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The sand was soft beneath her fingers. She stretched her arms over her head, leaning back against a cushion, and the sun warmed her, penetrating her skin and finding her heart.
The sea roared in the background, murmuring that Edgar was compassionate and caring. That he would learn how to spend time with the twins, how to give them love, instead of just possessions. Her feelings were layered like the gray and white clouds overhead. Blue sky was attempting to break through the clouds and doubt.
Adele stretched out next to Mari, kicking her toes in the sand. “Are you happy, Miss Perkins?”
“Very happy. The sea is more spectacular than I ever imagined.”
“Isn’t it?” Adele picked up a speckled gray rock, smoothing it with her finger. “But there’s one thing missing, isn’t there?” She avoided Mari’s eyes, staring at the rock instead.
Mari shaded her eyes with her hand and looked over the horizon, where the sea met the sky.
“Yes,” she said, “I wish your father were here as well but he’s very busy right now with his steam engines. He’s going to build an engine that will fight even the worst fires and save many lives.”
He hadn’t been back to Southend since the fire that claimed his house, and nearly claimed his life.
The painful memory had kept him away for so many years. She couldn’t help thinking that if he had come with them it might have helped bury the dark memories for good.
“You smile more when Father is near,” said Adele, throwing the rock toward the sea.
“Do I?” Mari replied, flustered.
Adele nodded. “What’s Father’s real name?”
“Edgar,” Mari said, her voice catching.
Adele hopped up and grabbed a sharp stick of driftwood.
“E-D-G-A-R...” she wrote with the stick, etching his name into the damp sand.
She surveyed her handiwork. “Edgar,” she spoke. “Yes, it sounds like him. Hard around the edges but with a promisingahhhin the middle.”
Adele was definitely going to be a poetess.
“What’s your first name?” Adele asked Mari.
“Mari. Like Mary, but with ani.”
Adele spelled outMariin the sand next toEdgar.
Michel approached and took the stick from Adele. He gave Mari a devilish grin and drew a heart around both of their names.
“Why did you do that?” Mari asked.
“Because you belong together,” shouted Michel, already running away.
Adele chased after him and they both disappeared behind a jagged outcropping of rocks.
Edgar and Mari, written in crooked, childish script and bordered by a lopsided heart.
Mari rose, intending to sweep the names away, but something stopped her. The words danced in her vision and a sharp-edged thought scratched at her mind.
If Edgar was learning to care for his children... could he learn to care for her?
Because she didn’t just love these intelligent, inquisitive children. She cared for their father as well.
She reached down and lifted a conch shell to her ear. She had a secret to whisper into the shell’s dark interior. “I’m falling in love with Edgar,” she announced.
She lifted the shell to her ear. No answer except the roaring of her own blood pounding in her ears.
