The New Shore, page 20
They stepped closer and wrapped a huge quilt around them. Meredith grasped her border gratefully, tugging it over her.
“This way.” Louisa led them up the beach to the group awaiting them.
Rebecca stood there with Irene and Roy on one side, Joe and Jenny on the other. Molly, Joey, Matty and Brandi and Benjamin, Siobhan—everyone she cared about was gathered here. Jasper and Blossom sat side-by-side, as if they knew something important was about to happen. The only ones missing were her friends from Oregon, Jan and Barb, but with school still in session, a trip east hadn’t been an option.
“Joyfully we gather here tonight,” Rebecca began, “to celebrate the joining of these two people—Aidan Ahearn Cooper Woodhouse and Meredith Turner Woodhouse.”
She gestured toward them. “You are wrapped together in a quilt—pieces of many, made one. In the same way, your two souls, through this bonding, will become one with each other, one with the island, and one with all those who came before.”
Under the quilt, Meredith reached for Aidan’s hand again.
“Meredith,” Rebecca said solemnly, “standing here as you are, knowing that all any of us can truly offer to another is heart and body and soul, do you take Aidan to be your bondmate, to love him and stay true to him only, caring for him through all of life’s joys and sorrows, for the rest of your days in this realm?”
Meredith opened her mouth to answer, but her voice caught in her throat. “I—I do.”
She heard her mother sniffle.
Rebecca repeated her words to Aidan. His voice shook, too, as he replied, “Yes, I do.”
Louisa and Kathleen both stepped closer and held rings in their palms. Meredith took the one Kathleen held.
“Aidan, like this ring, my love for you has no beginning and no end. My heart knew you before my mind did. Take this ring as a symbol of my pledge.”
She slid the gold band, engraved with a Celtic love knot, onto his finger.
He took the other ring, etched with the same knotwork, and slipped it onto Meredith’s finger, saying, “Meredith, when I saw you, I found the soulmate I’d been searching for, from before I was born in this realm, into the next, for all time. Take this ring as a symbol of my pledge.”
Rebecca drew the knife from her belt. They each held out a hand, and she quickly scored a shallow cut on their palms. She pressed their hands together so that the blood mingled and dripped onto the sand. She squatted down and buried the bloody sand.
“Your joined blood, no longer separate, is now part of Little Sister. For all time, you are bound to each other and to this island. Wherever you may roam, you take us with you, but you are always rooted here. We will be with you in times of trouble and celebrate your joys with you. When your life in this realm ends, you’ll become part of this island, sustaining those yet to come. Bright blessings on you, Aidan Ahearn Cooper Woodhouse and Meredith Turner Woodhouse.”
Meredith couldn’t be sure in the starlight, but she thought she saw tears shimmering in Rebecca’s eyes as she handed them handkerchiefs to wrap around their hands, and then there was a flurry of hugs and kisses, while Meredith tried to keep the quilt from being yanked away.
“You were right,” Matty whispered loudly to Brandi. “There was shrinkage.”
“Just wait,” Aidan flung back at him amidst a gale of laughter from everyone.
“We’ll continue the celebration tomorrow,” Jenny said. “Come on, everyone. Let’s leave these two alone.”
Roy reached for Jasper’s collar and tugged him in the direction of their car.
Meredith watched them all clamber over the sea wall before she and Aidan laid the quilt out on the sand and sat down upon it. She stared down at her hand, the ring glinting in the faint light from the stars, the handkerchief still wrapped around her palm.
“I thought I was prepared for how beautiful that ceremony would be,” she murmured.
Aidan tucked her wet hair behind her ear. “And I thought I was prepared for how beautiful you would be, but you’re more. Everything is more.”
The addition looked great, Rebecca had to admit. Bright and airy. Molly had done a wonderful job with the finishes and would start soon on making tables to serve as desks.
“I’ve got to get caught up on other jobs first,” she’d said. “Folks have been waiting weeks for everything except emergencies. And we’re buying chairs from somewhere. I am not making those.”
As much work as it had been to pack up all of the books, unpacking seemed like double. Kathleen had her own ideas about how to organize the shelves.
“We’re starting fresh,” Kathleen had argued. “We don’t have to do it the way it was before.”
“The way it was before made sense,” Rebecca countered defensively. “Alphabetical by author. Makes perfect sense.”
“Not if you don’t know the author.” Kathleen picked up a biography of Eleanor Roosevelt. “Who wrote this?” When Rebecca didn’t answer immediately, Kathleen said, “See? Biographies should be by subject.”
Meredith settled the argument. “Let’s make an old-fashioned card catalog. Every book gets one with cross-references and where it’s shelved. That way, we’ll be able to find anything. And I can teach the kids how to look books up. It’ll translate to computer listings when they’re doing remote searches of other libraries.”
Rebecca grudgingly agreed, and the three of them worked to create cards for each book as they unpacked, box by box. It took longer, but the end result would save a lot of time.
They sat at a table, making cards for the books they’d pulled out of yet another box. Jasper and Blossom lay on their sides, sharing a patch of floor warmed by the sun streaming in through a window. A delightful breeze drifted through the screens.
“Have you talked to your father?” Meredith asked Kathleen conversationally.
Rebecca saw the shadow that settled over Kathleen’s features as she replied, “He called. Got my mother’s ashes back.”
“Oh?” Rebecca lifted her head. “This is new. Is he talking about a memorial service?”
Kathleen shrugged. “No hurry, is there? Ashes can sit around till we’re good and ready.”
Meredith shot a questioning glance in Rebecca’s direction. Rebecca shook her head. Kathleen finished a set of cards and got up to shelve the books.
“Can’t believe Memorial Day is almost here,” Meredith said.
“Yay,” Kathleen grumbled. “Tourist season.”
“You okay?” Meredith asked.
Rebecca waited. She’d tried asking the same thing a number of times, without getting any kind of satisfactory reply.
“Yup.”
Rebecca put her pencil down, about to demand to know what was up, when Kathleen shelved the last of her books and said, “I’ve got to go. Have an edit I need to get back to. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Blossom scrambled to his feet and followed her out the door.
“What’s up with her?” Meredith asked.
“I have no idea.” Rebecca reached for a blank index card.
“Is she still this upset about her mother?”
Rebecca eyed Meredith. It was startling sometimes to see so much of Miss Louisa in her features. “You told me you know Kathleen’s story?”
Meredith nodded. “Aidan told me most of it, and Jenny and Molly have filled in other pieces. I know her brother died on her tenth birthday, and her parents only focused on his death after that, pretty much ignored her.”
“Especially Christine.” Rebecca bent over her card.
“Yeah,” Meredith said soberly. “To actually say to a child, why couldn’t it have been you. It breaks my heart to think what that must have done to her.”
Rebecca glanced up. “Exactly. It did affect her. She came here, pretty much a broken woman. Guarded, bitter, unsure of herself.”
“That’s not the Kathleen I got to know last summer at all.” Meredith tugged another book off the stack.
“No,” Rebecca agreed. “She’d healed. The island, Molly, belonging to a place where people love and value her—she’s not the same person.” She frowned. “Or she wasn’t. I was worried bringing Christine and Michael here might not be a good idea. It’s almost as if she’s reverted to the person they turned her into.”
“So you think it’s more than grief.”
“I don’t know. Everyone grieves differently, so it’s possible Kathleen is putting up walls again to protect herself from really feeling the loss, but…”
A heavy silence stretched between them.
“Speaking of walls and protecting oneself,” Meredith began tentatively, “how are you doing?”
Startled at the sudden change of subject, Rebecca stared at Meredith for a moment. “I’m—”
“If you say you’re fine,” Meredith interrupted, “I’m going to throw this book at you.”
Rebecca couldn’t help a reluctant grin. “Okay. I won’t say that.”
“Have you talked to Nadiya at all?”
“Why?” Rebecca ran her hand through her hair. “What would it accomplish? Except to rip the scab off the wound.”
“It’s just, the night of our bonding…” Meredith seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “I thought I saw tears in your eyes.”
“Well… so… What’s so unusual about that?” Rebecca huffed. “It’s a beautiful ritual.”
“It is.” Meredith practically glowed with the recollection. “But it got me wondering, have you never wanted to go through that ritual yourself?”
“No one has ever asked me that.” Rebecca sat back. She gave a quick shake of her head. “But it doesn’t matter. That ceremony, it can only be done for two people who are ready to bond to the island, not just to each other. That’s why Matty and Brandi haven’t done it.”
“Yet.”
“Yet,” Rebecca agreed. “Brandi wasn’t ready, though I think she’s leaning that way more and more. Especially now that they have children. By the way, I’ve got your marriage paperwork filled out for when you and Aidan formally take care of the name change.”
Meredith chuckled. “You’re very good at changing the topic. Going back,” she twirled a finger, “I agree about Brandi, but what about you?”
Rebecca lowered her eyes. “As Nadiya is the only person I’ve ever loved, the only one I could bond with, and as she will never commit to living here, it’s a non-issue.”
“It may be a non-issue here…” Meredith tapped her head with a sympathetic smile. “But not here.” She laid her hand over her heart.
Motes of dust drifted through the beams of sunlight that slanted in through the attic windows. Louisa sneezed and shuffled a stack of boxes, studying the labels that had been written on each.
“They must be up here somewhere.”
“They’re over there, sister, by the chimney.”
“No, they’re not, Ollie. I distinctly remember putting that box over here, near Mama’s old things.”
“And then you moved them that next year when we thought we had squirrels up here.”
“Did not.”
“Did so. They’re over by the chimney.”
Louisa huffed when none of the boxes she’d moved proved to be the one she sought. Grumbling, she went to the chimney.
“Told you.”
Louisa snorted. “You don’t have to rub it in.”
“What do you want them for anyhow?”
“Oh, Katie’s having a hard time.” Louisa pried open the flaps on the box. “Ever since Christine died. It’s almost like she’s living Bryan’s death all over again. Thought seeing some of these might help.”
“Hope so, Lou.”
Louisa picked up the box and went to the attic stairs, where she paused. “Thanks, Ollie.”
She almost stumbled down the steps when Ollie added, “Tell Meredith I said hello.”
Downstairs, she set the box on the coffee table and began sifting through the contents. “Yes, these may help.”
She gathered everything into the box again and carried it out to her old Ford. A few minutes’ drive found her at the Halloran cottage. Molly’s SUV wasn’t there, but Katie’s car was. She retrieved the box from the back seat and carried it onto the porch, balancing it between her hip and the doorframe to free one hand so she could knock. It was a minute before Katie came to the door, Blossom wriggling out to dance around her.
“Miss Louisa, you know you don’t have to knock.”
“Well, I didn’t know if you might be in one of those vroom meetings, like Meredith has been with some of her teacher friends, and I didn’t want to interrupt if you were.”
“Come on in. Let me take that.” Katie carried the box to the dining room table. “What’s this?”
“Oh, just some things I thought you might want to see.”
“You’re being mysterious. How about some iced tea before you show me.”
“That sounds good, thank you, Katie.”
Louisa pulled out two chairs and tipped the box on its side while Katie got their tea. When she returned, Louisa sat down. Katie took the other chair, a curious expression on her face.
“After Maisie passed,” Louisa began, “Olivia and I were the main ones to put the house to rights while it waited. We didn’t know if Michael might come back at that point, but it turns out the cottage was waiting for you.”
Katie’s eyes were more worried than curious now.
“This box is mostly old photos, some in albums. Old family letters. Things like that.”
“I found some,” Katie said, and Louisa heard the ice in her voice. “In Nanna’s nightstand. My first Yule here.”
Louisa nodded. “I remember Jenny telling me. I’m sorry you found those letters the way you did, Katie. We must have missed those.”
A photograph of a young Katie and Bryan, sitting on the front porch of this cottage with Michael and Christine, sat on top. Katie recoiled.
Louisa quickly pushed that one aside. “Some of these go way back. Even before Maisie was born. You’ve probably never seen these.”
She leafed through some yellowed photographs. “Here’s your grandfather, Séan, and some of our gang.”
Young faces in old-fashioned swimming costumes laughed up at them.
“Back in our day, if anyone was going to Big Sister or the mainland, they’d go with a bag of film to develop. Not like now, when you can put the pictures on your computer. So it was always like Christmas, waiting for the photographs to come back.” She sighed wistfully. “Folks would gather at the diner and share their pictures. It was a grand time. Especially that one time Bert Callahan had taken photos of his wife in the nude. ‘Art’ he called it, but she never forgave him. They made the rounds for all to see before she could snatch them back.”
She rocked with laughter at the memory and picked up another photo.
“And you said you didn’t know your great-uncle Mick, Maisie’s brother. Here he is with little Maisie. She was about ten here, I guess.”
Katie’s mouth hung open as she leaned closer. “I’ve never seen these.”
Photo by photo, Louisa introduced Katie to her family. “Here are your great-grandparents. That’s Rosie, holding baby Maisie, not long after she was born.”
Katie stared, entranced.
“There’s so much more to your family than the sad parts.” Louisa laid a gentle hand on Katie’s shoulder. “I know you may not be ready for all of this now, but when you are, they’ll be here, waiting for you. Let me know if you have questions about any of them.”
High atop one of the wind turbines, Molly stood with her face to the wind. She’d never admitted to anyone, not even her dad, how scared she’d been to climb up there again after nearly toppling off last year when she’d foolishly unclipped herself from the safety rail prematurely. Hit by that gust of wind, hanging off-balance for those nanoseconds that seemed to stretch for eternity while she stared at the empty space between her and the ground—she’d wakened in a sweat more nights than she cared to remember from the dreams that forced her to relive those moments of terror.
She’d had to steel herself to go back up there the first time, making sure to clip on prior to climbing out of the hatch to stand on the platform. Now, she took a deep breath before checking the warning lights and blades and then lubing the gearbox. When she was done, she stood and gazed around. In the distance, the ferry chugged in their direction. She knew they were too far away to see her, but she waved anyhow.
“All right, Mo?” Joe’s voice echoed up the turbine shaft.
She leaned over the hatch and hollered, “Yeah. Coming down, Dad.”
She stepped into the hatch and descended a few rungs on the ladder before unclipping her safety rope and securing the hatch cover above her. Quickly, she lowered herself the rest of the way inside the turbine tower to where Joe waited.
“Everything looks good,” she said as she undid the climbing harness. “Ferry’s on its way.”
“Already seeing a good number of tourists at the hotel,” Joe said. “I think Wilma’s looking forward to the kids getting home to help at the hotel and diner.”
They drove into the village, where Molly recorded the maintenance she’d done in a logbook before going to her office on the village’s main street. Not that Little Sister needed a sheriff most of the time. The island rarely had troublemakers. Still, there were things she had to do, like filling out a death report on Christine Halloran, or the accidental drowning of that boy last summer.
She brushed off a thick layer of dust on her desk, glad her mom hadn’t seen it first, and pulled out a form she had to send in quarterly with the island’s crime statistics. Zero robberies. Zero carjackings or thefts. Zero assaults or rapes. Goddess, I love this island.
By the time she finished, the ferry horn had blasted as it entered the marina and docked. She locked her office and hurried over in time to help her dad secure the gangplank.
“Got a return guest for you,” Fred called out as the cabin door opened and a familiar figure emerged.
“Nadiya,” Molly said in surprise. “Nice to see you again.”
Nadiya’s face broke into an uncertain smile. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” Molly noted the suitcase in her hand. “You do know the ferry won’t be back for a week. It won’t start running daily until next week, after Memorial Day.”
