I nodded. “Yeah. I’m not going back to my old life. It’s not for me. I got used to living in it, but I didn’t feel it was mine. It was just habit or resignation that made me believe it was right for me. I mean, I don’t regret studying literature and I don’t regret my internship at the publisher. Those were wonderful opportunities, and I learned a lot. But…these days here opened my eyes, and I’ve realized I want more than that. More freedom. More happiness. More…life. Do you understand?”
“Of course I do. Years ago, I had that very same feeling. Now you see, it’s not so complicated, right?”
Her expression was bewitching—the same expression that had drawn me in as soon as I met her—and I knew right away she was talking about Trey and me.
“No, not anymore. To tell the truth, nothing could be easier.”
“Well, I’m happy for both of you. You make a beautiful couple.”
Sid drove us back home. We had lost track of time, and the ferry left in less than an hour.
“See you later,” he shouted from the open window after dropping us off.
Trey got into his SUV and started the engine. I waited a moment before leaving in my own car. I needed to look back at the house one last time. I took a deep breath. It smelled of the sun and the sea. Birds were flying back and forth, cawing constantly, diving down toward the water to catch fish. The sky and the ocean melded on the horizon. The sound of the waves was almost deafening, even from there. I tried to memorize it all, down to the last detail, so my imagination could treasure it forever.
We dropped in at Ridge’s restaurant to say goodbye. Nice as ever, he packed us a bunch of food to go and invited us to come back whenever we wished. He walked us to the port. The sight of him, shrinking as we floated out into the sea, was the last image I had of that island that had changed my life.
Two hours later, we reached the wharf in Souris. Trey drove his car out of the ferry’s hold and slowly down the ramp. I followed him out in mine and parked it in the lot at the port, where I could have someone from the rental company pick it up for a fee.
I got in Trey’s car. We had a long drive to Montreal. Seven hundred miles, easily. An adventure.
“You ready?” he asked me.
“I’m ready.”
He stomped the gas, the motor roared, and we took off. We passed the hours talking, listening to music, holding hands, getting to know each other.
He told me some things I hadn’t known about, like his spats with my brother when they were young and stupid—in his words. It was funny, hearing about the trouble they had gotten into. Each situation was more ridiculous than the one before it.
We stopped a couple of times. Once to fill up and once at a Tim Hortons to grab a bite to eat. I watched the sky go dark, watched the lights of city after city recede into the background. On a desolate stretch, in utter darkness, I asked him, “Where are we?” trying not to yawn.
“We’re almost to Edmundston. We’ll stop at a hotel and catch some rest there, I think.”
I stretched my arms out and rubbed my sore muscles.
“That sounds good. Every inch of my body feels tight.”
He grinned, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “Maybe I can do something to loosen you up.”
I shook my head. Soon we saw a sign marking Exit 26, and we pulled off, parking in front of a cute little Days Inn with blue walls and white columns. We got out and stretched our legs before taking our bags out of the back and entering reception.
A pleasant-looking girl behind the counter gave us a room on the second floor.
Trey let me shower first, and I stayed a while under the water. I shaved my legs—I’d been putting it off a few days—and rubbed myself down with lotion when I got out before putting on a pair of cotton shorts and a T-shirt.
I found Trey lying in bed scrolling through the channels with the remote. He whistled when he saw me, eyeing me up from head to toe.
“What are you trying to do to me?” he asked.
I threw the towel at him that I had been using to dry my hair. He got up, walked past me, gave me a kiss, and smacked me on the butt. I looked at the little dimple in his cheek and thought I might die.
The bed creaked when I sat down on it. I opened my purse and took out the tiny box Adele had given me. I carefully untied the ribbon to keep from tearing it and lifted the lid. There was a red envelope inside and a necklace. I lifted it up and looked at the bit of cobalt-blue glass polished by the sea, held in place by silver wire. Nextto it were several charms: a seahorse, a star, and a mermaid holding another tiny piece of glass in her hands.
My eyes got misty, and I had a lump in my throat as I put the necklace aside and opened the envelope. Inside were a couple of photos. One was identical to the photo I’d seen in Adele’s workshop at her home: her, radiant, smiling, holding one of her prizes. I turned it over and saw her message:
Thank you for giving meaning to all those years of work. The admiration’s mutual, my little mermaid.
I had to cover my mouth with my hand when I looked at the next one. I don’t know when it was taken, or by whom, but there we all were: Adele, Sid, Trey, Ridge, even Peter and grumpy old Emma.
