Her eyes smarted with tears as she hurried to the cottage, where she rinsed her mouth, peeled off her clothes, and stepped into the shower. She stood under the hot spray for nearly twenty minutes, wishing she could wash away her shame and guilt.
What made me hope I could ever be at peace on Dune Island, even for a little while? Reminders of what happened to poor Nicole are everywhere—in the walls, on the beach, in conversations with strangers. They’re such a part of this place—like the salty air—and there’s no escaping them.
It wasn’t as if Caitlin ever expected to forget the accident, but neither had she anticipated that the account of Nicole’s drowning—and her loved ones’ suffering—would be captured on a plaque as a public reminder.
Maybe Lily is a stronger person than I am, or maybe she didn’t feel as ashamed as I do because no one died in the fire her family member started, she thought.But clearly, I’m not very well-adjusted if I can’t even read about Nicole’s drowning twenty years later without falling to pieces.
Adding to her humiliation was the fact that Shane had been there to witness her breakdown.I hope he didn’t read the plaque and figure out I was upset because of what it says, she fretted.Because if he questions me about it, I can’t bear to explain how I was involved in Nicole’s drowning. What would he think of me then?
Caitlin’s only consolation was that it was more likely that Shane assumed she’d suddenly retreated because she felt ill from jogging after such a big meal. She turned off the water, dried her skin and hair, and put on her warmest pajamas. Then she crawled into bed, thinking,If there’s anything I’m especially grateful for this Thanksgiving, it’s that I’m one day closer to leaving Dune Island.
THIRTEEN
Marion’s brows were knit with concern. “How are you feeling this morning, dear?” she asked Caitlin.
“Much better, thanks,” she answered, holding open the door so her neighbor could come inside. “I had such a wonderful time with you and your family yesterday. I’m sorry I didn’t return for dessert.”
“Shane told me your stomach was upset. He said it was because you went for a jog so soon after dinner. But I’ve been worried all night that my stuffing might have been too rich for you. Or perhaps it was the gravy…” Marion fretted.
She looked so worried that Caitlin pulled out a chair for her to sit. Joining her at the table, she confessed, “It wasn’t the food that upset my stomach, Marion. It was seeing the plaque by the inlet. You know, the one by the bench with Nicole’s photo on it.”
Recognition dawned on her face. “Oh, dear, I’d forgotten about that. I haven’t walked down there in years. If I had remembered, I would’ve told Jeannine not to take the children that way. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I don’t know why I had such a visceral reaction.”
“It’s completely understandable,” said Marion kindly. “It must have been a shock to see that image of Nicole after all these years.”
Caitlin nodded. Even though she’d already seen snapshots of Nicole at the arcade, stumbling upon the photo of the teenager at the marsh had left her reeling. It was also what was written beneath the photo, not just the image of Nicole herself, that had intensified how upset she felt.
Marion continued, “There was a town meeting before that plaque was installed, so I know the group who installed it on behalf of Nicole’s family had good intentions. They wanted to make sure something positive came out of the tragedy, and they thought the plaque was a way to provide a public service announcement about the tidal river, as well as to honor Nicole’s memory. I understand why that’s important, but personally, I think their plan was misguided.”
Caitlin was surprised that Marion had such a strong opinion about the plaque. “Why do you think that?”
“For one thing, only a handful of people ever walk to that end of the beach, and those who do are mostly old-timers who live in the immediate area. I used to hike out to the inlet almost every day because I found its unspoiled beauty to be so soothing and peaceful. But the plaque is a constant reminder of the tragedy.”
She elaborated, “Don’t get me wrong—I’m not saying we should forget about Nicole because her death makes us sad. I’m saying only a few people will ever see the plaque, and most of us don’t need a reminder because we know what happened, and we already carry that sadness with us. So I wish the people who installed it would have found a more uplifting way to commemorate Nicole’s life—like creating a scholarship for aspiring actors or something along those lines.”
“That would’ve been a good way to honor her,” Caitlin agreed. “But like you said, the plaque was also a way of warningother people—visitors to the area, perhaps—about the tidal river.”
“That’s theotherreason I was never in favor of the plaque,” declared Marion. “What’s written on it isn’t accurate. When the stream is low enough to wade in it, I doubt very much it could knock an adult off their feet. Darren and his friends used to float in that current all the time when they were young, and yes, when the tide was coming in, it would carry them toward the marsh, but it was usually quite gentle. Furthermore, it was virtuallyimpossiblefor the outgoing tide to pull them out to sea—there are too many sandbars in the way. Of course, in any body of water, it’s imperative to exercise caution, which is why…” Marion suddenly pressed her lips together, as if she’d thought better of completing her thought.
“Which is whywhat?” prompted Caitlin.
Marion remorsefully shook her head. “It’s why I can’t understand what Nicole was doing anywhere near the marsh that night,” she admitted. “Especially since it was only a few days after a tropical storm, and the surf was still unusually choppy. Not to mention, there was an astronomically high tide that evening.”
Caitlin was confused; hadn’t Lydia told Marion why Nicole had wandered to the end of the beach? Or hadn’t Marion heard about it from the other islanders? Trying to keep the emotion from her voice—and hiding the fact it was a question she’d asked herself, privately, too—she summarized, “Nicole got bored and walked home alone from a beach party we went to, and she missed the turn-off for the cottages by mistake.”
“Yes, I realize that was the common consensus, and it’s what the police concluded, too,” acknowledged Marion. “What I mean is that the story doesn’t add up to me. I only met Nicole briefly a couple times in passing, but from what I could tell, she was an exceptionally bright, observant girl. I find it difficult to believeshe didn’t notice that she’d not only walked farther than the staircase to the cottages, but she’d passed by all the dunes, too.”
A shiver rippled up Caitlin’s spine. She asked Marion the question that had been playing at the back of her mind ever since the day she’d taken Pepper for a walk. “But-but why would Nicole deliberately keep walking down the beach?”
Marion glanced down at the table. “I shouldn’t speculate. I hardly knew her.”
Caitlin pressed her, “But just between you and me, if you had to guess…?”
“Well, from what I noticed and from what Lydia shared with me, it seemed that Nicole was at odds with her mother. Not that I’m one to judge. Most parents and their teenage children don’t get along at some point—just ask my son, Darren, about the arguments we had when he was that age!” Marion admitted. “So I speak from experience when I say that it seemed like there was a power struggle going on between Pam and her daughter. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Nicole went to the marsh as a way of deliberately scaring her mother.”
“By swimming alone in the current?” Caitlin shuddered.
