Page 159 of Carry Me Home

‘I could stay here forever,’ she says. ‘On this boat. In this village. With you.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

My fingers close around the box. Not yet. But soon. When the day has settled. When it’s just us and the water and the fairy lights. When the moment is right – not perfect, because perfect doesn’t exist, but right. The way things are right when you’ve waited long enough and loved hard enough and finally, finally learned that the brave thing isn’t the grand gesture.

The brave thing is the staying.

‘Me too,’ I say. ‘Me too.’

The fairy lights come on as the sun goes down. One by one, like the village is waking up in reverse – not into day but into the warm, golden glow of a Sea Salt Bay evening. The boats nod. The water turns silver. Somewhere in The Ship, someone starts laughing, and the sound carries across the harbour like a bell.

Nina’s hand finds mine. Her fingers lace through mine. The ring in my pocket presses against my hip, patient, certain, waiting.

Like me.

Always like me.

But not for much longer.

Epilogue

NINA

The morning is cold and clear.

I wake before dawn, expecting something awful, that perhaps that hole in my chest will have been ripped open again. But Tom’s arm is around my waist, his breath warm against my shoulder, his heartbeat steady against my back.

I slip out of bed without waking him. Pull on jeans, a jumper, and Peter’s old navy fisherman’s coat that I still haven’t been able to give away. Some things take longer, I guess.

The harbour is quiet. Mist curling off the water. The boats rocking gently at their moorings. Lavender Dreams sits at the end of the quay, closed up, twinkling lights dark, waiting for the morning rush – the end of the tourist season – that won’t come for hours yet.

One year.

It doesn’t feel like a year. It feels like forever and no time at all, the way grief always does. Some days I forget, just for a moment, and then I remember and it hits fresh. Other days I carry it easily, pocket-sized, the way Ellen promised it would become.

Today it’s somewhere in between.

I walk along the harbour wall, past the fish shack, past The Ship, past the spot where Jenny’s Dream used to be moored. My feet know the way. They always have.

Kit’s waiting at the boat shed.

He doesn’t say anything when he sees me. Just nods, once, and unlocks the door.

Inside, covered in a tarp, is Jessie’s Dream – Kit’s small passenger boat.

‘She needs airing out,’ Kit says. His voice is gruff, matter-of-fact. ‘Been too long since she’s been on the water.’

‘Kit—’

‘Jess would’ve wanted her used.’ He pulls back the tarp. The hull is red, faded but sound. The sail neatly furled. ‘Take her out. You and Tom. Go say goodbye properly.’

My throat tightens. ‘How did you know?’

‘It’s October twenty-second.’ He looks at me, and for just a second, the gruffness falls away and underneath is raw. ‘I will never forget what day today is, and I will always be thankful for it.’

‘Thank you,’ I say, but then pause. ‘Hey, I never realised how close in name Jessie’s Dream and Jenny’s Dream are.’