“It feels like my life is about to happen,” Marius said. “I don’t know if I’m ready for it.”
Willa blinked back a sudden feeling of tears. She hadn’t expected that.
“Your parents look cozy,” Marius said, gesturing toward the window, through which they could see Willa’s mother and father in the kitchen, their shoulders close together, whispering.
“They still love each other,” Willa said gently. A few autumn leaves swept past them, crumpling into the corner behind the porch chair. “But you were right, that day at the lake. I can’t imagine how complicated adult life can get.”
“I keep hoping I can avoid those complications,” Marius said with a laugh. “Maybe I can outsmart the messiness of aging?”
Willa smiled. It sounded so naive to both of them, although they really couldn’t fathom what was coming next.
“I want a beautiful life,” Willa said. “And I want it here on the island. Whatever that means.”
Marius nodded and reached for her hand. Willa flinched but let him take it. The last thing she wanted was to kiss Marius Isaacson for the first time in front of all her family and friends. She wanted it to be secretive, for their eyes and lips only. She tried to tell Amelie about it hours later, and Amelie’s eyes widened with surprise. She wanted Amelie to demand more details.Willa, don’t leave anything out!
Willa and Amelie’s birthday guests didn’t leave till long after ten that night. After that, Willa, Amelie, and their parents collapsed in the living room, surrounded by the mess of the party, their eyes glazed over from sugar, laughter, and too much food.
“I think that was a raving success,” their father said. “What do you think?”
“The best party the island has ever seen,” their mother said, high-fiving their father.
Willa and Amelie exchanged glances. They were burning with questions.
Finally, it was like Amelie exploded with it. “Are you going to get back together?”
Their mother and father sat up straighter on the sofa, still smiling, as though they carried with them secrets that Willa and Amelie could never understand.
“You have to get back together before Christmas,” Amelie said, when they left her hanging. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at them. “We have to celebrate the holidays as a family.”
Willa was surprised at how forthright Amelie sounded. Still, their mother and father wore those big smiles, as though they didn’t know how to answer her.
“Amelie, honey,” their mother said, “we’re still trying to work some things out. Can you be patient with us?”
Amelie’s smile faltered. Willa felt her soul curl up.
“But that doesn’t mean…” Their father reached for their mother’s hand. “You know that we still love each other. We’ve told you that. Over and over again.”
Amelie and Willa nodded in unison. Willa suddenly felt incredibly young, like eleven or twelve rather than eighteen years old.
“We’re working on it,” their mother promised. “We love you both, and we love each other. Be patient with us, okay?”
Amelie and Willa promised they would be. But that night, Amelie crawled into bed with Willa and wept into Willa’s second pillow. Willa could feel her sister’s heartache because it was the same as her own. They wanted their family to be repaired so desperately. They wanted everything to go back to how things had always been.
But maybe, Willa thought,once you turn eighteen, there is no going back.
Chapter Fourteen
Amelie
December 2025
It was the third evening Amelie had spent at the jazz club in Pascal’s bed-and-breakfast, but the most special one by far, because Grandma Mary was behind the keys, showing how wonderfully musical she was, throwing her head around as though she were half the age she was. The trumpet was roaring; the saxophone was howling; the drummer looked so frantic and alive. Amelie clapped her hands in time to the music (when the music wasn’t changing time signatures and leaving her behind; she’d never been particularly musical herself) and felt a part of something warm and exciting and creative. Sometimes she let herself watch Pascal with his saxophone a little too long, imagining a future with him she hadn’t assumed she’d ever have with anyone. Who was this Frenchman? Why had he “swept her off her feet,” so to speak, when nobody else had in years? And what about this magical Christmas season on Mackinac had allowed her to feel so much?
When the song cut out, Grandma Mary got to her feet and raised her hands to tremendous applause. Pascal whipped his arm out to introduce her, saying, “I’ve been begging the brilliant Mary to play keys for us for years. I can’t believe she finally came out!”
Amelie hadn’t yet told Pascal that Grandma Mary was her grandmother, but she wondered if Pascal was starting to put two and two together. He’d been on the island for many years. Maybe he’d heard of the redheaded twins who’d disappeared. Perhaps that was the reason for all his niceties. If he did know about Willa and Amelie, though, Amelie wished he would come out and say it. She didn’t want to find herself a part of any elaborate game.
But as the applause filtered out, Amelie realized that her grandmother’s face had fallen. Her eyes were pointed toward the back door. Sensing impending disaster, Amelie had clenched her hands in fists. Slowly, she turned around, following her grandmother’s gaze to find Willa in the doorway, dressed for the winter chill. Behind her was handsome Marius, the man in her life who’d gotten away. He looked deadly serious, his eyes on Amelie.
