Caitlin chuckled. “You might be right about that. But I’m only here for a short amount of time anyway, so there’s no sense in dating anyone from the island.”
“I’m not suggesting you commit to him for the rest of your life. I’m just saying you seem lonely and he seems lonely.” She turned her hands up in a half-shrug. “What’s the harm in having dinner together?”
“It’s not that there’s necessarily any harm, but I’m not lonely,” said Caitlin. “I’m independent, and I need my space. Most of the time, I prefer being alone.”
“Hmpf, I guess that’s where we differ. I’m alone by circumstance, not choice. Even at this age, I wish I had a man in my life. A husband. Not only to be my friend and companion, but to love and cherish me for the rest of our days, and vice versa.” Marion seemed genuinely perplexed as she tipped her head at Caitlin. “I know it may seem old-fashioned, but don’t you want to find that special someone, too?”
“Mm, not especially,” Caitlin said.
A more truthful answer would’ve been, “Not anymore.” Or, “Not since Nicole drowned.”
Her thoughts drifted to that terrible morning after she’d found out what had happened and she’d trashed the windmill loft.
Caitlin must have lain on the floor and cried for over an hour, stopping only when she heard her aunt talking to another woman in the driveway. As their voices carried throughthe small upstairs window, Caitlin figured out the woman was Nicole’s grandmother, who’d come to collect the family’s luggage. After expressing her deepest condolences, Lydia inquired about how Pam was doing.
“She’s devastated, of course—we all are,” Nicole’s grandmother tearfully answered. “But the doctors have sedated her, so I don’t think the reality has hit her yet. Right now, she’s still numb.”
Although she couldn’t make out the words of her aunt’s response, Caitlin recognized the sympathy in Lydia’s tone. Nicole’s grandmother responded by weeping openly.
“I just can’t believe my beautiful granddaughter is gone. Nicole isn’t—shewasn’t—even sixteen,” she cried. “She had so much talent, so many dreams. It’s unfathomable that she’ll never go to college or travel or have a career. She’ll never fall in love and get married. She’ll never give birth. She won’t even get her driver’s license or her voter’s registration card. I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe that Nicole is gone. Her life is over.”
Whatever else the two women said, Caitlin wasn’t listening.Nicole is gone. Her life is over, she silently repeated, vacantly staring up at the windmill’s gear shaft until she felt dizzy.
It was possible she passed out briefly from heat and dehydration. Or more likely, she fell asleep. But the next thing she knew, her aunt was wiggling her shoulder. “Caitlin, Caitlin, wake up. We’ve been looking everywhere for you. It’s time for lunch. Come and have something to eat.”
Her mouth was so parched she had to lick her lips before speaking. “I’m not hungry.”
“Come downstairs anyway,” her aunt urged her. “We’re worried about you, sweetheart.”
Please don’t call me that, thought Caitlin, because she knew there was nothing sweet or lovable about her. Nicole’s mother was right; Caitlin was a phony. Her behavior hadn’t been anybetter than Nicole’s. Both girls had strayed from the party, even though they’d known they shouldn’t. The only difference was that one of them was dead now, while the other one was living. It wasn’t fair.
Caitlin unwillingly rose to her feet and followed her aunt down from the loft and into the cottage. But then she went straight to her room. And even though Donald called five times, she wouldn’t—shecouldn’t—speak to him. When he biked twelve miles to see her in person, she wouldn’t come to the door, either.
For weeks after they both left the island, she refused to read his email messages and handwritten letters, and she turned off the phone, too. It hurt her heart to do it and part of her was desperate to reach out to him. But how could she? She didn’t deserve Donald, and it would be better for him to be without her, even if it tore them to pieces.
After a while, her stepmother essentially made her talk to him. Yet even then, and even though he was crying—he was audiblybawling—she forced herself to swallow her own sobs. All she said was, “I’m sorry, but I don’t want you to contact me again. Summer’s over and my feelings have changed.”
Everythinghad changed.
Nicole’s grandmother’s words played over and over in Caitlin’s mind.My beautiful granddaughter is gone.
The memory of what she’d overheard that morning—and the awful way she’d ghosted Donald—was so painful that for a moment Caitlin had lost the thread of the conversation with her neighbor. She bit her cheek and tried to refocus.
“Of course, I’ve got Pepper here to keep me company,” Marion was saying. “I’m also in a bimonthly book club. And three or four times a week, I go to the community center.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a very active social life.”
“Yes, I suppose I do, although it would be nice if I didn’t have to drive into town to interact with people,” she remarked. “That’s one of the reasons why I once was looking forward to Lydia retiring here. Not only would I have gained a year-round neighbor, but I think we would’ve developed an even closer friendship than we already shared. It was so sad she became unwell.”
“I know Aunt Lydia would’ve liked to develop your friendship, too,” said Caitlin. “Even though I’ll only be here for a couple of months, and I’m no substitute for her, I hope you’ll enjoy being neighbors withme.”
“I already do—and not just because you brought me muffins,” replied Marion with a wink. “But I won’t complain if you keep ’em coming.”
Chuckling, Caitlin promised, “Don’t worry, I will. I plan to do a lot of baking while I’m here.”
Then she steered their conversation to recipes, a topic she was much more comfortable discussing than subjects like loneliness or love.
Half an hour later, Caitlin stepped outside and caught a whiff of woodsmoke as she scuffed through a scattering of greenish-brown oak and golden elm tree leaves in Marion’s driveway.
