Page 8 of Bluebell Tides

“I am,” Ruth said. “But not originally.”

“I think I can hear a bit of a twang in your accent,” Ivy said. “Is that right?”

“I’m from the South, yes,” Ruth said, shame burning across her cheeks. It was rare for people to call that out. “But I haven’t been back since I was a teenager.”

“Which state?” Celia asked.

Ruth hated saying so. “Virginia. It’s beautiful, and I loved growing up there, but it was hard. My family didn’t have much. We were on our own as soon as we graduated.”

Of course, they’d been on their own long before that, but Ruth didn’t want to get into it. She sipped her wine and tried to smile.

“I take it you went to college somewhere up here?” Wren asked.

“Yes,” Ruth admitted.

“Somewhere prestigious, I bet?” Ivy asked.

Ruth wasn’t sure she wanted to say that aloud, either. “I went to Yale,” she said finally. She felt as though she were giving herself away.

“Oh! Yale. That’s incredible,” Celia said. “Your parents must have been so proud.”

“They didn’t really care,” Ruth said, laughing gently. “They barely knew what it was.”

“Is that right?” Celia’s eyes widened with surprise.

“They don’t run in those kinds of circles,” Ruth said. “It’s okay. It never bothered me.”

The truth was, when she’d told her mother she was heading to Yale, her mother had asked her, “What on earth do you think you’ll do there? Who do you think you are? They’ll see right through you, you know. Mark my words.”

“What happened after that? You majored in something with writing, I guess?” Wren asked.

“Yes. Literature and creative writing,” Ruth said passively. It was easy to outline her life without giving any real details. “I got a job in publishing in the city, then eventually moved on to tourism journalism. I guess that’s about it.”

“Did you ever have any kids?” Ivy asked, eyeing Ruth’s naked ring finger.

“I didn’t,” Ruth said, although saying so felt like taking a sword to her stomach. “Kids are cute, though. Nelly’s adorable. Maybe in another life.” She smiled at Wren, then cursed herself for showing so much emotion. It wasn’t like her, not now.

Soon enough, Ruth turned the questions over to her new friends, asking them about their first husbands and, if applicable, their second husbands, about their children and the lives they’d had before they’d come to Bluebell Cove. It was clear that they all had fascinating stories. Wren, especially, captivated Ruth, as she’d been a wild-hearted freelance photographer who’d lost her beloved Angelos in a sailing accident. “I was pregnant,” Wren said. “And broken. My sisters helped me recover. And then, I met Ben.”

As it happened, Ben was the brother of Celia’s new husband, Landon. He was a veterinarian with, Wren said, “the very best heart.” She explained that tonight he was at home, studying in detail how to conduct a surgery on a horse tomorrow. “He takes every life very seriously,” she said. “When he loves you, it’s the warmest thing in the world. I’ve never felt so safe.” She explained that he welcomed baby Nelly as his own, that they hadn’t stumbled once en route to becoming a family of three. “And he’s bonded already with Angelos’ parents. They’re Greek, but they’re going to visit all the time.”

Ruth shook her head, amazed at the tragedy and the heart behind each of their stories. For hours that night, she sat in the Harper kitchen and listened to their stories. For hours, she was wonderfully and mercifully allowed to forget her own.

5

Summer 2002: Nantucket Island

Three weeks before Ruth’s high school graduation in the late spring of 2002, she got the letter that changed her life forever. Remarkably, she’d been hired as a server at an upscale Nantucket Island restaurant, one that happened to be managed by an old friend of Ruth’s, a friend who’d gotten out of Virginia and decided never to come back. There was a little note in the envelope, one written by her friend, saying, Have the summer of your life. You can decide what to do with the rest of your life after that! Haha.

It was a no-brainer.

Unsurprisingly, because there was so much other stuff to do that day and so many other people to take care of, Ruth’s family didn’t attend her high school graduation. She walked across the stage in her cap and gown, waving as if to her family (because she was too embarrassed not to in front of that crowd), then promptly removed her cap and gown and headed home to pack. She had no interest in going to any graduation parties. She had no boyfriend and no real friends. Most everyone in her Virginian town said she thought she was too good for them. Ruth couldn’t disagree with that. She had aspirations. She pushed herself.

The problem was: she had no idea what she was good for.

Ruth took the bus to Massachusetts. The trip took many days, and she arrived disgusting yet incredibly alive, hauling her single backpack from under her seat and striding into the sunshine. As per her friend’s instructions, she took the ferry to the island, where she asked for directions to The Salty Acre, the fish restaurant where she’d make “enough money to live on and save,” her friend had said.

Her friend, Missy, had long red hair and an electric smile. She’d more or less dropped her Virginian accent in the two years since she’d been gone. She scooped Ruth into a hug, then dragged her into the office to meet her boss, who happened to be her boyfriend. Ruth asked her later how Missy and the boss had gotten together, and Missy shrugged and said, “It’s a small island. We fell in love, but I could have fallen in love with anyone.” Ruth was surprised at how cynical that sounded.