Page 10 of Bluebell Tides

“I wouldn’t lie about Yale,” Quentin said, both teasing her and not.

Later at the restaurant, when Ruth told Missy about the Yale situation, Missy’s jaw dropped. “You’re going to write that essay,” Missy said to her.

“He’s obviously bluffing,” Ruth said.

“What if he isn’t? This is your only shot at something like that, Ruth,” Missy said. “I’ll work your shift tonight. Go home. Use my desktop. Write your essay.”

So that was what Ruth did. She went home and picked up a book she’d read numerous times—Moby-Dick, as it happened—and wrote a theoretical and philosophical essay that, she thought, the Yalies would like. She sent it via email to Quentin, who sent it to his father, who sent it to his connection at Yale. And the night before Quentin was set to leave Nantucket for the summer—and leave Ruth’s life forever, she thought—he showed up at the restaurant and gave her the official letter of acceptance. Tears in her eyes, she left the restaurant halfway through the dinner course and didn’t look back. Years later, she’d still remember the tables she abandoned, without bothering to get their glasses of wine or check in the kitchen for their appetizers. She wondered what they thought had happened to her.

It was the beginning of her brand-new life. All she could do was leap.

6

Present Day

It was three days after Sophie spotted her ex-boyfriend Ethan with the other woman outside the bar. Still semi-coated in bandages, she pulled on her sweatshirt, dragged her hood over her ears, and hauled two suitcases out of her house, ducking into a taxi in the early morning hours. The taxi driver played old Euro dance tracks that, Sophie thought, might make her ears bleed. She wanted to tell him to turn it off, but she felt she couldn’t speak. What was she doing?

She didn’t fully understand her decision until she was on the plane, heading east. It was nearly the end of April, which meant there were many more classes to attend, papers to write, and tests to take. But in the wake of the fire, which continued to rage through the forests and mountains, Sophie hadn’t been able to email her professors back. She hadn’t been able to face any of it. She’d emailed the dean to say she needed to take a leave of absence and booked the flight.

On the plane, sipping a diet soda, Sophie eyed the other passengers, none of whom had any interest in her. She wondered what they would say if they learned she’d been at the campsite where the fire had begun. Would they turn on her? Would they call her a fraud? Her pulse quickened, and she closed her eyes and told herself to sleep. But relief never came.

The plane landed in Bangor at five in the afternoon. After that, she took a bus all the way to Bluebell, feeling the air grow chillier and damper as they headed north and east, toward the Atlantic. At the bus stop, she hauled her suitcases out of the bottom of the bus and blinked around at the downtown Bluebell bus station, a place she’d never been to since her mother normally picked her up from the airport. But she hadn’t wanted to explain herself over the phone.

The walk to the Eco-Lodge was fifteen minutes east, and the walk to Landon and Celia’s place was ten minutes northeast. Sophie struggled to know where to go and where she belonged. It stood to reason that she’d spend the summer with her mother at the house she now shared with her new husband and Landon’s two children, Mallory and Isaac. But the thought of launching herself into their brand-new family exhausted her. Feeling unmoored, Sophie staggered off toward the Eco-Lodge, hoping she could speak to her mother in person before she had to fall into Mallory and Isaac’s teenage chaos.

First sight of the Bluebell Cove Eco-Lodge filled Sophie with a nostalgia she hadn’t expected. It had been nearly three years since Celia and the other Harpers came to Bluebell to pick up the missing pieces of not only the inn but also their father’s life. That was the summer Sophie had helped her mother write that environmental science article, relaunching Celia’s career after a difficult backstory in Washington, DC. Sophie’s arms hung at her sides.

But the Eco-Lodge still seemed mostly empty. When she clomped up the steps and entered, nobody was at the front desk, and only one iron key was missing from the key wall. Sophie knew it was early in the year, but it was still strange that nobody was around. The big Victorian house felt vacuous and haunted.

Abandoning her suitcases, Sophie traipsed to the Harper House next door, knocking until a man’s voice called out, “Yeah, come in.”

Sophie assumed the voice belonged to Ivy’s boyfriend, Elliott, until she entered and realized it was Tyler’s. He’d been launched so deeply into puberty that he no longer seemed like the same person. Sprawled across the sofa, he ate an entire frozen pizza by himself and gave her a half smile. “Soph! What’s up?”

Sophie laughed at the sight of her teenage cousin. “What’s up with you?”

Tyler reached for a napkin and scrubbed his hands, then lowered the volume on what looked like a reality television show about racing cars. Sophie felt as though she’d crash-landed on a different planet.

“Um, what are you doing here?” Tyler asked, propping himself up and putting the pizza on the coffee table.

“Semester’s finished,” Sophie said easily. “Where is everyone?”

“They’re at that spring festival thing,” Tyler said.

“Oh! That.” Sophie forgot that her mother had mentioned it over the phone—food stalls and carnival rides and baked goods and so on, all near the waterfront. “We should go.”

“I don’t know.” Tyler looked at his pizza and television show sadly. “I sort of had a hard day.”

Sophie wanted to laugh at the idea of Tyler having a hard day. What could that mean to a high schooler? Had someone looked at him wrong in PE? Had he forgotten his homework?

“Come on. I just got back,” Sophie pestered him.

Finally, Tyler agreed to walk her to the waterfront. Before they left, he dug through the front closet to find Sophie a warmer coat, as it was going to get down to forty-five tonight. These temperatures were nothing for a seasoned Maine kid, but Sophie hadn’t grown up in Maine. She shivered, zipping her coat to her chin. “Thanks.”

Out on the road, Tyler perked up a little. Sophie asked for more details about his crummy day, and he explained that he’d asked a girl to prom, and she'd said she’d think about it, then announced she was going with someone else. “But everyone knows that guy is a terrible person,” Tyler said of her date. “She’s going to get hurt.”

Sophie grimaced. “I guess you have to let people make their own mistakes.”

“Why?” Tyler blinked at her. “I mean, I could help her.”