I’ll clean the upstairs rooms after lunch. What I need to do right now is find a place where I can think and figure out how to get the cave certification quickly.
I drive until I find the sign for Sunset Strand, the locals’ favorite beach. It’s not too far from the lighthouse. I park in the sandlot and grab my sandwich. Being the weekend, it’s packed. Swarms of people crowd the beach—swimming, playing, and lounging. There’s barely an inch to move. I consider leaving. But I’m already here.
After weaving through the crowds, I finally find a spot where I can sit. While eating my peanut butter sandwich, I take it allin. Maverick Key is beautiful. Even if I don’t find any answers, it’s been worth it to come here. If I can get this gig with Sid, I’m going to stay. I hate to bail on Maddie so fast, but I can still help with the inn’s chores and breakfasts.
Soft, bright sand stretches along clear turquoise shallows that blend into a vibrant blue-green ocean. Today’s waves are gentle ripples, nearly invisible except for the light froth of sea foam brushed onto the shore. Gulf waters are calm in general, but as a barrier island, the Key does get choppier surf more frequently than its nearest neighbor, Naples, FL.
I try to envision this place without the crowds.
The noise of the beach drifts away. Then, a wave of nostalgia washes over me. I’ve been here before. This place matters to me. I push into the corners of my mind, sifting through the landscape, searching for anything I might recognize.
Getting up to walk it off, a beach ball rockets across my face. Barely dodging it, I stumble and catch myself in the sand a few feet away from a woman lying on a blue beach towel. She’s wearing sunglasses that cover her eyes, but then she raises them to her head, and I can see her face. Eyes closed, she looks like she’s dreaming. And it looks like a good dream. There’s a small smile, just lifting one corner of her rose-colored mouth, and her skin is flushed. She opens her mouth slightly, relaxing. Her blonde hair is tied in a loose bun, and she’s fair, her skin lit with a golden undertone.
I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Trying to get myself to calm down, I ignore the pounding in my chest and force myself to breathe.
What the hell?
It’sher. It must be.
Shocked, I stare silently, begging her to open her eyes. She looks exactly like the woman from my dream. If I can see those blue orbs, I’ll be certain.
Unsure of how much time has gone by, I continue to stare until a little girl with bright blonde curls runs up to the woman. She shouts and points in my direction. Terrified she’ll see me gawking like this, I turn and dart back to the car.
“Wait!” I hear her call to me. But I keep walking. It’s too soon.
Sitting in the car, I debate whether I should go back to her now or try to find out who she is later. She might have answers about my identity. What if it’sher?
CHAPTER 8
The Widow
Sunset Strand is the beach to visit on Maverick Key. Eight miles long, it spans most of the island’s southern coast. Warm, soft muslin-colored sand darkens to deeper taupe with the tide, and tiny shell fragments sparkle in the sun. The water begins as a soft aquamarine near the shoreline, deepening to a rich blue like a clear sky slides into a summer storm.
I love this beach.
Natalie inspects the dunes as soon as we arrive to make sure no one has disturbed the ropes or tossed trash into the hills. Last month, she learned about our city’s dune conservation efforts and is doing her part.
We find a stretch of sand that isn’t too crowded and spread out our beach blanket. A vibrant logo of Maverick Key’s lighthouse, framed by palms, decorates the soft fabric. Hannah gave it to Natalie for Christmas last year, and she’s already asking what she’s getting this time.
With the big day only a few weeks away, the town is bustling with festive decorations and activities, including a holiday bonfire and a movie night on the beach, which is coming up ina couple of weeks. Maddie and Hannah have already invited us along.
Traditions and routines are important, even when there’s a gaping hole in your heart.
We eat our ham sandwiches made from the picnic leftovers, then Natalie runs toward the water with her bucket and shovel to look for shells.
I lie back on the towel and stretch out. Usually, on an afternoon off like this, I’d grab a paperback and get in some reading. But today I can’t focus. My thoughts are too scattered, too unsettled. I push my glasses up onto my head and let the sun wash over my face.
I close my eyes.
The first thing that pops into my head is a team of Clydesdales pulling wagons through the snow. This makes me laugh. Snow. I’ve never even seen real snow. What a strange, beautiful thing it would be to see snow on the beach.
Now I turn my thoughts to the past.
Some memories come to you in fragments. Jolts of nostalgia or pain. Others, permanent ones, fill with such rich detail they develop like a photograph. The moment Nathan told me he loved me for the first time is one of those moments.
His brows raised in question. The quiver of his lips. The smell of his skin.
His eyes…
