up on her elbow, listening for sounds from the bathroom. When all remained quiet and Kathleen hadn’t returned to bed, she got up. Blossom’s bed was empty, too.

She padded out to the hall and checked the office and bathroom. Both empty. Downstairs, she found Kathleen sitting on the front porch, Blossom stretched out next to her. Molly sat on her other side.

“What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Something bothering you?” Molly wrapped an arm around Kathleen’s waist. “You were really quiet tonight.”

Kathleen shrugged. “Guess I’m still taking in the whole ‘other family’ thing.”

“Thought that might be it.” Molly studied Kathleen’s profile, which always looked a bit different when she wasn’t wearing her glasses. “Eryn leaves today, doesn’t she?”

Kathleen nodded.

“You going to see her off?”

“Yeah.” Kathleen sighed. “It’s the least I can do after I was such a jerk. None of this is her fault.”

“You going to invite her back?”

“Probably. Maybe.” Kathleen sighed again. “Yeah.”

They sat for a while, listening to the night sounds—the rustle of critters in the woods, the hoot of an owl. Overhead, the stars blanketed the sky. Kathleen leaned her head against Molly’s shoulder.

“Have you ever wondered if the island wants you here?”

“Why would the island not want us here?” Molly asked.

Kathleen shrugged. “I guess I keep thinking, what if Eryn had found Little Sister before I came back? Would I have had a place here? Do I really belong here? More than she does.”

Molly craned her neck to look at Kathleen. “I think, for the most part, things play out the way they’re meant to. You’re part of Little Sister. You were here as a kid. You had more of a connection to the island than she did. So maybe that’s why you were led to come back first.”

Kathleen picked her head up. “You think?”

Molly kissed her gently. “I do. Now come back to bed.”

When they woke, Molly prepped her gear for an early row, and Kathleen dressed to go join Eryn for a last breakfast.

“She’s not come down yet,” Wilma said by way of greeting when she brought a mug of coffee to the table. “Should be soon.”

Kathleen sipped her coffee, recalling her first breakfast here, after a stormy return to Little Sister. The kindness of Wilma and the other islanders who’d welcomed her back, commiserating over Maisie’s passing, they’d helped her feel at home. Eryn hadn’t gotten to experience that, and Kathleen felt guilty all over again.

So when Eryn entered the diner, Kathleen smiled and gestured to the seat opposite her as an invitation.

“Didn’t expect to see you,” Eryn said.

“I wanted to see you off.” They paused while Wilma delivered coffee for Eryn and took their orders. “And I wanted to exchange contact info so we can stay in touch.”

She pushed an index card across the table with her phone number, mailing address, and email address.

Eryn glanced at it and looked up at her hopefully. “Really? You want to stay in touch?”

“Yeah.” Kathleen grinned sheepishly. “I’m sorry about my attitude. I guess I was like a kid who found out I have to share my toys. You have every bit as much a right to be part of Little Sister as I do.”

Eryn’s eyes teared up. “Thanks. I mean it. This place…” She glanced out the window at the main street, a few of the shops now open. “It gets under your skin. Even before you come here. Then, when you do, it’s like you know it’s the place you’ve been missing. When you didn’t even know you were missing something.”

Because Kathleen did know, she merely nodded. She handed a blank card and pencil to Eryn, who quickly jotted her own contact info and handed them back.

“Tell me about your friends in DC,” Kathleen suggested as Wilma brought their breakfasts.

Eryn chatted animatedly about the folks she worked with, her elderly landlady—“I’m pretty sure she snoops around my third-floor apartment when I’m not there, but the rent is unbelievably cheap, so it’s worth the nuisance.”—the bird lady on Eryn’s morning bike rides who always feeds the birds in the park.

“I love history, but I’ve only done a few of the monuments and stuff,” she said. “Have you ever been?”

“Not since my eighth grade field trip. Stayed in Philly mostly.”

“You and Molly should come down sometime, let me show you around.” Eryn’s smile faltered. “That is… if, you know, you want to hang out or anything.”

“That would be nice.” Kathleen found she actually meant it. “Every now and then, even we feel the need to get away from the island. Visiting you would give us a kick in the butt to do it. And maybe you could meet us in Philadelphia, too. I could take you around. If my dad still has his house, it’s huge with plenty of room for all of us.”

“That’s an easy drive for me.”

“And,” Kathleen faltered but forced herself to continue, “the next time you can come up this way, you’ll stay with us.”

Louisa’s heart pounded, though she tried to hide her anxiety. She’d told Ollie that she’d be fine if Irene and Roy returned to the mainland, that she’d still have Meredith and Aidan, but when Irene requested a family meeting, Louisa realized it wasn’t true.

I’ve only just found my girl, only now have her back in my life after all these years. It isn’t right or fair to have her taken away again.

She wanted to scream her frustration and anger, but years of discipline, of hiding her deepest feelings kept her face carefully neutral as she did what she always did when she was troubled—she baked.

“It smells heavenly in here.” Meredith followed her nose into the kitchen, sniffing like Jasper when he scented a rabbit. “Orange cranberry bread?”

“Yes.” Louisa bent over the loaves in the oven, poking them with a skewer to test their doneness. A few more minutes. Her family loved this bread. My family. As soon as the thought hit, she felt her composure crumbling. Meredith must have noticed.

“Are you all right?”

Louisa gave a jerky nod. “Of course.”

But Meredith’s narrowed eyes plainly said she didn’t believe it. “I’m nervous, too.”

“You are?” Louisa risked a glance at her.

“Yeah.” Meredith leaned into the dining room to make sure no one was around. “The morning we dug potatoes, when Dad got mad at Mom for fussing over him, he told me they might separate.”

Her voice hitched on the last word.

“Oh, Meredith.” Louisa clasped her hands over her chest to even her own breathing.

“I don’t know what they’ve decided,” Meredith continued, “but I have a feeling when Mom went to the mainland with my uncles, she was looking for a place to live.”

“And you think that’s why she called this meeting?”

“Why else?” Meredith ground the heels of her hands into her eyes. “I’ve lived apart from them for years. This should be no big deal, right? So why does it feel like a big deal?”

“Because it’s not happening under happy circumstances,” Louisa said heavily.

“Wish we could get it over with,” Meredith grumbled. “But I want Aidan to be here for whatever this is, so it’ll have to wait until tonight.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m going to go for a walk. Want to come?”

“You go ahead, dear. When these are done, I’m going to putter in the garden for a bit.”

With the last of the loaves baked and cooling a few minutes later, Louisa plopped her battered straw hat on her head and took a basket out to the garden. There, she weeded and picked—beans and tomatoes. She cut some lettuce and tugged a few carrots and radishes and onions from the earth.

As she carried the basket toward the house, Irene sauntered up the drive, her bag containing her art supplies slung over one shoulder.

“Let me help you with that.” She insisted on carrying the loaded basket into the kitchen. She set her bag on one of the chairs. “I’ll help you clean these.”

Louisa watched her worriedly, noting the dark circles under her eyes. “You haven’t been sleeping well, have you?”

Irene kept her eyes focused on the carrots as she scrubbed them. “I wake up about thirty times a night, listening for Roy’s breathing, waiting for the time I’m not going to hear it.”

Her chin tremored, but she pursed her lips tightly.

Louisa recognized the effort to stem tears. She stood beside Irene at the sink and cleaned the lettuce. “I would probably do the same.”

“That man drives me to distraction, with his spreadsheets and charts and insisting we can be more efficient,” Irene burst out. She grabbed a peeler. “But I don’t know what I would do without him.”

“I know what you mean.” Louisa got a large bowl from a cupboard and began to shred the lettuce into it. “Ollie and I drove each other crazy at times.”

She was certain she heard a “harumph” and had to hide her smile.

“I thought this house was lonely after Daddy passed, but Ollie and I still had each other. When she died so suddenly, so unexpectedly, it left me feeling like a hollowed-out shell.”

Louisa turned to her daughter. “Irene.”

Irene paused her scraping of the carrots but didn’t look up.

“You and Roy need to do what’s right for the two of you.”

Still, Irene keep her eyes lowered, frowning as she whispered, “Even if it means leaving here?”

Though she’d prepared herself for it, Louisa still felt a pang to hear the words spoken aloud. “Yes. Even if it means that.”

Irene raised her face at last, her eyes filled with tears. “I love it here. And I love—” She paused. “I should have said it before now. I love you.”

Louisa couldn’t hold back her own tears. “I love you, too.” She pulled Irene into her arms. “I’ve always loved you.”

Late that night, Meredith lay nestled securely in Aidan’s arms, trying to quiet her own tears.

“It’s not so bad,” he said soothingly.

“I know.” Meredith sniffed. “At least they’re going together. Dad surprised me with that.”

“He surprised all of us.” Aidan kissed her forehead. “And it makes sense, really. They’ll spend this winter on the mainland, where he can get to a hospital right away if he needs to. If he’s still doing this well in the spring, they’ll move back here. It’s just a few months.”

Meredith nodded into his neck. “Just a few months.”

Chapter 34

Labor Day always felt like a big holiday on Little Sister. It marked the end of the high tourist season. The ferry schedule changed to weekly. And for the last several years, it marked the exodus of most of the island’s school-aged children.

There were still tearful good-byes and lots of hugs as the kids who were returning to the mainland for school boarded the ferry, but plenty of kids remained on the dock this year, waving and shouting to their friends.

Most of the islanders came by to see this ferry off. It had become something of a Little Sister ritual. Rebecca watched in bemusement as Meredith stood with the kids on the dock. When the ferry chugged away a last blast of its horn, she reminded all of them that their own school year would begin at eight-thirty sharp the next morning.

The youngsters chatted animatedly as they trailed back up the hill to where most of them had left bicycles.

“Nice to see them so enthusiastic,” Rebecca commented.

Meredith grinned. “I know. I’m going to swing by the library. Make sure everything is set for tomorrow.”

“I don’t know how much more ‘set’ you can make it,” Rebecca observed.

“I know, but I think I’m more nervous and excited than the kids. I won’t sleep tonight.”

“I’ll be by later.”

Rebecca walked home, more nervous herself than she cared to admit. When the ferry returned late that afternoon, Nadiya would be on it. She busied herself stripping the sheets and washing them so they’d have a fresh bed to make love in tonight. She prepared several cold dishes—egg salad, bean and cucumber salad, hummus, sliced ham—things that would be an easy supper. If they got around to eating.

She found herself smiling and humming as she dusted and straightened, whiling away the time. She went by the library for a few hours, but Meredith had left by then. Outside, a rose bush bloomed against the library wall. She cut one of the fragrant blossoms and placed it in a glass of water on Meredith’s desk with a little note, wishing her luck on her first day.

Back at her cottage, she tried to settle and read, but found herself staring out the window time and again. At last, she gave up and made another round of the house, straightening unnecessarily. When she heard the ferry horn, she froze, torn between waiting calmly for Nadiya to appear, or tearing out the front door to throw her arms around her. In the end, she compromised. Half-walking, half-trotting into the village, she stopped abruptly when she spotted Nadiya’s elegant stride as she climbed the hill from the marina. She stood, mesmerized by the sight—the sway of Nadiya’s hips, the way her light blouse hugged the curves of her breasts in the breeze, the sheen of her silver curls, shorn more closely than the last time Rebecca had seen her. The shorter hair only served to highlight her cheekbones.

Giving up on any pretense of patience, Rebecca ran the distance that still separated them into Nadiya’s waiting arms. Ignoring the curious stares of the other passengers disembarking from the ferry, she raised her face for a kiss, which Nadiya gladly provided.

“Goddess, I’ve missed you so much,” she said when they parted.

Over Nadiya’s shoulder, she caught sight of Aidan and Fred, openly watching and grinning from ear to ear. She took Nadiya’s suitcase in one hand, her other slipping under Nadiya’s elbow to guide her away from prying eyes.

“Come on.”

They quickly crossed the main street and made their way to the quiet of Rebecca’s cottage. As soon as they’d crossed the threshold, Rebecca dropped the suitcase and reached for Nadiya again.

For long moments, she was lost in the warmth and softness of Nadiya’s lips, the feel of Nadiya’s hands on her body, her own running over the luscious curve of Nadiya’s hips.

“You do realize,” Nadiya managed to murmur when she’d moved to kissing along Rebecca’s jaw and nibbling on her ear, “forty years ago, we’d already be naked and on the floor.”

Rebecca snorted. “Forty years ago, we could get up from the floor. I have stuff ready for dinner, if you’re hungry.”

Nadiya pulled away so she could look into Rebecca’s eyes. “Oh, I’m hungry, but food can wait. Let’s get to your bed.”

Kathleen stood at the porch railing, watching the sky to the west. Flashes of lightning speared from cloud to water, and from cloud to cloud, illuminating the sky like a flickering lightbulb behind a thick curtain.

I’ll have to be out in one of these soon, if I’m to be Keeper. She realized how tightly her jaw was clenched and tried to relax. Is it even worth it? Do I want to be Keeper this badly?

She wasn’t sure anymore.

Molly stepped outside. “Storm’ll be here soon.”

Kathleen nodded. “You can already smell it.” She glanced down at Blossom. “You’d better go do whatever you need to.”

He seemed to understand and trotted down the steps and into the trees. Molly wrapped an arm around Kathleen’s waist.

“You okay?”

“What?” Kathleen turned to her. “Oh, yes. I’m fine.”

“You seem very far away lately.”

“Do I?”

“Are you still worried about Eryn?”

Kathleen shrugged without replying, longing to blurt her secret. The last time she’d kept one from Molly—when Miss Louisa swore her to silence about her pregnancy—it hadn’t gone over well.

“If your job here,” she began haltingly, “as sheriff, required you to keep something confidential, from your parents, from me, would you do it?”

“Now there’s a question.” Molly took Kathleen by the shoulders and turned her so they were facing each other.

“Would you?”

Molly frowned as she thought. “I suppose, if it was something I was sworn to do as part of my duties, I’d have to.”

“Even if I knew there was something you weren’t telling me? Even if I got angry about it?”

“What—”

“Just answer.”

Molly stared hard at her for a moment and then said, “I suppose I’d explain why I couldn’t tell you and ask you to trust me.”

“Okay.” Kathleen swallowed hard. “There’s something I may have to do, as Keeper-to-be, that I can’t tell you or anyone else about.”

Molly’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“But you’d be okay with my not telling you.”

“I trust you, so I’d have to be, wouldn’t I?”

Kathleen flung her arms around Molly, needing the comfort of her arms. “I’m afraid,” she whispered.

“Of what?”

Kathleen hesitated, ashamed to say aloud what she was feeling. “My mother rejected me. So did my dad, for a long time. Now…” She could barely say the words. “What if the island rejects me?”

Molly’s arms tightened. “Nothing can tear you from this island. Nothing. You’re from her. Part of her. Part of me. You always will be.”

“I so want to believe that.”

The first fat raindrops began to fall as the wind picked up.

Molly kissed her hard. She pulled away and held Kathleen’s face in her hands. “Believe it.”

Within the first week, Meredith learned that her knees had limits to how long they were willing to stay in a squatting position as she moved from table to table, explaining how to work out long division or how to diagram a sentence. Someone dug up a couple of old rolling stools that, after Molly cleaned and greased the wheels, allowed her and Louisa to glide from table to table.

The children—“I can’t keep calling them that,” she said to Louisa after their first day teaching together. “The teenagers don’t like being called children.”—were mostly enthusiastic about being in school onisland. Of course, a few thought that gave them permission to skive off returning to the classroom after lunch in favor of going fishing.

“I did the same thing,” Aidan recalled with a fond smile until he saw the look on Louisa’s face. He quickly cleared his throat. “But we shouldn’t have done that.”

Keeping up with all the different grade levels was challenging, but one thing all the kids had in common was that they liked being read to. When the teenagers scoffed and rolled their eyes, she’d given them permission to spend the time like a study hall, getting their practice assignments done—“I promised them no homework if they get it done here”—but she often glanced up to find them listening, especially on the days Louisa read, doing all the voices.

The first couple of days, she’d tried to leave Jasper home, but “he whined and paced non-stop,” Irene told her. So she brought one of his extra-large beds to the classroom, and, very quickly, a couple of the first-graders began snuggling up with him during reading time.

“I love this!” she told Jan during a lengthy phone conversation. “I can’t believe how much more fun I’m having teaching.”

“Lucky you. No administrators to deal with,” Jan lamented before going off on a long rant about the new assistant principal.

When the cross-country trip was over, Meredith had pressed her uncles for details. They had assured her Joey wasn’t gay—“the man’s idea of formal wear is to button the collar of his flannel shirt,” Kenny joked—but Meredith had been waiting for a report from Jan.

After listening to Jan go on about school for a while, Meredith eventually managed to steer the conversation to the topic she was most curious about. “How was your time with Joey?”

“It was… interesting.”

“That sounds… interesting.”

Jan laughed. “Honestly, I’m not sure he’s ever had sex with a woman. I gave every signal I could that I was willing, but—”

“That dog didn’t hunt,” Meredith finished for her.

“Didn’t even sniff around.” Jan sighed. “Is he gay?”

“Not according to my uncles.”

“I must be losing my touch.”

“Or he’s really old-fashioned,” Meredith said. “People here take mating very seriously.”

“You make it sound like a wildlife documentary. Do I have to be in heat before he’ll be interested?”

Meredith laughed. “Stop being so literal. It’s not like they remain virgins until ‘the one’ comes along, but from what I’ve observed, they don’t tend to jump into relationships casually. It’s kind of sweet. A nice change from most of what’s out there. The fact that Joey wanted to drive across the country to see you was practically a declaration of love.”

“Love!” Jan made a gagging sound. “I’m not looking for love. I just wanted a good romp in bed.”

“You don’t fool me,” Meredith said in a more serious tone. “I know how lonely you’ve been sometimes.”

The silence from the other end of the line was answer enough.

“Why don’t you think about a trip to Florida at the semester break?” Meredith suggested. “Spend more time together, getting to know each other. Get to be friends. See what grows from that.”

“You think?”

Meredith smiled at the hopeful note in Jan’s voice. “Yeah, I think. I found my one and only in the Cooper family, Jan. Maybe you will, too.”

As for her time outside the classroom, Meredith spent every moment she could with her mom and dad. Irene had brought back photos of a couple of furnished houses normally rented through the tourist season. The landlords were eager for long-term winter tenants and had started a bit of a reverse bidding war to entice a responsible, older couple.

“We have our choice of two very nice houses,” Irene had said, casting an anxious glance at Roy’s face. “Look at the views.”

Roy, in typical Roy fashion, had merely nodded.

“Don’t read anything into that,” Meredith cautioned her mother. “You know him. He needs time to think about things. Let it be.”

She continued going for early morning walks with her father. “You’ll keep this up on the mainland, won’t you?”

He grinned, but it looked forced to her. “I’ll try. We’ll see about the weather.”

The weekend after Labor Day, Meredith accompanied Irene on a sketching excursion around Little Sister.

“I want enough sketches to keep me busy all winter,” Irene said.

Standing on an outcropping near the wind turbines, where Big Sister was a bluish smudge on the ocean horizon, Irene reached for Meredith’s hand.

“I’ll miss this so much. We, both of us, spent so many years dreaming about this island, and now, to leave it…”

Meredith squeezed her mother’s hand. “It’ll only be a few months. And you’re right. It makes sense to be close to medical facilities this winter. If Dad is still doing this well next year, it’ll be a different story.”

Irene turned to her. “You think?”

Meredith nodded. “I think.”

A cloud of oily smoke belched into Molly’s face. She screwed her eyes shut just in time, but it took a few coughs to clear her lungs. Grumbling under her breath, she watched the burner to make sure it was firing evenly. Satisfied that the oil was flowing freely, she turned the furnace off and spent a few minutes checking all the connections in the oil line to make sure there were no drips. She packed her tools into her bucket and hauled it up the cellar steps.

“Got ’er working?”

“Neil,” Molly said, wiping her oily hands on a rag. “You’d be better off paying for regular cleaning. How many times have I asked you to call me out before the furnace stops working completely?”

“Why would I pay you to come out when it’s working?” he demanded, hooking his thumbs under his suspenders.

“Because it would be cheaper. Now, you haven’t run it all summer, and the gunk that had built up in the line took me three times as long to clean out.” She shook her head, knowing it was a losing argument, but dammit. She reached for a pad. “Gonna cost you.”

She wrote up an invoice and held it out. Neil’s bushy gray eyebrows knit together, his thumbs still firmly planted behind those suspenders. Molly wiggled the paper. With an aggrieved sigh, Neil snatched it from her.

“I’ll drop it by your dad’s, down the marina.”

“See you do. Or I won’t be back.”

They both knew it was an empty threat, and she knew he’d pay eventually. It was part of the game they played. She hauled her tools to the Toyota and got in.

“Great,” she said, catching her reflection in the rearview mirror. The lighter scrunch lines around her eyes stood out amid the black residue covering her face. A quick swipe with a rag smeared it, but didn’t remove it.

She drove a short distance to the Cooper house where Jenny was hanging a load of wet sheets on the line.

“Hey, Mom.”

Jenny did a double-take and began to laugh. “Let me guess. Neil O’Malley?”

Molly rolled her eyes. “He’s so tight. He never wants to pay for preventive maintenance, but it’s always an emergency when his furnace dies. At least this time, he checked it before the first snow.”

She pointed to her face. “I’ve a couple of other jobs. Can I wash up here?”

“Sure.” Jenny led the way up the steps to the kitchen. “I’m going to help Siobhan with inventory this afternoon, but I don’t have to leave right away. How about a snack before you go? I have key lime pie.”

“Sounds good.” Molly paused to listen to the quiet house. “Where’s everybody?”

“Brandi’s mother has been dying for some baby time, so they went to Big Sister for a couple of days. Matty had a boat to return anyhow. He’ll bring another back to work on.”

Molly eyed her mother as she flipped the kitchen faucet on. “How’s it going, with all of them living here?”

“I have to admit, it’s a bit more of an adjustment than I expected,” Jenny admitted. “I love having them, but the baby fussing at two a.m.—I’d forgotten what those nighttime feedings and diaper changes are like.”

Molly, leaning over the sink with her face lathered, got a mouthful of soap as she opened her mouth to comment. “Wait,” she sputtered. She scrubbed the oil smudge from her face and patted it dry with a clean hand towel.

She inspected her fingernails and squirted some more soap into her hands. “Think it’ll last?”

“I think so. I know Brandi’s used to having her own nest, even if it was over the restaurant, so I’m sure it’s as big an adjustment for her as it is for your dad and me.”

“Heard from Joey?”

“He called last night.” Jenny chuckled. “Think he might be a little homesick, but he’d never admit it.”

She set two slices of pie on the table. “By the way, I want to have Rebecca and Nadiya over for dinner. Are you and Kathleen available tomorrow?”

“I think so.” Deciding her nails were clean enough for now, Molly dried her hands and sat down. “So why dinner?”

“No reason. But it seems Nadiya might become a more permanent part of Rebecca’s life, and I thought it would be nice for us to have a closer connection to her.”

Molly paused with her fork half-way to her mouth. “Permanent?”

“My guess.” The corner of Jenny’s mouth lifted. “Not sure Rebecca would admit it, but Nadiya’s back for these two weeks. I have a feeling—”

“What?” Molly interrupted. “That she’ll move here? Is she going to try and move in with Rebecca?”

“I doubt it.”

“Cause Rebecca’s always enjoyed living alone.”

Jenny took her time chewing. “I don’t know if that was by choice.”

“Of course it was by choice. Rebecca’s devoted to the island.” Molly stabbed her fork into her pie. “What do we really know about this woman? I know,” she held up a hand, “Rebecca had a thing for her when they were in college, but that was a long time ago. What do we know about her now?”

“When did you become such a curmudgeon?”

Molly’s head snapped up. “Curmudgeon?”

“Yes.” Jenny gave a definitive nod. “You are a curmudgeon. You remind me of my sister sometimes.”

Molly rolled the word around in her head for a minute, and a slow smile spread across her face. “I think I can embrace my inner curmudgeon.”

Jenny quirked one eyebrow. “Who said anything about inner?”

Chapter 35

Louisa lay in bed, enjoying the cool breeze coming in through the screen. The forecast was for a run of hot, muggy days so this last bit of cool before the heat was welcome. She groaned as she sat up. Her back ached, as did her hands and elbows and shoulders and knees. She snorted.

“Best stop taking inventory,” she mumbled to herself. “Going to run out of body parts. Still lots to do.”

Most of the garden produce was put up for the winter, but there was still a bunch waiting to be picked and canned.

“It won’t pick itself.”

She stood and changed her nightgown for Olivia’s dungarees and a light cotton shirt. Standing in front of her mirror, she brushed out her silver hair and twisted it into a bun.

“At least you have help with it this year, Lou.”

She smiled. “You’re right, there, Ollie.”

“I wasn’t so sure about them, that they had what it takes to live here, but this place has never looked better.”

“Daddy would be proud, wouldn’t he?”

“Sure and you should be, too.”

Louisa felt that pride buoy her as she descended the stairs. She debated having breakfast first, but decided getting out in the cool outweighed food for now. She could always eat later. On the back porch, she reached for a stack of bushel baskets and her hat. She rounded the corner of the house and stopped mid-stride.

There, already at work in the garden, Irene and Meredith were bent over rows while Roy and Aidan turned over more of the potatoes with pitchforks.

“When did you all get out here?” she asked.

Aidan grinned. “Before the sun was up. You’re getting lazy, sleeping in till six.”

“I can’t stay long,” Meredith said apologetically, shuffling a basket already half-full of carrots. “But I can help some before I shower for school.”

“I’ve got a couple of hours before I have to load the ferry,” Aidan said.

“And we want to help get as much done as we can while we’re here.” Irene straightened to mop her forehead.

Her aches and pains forgotten, Louisa joined them, plucking what were probably the last pods of peas.

Meredith left not long after to clean up and get ready to teach. Aidan hauled the heavier baskets of potatoes to the cellar, with Roy carrying smaller baskets of carrots and onions.

“That’s almost all of it,” Louisa said, surveying the garden. “We’ll get a few more tomatoes and some more beans. Except for the squashes and pumpkins, most everything else is ready to be tilled back into the soil. I can’t thank you enough.”

“You don’t need to thank us,” Irene said, hoisting her own basket of green beans.

They carried the baskets into the kitchen and made a quick breakfast. Aidan was still munching on a piece of toast as he said good-bye and drove off.

Irene and Roy worked with Louisa to blanch the beans and peas before bagging them for the freezer.

“Oh,” Louisa said tiredly when the last of the bags was tucked away, “thank you so much.” She dropped into a kitchen chair.

“Too bad we won’t be here to taste it this winter,” Roy said pointedly.

Irene stood, strangling a dish towel in her hands. “I was remembering how special Yule was, all of us gathered at the stone circle for the solstice.” She cast a nervous glance in Roy’s direction. “I know we’ve agreed to rent a house for six months, but I was thinking, we could maybe spend one of those months back here, so we could all be together for the holidays.”

Roy stared at her for a moment, then took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Irene, you were the one who insisted we couldn’t be here in the winter, with the ferry schedule the way it is.”

“I know, I know.” Irene’s knuckles were white as she twisted the towel. “I was so scared after the hospital and everything—”

Louisa stood. “I should leave you two alone.”

“No,” Irene blurted. “You’re part of this. And I know, I was the one who insisted, but…” Her eyes filled with tears. “I just found you, Louisa, and this island, which feels so much like home. And,” she turned to Roy, “and then I almost lost you, and I don’t know what I’d do—”

She pressed the towel to her face, and her shoulders shook with her sobs. Roy went to her and held her while Louisa stole out of the kitchen.

“So I guess they’re a couple now?”

Molly’s head whipped around as she drove. “Who?”

Kathleen, balancing a towel-wrapped crock of baked beans on her lap, rolled her eyes. “Blossom and Minnow. Who do you think? Rebecca and Nadiya.”

Molly pulled over to make room for a group of tourists on bikes, offering them a wave as she passed.

“You think?”

“Well, Nadiya’s back here now, and—” Kathleen stopped abruptly, trying to remember if Rebecca had sworn her to secrecy about her tentative plans.

“And what?” Molly narrowed her eyes knowingly. “What did my aunt tell you that she’s not told the rest of us?”

“Um,” Kathleen stammered, “she might be thinking about her and Nadiya going back and forth to spend time together.”

Molly pulled into the Cooper drive and turned the Toyota off, staring out the windshield. “Really.”

Blossom whined from the back seat, and Molly got out to open the door for him. Kathleen slid out of the SUV and used her hip to close her door.

“Keep that to yourself, please,” Kathleen said. “Until Rebecca’s ready to tell everyone.”

Blossom made the rounds of the yard, peeing on all the important places, and then bounded up the porch steps. When Molly opened the screen door, he immediately began searching for the cat and found her sunning herself on the couch.

“You leave Minnow alone,” Kathleen warned.

His butt wagged, but his eyes never left the feline.

Kathleen and Molly went through to the kitchen, where Jenny was mixing a salad dressing and Nadiya was skewering kabobs with chicken and veggies.

“Those look delicious,” Kathleen said, setting the crock down. “This is still warm. Figured you wouldn’t want to have your oven on, it’s so hot.”

“Thanks,” Jenny said gratefully. “Even with the fans on, it’s pretty miserable. Sorry to have you over when we’re having a heat wave, Nadiya.”

“This is nothing to the muggy summer weather in Philly,” Nadiya said.

Kathleen noted that she wasn’t even glistening, while Jenny’s cheeks were flushed, and she felt sweat trickling down her own back. Nadiya skewered the last of the kabobs.

“These ready for the grill?” Molly asked.

“Thanks, Mo.” Jenny swiped her forearm across her forehead. “And there’s a plate of burgers in the fridge.”

“I’ll get those,” Kathleen volunteered. She retrieved the hamburgers and followed Molly into the back yard where Rebecca was deep in conversation with Joe.

“Perfect timing,” Joe said, placing the kabobs on one side of the grill and the burgers on the other.

“Want a drink?” Kathleen asked Molly.

“That’d be great, thanks.”

Kathleen strolled back to the house. “Anyone need something cold?” she asked as she opened the fridge.

“I’ll get something in a minute,” Jenny said.

Nadiya held up a frosty glass. “Long Island iced tea. I’m set.”

“Oh, that sounds good.” Kathleen found the pitcher and poured two glasses. She wagged her head toward the door. “Come on outside. There’s a bit of a breeze blowing.”

She took one glass to Molly and then joined Nadiya at the picnic table. “How long are you here for?”

“Another week. I think this island is growing on me.”

“Yeah?” Kathleen tried to keep her tone casual as she asked, “Think you could live here full-time?”

“Maybe once I retire, but I need to be in-person at least some of the time for my work. I can research things online, but seeing them, holding them, obviously that has to be done there.”

Nadiya turned to her, her dark eyes probing. “You’re training to be the next, what is it? Keeper?”

“Yes.”

“So… if there were any more of those rare items like the ones Rebecca brought to auction, you’d be in charge of that?”

Kathleen cursed as she felt the telltale flush creep up her neck into her cheeks. “I don’t know that there are any more.”

“Mmm hmm.” Nadiya’s tone indicated very clearly her skepticism.

They watched Rebecca chatting with Molly and Joe. Whatever it was Joe said, gesticulating wildly with his beer, Rebecca burst into laughter. She turned and caught them watching. With a self-conscious shake of the head, she turned back to Joe.

“It’s funny,” Kathleen mused.

“What is?”

“Rebecca, laughing like that.” She eyed Nadiya over the rim of her glass. “She seems so much freer now. She always struck me as being like a glacier.”

A secretive smile curled Nadiya’s lips. “More like a dormant volcano.”

Kathleen choked as her drink went down the wrong way. Her eyes were watering as Nadiya chuckled. Molly noticed and sauntered over to them.

“You okay?”

Kathleen nodded, wiping her eyes. “Nadiya just compared your aunt to a dormant volcano.”

Molly screwed her eyes shut. “I did not need to hear that.”

Nadiya winked as she stood. “Someday, your niece and nephew are going to think of you the same way.”

Her throaty laugh trailed behind her as she went to join Rebecca.

Molly watched her aunt wrap an arm around Nadiya’s waist. “Volcano, huh?”

Kathleen sniggered. “Who knew?”

“Good morning.” Nadiya kissed the top of Rebecca’s head on her way to the stove to pour herself a mug of steaming water. “Why do we still drink hot tea on hot summer mornings?”

Rebecca dabbed some moisture from her upper lip and forehead with a napkin. “Habit.”

Nadiya dropped a slice of bread into the toaster and joined Rebecca at the table to leaf through the teabags in the small basket.

“Hmmm, I think English breakfast tea this morning.”

“I could run to the diner for coffee.”

“No need.” Nadiya dropped the bag into her mug. “I’m getting used to tea.”

Rebecca waited until the toast had popped and Nadiya had slathered it with orange marmalade. “What were you saying to Kathleen and Molly last evening?”

Nadiya took her time chewing and swallowing before she said, “We were talking about you.”

Rebecca sat up. “Me?”

“Mmmm. I think your niece was surprised to learn how enthusiastic you are in bed.”

Rebecca set her cup down on its saucer with a clatter. “You didn’t.”

“Not in any detail,” Nadiya said breezily. “I compared you to a dormant volcano.”

Rebecca closed her eyes. “Goddess. Can’t wait for the next time I see them.”

Nadiya chortled. “It’ll do them some good to see this side of you.”

Rebecca opened her eyes and glared at Nadiya. “I’ve crafted a very careful image on this island.”

“Yes, you are ‘a glacier’, as Kathleen put it.” Nadiya shook her head. “I couldn’t very well leave them with such a wrong impression, now, could I?”

She reached for Rebecca’s hand and kissed her knuckles. Even that slight brush of lips against skin sent Rebecca’s body tingling. She smiled, though she was mortified at the thought of seeing them again.

“Anything else?” Rebecca asked. “It looked as if you were talking to Kathleen for a while.”

“Aren’t you suspicious.” Nadiya gave a wag of her head. “You and I haven’t talked for a while about the extraordinary things you brought to sell.”

Rebecca’s fingers twitched reflexively. Nadiya noticed, her gaze dropping to their hands.

“I want you to know,” Nadiya said slowly, “that in the time I’ve spent here, I’ve realized this island may have secrets of its own. Secrets I know you have to protect.”

She squeezed Rebecca’s hand. “I hope you know you can trust me.”

“It’s not a matter of trusting you,” Rebecca said earnestly. “There are things I am entrusted with that I can’t even share with other islanders.”

Nadiya’s smooth brow creased. “How do they feel at being shut out of things?”

Rebecca tried not to feel the prick of those words personally, despite the sharpness of Nadiya’s tone. “Trust again. They trust that those in charge of these things will always do the right thing and take care of the island above all else.”

She emphasized those last two words.

Nadiya searched her eyes, and Rebecca saw the caution in them.

“Above personal happiness?” Nadiya asked.

“I have thought that,” Rebecca replied carefully. “I know, when we graduated, you never understood why I had to come back here—”

“I do now,” Nadiya cut in. “At least, more than I did.”

“I’ve also evolved in my thinking on the matter.” Rebecca tugged her hand away, needing a little distance if she was to do this. “I’ve been making arrangements, planning—” She stood abruptly. “Do you need more tea?”

“Becca.” Nadiya caught her by the hand and made her sit again. “Talk to me.”

Rebecca heaved a deep sigh. “All my life, as far as I can tell, the island has only ever had one Keeper. The next is trained to be ready to take over when the previous one passes. But,” she paused, “I’ve been training Kathleen, and I think she’s nearly ready, so that I…”

Why is it so hard to breathe?

“So that I could leave. Here. To be with you. Not for good,” she added quickly. “But for maybe a month at a time. And you could come here for a few weeks or a month. We could share this, go back and forth. I know it’s not the same as living together full-time, but we each have our lives we can’t just abandon and—”

The crush of Nadiya’s lips on hers stilled any further babbling. The kiss went from hard to soft, asking for more, which Rebecca gave. Her lips parted, and she leaned forward to meet it more fully.

Nadiya pulled away and caressed Rebecca’s cheek. “I think it’s the perfect solution. For both of us.”

“You do?”

Nadiya nodded and kissed her again. “I do.”

“Keep your eyes closed.”

“They’re closed.” Kathleen shook her head. “You do know all you have to do if you want to blind me is take my glasses away. Where are we going?”

“You’ll see in a minute. Don’t open them.”

Molly drove into the village, pausing for a tourist family who were casually strolling across the street. There weren’t many now, as they had to stay at least a week with the ferry schedule. When they passed, she drove on to the marina.

“I’ll come and get you. Keep them closed.”

She came around to the passenger side and opened both doors. Blossom jumped out, while Molly took Kathleen by the hand, tucking it under her elbow.

“I’ll guide you.”

She led the way to the dock and finally said, “Okay.”

Kathleen opened her eyes and looked around for a second before her gaze lit on the boat bobbing in the water. “Oh, Molly. You’ve finished her!”

“I have.” Molly’s chest was near to bursting with pride at the sight of the Runabout, her brightwork gleaming, a mirror finish in her varnish, her red leather seats inviting passengers. “Let’s take her out.”

“Now?”

“We’re both done working for the day.” Molly pointed to the craft. “I’ve already got jackets and blankets packed in case it gets chilly.” She saw the doubt on Kathleen’s face. She knew that old fear would probably never go away completely. Some scars ran too deep.

“I’ve got emergency equipment, too. Life jackets, flares, radio.”

“Sorry,” Kathleen said sheepishly. “Silly of me.”

“Not silly at all.” Molly put one foot in the boat to steady it and held out a hand. “Let’s take her out.”

Blossom hopped in, his tail wagging. Kathleen took Molly’s hand and stepped down, settling herself on the passenger seat.

“Listen.” Molly turned the key, and the engine purred. She untied the line and slid the throttle forward, easing away from the dock.

Once they were clear of the marina’s no-wake zone, she opened the throttle, and the sleek boat shot forward, slicing through the water.

Molly laughed. She couldn’t help it. This boat was the kind she’d only dreamed she could ever own, resigning herself to the fact that she’d restore them for others, but that was as close as she’d get. This gift from Kathleen and the islanders had been the most wonderful surprise.

“Took me more than a year,” she said over the whistle of the wind and the roar of the engine. “But it was worth it.”

Kathleen relaxed into her seat and grinned back at her. “It’s beautiful!”

Blossom sat with his head over the port rail, ears flapping in the wind.

Molly headed south, passing a few fishing trawlers with a wave. Soon, they were alone in open water, not another boat in sight. She eased back on the throttle, and the boat slowed, bobbing on the gentle swells.

“Molly, you did a wonderful job.” Kathleen ran her hands over the smooth leather on either side of her thighs. “I can’t believe this is the same wreck we bought for you. I was so disappointed we couldn’t get you something nicer to start with.”

“Makes it more special,” Molly said, caressing the glossy steering wheel. “Practically rebuilt her from the keel up.”

She turned the engine off and let the boat drift as she went to the stern. “Packed us an early dinner. Well, bought us an early dinner from the diner. Nothing fancy. Sandwiches, things we can eat without utensils.” She uncovered a cooler and pulled out containers, plates, drinks.

“Don’t worry,” she said to Blossom, who had stuck his head into the cooler to sniff everything. “I didn’t forget you.” She produced another container and removed the lid. “Here you go.”

He happily crunched his kibble.

“I can’t believe you went to all this trouble,” Kathleen said.

“Her maiden voyage deserved a celebration.” Molly popped the cork on a bottle of hard cider.

“Aren’t we supposed to break that across her bow or something?” Kathleen asked.

“Don’t even think about it.” Molly poured a couple of glasses, handed one to Kathleen, and raised hers. “Thank you again for arranging this. Dad told me you were the one who spearheaded the whole thing.”

She patted the bench seat near the stern, and Kathleen sat beside her. For several minutes, they ate without talking, or at least Molly ate. She glanced over and saw that Kathleen had barely touched her tuna sub—something she normally wolfed down.

“What is it?” Molly set her own crab cake sandwich down. “Is the motion of the boat too much? Do you want—”

“I don’t know why you’re so good to me,” Kathleen whispered.

“What are you talking about?”

“I know I’ve been a bear to live with for months.” Kathleen closed her eyes. “My mom, and then Eryn, and now—”

“Your secret pact with my aunt,” Molly finished for her. “Whatever that’s about.” She shook her head. “I’m not asking, but I can tell it’s been weighing on you.”

She reached for Kathleen’s hand. “I know you’ve been dealing with a lot of stuff.”

Kathleen frowned down at their hands, tracing the outline of Molly’s nail with a fingertip. “We haven’t made love in months.”

“Four, to be precise,” Molly offered. “But I think all relationships go through ebbs and flows like this.”

“It’s not fair to you, for me to be so distracted, so preoccupied with all these other things.”

“Hey,” Molly placed a finger under Kathleen’s chin, made her look up. “This is what love is. It’s standing by through hard times, being there, no matter what.”

“I love you so much.”

Molly leaned forward and kissed Kathleen, tenderly, gently. They broke apart at the sound of wax paper crinkling to find Blossom finishing off the last of the crab cake sandwich.

“You thief!” Molly glared at him. “You could at least look ashamed.”

His tongue darted out to lick the last of the tartar sauce from his muzzle.

“I don’t think shame is in his vocabulary.” Kathleen was clearly trying not to laugh. “Here, have half my sandwich.”

They split the tuna sub and then started back to Little Sister, sharing a container of double-fudge brownies. In the marina, Molly eased the sleek boat up to the dock while Kathleen jumped out to tie the bow line to a cleat.

“Hey,” she said, “I forgot to ask. What did you name her?” She walked to the stern and burst out laughing. “That is so you.”

“Isn’t it?” Molly grinned and came to stand beside her, watching Curmudgeon bob alongside the dock.

Chapter 36

I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

Unlike her classes in Oregon, where the students bolted out of the classroom almost before the bell, these kids seemed reluctant to go, dawdling and taking their time. She actually had to shoo little Isaiah Mulcahy out.

“You take that book home and read it to your mom and dad tonight.”

“Can I?” He grinned up at her, his two front teeth now partially grown in.

“Hey, Alexis,” she called to a scrawny ten-year-old girl, “can you walk Isaiah home?”

“Sure, Miss Meredith.” She took Isaiah by the hand.

Meredith waved them off and locked the library up behind her before setting out for the hotel. In between the morning ferry departures and the afternoon arrivals was Wilma’s window to get rooms cleaned and prepped. With the kids back in school, she had less help than during the summer, but there were fewer visitors to the island this time of year, so it usually worked out.

She found Wilma upstairs, making up a bed. “Let me help you.”

“Oh, land sakes, you don’t have to do that,” Wilma protested, but Meredith had already tugged the opposite corner of the fitted sheet over the mattress.

“I don’t mind,” Meredith said. “I wanted to talk to you anyhow.”

“What about?”

“How did you and Nels meet?”

Wilma straightened. “Sure there’s a question.”

Meredith pulled a flat sheet from the laundry basket and flapped it over the bed. Wilma caught the other side.

“He came here with his family when he was in high school,” Wilma began. “They’re from the Hudson valley and were aiming for Big Sister, but the hotels there had filled, so they came here as second choice.”

Wilma’s eyes focused on the past as they tucked in the corners of the sheet at the foot of the bed. “I was working here with my parents, of course. And my sisters. Nels found excuses to hang out here at the hotel instead of exploring the island with his family, and we started talking.”

They stuffed the pillows into fresh pillowcases.

“That was the start. They came back every summer after that until Nels had graduated. He asked me to marry him that summer and never left Little Sister again.”

Meredith sighed. “That’s so romantic.”

Wilma gave her a misty smile. “I suppose ’tis.”

“What happened with your sisters?”

“Oh, they all moved away. Had enough of the hotel and diner business growing up. They visit most years.”

Wilma pulled the bedspread up, and Meredith helped to smooth it.

“What about,” Meredith began, “I mean, are you and Nels bonded? Or just married?”

“We did both.” Wilma ran a dust rag over the bedside tables and dresser. “We married back home for him, so his family could be there, but then we bonded here a year later.”

“Is there a rule, for offlanders bonding to islanders? Like, how long you have to wait? Things like that?”

Wilma planted her fists on her hips. “You and Aidan are already bonded. What’s with these questions?”

“I was thinking about my parents.” Meredith twisted her fingers together. “I’d like my father to feel he really belongs to Little Sister, but with my mother and myself not having grown up here, I didn’t know what the rules are.”

“Does he not feel he belongs?” Wilma asked as she bent to pick up her cleaning bucket.

Meredith lifted the laundry basket and accompanied her to the next room. “He feels almost as much at home here as Mom and I do, I think. But I want him to belong for himself, not only as her husband. I think it would mean a lot to him.”

“Hmmm.” Wilma narrowed her eyes as she thought. “My mother was Keeper back when Nels and I bonded. Miranda and Tim are bonded. He took the Shannahan name.”

“But you and Miranda grew up here, as part of an island family. I wouldn’t want to even bring it up, if it can’t be done.”

“You talk to Rebecca.” Wilma patted her arm. “Irene has done a Passing and had her tar abháile. And your dad is little Charlotte’s athair inis. Your parents should be able to bond.”

Meredith bent to pull another sheet out of the basket, just as the ferry horn sounded.

“You leave that with me,” Wilma said, taking the sheet from her. “Go kiss that handsome man of yours.”

“Thanks, Wilma.” Meredith flew down the stairs but skidded to a stop at the lobby desk. She went to the large calendar atop the desk and quickly counted days. Laying a hand on her stomach, she took a deep breath. “Too soon to tell.”

Crickets chirped, and the gulls flew to wherever they were bedding down for the night as the last rays of the sun shot through the clouds on the horizon. Rebecca, her hair still damp from her shower, joined Nadiya on the porch, where a tablet lay face down on her lap.

“I wouldn’t have believed that I could be so content doing nothing,” Nadiya mused.

“You don’t miss all the night life? Theaters, museums?”

“I guess I would if it was forever,” Nadiya replied. She closed her eyes. “But I see so much more, hear so much more than I can in the city.”

Rebecca’s heart sang at the words. She’d been sure Nadiya would quickly grow bored on Little Sister.

“When you come to see me this fall,” Nadiya said, “my mother wants us to visit. I promised we would.”

Rebecca’s breath hitched in her chest. Plans. We’re making plans for the future.

Nadiya reached for her hand. “Is that all right?”

“Of course.” Rebecca intertwined their fingers. “I’d love to see your mother. It’s been a long time.”

Nadiya chuckled. “She hasn’t changed. Still tells me off every chance she gets for taking this job in Philly instead of something closer to her in Jersey.”

“You’re only a couple of hours away.”

“When she says ‘closer to me’, she means I’m supposed to live with her if I’m not married.”

Rebecca turned to her. “Does she know? That you’re a lesbian?”

Nadiya tilted her head. “Know is such a nebulous term. Does she suspect? Absolutely. Have we actually talked about it? No.”

“Did she ever meet your… your other…” Rebecca wasn’t sure what to call Nadiya’s exes. I don’t know what to call us, she realized.

“Oh, sure,” Nadiya waved a dismissive hand. “My ‘friends’, as she called them.” She turned to gaze into Rebecca’s eyes. “But I want it to be different this time, Becca. I want this to be forever.”

That word stunned Rebecca so that, for a moment, she couldn’t think of what to say.

When Rebecca didn’t reply immediately, Nadiya frowned. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. Maybe you don’t feel that way.”

“I do,” Rebecca blurted. “I’ve loved you for more than forty years, Nadiya.” She raised Nadiya’s hand to her lips. “I’ll love you forever, and I’d like nothing more than to be with you the rest of my life. I just don’t know…” She paused. “What does that look like? Where will it be?”

“For now, it’ll look like this.” Nadiya pulled Rebecca to her feet and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Us travelling back and forth, but one day,” she reached up to run her hand through Rebecca’s hair, “I can see us living here full-time.”

She pressed her lips to Rebecca’s, her tongue flicking, teasing. Rebecca’s body exploded with desire, as it always did.

Nadiya pulled away and whispered, “I’m going to shower. I want our last night to be one you’ll remember for a while.”

They went inside, and while Nadiya showered, Rebecca slipped a pebble into the packed suitcase, under some clothes where Nadiya wouldn’t find it until she unpacked. The woman didn’t wear slacks with pockets.

“That’s what a purse is for,” Nadiya kept insisting. “Besides, these hips are big enough without stuffing things into pockets.”

“I love your hips,” Rebecca insisted in turn.

Shivering in anticipation of the night to come, Rebecca lit a couple of candles and undressed.

Louisa stood on a small stepladder, stretching to an upper shelf for a jar of strawberry preserves. She transferred it to a box she’d balanced on top of the ladder that already contained a few other jars she’d selected.

“I think some tomatoes, too. Roy likes his spaghetti sauce.”

She leaned a bit to where the gleaming jars of tomatoes were lined up.

“You should move the stool, Lou. You’re going to fall.”

“No, I won’t, Ollie.” Louisa grunted. Her fingertips brushed a jar. “Just about—”

She felt it go, the teetering of the ladder from four feet to only the two on the right. It wobbled a couple of times and then went over. She watched her hands grab at shelves as she fell, her slight weight not enough to snap the boards, but enough to dislodge the one that held the jars of peaches. She landed on her side, jammed into the corner. The ladder and box fell on top of her, followed by a dozen heavy glass jars, landing on her like bowling balls. A few shattered, soaking her in peach syrup, slippery slices of peach covering her.

For several seconds, she lay, not unconscious, but dazed. Slowly, she became aware enough to try and assess herself. She was able to move her left arm and wiggle both feet, but her right arm was trapped under her. She tried to shift the ladder off her, but it wouldn’t budge. Lifting her head, she saw that one of the ladder’s feet was now trapped under the lowest shelf. She could lift it up a few inches, but couldn’t get out from under it.

She tried bracing her free hand on the floor to push herself up to sitting, but the slippery peach slices and syrup gave her no grip.

“Oh, for goodness sake.” Panting, she collapsed back to the floor. “Don’t even say it, Ollie.”

She listened, but there was no answer. She closed her eyes and tried to think. It was only mid-morning, she thought, unless she really had been knocked out for longer than she knew. Meredith was teaching, and Irene was out sketching, not due back until the afternoon. Roy had said something about Patrick and the pub. Even the dog was gone, down the library with Meredith.

She tried again to push the ladder off her, and was able to shift it sideways, but only a couple of inches. That at least allowed her to roll a bit onto her back, enough to free her arm, but it ached something awful.

Furious tears filled her eyes as she realized what a ridiculous predicament she’d landed herself in. The fury gave way to fear, and she had to take a few deep breaths to keep panic from setting in.

“You’re fine,” she whispered. “Someone will be along soon. You’re fine.”

Tears fell, mixing with the tomatoes and peaches on the floor, as Meredith picked shards of glass from the corners of the pantry. One jar of tomatoes, intact, had rolled under the bottom shelf.

She reached for it, but her sticky fingers came away with a string of beads dangling from them—Louisa’s eyeglass keeper. It must have snapped in the fall. The reading glasses it held must be here somewhere. She swiped at her eyes and runny nose with her sleeve.

Behind her, she heard heavy footsteps running through the house.

“Meredith!” Aidan’s white face appeared in the doorway. “Dad told me Miss Louisa was hurt. What happened?”

She sat up. “Don’t you have to unload the ferry?”

He stepped into the pantry, his shoes audibly sticking to the floor, and took her hand to help her to her feet.

“Dad and Fred are taking care of the ferry.”

She went to the sink to wash her hands, having to step over the ladder, still lying where she’d tossed it to get to Louisa. She rinsed her face, too, pressing a towel to her eyes to stem her tears.

“I think,” she began as she lowered the towel, “she was trying to pack up a box of preserves to send with Mom and Dad.”

She flapped the towel in the direction of the ladder. “She must have lost her balance and tipped over. But the ladder got jammed, and she was trapped under it. Not sure how long.”

Aidan led her to the table and made her sit. “Is she hurt?”

“I don’t know. Lena’s upstairs with her now. I got the ladder off her. She could talk and move, but she’d fallen on her right side. Not sure if her shoulder is broken or not. I was afraid to move her by myself, so I called Lena. Together, we got her up. She was able to walk up the stairs with help.”

Aidan glanced up at the ceiling. “Where are Irene and Roy? Do they know?”

She nodded wearily. “They’re up there now. Mom was sketching, and I’m not sure where Dad was. In town somewhere.”

“So she was here alone when she fell?”

“Yeah.”

Aidan shoved his hands through his hair. “Damn.” He got to his feet and went again to the pantry door, surveying the mess. He turned to her. “You were teaching?”

Wordlessly, she nodded again.

“How did you know something had happened?”

She gazed up at him. If anyone will believe me, he will. “Miss Olivia told me.”

He stood staring at her. “Come again?”

Meredith lifted one shoulder. “She talks to me sometimes. She does with Louisa, too. I was in the middle of a history lesson with the fifth-graders, when she told me Louisa was hurt and I needed to get home.”

Aidan dropped back into his chair. “Wow.”

She gave a mirthless snort of laughter. “I tell you a ghost has been talking to me, and all you can say is ‘wow’?”

He grinned. “Welcome to Little Sister.”

Voices and footsteps on the stairs alerted them that the others were coming. Aidan and Meredith went to meet them.

“How is she?” Aidan asked.

“Resting,” Lena said, a large tote bag of medical supplies in her hand. She gestured toward the dining table. “Let’s talk.”

Meredith noted her mother’s drawn face.

“I really think she’s okay,” Lena said. “I cleaned up a couple of cuts on her face where jars hit her, but there doesn’t seem to be anything serious. Her arm is pretty sore, but she can move it. I think she’s more embarrassed by what happened than anything. And I think it frightened her to be trapped where she couldn’t get up.”

“We should get her to the mainland for x-rays,” Irene said. “We need to make sure nothing’s broken.”

“We could do that,” Lena said slowly. “Or we could keep a close eye on her for a day or two. Get her to a hospital if anything looks amiss.”

“She won’t want to go to the hospital,” Meredith said firmly.

“This isn’t about what she wants,” Irene snapped. “She could have lain there for hours before we got home and found her. If we were anywhere else, we’d be looking at an assisted living facility.”

Roy took his glasses off to clean them on the hem of his shirt—always a sign to Meredith that he had something serious to say. “This is her home, this house and this island. She’s not going anywhere.”

Irene opened her mouth to argue, but one glance at his face silenced her.

Roy slid his glasses onto his face. “I know you’re speaking from worry, Irene.”

Meredith heard the unspoken, “Like you do with me.”

“But,” he continued, “that is not a solution.”

“She could have a concussion!” Irene’s nostrils flared. “Or a broken shoulder.”

“I’m fairly certain there’s no concussion,” Lena said. “Neurologically, she looks fine. She remembers everything.”

“What about her shoulder?” Irene demanded. “What if it’s broken?”

“It could be,” Lena admitted.

“If it is broken,” Aidan said, speaking for the first time, “what would they do for it?”

“Put her in a sling,” Lena said.

“No surgery?” Irene asked.

Lena shook her head. “Highly unlikely, unless the fracture is displaced, which this isn’t. At most, the bone is cracked just below the ball of the socket.” She glanced around the table. “We can keep her in a sling for a few weeks. Let her gradually begin moving it.”

Irene deflated, her shoulders sagging.

“There are other things you could do,” Lena suggested. “You can make sure someone is home with her at all times.”

But as soon as she said it, a heavy silence settled over the table.

Meredith caught the furtive glances her mom and dad shared. “That wouldn’t have to be every day, since she’s with me two days a week. But once you leave to spend the winter in Portland, that’ll leave only me and Aidan to be with her. I can’t when I’m teaching, and Aidan will have days away from Little Sister with the ferry runs.”

“Others would probably be willing to pitch in,” Lena offered. “I could spend some days here. Jenny Cooper, Mo or Kathleen. Others, too. I know you’d have help.”

“You realize Miss Louisa won’t go along with any of this,” Aidan said.

Meredith’s hand drifted down, cradling her stomach, and she wondered if she should say something. She felt Lena’s gaze boring into her. Almost against her will, she raised her eyes to find Lena staring at her pointedly. Meredith dropped her hand and broke eye contact.

“Right,” Lena said decisively. “Miss Louisa is resting, and I think there’s a pantry needs cleaning up.”

“You don’t have to—” Irene began, but Lena stood.

“More hands to it, the quicker we’ll be done,” she said.

As the others went into the kitchen, Lena caught Meredith’s arm. “We’ll talk later.”

Dark clouds blotted out the sun so that midday was as dark as dusk. Rebecca stepped outside to gaze skyward. To the west, storm clouds piled together, looking as if they’d be low enough to touch by the time they got to Little Sister. She closed her eyes for a moment and then went inside to pick up the telephone. She dialed and waited.

“Kathleen? It’s time.”

Chapter 37

Kathleen tried to sit but jumped up almost immediately to see if Rebecca was there yet.

“I don’t like this at all,” Molly said.

“Can’t say I’m thrilled about it,” Kathleen admitted, trying and failing miserably to sound nonchalant.

“You don’t know what this involves?”

Kathleen shook her head.

“Or where you’ll be?”

Kathleen shook her head again.

When Rebecca’s car pulled up, Molly stomped out the door ahead of Kathleen, ready to demand answers. Rebecca got out of the car, her hand already up.

“I know you’re worried,” she said before Molly could say a word.

“Damn right I’m worried,” Molly spat. “I get it’s some kind of secret ritual, but how long will she be? Why in the middle of a storm? It’s almost here.”

A crack of thunder punctuated her statement, and a sudden gust of wind made the trees groan.

Rebecca gave Molly a tight smile. “She’ll be as long as she’ll be. There is no schedule for this. And it has to be a storm because that’s when the sky and the sea and the island came together to welcome us to her shores.”

She turned to Kathleen. “Ready? Oh, and you should leave the rain jacket here. You won’t be needing it.”

“Of course not.” Kathleen stripped the jacket off and held it out to Molly, who pulled her into a tight embrace. She dropped to her knees to hug Blossom. “You have to stay here this time.”

Molly bent to take his collar. Kathleen got into the car, but she heard Blossom howling as Rebecca backed around to drive away from the cottage. Raindrops began to spatter the windshield, lightly for now. She drove slowly along the ring road until they got to the cemetery. She pulled over and parked.

“Here?” Kathleen asked.

“The circle.”

With a feeling of dread that had nothing to do with the storm, Kathleen got out of the car. Rebecca reached into the back seat for a bag—and a rain jacket. She even had the gall to smirk as she shrugged into it.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“Doubt it,” Kathleen mumbled. She walked alongside Rebecca through the maze of grave markers, past the chapel, to the stone circle. She had to squint as the raindrops hit her face with more force and the wind began to gust harder. They ducked under the stone lintel to stand within the circle—still open to the elements—and stood against one of the stone walls where they were sheltered somewhat from the blowing rain.

Rebecca bent and opened her bag. She pulled out a familiar dark bottle and a pipe, along with a tin.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Kathleen said. “You want me high for this?”

As if she’d been anticipating that reaction, Rebecca merely smiled and filled the pipe. “It helps to open us to what the island wishes to show us. You already know this. You saw your grandmother and your brother your first Samhain back here.”

She held out the bottle. For several seconds, Kathleen refused to take it. Rebecca looked at her from under her hood while Kathleen’s wet hair sent rivulets of water coursing down her neck, inside the collar of her shirt.

“You don’t have to do this.” Rebecca tucked the pipe inside her jacket to keep it dry.

Kathleen had a sudden glimpse of herself, doing her work, living out her life here with Molly and Blossom. Leading a normal life while someone else became the next Keeper. But she knew, if she passed up this opportunity, then something she needed, something she craved, would be missing.

Again, Rebecca seemed to read the struggle taking place inside Kathleen’s head. “The island knows us. Trust her. Trust yourself.”

She held the bottle up once more. This time, Kathleen took it and pulled out the cork to take a big swig of poitín. The alcohol burned its way down her throat, and she was certain, as Rebecca hunched over to light the pipe, that if she breathed on the lighter’s flame, she’d be like a dragon, breathing fire.

With the pipe lit, Rebecca handed it over. Kathleen took one puff and inhaled, coughing all of the smoke out immediately.

“Take a few more,” Rebecca said.

Kathleen did, finding each one a bit easier. She handed the pipe back, already feeling a little woozy.

“What now?”

Rebecca knocked the glowing embers out of the pipe and put everything back in her bag. “You undress and wait.”

“What?” Kathleen gaped at her.

“Nothing between you and the island. Even your glasses. Take everything off and wait. She will show you what she wishes you to see.”

Kathleen bit her lip. “What happened when you did this?”

“I can’t tell you that.” Rebecca stepped close and laid a warm hand on Kathleen’s arm. “Whatever happens this night is for you and you alone. Never to be shared with anyone. Not Molly. Not me. Not the next Keeper.”

She bent to pick up the bag. “Trust her.”

With those words, she left the circle. Left Kathleen standing in the rain. Overhead, the flashes of lightning were coming faster, the cracks of thunder loud enough to feel in her gut. She untied her sneakers and toed them off. Slowly, she peeled her wet clothes off, first her shorts, then her shirt. The rain pelted her bare skin as she stood in the gathering darkness. Feeling ridiculous for her modesty, she tugged off her underwear and bra. Lastly, she folded her glasses, leaving them on top of the pile of clothes.

“Now what?” She squinted around, as blinded by the rain hitting her face as she was by the lack of her glasses.

Minutes passed with nothing but more rain, more lightning, more thunder. Kathleen’s hair was completely plastered against her head. She pushed it off her face, blinking to clear her eyes, feeling more and more foolish.

The ground beneath her bare feet seemed to move. Or was she swaying? It was hard to tell. Between the lack of visibility and the pot and the poitín, she felt completely disoriented. She began to pace around the interior of the circle.

“I’m here!” she shouted to nobody. “Are we gonna do this or what?”

A brilliant flash of lightning forked through the sky, looking as if it was going to strike the stones. The crack of thunder followed almost simultaneously. Kathleen ducked and covered her head—like that’s going to keep me from being struck, she thought, but the reaction was instinctive.

She straightened, glaring at the sky. “Is this the test? To see I’m brave enough to be electrocuted?”

She flipped her middle finger at the storm and resumed her pacing, feeling more idiotic by the minute.

She lost count of how many laps she’d made around the circle when she saw a point of light from the corner of her eye. As soon as she whipped her head around it was gone. She swiped at her eyes, using her hand to shield them from the rain, as she squinted around. She gasped when it appeared again. A brief flash of bluish light that winked out after a second or two. She stepped toward the place it had been and saw another, a few paces beyond.

The flashes led her out of the stone circle, but she hesitated. The last time she’d stumbled around the island without her glasses, it hadn’t gone well.

Trust her, Rebecca had said.

With a resigned sigh, Kathleen followed the lights.

Louisa stood on the porch, far enough in to be shielded from most of the rain that was blowing sideways with every gust. Behind her, the screen door opened, and Aidan stepped outside.

“Should you be up?” he asked.

She gave him an irritated frown. “Tired of lying in bed.”

“How’s your shoulder?”

She adjusted the sling Lena had borrowed from one of the islanders whose child had broken an arm a couple of summers ago. “Be better if I didn’t have to wear this thing.”

He reached out and straightened a twist in the strap. “But you do. At least for a little while. Or Irene’ll have you off for an x-ray sooner than you can spell McGillicuddy.”

She chuckled at his use of her old schoolmarm taunt, but she was still irritated. Irritated at herself for being so foolish as to fall. Irritated at everyone’s hovering. Irritated at the continued pain, mostly from the shoulder. Irritated in general.

Overhead, a loud crack of thunder followed a brilliant slash of lightning.

“Glad we’re not out in this,” he said.

She nodded absently. “Someone is.”

“What do you mean?” He grasped her good arm. “Someone’s at sea in this?”

“No, not at sea.” She shook her head. “Not sure, but the island is restless tonight. Something’s happening.”

“Do we need to raise an alarm?” he asked. “Send help?”

Just then, the others came outside and overheard this last.

“Send help for whom?” Roy demanded.

“We don’t know,” Louisa said. “But I don’t think whoever it is needs physical help. Not in that way.”

“What is it?” Irene asked, rubbing her arms. “I feel… I don’t know, as if I can’t settle to anything.”

“Me, either,” Meredith echoed. She stepped closer to the railing to gaze out at the storm.

“This makes no sense,” Roy said. He turned to Aidan. “What if this is like last summer, when you guys were out in that storm. Shouldn’t we call someone?”

“No.” Aidan wrapped an arm around Meredith’s shoulders. “When the women feel this, it’s real. I’ve learned not to second-guess it.”

Louisa cocked her head as if listening for something. “What we need to do is send every bit of positive energy and support we can muster out there for whoever it is that needs it tonight.”

Roy wasn’t convinced. “We should do something. Call someone. Molly. Wilma.”

“Believe me, Roy,” Aidan said, eyeing the three women. “Every woman on this island is feeling this same thing. I’m telling you, the best thing we can do is trust it. Trust them. Do as Miss Louisa says.”

Raindrops stung like needles, blown by a relentless wind that buffeted Kathleen. Only it didn’t blow from one direction. Instead, it swirled, pushing her this way and that as she tried to follow the faint trail of lights that continued to lead her wherever she was supposed to go.

She’d completely lost any sense of direction. As well as she knew this island by now, she couldn’t tell where she was. Her bare feet, soft from never going without shoes, were raw. She was pretty sure they were bleeding, too.

Always blood with these things. At least I won’t have to cut myself to add blood to the ritual.

She’d given up trying to cover her nakedness. Anyone else foolish enough to be out in this could enjoy the show.

The lights led her into a patch of woods, where she stumbled over a root and fell to her knees.

“Shit!”

Add scraped knees and palms to the blood she was contributing to the island. She got to her feet, driven on only by the shame she’d feel if she had to face Molly and Rebecca after she failed in this task. Ahead of her on the trail, she saw… was that a person?

Squinting against the squall, softened only a little by the canopy of leaves overhead, she called out, “Who’s there?”

“Come, Katie.”

“Nanna?” Kathleen knuckled her eyes, trying to clear them, but between the wet and her muddled senses, she still saw her grandmother standing before her. “Nanna, is that you?”

“It’s me, child. Come. Your quest lies ahead.”

But Kathleen stood her ground. “What quest? What am I doing out here?”

“Trust us, Katie.”

She hobbled on, following her grandmother now, trying to believe she wouldn’t let anything really bad happen to her. She emerged from the woods, where the dirt gave way to rock, and the wind howled more fiercely than ever.

“Just a little farther.”

A flash of lightning illuminated a shelf of smooth granite, and she realized she was on the bluff. “I’m afraid.”

“Don’t be afraid, child. You’re so much more than you know.”

Her Nanna beckoned, holding out a hand to urge Kathleen forward. Cautiously, Kathleen inched onward, leaning back a little to brace herself against the wind that pushed her toward her grandmother.

“It’s too close to the edge,” she called through the whistling of the gale. “I’ll fall.”

“We won’t let anything happen to you, squirt.”

She turned to see Bryan standing beside her. “Bryan? How are you here?”

He laughed. “We’re always here, always with you, Katie. C’mon.”

He led her over the wet rocks to where Nanna stood. The ocean down below crashed against the base of the cliff.

“What now?”

“Trust us.”

An enormous gust of wind hit her back, toppling her onto her toes. Her arms windmilled, trying to regain her balance, but she felt herself go over the edge. For what felt like forever, she fell, arms still flailing wildly in an attempt to stay upright and hit the water feet first. The impact felt as if her legs had been driven into concrete.

Below the surface of the ocean, the breaking waves buffeted her, swirling her back and forth as she tried to swim to the surface. She no sooner broke through and gasped for a breath before she was driven back under.

This is what it was like for Bryan the night he died.

She kicked and fought, but the waves, crashing and then rebounding off the cliff-face tumbled her until she didn’t know which way to swim.

“Trust us.”

The voices sounded clearly in her head, over the roar of the sea.

This is how I’ll die.

She stopped fighting, stopped flailing, and let the water push her to and fro. She knew it was only her imagination that the ocean quieted, almost seemed to caress her as it bore her where it willed.

This isn’t so bad. It’s kind of peaceful. I can die like this.

Her only regret in going to be with her grandmother and brother was that she never got to say good-bye to Molly and Blossom. I hope they know how much I love them.

Blossom’s nails clicked on the wooden floor as he paced, going from one window to the front screen door to another window. Whining, he came to rest his chin on Molly’s thigh.

“I know.” She rubbed his ears, her detective novel forgotten.

Her skin tingled the way it had one time when she’d been jolted after stupidly taking someone else’s word that a breaker was off, only to find the receptacle had been wired to two breakers.

She’d debated going to her mom, but no one was supposed to know about this secret Keeper ritual. The clock ticked slowly toward two a.m., though she knew there’d be no sleep for her or Blossom until Kathleen was home.

She and Blossom both jumped when headlights swept up the drive and an engine cut off. She stepped out onto the porch to find her mom running through the rain.

“Figured you’d be up,” Jenny said, flapping her rain slicker as she shrugged out of it. “It’s Kathleen, isn’t it?”

“How do you know that?” Molly hung her mom’s jacket on a peg and led the way into the kitchen. Without asking, she cut them both slices of orange cranberry bread and brought the plates to the table.

“I remember when it was Rebecca,” Jenny said darkly. She tore a bite of bread off and chewed slowly. “I honored the fact that she couldn’t tell me what she had to do, but gods and goddesses, the way the island felt that night.” She stared out the window. “I’ve never felt the like. Not even last spring when we had that quake.”

“Do you think others are feeling it, too?”

Jenny nodded. “Almost every house I passed on the way here had lights on. They know.”

The jangling of the phone made them all flinch. Molly yanked the handset off the wall.

“Hello?”

“Molly?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“It’s Eryn. Eryn Grant. I know it’s crazy late, but is everything okay there?”

Molly covered the mouthpiece and mouthed to her mother who it was. “Why would you ask that?”

Jenny got up and came to lean in next to Molly so she could listen.

“I was sleeping and had a weird dream.” Eryn’s voice sounded very far away. “The island was engulfed in this huge storm, like a tidal wave or hurricane or something. It kind of scared me.”

Molly and Jenny stared at each other.

“I’m sorry,” Eryn stammered. “It’s ridiculous, I know. And I’m sure I woke you—”

“You didn’t,” Molly cut in. “We are having a pretty bad storm.”

“But you and Kathleen are okay?”

“What else did you see?”

“Well…” Eryn’s voice faltered. “I also saw Kathleen, on the beach, like she’d been washed up by the storm or something.”

Molly stared at her mom.

“I’m sorry,” Eryn said. “I know this is totally bizarre. I kind of felt like I needed to make sure you guys are all right.”

Molly closed her eyes. “Um, yeah. Kathleen’s out. She had something she had to do, but I’m sure she’s fine. I’ll have her call you.”

“Okay. Thanks. Night.”

Molly hung the phone up. “What the…”

Jenny grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”

They didn’t bother with jackets, running to the SUV with Blossom on their heels. Jenny drove as quickly as she dared to the rocky trail down to the beach. They got out, blinded by the continued rain pelting them in the face. With the cloud cover, it was impossible to see anything. Blossom scrambled ahead of them, over the rocks and the sea wall to the sand.

They followed the sound of his barking, Molly helping her mom regain her footing when she tripped. Once on the wet sand, they ran toward the surf where Blossom was licking Kathleen’s face. She lay naked, her hair swirling in the waves that washed over her.

“No, no, no, no.”

Molly fell to her knees beside Kathleen while Jenny bent to place her ear against Kathleen’s chest.

“She’s alive.”

Together, they dragged Kathleen up onto the beach, noting the bloody scrapes on her knees. Patting Kathleen’s cheek, Molly called her name. “Kathleen? Kathleen!”

Kathleen’s eyelids fluttered and then opened. “Am I dead?”

Tears fell from Molly’s eyes onto Kathleen’s face as she bent to kiss her. “No, but Rebecca may not be able to say the same when I get hold of her.”

In her own cottage, Rebecca sat in her armchair, her lips moving in ceaseless prayer to the spirits of the island and the sky and the sea. If there’d ever been any Keeper novices who’d failed this test, it wasn’t recorded anywhere, but still, she prayed the spirits would bless Kathleen, would find her worthy, and protect her through this trial.

Sometime in the middle of the night, she felt a shift in the island’s energy—a surge and then… peace.

She smiled. “Blessed be.”

Chapter 38

Meredith stared at the little package Lena held out.

“I keep a supply of pregnancy tests on hand,” she said. “I know Miranda stocks them, and she wouldn’t say anything if she was asked not to, but still, there are big ears and nosy glances at what we all have in our carts when we’re shopping.”

“Thank you,” Meredith said gratefully.

“Figured you might have your reasons to not want to say anything yet.”

Meredith frowned. “Will the islanders regret giving me this teaching job, only to have me get pregnant right away?”

“Not a’tall.” Lena waved a dismissive hand. “You’ve the right to make your own decisions on the matter.”

“It’s just, I’m getting older and—”

“I understand,” Lena interrupted. “You’ve no need to explain—to me or anyone else. What will you say to your parents? Will they still want to be away if you are pregnant?”

“Oh, gosh,” Meredith said with an exasperated sigh. “They keep questioning as it is. They’re driving me crazy!”

Lena smiled. “Be gentle with them. They’ve never been grandparents before. And Miss Louisa, a great-grandmother. She’ll be thrilled.”

“We don’t know yet,” Meredith reminded her.

Lena simply cocked her head.

“Do we?” Meredith asked, startled.

“I’ve a sense about these things,” Lena said. She tapped the test package. “You take that to be sure, but let’s just say, I’d place a bet.”

Meredith was in a daze as she drove home. Grateful to slip into the house without running into anyone, she went straight to the bathroom.

When she emerged twenty minutes later, she almost floated down the stairs. She found her father sitting at the kitchen table, a large sheet of paper lying before him, a pencil and ruler in his hands, and a thoughtful frown on his face.

She opened the fridge and paused with her hand on the iced tea pitcher. We’ll need to start making this decaf. Instead, she reached for the pitcher of water and poured herself a glass.

“Water, Dad?”

“Hmmm?” Roy glanced up distractedly. “Oh, yes. Thanks, Meredith.”

She poured a second glass and joined him. “What’re you working on?”

“Well, this year, we focused on the exterior of this house. It’s painted, new roof, windows all weather-tight. Good to get us through the winter. But I’ve been thinking, it’d be nice to have a second full bathroom.”

He took a drink and tapped the paper. Meredith leaned over to see a rather precisely drawn floorplan of the house’s two stories.

“I think,” he said, pointing with his pencil, “we could take some space from this bedroom here. It backs up to the current bathroom, so we could tie into the existing plumbing—that would save a lot of work. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a great idea.” Meredith plucked the pencil from his hand. “But what if…” She lightly sketched over his layout. “We move the toilet here and put the shower over there for more natural light coming in through that window. We could frost the glass.”

He adjusted his glasses. “I like that. I was thinking this could be a walk-in shower. Your mother and I aren’t getting any younger, and I don’t think Louisa should keep stepping into a tub. We could convert both bathrooms to walk-ins.”

“That works for the new one,” she agreed, “but we’ll need to keep one bathtub.”

“I mean, five of us using one bathroom has been a little too cozy at times.”

“It has,” she agreed. “And with six of us, we’ll definitely need an extra bathroom.”

“Mmmm.” He leaned over the drawing again. “We’re five.”

“We’ll be six.”

She watched his face. It took almost a full minute for it to sink in. He slowly raised his head, his eyes wide.

“You mean…?”

She nodded, her eyes shining. “You’re the first I’ve told. I guess it should’ve been Aidan, so don’t say anything.”

He reached for her hand, his own eyes misty behind his glasses. “Wait till your mother hears this. A grandbaby. I’m going to be a grandfather!” The happiness that lit up his face slid away.

“What is it?” Meredith asked.

“Your mother. I don’t want to be away from the island and miss all this.”

“Oh.” She’d almost forgotten. Forcing a smile, she rubbed his hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

“This is crazy,” Kathleen protested. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“It’s not crazy,” Molly insisted. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Her voice broke, and she turned away. “When I saw you, lying there in the surf… I wasn’t there when Bryan’s body washed up, but that’s all I could think of.”

Kathleen laid a hand on her shoulder, made her turn so she could pull her into an embrace. “He was with me that night. So was Nanna. They were watching over me.”

She didn’t care if it was against the rules to say even that much about what had happened. Molly knew they’d come to her before. She lost track of time as they held each other. A thought occurred.

“How did you know where to find me?”

“I didn’t, for sure,” Molly mumbled into her neck. “Eryn called that night when Mom was here. She’d had a dream about the island, about you. She wanted to see if you were okay.”

Kathleen pulled away so she could look at Molly. “Eryn did?”

“Yeah. Surprised the hell out of me.”

“Her connection to the island must be strong, if she felt that.”

“You okay with that?” Molly asked with an anxious frown.

Kathleen smiled. “I’m okay with that.”

She was okay with just about everything at the moment. She figured it wouldn’t last, but right now, a couple of days after that ritual, she felt like a new person.

“I really do need to see Rebecca.”

“Then I’ll drive you.” Molly’s jaw had a mulish set to it that let Kathleen know there was no sense arguing.

“Okay.”

Blossom, who’d glued himself to Kathleen’s side since that night, walked her to the door and down the steps. He cast an anxious glance toward the woods.

“Go ahead,” Kathleen said. “I’ll wait.”

He sprinted to the trees and lifted a leg before racing over to where she held the back door of the Toyota for him.

“He’s still afraid you’ll leave him behind,” Molly said from the driver’s seat.

“I know.” Kathleen rubbed his head, which was easy as he stood with his front paws on the center console so he could nuzzle her ear.

Molly drove into the village and parked. “Cottage or library?”

“Library, I think.” Kathleen laid a restraining hand on Molly’s arm. “Seriously, I can walk there. Nothing will happen to me.”

She saw the continued worry in Molly’s eyes and leaned over to kiss her. “Go talk to your dad. There must be oil deliveries and other jobs that have piled up the last few days.”

“All right,” Molly agreed. “But I want to drive you home.”

“Deal. After we have lunch at the diner.”

“Gonna be an expensive meal.”

“Probably.” Kathleen let Blossom out. “I’m already hungry. We’ll meet you there.”

She made her way to the library, waving to a few islanders she saw. “Shhh,” she reminded Blossom when they got to the porch. “Meredith is teaching.”

She opened the door, and he tiptoed in as if he understood the need to be quiet. The door separating the library from the classroom was closed, and they heard Louisa’s voice from the other side, and then some kids shouting out an answer. On the library side, the door to the back room was ajar.

Rebecca was seated at the table, waiting. Her eyes scoured Kathleen’s face as she took a chair opposite. Blossom curled up under the table where he could rest his head on Kathleen’s foot.

“You did well.”

“What did you feel?” Kathleen asked.

Rebecca’s eyes slid out of focus. “For a long while, it was angry, unsettled.”

“Sounds about right.” Kathleen scoffed. “I was pretty pissed.”

“It reached a pitch, and I’ll admit, it was hard to sit and wait. Naomi admitted as much to me when it was my turn.”

She gave Kathleen a knowing smile. “How do you feel now?”

“Incredible. I can’t get enough to eat. I have a hard time sleeping, just because I have so much energy. Like I’ve had really, really great sex. Which,” she added with a wicked grin, “I have.”

Rebecca threw her head back and laughed. “Exactly like that. Something I can relate to better these days.”

Kathleen leaned her elbows on the table. “It’s been so hard not talking to anyone about what happened, and I know,” she held up a hand, “I can’t tell you, either. But it’s like… like I’ve been reborn.”

Rebecca gave her a knowing nod and pulled a scarred leather book closer. Kathleen recognized the Keeper’s book.

Rebecca flipped to a page and turned it to Kathleen. “Did you notice this when you studied the ritual before?”

Written at the top of the page, in spidery writing, were two words: An Bás.

“I saw that before,” Kathleen said. “But what does it mean?”

“It’s Irish for death.”

Kathleen fell back against her seat, huffing a half-laugh. “That’s what it was like. Dying. And being reborn.”

She frowned and ran a fingertip over the words. “I really was afraid the island wouldn’t accept me. Would tell me I wasn’t good enough. Wasn’t linked strongly enough. Wasn’t… just wasn’t enough.”

Rebecca startled her by taking her hand. “I, on the other hand, had no doubts whatsoever.”

Kathleen met her gaze, staring into those eyes so like Molly’s, and felt her heart swell. “What now?”

Rebecca’s expression sobered. “What now. I’ve been asking myself that very question. Now that the island has a second Keeper, I have no more excuses for not going to be with Nadiya.”

Kathleen tilted her head. “Did you want excuses?”

“I wanted…” Rebecca smiled ruefully. “I wanted to not have to make decisions. To be with her or to be with the island. I had no choice before.”

Rebecca’s hand shifted and, for the first time, Kathleen noticed a smooth white pebble sitting on the table. Rebecca picked it up and rolled it in her fingers.

“It’s time,” Rebecca said softly, “for me to dare.”

Louisa sat placidly as the others talked over one another. In the days since Meredith had announced her pregnancy, there hadn’t been a calm moment. Aidan was beside himself, walking around with a dazed expression on his face, a lopsided smile appearing every few minutes.

Irene was in a tizzy, worrying about how they could be away from Little Sister now, but still fretting about Roy’s heart. Roy had added a nursery to his floorplan.

“I’ve got this all worked out,” Meredith said calmly, but no one heard her except Louisa.

They shared a knowing smile, and Meredith tried again.

“I have this worked out,” she said a bit more loudly.

Aidan, in the midst of pointing out that Irene and Roy would be back onisland by the time the baby was born next spring, stopped mid-sentence. They all turned to her.

“You,” Meredith said to her parents, “have already made a commitment to rent that house for six months. There’s absolutely no sense in losing that money. I’m going to need pre-natal checkups. Lena agreed that, because of my age, I should see a real OB, though she can do the delivery if everything is looking good.”

She folded her hands. “So, you will go the mainland, as planned, in a couple of weeks. I will arrange my teaching schedule for a few three-day weeks so I can get to Portland for doctor appointments.” She looked to Aidan. “I’ll probably have to ask someone to take me to Big Sister and catch the ferry from there when it doesn’t coincide with ours, but it’s doable.”

To Irene and Roy, she said, “When we’re on the mainland, we’ll stay with you, so we can visit. It won’t be that much different from what we did in Oregon.”

“What about the holidays?” Irene asked, a napkin twisted in her hands.

“The kids will be out of school for a couple of weeks,” Meredith continued, “so I thought we could spend the holidays with you. I’ll try to schedule another of my appointments for then.”

Roy’s gaze flicked to Louisa. “What about you? We can’t leave you alone here.”

“I was alone here,” Louisa reminded them, “for many months before you moved in. I’ll be fine.”

“No.” Aidan’s tone was definite. “You’ll not be alone for Yule.”

“You could come to the mainland with Meredith and Aidan,” Irene suggested.

“No,” Aidan said again. “Miss Louisa has spent every solstice of her life here. We’ll not be changing that now. And I want our baby to be here, too. Even if she or he won’t know it.” He grinned at Meredith before turning to Roy and Irene.

“We’ll arrange for you to get back here for Yule and Christmas, then we’ll all go the mainland together. Between our ferry and Big Sister’s, we’ll work it out.”

“Aye, Captain,” Louisa said drolly, and they all burst into laughter.

Louisa sat back with a happy sigh as the conversation moved to buying baby things to go with the crib Aidan had found in the attic and was refinishing.

She excused herself to go outside and check the squashes and pumpkins that were the only things remaining in the garden.

“Can’t believe it’s really happening, Lou. A baby in this house again.”

“I know, Ollie.” Louisa bent to pluck a few weeds. “When Irene and Meredith came home, you and I felt we’d go on. But now, with a baby coming, it really feels as if life will go on after us.”

“Course it will. All because of you, Lou, not me.”

Louisa shook her head. “There’s no me without you, Ollie.”

A chill wind blew, swirling the leaves which had already fallen. Colors were nearing peak, as autumn came early to Little Sister.

The tanker that delivered the island’s diesel, gasoline, and fuel oil had arrived—a small one compared to the boat that delivered to Big Sister. Little Sister’s tiny marina wasn’t deep enough for one of the larger tankers, plus the islanders here used a lot less fuel, thanks to their wind and solar additions. Molly helped her dad get the marina tanks filled.

“Got a list of folks waiting to have their furnaces winter-proofed,” she said. “Least now I can fill them up while I’m there. It’ll save me trips later.”

When they’d finished and the tanker had shoved off, Aidan brought the ferry alongside the dock to load it—the last ferry for a month. There were no tourists departing on this voyage, so they were leaving later than usual.

“Kind of hate to see this time of year come,” Aidan said wistfully.

Joe clapped him on the shoulder. “I know. It means more time away, but it’s only a few months.”

“When will you be back?” Molly asked.

“Got the schedule worked out so I’ll be at Big Sister next week. I’ll boat over here for a week and then have to go back.”

“So, I’d better give you something to remember to come back for.”

They turned to see Meredith sauntering along the dock.

“What are you doing here?” Aidan asked, his face lighting up.

“Recess. Sent all the kids outside to play and thought I’d come by for one more kiss.” She wrapped her arms around his neck.

Molly smirked and went to help Fred get one of the replacement recycling bins secured on the fork lift. She walked alongside him up to the market to get the bin set in place.

Aidan and Meredith were still tangled together when they returned to the dock. She gave him one last kiss and left him, smiling seductively, to go back to school. He stood, staring dreamily after her.

“Boy!” Fred bellowed. “Keep your mind on what you’re doin’! You act like nobody else ever had a baby before.”

Aidan fell in beside him, still starry-eyed. “I haven’t had a baby before.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not the one gonna have that kid,” Fred said sagely. “And I’ll just bet Meredith’ll be remindin’ you of that come labor time.”

Joe laughed. “Got that right. There’s a reason they usually kick us out.”

They transferred the last of the bins. Molly stood, staring up the hill.

“Think she’ll really go?” Aidan asked.

“She did this summer,” Molly said.

“Yeah, but the ferry was running daily. She always had the option of coming back whenever.”

“True.” Molly glanced up at him. “Guess we’ll see how serious she is about this.”

In answer to their wondering, Rebecca appeared, rolling a carry-on-sized suitcase behind her. Kathleen and Blossom accompanied her.

“Awful small bag for a month,” Molly observed.

Rebecca shrugged. “I don’t need much.”

She reached for Kathleen’s arm. “You have Nadiya’s phone number. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”

“I will,” Kathleen promised.

“Can’t believe I’ll miss Matty and Brandi’s bonding this new moon.” Rebecca sounded as if she were reconsidering. She lifted a finger. “You know where to find the—”

“I have the Keeper’s book with all the rituals,” Kathleen assured her. “If you really want to be here, we could ask them to wait, or you could go next month.”

For a moment, Rebecca chewed her lip. “Nooo. It’ll be too cold in November, and if I go now, I can give Nadiya a break from me before she comes for the holidays.”

“Then go,” Kathleen said. “And enjoy your time with Nadiya.”

Still, Rebecca stood, staring up at the village main street. Her hand moved to her pocket, and she pulled out a small stone that she rolled in her fingers.

“You aren’t leaving forever,” Molly reminded her aunt.

“And Nadiya is worth it,” Kathleen added.

At that, Rebecca’s worried frown disappeared, and she smiled. “She is, isn’t she?”

They watched as she rolled her bag up the gangplank.

“Better shove off, fast,” Molly mumbled to Aidan.

He must have been thinking the same thing, because he almost ran up to the pilot house and started the engine.

Kathleen took Molly’s hand. “Are you busy?”

“Nothing I have to do right now. What did you have in mind?”

The Runabout’s engine purred as Molly steered her out of the marina and into open water.

“Take us around the island to the bluff,” Kathleen requested.

Blossom stood on his hind legs, hanging his head over the side of the boat so that the breeze flapped his ears.

Kathleen sat back and tipped her head to the sun, letting the wind play over her face and toss her hair. She enjoyed the slight bounce of the boat over the waves. Gone was the fear that the boat might go down. Gone was the white-knuckled grip on the edge of the seat. Gone was the obsessive checking to make sure life jackets were within reach.

As they rounded Little Sister, the bluff’s granite cliff-face came into view. Molly took care to stay well away from the base.

“Those waves would push us into the rock in a heartbeat,” she said, easing back on the throttle just enough to counter the tug in toward the island.

Kathleen stood in the boat, gazing up to the apex of the rocks. It looked impossibly high. “Has anyone ever jumped off the bluff?”

“Are you kidding?” Molly gestured to the base of the cliff. “We have no idea what the underwater rocks are like there. No one’s ever been able to get close enough.”

As if to emphasize her point, a big wave broke hard against the cliff, sending a geyser of spray into the sky, where it broke into thousands of drops, tiny prisms in the sunlight.

“Why did you want to see this?” Molly’s eyes narrowed. “And why are you asking?”

Kathleen smiled vaguely. “Can you take us around to the beach?”

Molly twirled the wheel and pushed the throttle ahead full. The boat surged forward, sending a wall of water flying as she carved a turn through the sea. The island’s arc of sand came into view, lying vacant and golden in the sunshine. Kathleen got up to stand at the rail.

Molly cut the engine off and let the Runabout drift as she went to wrap an arm around Kathleen, pulling her close. “My heart still stops when I think of finding you there.”

“I’m sorry to put you through that.”

They stood, riding the swells with the boat’s rise and fall.

“I can’t believe all that’s happened this year.” Kathleen shook her head, leaning into Molly. “When I think back to my dad’s first messages about my mom, it’s almost as if I watched all of that happen to a different person.”

“You are different.” Molly turned to her. “Ever since that trial thing, whatever it consisted of, you’re more… I don’t know. Confident, maybe.”

“I guess that’s probably part of it,” Kathleen mused. “But it’s more than that. It’s…” She pointed to the beach. “It’s like seeing this from a whole new vantage point. I know it. It’s familiar, but only the way I’ve always seen it. And then something happened, and I was forced to see it, to see myself, from a different angle.”

Molly kissed her, slow and sweet. She drew away, tucking Kathleen’s hair behind her ear. “It’s the same shore, no matter which way you’re looking at it. You’re the same woman.”

“Maybe,” Kathleen acknowledged. “In some ways. But I’ve found parts of myself I never knew existed.”

“They were always there,” Molly said. “I saw them. Always wondered why you couldn’t.”

Kathleen blushed. “Guess I had to fall off a cliff to see what’s been there all along.”

THE END

MISS LOUISA AND MISS OLIVIA’S

ORANGE CRANBERRY BREAD

2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour (Olivia said don’t forget some to dust the pan)

½ cup pecans (Olivia said walnuts are better, Louisa said pecans are)

1 tablespoon grated orange zest, plus 1/3 cup orange juice

2/3 cup buttermilk

6 tablespoons (3/4 stick) unsalted butter, melted and cooled

1 large egg, beaten lightly

1 cup sugar

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking powder

¼ teaspoon baking soda

1 ½ cups cranberries, chopped coarse

Heat oven to 375°F. Grease 9x5 in loaf pan, dust with flour.

Stir together the orange zest, orange juice, buttermilk, butter, and egg in small bowl.

Whisk together the flour, sugar, salt, baking powder, and baking soda in a large bowl.

Stir the liquid ingredients into the dry ingredients until moistened. Gently stir in cranberries and nuts. (Louisa always had to remind Olivia not to beat it to death)

Scrape the batter into loaf pan and smooth surface.

Bake 20 minutes, then reduce heat to 350°F. Bake another 45 minutes or so until loaf is golden brown and toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool in pan for 10 minutes, then turn out to wire rack to cool. Cuts best when cool.

About the Author

Bestselling author Caren Werlinger published her first award-winning novel, Looking Through Windows, in 2008. Since then, she has published seventeen more novels, winning several more awards, including the 2021 Alice B medal. Influenced by a diverse array of authors, including Rumer Godden, J.R.R. Tolkien, Ursula LeGuin, Marion Zimmer Bradley, Willa Cather and the Brontë sisters, Caren writes literary fiction that features the struggles and joys of characters readers can identify with. Her stories cover a wide range of genres: historical fiction, contemporary drama, and fantasy, including the award-winning Dragonmage Saga, a fantasy trilogy set in ancient Ireland. She has lived in Virginia for thirty years where she practices physical therapy, teaches anatomy, and lives with her wife and their canine fur-children.

Website: https://carenwerlinger.com

Blog: https://cjwerlinger.wordpress.com

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This author is part of iReadIndies, a collective of self-published independent authors of lesbian and women loving women (WLW) literature. Please visit our website at iReadIndies.com for more information and to find links to the books published by our authors.