“And…” Heather adds with a sly grin, “I bet if you email the owner and explain that you want a second week without any extra activities, they might give you a discount on the second week. It’s probably their off-season anyway.”
Purl chooses that moment to give a soft, encouraging bark as if adding her vote to Heather’s.
I laugh, shaking my head at Heather’s enthusiasm. “Alright, alright. You’ve convinced me. Two weeks it is.”
With a mix of excitement and nervousness, I fill out the booking form, adding a note about the potential extended stay. As I click the “Confirm Reservation” button, I feel a weight lift from my shoulders.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I say, a mix of nervousness and exhilaration filling me.
Heather raises her wine glass in a toast. “To new adventures, ocean breezes, and two weeks of well-deserved rest and creativity!”
I clink my glass against Heather’s, a smile spreading across my face. “To Lublin Harbor!”
Within a minute, a confirmation email pings in my inbox.
A sudden thought strikes me when I open the email and stare at my booking confirmation. “Wait a minute,” I say, turning to Heather. “I wonder if Lublin Harbor is near Cape Vesna.”
Heather raises an eyebrow. “Cape what now?”
“Cape Vesna,” I repeat, pulling out my phone to check. After a quick search, my eyes widen. “Oh my god, it is! It’sreallyclose to Lublin Harbor!”
“Hold on,” Heather says, looking confused. “I thought you said you’d never been to New England before. How do you know about this cape?”
I smile and pull up my sleeve to reveal the intricate tattoo on my shoulder. It’s a beautifully detailed lighthouse perched on a rocky cliff with waves crashing at its base. “This is the Cape Vesna lighthouse,” I explain. “It’s based on a painting by Maris Richards – the artist I mentioned earlier.”
“I’ve always loved this one,” Heather says softly, leaning in to study the tattoo. “Though I probably should’ve guessed it came from a painting – everything with you leads back to art somehow.”
I take a deep breath, memories washing over me. “I got it after my mom died,” I explain, my voice quiet. “It reminded me that there’s always light, even in the darkest times. The way Richards captured the lighthouse, standing strong against a storm… it just spoke to me, you know?”
Heather nods, understanding in her eyes. Then, they light up with an idea. “Hey, maybe you could try to find Maris Richards while you’re there! Wouldn’t that be amazing?”
I shake my head, smiling sadly. “I wish I could, but Richards died in the early sixties. Her work has been a huge inspiration to me, though. Just being able to see Cape Vesna and the lighthouse in person… it’s like a dream come true.”
Heather squeezes my hand. “Well, it looks like this trip was meant to be then.”
Looking back at the booking confirmation, I feel a sense of destiny settling over me. This trip to Lublin Harbor isn’t just about escaping the desert heat or finding new inspiration. It’s about connecting with a piece of my past, honoring my mother’s memory, and paying homage to an artist who’s shaped my career.
I find myself daydreaming about what awaits me in Lublin Harbor. I imagine myself sitting on the houseboat deck, sketchbook in hand, capturing the play of light on the waves. Or perhaps I’ll find inspiration in the rugged coastline, the weathered faces of local fishermen, or the vibrant marine life I hope to encounter. The possibilities seem endless.
“Whatever happens,” I murmur to Purl, “it’s bound to be an adventure.”
CHAPTER 3
Rose
The journey to Lublin Harbor is long but uneventful. My flight lands in Portland, where I rent a car to drive up the coast. As I leave the busy highways behind and turn onto the smaller coastal roads, I feel the last of my stress begin to melt away.
The scenery is everything I’d hoped for and more. Quaint New England towns dot the coastline, with their white-steepled churches and colorful clapboard houses reminiscent of postcards. The road winds along the shore, offering breathtaking views of the Atlantic Ocean.
Lost in the coastal beauty, I’ve been driving on autopilot, barely aware of time passing. The gentle rhythm of the journey – lighthouse, harbor, village, repeat – has lulled me into a peaceful trance. This stretch of Maine’s coast has been so consistently picturesque that I’ve fallen into simply soaking up the scenery, letting my mind wander with each new vista.
The GPS chime startles me, and I barely exit in time. Tires grip the road as I veer onto a narrow lane. My gallopingheart gradually steadies as I follow this new path, the scenery transforming with each bend in the road.
As I near Lublin Harbor, I slow down, drinking in every detail. The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over the landscape, making everything seem magical and slightly unreal.
As I crest a particularly steep hill, I glimpse the ocean in the distance, a glittering blue expanse on the horizon. The road begins to slope downward, and I can feel excitement in my chest. I’m getting close now.
I pass by a few scattered houses, their styles a curious mix of traditional New England architecture and something older and more European. As I approach the town, it’s as if two different worlds are slowly merging.
