I pick up my pace, running toward the life I want.
Toward Clay.
He’s already sliding the raft back into the sea, and when I glance out toward the Atlantic, the island is drifting back. Away from shore. We need to hurry before we lose sight of it.
Clay takes my hand, helping me onto the raft, and once seated, he paddles hard across the bay. But I look back, up the shore, where a man I might have once married stands on the porch, the overhead light casting a shadow around his silhouette. He watches as I vanish back into the sea.
“Who was that?” Clay asks.
“James.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The sky is gunmetal gray.
It’s been three days since we landed in Nova Scotia, three days since I stood in front of Nana’s house and said goodbye to James. But Clay has been quiet, moving silently through the house as if he’s held hostage by his thoughts. And in the evening, when we strip from our clothes and ease into bed, he doesn’t reach for me.
Out on the horizon, we can still see lights—floating orbs rising and falling out of focus with the tide. We’re drifting northeast along the coast, but eventually we’ll lose sight of land completely.
“Are you okay?” I ask after breakfast. He stands at the back door, sipping tea. But he only nods, makes a low grunt, then opens the door and steps out into the wind.
I give him his space, allow him the silence he needs.
But another day passes, and there is still darkness in his eyes. A cold divide between us that I don’t understand.
The night I saw James, after Clay and I rowed back to the island, we sat in the kitchen, cups of hot tea in our hands, and I told him that Nana was gone. He folded his arms around me and let me cry into his chest.Later, when we lay in bed, he asked about James. I told him how much James had changed—how the years had passed for him—but that it felt good to finally say goodbye. I explained how painful it was to see Nana’s house, and yet, I was grateful to know what had happened. Grateful James was with her at the end.
I almost mentioned the note—how a pair of fishermen found it at the hotel, how it gave Nana some comfort before the end. But the note is a secret I’ve kept, something I should have told Clay the night I wrote it. Months ago. Even if he might understand why I wrote it, the fact that I never mentioned it before is the deception he may not forgive. So I keep it to myself.
But after I told him about Nana, about seeing James, he started to slip away from me, a distance growing between us each day. Two ghosts forgetting the shape of the other.
After dinner, he stands at the sink, washing dishes. When the work is done, he walks to the cupboard, pulls out the bottle of whiskey and pours himself a glass. He takes a drink, then stands at the back window, staring out at the sea.
I refuse to let this go on any longer.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
He takes another drink, doesn’t turn to face me. “The tide hasn’t taken us far,” he says.
“What?”
“We’re only a few miles off the coast.”
I stare at him, confused.
“The raft is too unsteady, not seaworthy, but maybe we could attach a sail, add a couple boards.”
“Clay?” I press. “Why are you talking about the raft?”
I hear the air blow from his nostrils, and he looks back at me over his shoulder. “I should’ve let ye go, back when there was still time.” His mouth is flat, shoulders rigid. “I didnae want to lose you, but now I can see what ye’ve lost. What I’ve taken from ye.”
I shake my head, but he doesn’t see. He’s already turned back to the window, taking another sip of the whiskey.
“Taken from me? You didn’t take anything.”
“I took everything, Ellie. I took yer whole life.”
I reach out, touching his shoulder, wishing he would look at me. “I swam to the island that day,” I remind him. “It was my choice.”
