I push myself a little, like I can outrun the uncanny feeling that something’s not right if I just wear my body out.
Finally, I hit the end of the boardwalk.
I slow to a walk, catching my breath, stepping off the wooden stairs onto the sand, to the very tip of the peninsula, where the sand meets the sea and there’s nothing but sky.
The furthest jetty from the Reach, Mist Point, juts out into the green-blue water, choppy today despite the barest cotton candy wisps of cloud above. Which is unusual. Out in the darker blue deep water, past where the sandbar is, something slides beneath the surface. At first, I think maybe it’s a porpoise or a big fish or even a shark.
Except… it doesn’t move like that.
It’s sinuous, and something about it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I inhale, trying to catch my breath. When I look back at the water… nothing’s there.
Suddenly, Gunner stops, one paw lifted into the air as he goes completely rigid, pointing at the red and white striped lighthouse on the very edge of town.
I blink, fanning a hand above my brow to ward against the sunlight.
And just like that, I know why the house was trying to keep me inside this morning.
He’s back.
Two
Istare at the lighthouse for too long, at the old truck parked beside it, and I tell myself something I know is a lie.
It could be someone else in the house.
Greg, the old lighthouse keeper, passed away months ago. Half a year now, almost.
Maybe it’s… nothim.
Sweat drips down between my shoulders, and I’m no longer sure it’s from my morning workout. I would have known if Caleb was back. I would have heard if Greg had left Watchmere Light to Caleb. His uncle, Greg, would have told me. Someone in Silverlight Shore would have heard.
Right?
“I would have had a vision,” I mutter, and Gunner glances up at me, tongue lolling out, nose sprinkled with sand. “I would have seen it,” I insist, voice strangled.
“Seen what?” a voice I haven’t heard in a decade says behind me.
My knees go weak. I turn, slowly, knowing who’s behind me… remembering what it felt like when we were beside each other last.
“Hi, Ivy.” Caleb smiles down at me in a way that makes my too aware heart thudding against my rib cage. The barest crinkle at the corner of his eyes, the tiny tug of his lips up, more like he’s thinking about smiling and has decided against it. “Nice of you to drop by.”
He’s been swimming, chest bare, wider than I remember, like his time away from me made him larger. More solid.
Infinitely more real.
Water sparkles on the neatly trimmed beard that seems more rugged than I remember, more salt than the pepper in my mind.
Time did, indeed, pass while he was away. It never stands still, not for anyone. Why would I hope it might not have?
His eyebrows, still dark, still thick, raise slightly — waiting for a response.
Gunner barks, thrilled, bounding around him and spraying sand in every direction.
Caleb leans down, muscles in his chest flexing, to scratch Gunner’s favorite spot behind his ears.
He remembered. Of course he did.
