“But as you told me this morning, Lottie didn’t even care about this bucket list, right? She wrote it on a lark, basically,” Elizabeth says.
We both turn to watch as our dad takes Mrs. Clay out of her carrier and cradles her like a baby in the shade, giving her water from a porcelain bowl he packed. The old me would wonder if he likes that cat more than he does us. But the new is trying to be more generous. I am trying to give people the benefit of the doubt going forward.When Lily said that I ditched both her and Lottie for being imperfect during our fight the other night, it struck a chord. I don’t want to be that kind of person.
“Yes,” I admit to Elizabeth’s point about the list. “But I still think it’s worthwhile. Maybe Lottie didn’t need it, but she still wrote it. It’s still her words.”
I wonder if I’ll feel a sense of accomplishment when this day is over, after we’ve completed all of the items on the list. I can’t help but think that it’s the celebration of life Lottie would have wanted. She would have hated her funeral and the dark, depressing dresses we wore. She loved color, she loved life, she loved us, and she loved this island.
“Maybe it doesn’t matter what Lottie would think,” I say aloud. “Maybe it’s more important that we do this for ourselves.”
Elizabeth nods. “Well, it does sound fun, regardless. I’m sure you’ll have a good time.”
I look at her in surprise. “You’re not coming?”
She looks equally baffled. “I’m invited?”
“Of course,” I say. “She was your aunt, too. Besides, we want you there.”
Elizabeth looks like she’s going to cry again, but quickly, she lowers her shades. “Fine,” she says, keeping the emotion away by squishing her lips in a short, puckered line. “I’ll come then if it means so much to you.”
I smile to myself. At least we’re making some progress.
“Lil, what do you think about names for the cottage? Let’s brainstorm,” I say.
Lily looks at me, a strangely panicked expression on her face. “Oh, I don’t know. Let’s save that for last.”
“Really? We might be here for ages, might as well debate some ideas now.”
What I don’t say is that I’m growing more and more doubtful that the whales will make an appearance at all. What are the odds, anyway? I’ve seen some before on tours, but it’s certainly not every day.
“Um,” Lily says. “Later, okay?”
I decide to let it drop. To our left, a volleyball match has begun, and we all fall into a silence as we watch the white ball bounce from one side of the net to the other.
“When’s your boat home, again?” I ask Elizabeth.
She’s spread out on a pink towel, baking in the sun. “Tomorrow afternoon.”
“Do you think you’ll come back again this summer?”
She sits up to look at me. “Seriously, what has gotten into you lately? You want us to come back?”
A girl in a red one-piece hits the volleyball out of bounds, and it lands a few feet away from our chairs. Lily stands to throw it back at them.
“Why not?” I say. “Life is too short.”
Elizabeth raises an eyebrow and then lowers herself back down. “Maybe,” is all she says, but there’s a curve to her mouth.
The sun is beating down, but the breeze keeps the heat from being overpowering. I lean back into my chair, letting the sound of the waves soothe me. Sure, the fundraiser wasn’t the evening I had planned, but the sun still came out. It always does.
Now that I’m free of William, I keep thinking of what to say to Tommy. Maybe it’s time for number ten, after all.
As we soak in the sun, I think: If Lottie is anywhere, if heaven is real, I bet she’s right here, on one of the many beaches she loved, sitting back with a good book. Charlie by her side.
The thought lulls me, and I’m on the edge of sleep when Lily’s scream startles me awake.
“MOM!” she shouts. “Look over there.”
She’s pointing toward the horizon, but all I can see is the reflection of the sun on the sea and the white foam of waves breaking. “What?”
