Off the starboard bow in the distance, the octagonal silhouette of the lighthouse stood on a rocky point stretching out into the sea on the western side of the island.The ferry turned, aiming east of it.The moment the vessel rounded the point and sailed for the leeward side of the island, the wind dropped to almost nothing.
She unzipped her coat and smoothed her hair down, preparing for the moment she went ashore.It had been a long journey to get here.
Minutes later they passed tiny Sentinel Island at the entrance to the harbor, the site of the historic Coast Guard station.And then the familiar outline of Whalebone Cove came into view off the port bow.
A mix of conflicting emotions washed over her.Nostalgia.Joy.The ache of grief, duller than it had been.But this was home now, for better or worse.She had to look forward.Not back.
“Passengers with vehicles, please return to your vehicles for departure,” a recorded voice announced through the speakers around the passenger deck.
She stepped away from the railing and headed inside to access the stairwell, followed the throng of passengers down the steel steps to the vehicle decks.She got in her car near the stern, the interior jammed full of as much as she could fit into it, and took a calming breath.
She’d thought long and hard before making the decision to come here to start fresh.A life reboot in her thirties.How many people got the chance to do that?
She was lucky.She needed to push the anxiety and dread aside, focus on the positives of this opportunity, and make the most of it.
You got this.
The ferry slowed, then docked.Crewmembers lowered the bow ramp.One by one, taillights came on ahead of her, lighting up the rows of parked vehicles waiting to disembark.
She started her engine, followed the SUV in front of her over the ramp and up the hill leading away from the terminal.In that instant, it felt like going back in time.As though she’d never left at all.
Above her on the left, the huge whalebone arch that had given the former whaling station town its name stood perched atop a hill overlooking the harbor.The familiar sight of it comforted her.
“Hello again,” she murmured to the island, feeling as though she was greeting an old friend.
Its largest town, Whalebone Cove was still every bit as picturesque as it had been in her childhood.The main roads were flanked by neat rows of leafy trees.A scattered rainbow of Victorian and craftsman-style buildings and homes filled the streets near the waterfront and climbed up the hillside overlooking the harbor.
She crossed over Harborview Street that ran east-west through the main business district, heartened to see The Skelly was still there in its original place on the corner.The iconic pub hailing back to the 1870s was a Skeleton Island institution, and beloved by locals and tourists alike.After she got settled, her first meal in town would be there.
She continued up the hill until she reached the four-way stop at the top and turned left.The hard knot in her stomach came back full force as she headed northwest, but there were some excited butterflies mixed in with it too.
Her destination came into view at the crest of the next hill.The quiet residential neighborhood had changed somewhat since she’d last been here.Some of the sweet old cottages she remembered so fondly had been torn down and replaced with modern builds.Their harsh geometric lines and ultra-modern exteriors looked soulless and out of place compared to the charm of the older houses.
The developers from the mainland had been busy lately.
She turned the corner, a fond smile curving her mouth when Mae’s house came into view.It stood at the end of Mermaid Street, a two-story shingled Queen Anne Victorian and its turret painted a soft lilac color, with a white porch railing and gingerbread trim.
The house was as colorful and iconic as its owner.Bordered by the weathered picket fence, the front garden was bursting with a vivid summer palate.A rainbow flag waved in the breeze at the front door, and rainbow-colored pinwheels spun lazily on either side of the crushed gravel path leading up to it.
She was happy to see that at least nothing here had changed.As for her new home...
A lump filled her throat as she slowed and turned into the driveway just down from Mae’s.She parked at the top and shut off the ignition, staring at the pale gray one-story cottage her recently deceased grandmother had bequeathed her in her will.
It was still in great condition.The front porch looked clean, and someone had recently given the railing that ran the length of it a fresh coat of white paint.
Mae.Bless her.
Willow got out and walked up the porch steps to the front door.Slid the key in the lock and stepped inside.
She’d expected it to smell stale after being closed up for the past six months.Instead, the familiar scents of lemon polish and potpourri brought back a thousand bittersweet memories.Of summer holidays she’d spent here with her brother and parents.The occasional Christmas.
And the last time she’d been here.Four years ago.For Carson’s funeral.Not realizing there would be another in two years that would devastate her family.
Her gaze strayed from the tidy white kitchen, where she’d enjoyed countless breakfasts of scrambled eggs with cheese, peanut butter and jam toast cut into “sheep,” and a cup of milky tea with her grandmother, to the corner of the living room where her grandmother had put the Christmas tree each year.She and Peyton had loved decorating it?—
“Knock-knock.”
She whipped around, smiled at the older woman standing in the open front doorway.She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t heard her enter.“Who’s there?”
